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Title: Stirring scenes in savage lands
An account of the manners, customs, habits and recreations, peaceful and warlike, of the uncivilised world
Author: James Greenwood
Release date: August 28, 2023 [eBook #71512]
Language: English
Original publication: London: Ward, Locke & Co
Credits: Brian Coe, Karin Spence and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STIRRING SCENES IN SAVAGE LANDS ***
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STIRRING SCENES IN SAVAGE LANDS.
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STIRRING SCENES
IN
SAVAGE LANDS.
AN ACCOUNT OF
THE MANNERS, CUSTOMS, HABITS AND RECREATIONS, PEACEFUL AND
WARLIKE, OF THE UNCIVILISED WORLD.
BY
JAMES GREENWOOD,
AUTHOR OF “WILD SPORTS OF THE WORLD,”
“A NIGHT IN A WORKHOUSE,” ETC.
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[Illustration]
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_UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME._
BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
THE WILD MAN AT HOME;
OR,
_Pictures of Life in Savage Lands_.
ANALYSIS OF CONTENTS.
PART VII.
SAVAGE KINGS AND COURTS.
CHAP. XVII.--The savage considered as a child of nature--what he
lives for--kings by birth--a king to be wished dead--Commander
Forbes’ introduction to the King of Dahomey--formalities to
be observed on approaching Dahoman royalty--the palace hedged
in with human skulls--a saltatory welcome--Gezo king of
kings--his majesty “stands a drain”--grand display of rum and
gunpowder--the ceremony of Eh-bah-tong-ah-bah, or exhibition
of the king’s wealth--the red pool at the threshold--Dahoman
“half-heads”--King Gezo the “leopard” and the “hawk”--items
of his majesty’s wealth--“One washing pan, seven pans of
skulls, and a grandmother”--an umbrella ornamented with eighty
jaw bones--the probable value of the whole lot--great cry
and little wool--the ceremony of Ek-que-noo-ah-toh-meh or
the throwing of presents--the king’s platform and the hungry
mob below--how his majesty was dressed--rum and tobacco and
cowries showered to the people--kings and ambassadors joining
in the scramble--the human sacrifices and the expectant
savages--feed us! “we are hungry”--the victims launched into
the pit--a recent grand custom--“Little Popo, August 6th,
1862”--glad to see a Dutchman--the Dutchman’s reception by the
king--exhibition of a crucified missionary--an earthquake in
the midst of a “custom”--twenty-four live men thrown to the
hungry ones--sixteen women, four horses, and one alligator
sacrificed--Bullfinch Lamb--his evidence as to what Dahomey
of old was like--£10,000 demanded by the king as Bullfinch’s
ransom--he writes home describing his misery--he shows himself
a fox rather than a Lamb--Bullfinch wins the king’s heart
by making him a kite--the kingdom of Abó and its ruler--Mr.
Baikie’s approach to the royal residence--a palace of mud and
thatch--King Ishúkuma--royal robes--the king’s sister acts as
“crier” to the “court”--King Ajé--his shoeless feet and his red
nightcap--Ajé gives Mr. Baikie his “dash”--Baikie’s visit to the
terrible Neam Nam--some of his followers flee at the mere sight
of the town--the ogres surround the adventurers--prospects of
a jolly feast--prospects blighted--a friend in need--“Look at
the things they hold in their hands; touch them not”--wonderful
effects of a gun shot--a ticklish moment--the good will
of the cannibals secured--the Fernandian town of Issapoo
and Browowdi the king--Mr. Hutchinson’s description of the
Browowdi palace--the king’s rig: “a filthy old stool for a
throne, an old bamboo-leaf hat for a crown”--a coronation at
Issapo--what his newly-made majesty may eat, and what he must
leave alone--royalty in Old Kalabar--King Eyamba--the State
carriage _alias_ “the white man’s cowhouse”--comical use of a
carriage--the Egbo drum--Aqua-el-dere or chop-day at Duketown--a
royal feast--ju-ju wood and palaver sauce--interesting mode
of feeding at the royal table--“King Eyo Honesty”--how he
keeps the Sabbath--his band--the order of Egbo--how it is
constituted--its similitude to free-masonry--Idem and his
terrible cow-hide whip--his outrageous privileges--Egbo
bells--Brass Egbo day--Egbo trials and criminals--the “Bloodmen”
of Duketown--the Mambo of Lunda--his magnificent attire and
how he held court--his Muata Cazembe or prime minister--the
Muata’s seven umbrellas--the Mambo’s wives--the election of a
Jaga--singular ceremony attending it--how the Jaga selects a
site for a palace--the novel rite of Sambamento--the unfortunate
Nicango--his fate. Pages 1–137.
CHAP. XVIII.--Royalty in Southern Africa--Doctor Livingstone
and Shinte--King of Makololo--the king’s crown of beads and
goose feathers--the doctor’s reception--his majesty’s hundred
wives and his wife in chief--the royal piano and the four
pianists--the doctor and his followers fall into the hands of
Manembo, a South African chieftess--she gives her guests a bit
of her mind--her advice to Dr. Livingstone--“now, my little man,
do as the rest have done”--from South Africa to Abyssinia--Mr.
Stern among the Falashas--he commits a grave breach of court
etiquette--an Abyssinian cure for melancholy--Mr. Bruce’s
experience of the cure--Bruce’s introduction to the Lady
of Sittina--her splendid attire--Bruce’s gallantry by no
means surprises the lady--he volunteers a piece of wholesome
advice as a physician--a delicate conversation--the King of
Seenaar--how he was greased--a cure for red hair--the throne
in Madagascar--Madame Ida Pfieffer’s introduction to the
queen--paying your “footing”--her majesty neither cordial
nor over polite--a Malagasey palace--its chief pillar--five
thousand labourers to bring it home--death of fifteen thousand
builders--the silver palace--ceremony observed on the death
of a Malagasey king--the feast of the queen’s bath--great
rejoicing on the occasion--the Malagasey army and the military
band--wretched condition of the soldiery--a handful of rice food
for a day--a Malagasey court ball--ball dresses--the “Segu”
dance--niggardly behaviour of her majesty. Pages 38–53.
CHAP. XIX.--Borneo and the Borneans--installation of a
Dayak-rajah--_Hot_ council and _Cold_ council--ceremony of
election as described by Baiah Brooke--“may the government be
cold”--a visit to the chief of the Grungs--capture by the old
women--revolting customs--a Dayak dance--more physicking--Corea
and the Great Loo Choo Islands--the chief of Corea--his
visit to the British ship “Lyra”--dignified behaviour of the
chief--his uproarious attendants--he orders an arrest--a cheap
entertainment--punishment of the arrested one--the chief loses
his temper and makes free use of his rod of office--the court
of king Finow--marriage of his eldest daughter to the great
chief Tooitonga--the bride’s anointing and her bridal robes of
superfine mats--the bridesmaids--the marriage feast--twenty
baked hogs--the music and dancing--King John of Adelaide,
Australia--his death and trussing and roasting--horrible
ceremony--The roast king’s dutiful _lubras_--a mummy “up a gum
tree”--King John the thickest headed king ever known--his skull
to prove it--dying fate of the common Bushman--enticing away
the “spirit that kills”--the Bushman’s grave--Bushman mourning
customs. Pages 54–66.
PART VIII.
SAVAGE M.D’s.
CHAP. XX.--The science of surgery and medicine in savage
lands--the M.D. in Polynesia--how to cure a broken
neck--straightening a dislocated vertebra--trepanning with a bit
of cocoa-nut shell--pigs’ brains a substitute for human--the
sick man in Figi--summary method of disposing of troublesome
invalids--“be reasonable and let some one help you out of your
misery”--queer physic for a sick princess--the patient finally
strangled--tender treatment of a shipwrecked mariner--singular
malice of the Figian sick--the doctor in Samoa--no medicines
used--strange predictions by dying Samoans--the Tokelau man who
went up into the moon--a physician for every ailment--“confess,
and throw out”--an infallible method of extracting a
spear--Polynesian _disease makers_--the mystery of _nohak_
burning--novel way of burning an enemy to death--how sickness
is dealt with among the Namaquas of Southern Africa--The old
women whom Moffat the missionary found--“I am old and feeble
and no longer of any use”--the sick little Makalolo--nobody’s
child--Galton and the calculating savage--unable to count
over ten--how the difficulty is overcome--dentistry in Damara
land--the traveller Galton nearly a victim--hauling till
“something” gives way--the doctor in old Kalabar--how the
Kalabeese takes his physic--Doctor Abiadiong--how he operates
with his magic beads--burying a dog alive to save a sick
man--how to cheat the demon of small-pox--the M.D. among
the Indians of North America--qualifications of a Pawnee
doctor--a case witnessed by the traveller Murray--how to cure
hooping-cough--setting a broken arm and a few ribs--broken
bones cured by smoke--a medicine dance--Indian sweating baths
and sudatory--how to manufacture a cheap vapour bath--doctoring
in Abyssinia--Mr. Bruce undertakes to cure three queens--our
countryman’s description of his interesting patients--grave
responsibilities of an Abyssinian physician--“what signifies
your curing me if you turn me out like a beggar?”--some
wholesome advice for eastern travellers--stimulants to be
avoided--no water too cold to bathe in. Pages 67–87.
PART IX.
SAVAGE WARFARE.
CHAP. XXI.--The most warlike savage--hereditary pirates in
Borneo--a fleet of ninety-eight pirate ships--Rajah Brooke and
the pirates--a visit to the fleet--hunting for pirates--the
“Didos” excursion--the adventures of the “Jolly Bachelor”--“many
a slip twixt the hand and the ship”--a startler for a pirate
chief--no quarter with Dayaks--the victorious Jolly Bachelor--a
pirate hero--the Dayak considered as a soldier--a council of
war--preparations for a tremendous battle--swords and spears
and muskets and ranjows--_two_ gunners to one musket--how the
engine is loaded--Bornean fighting tactics--advance of Sir J.
Brooke’s troops--the rival armies chaff each other--the warrior
Nacota recounts an instance of his able generalship--“you hit
me, that’s all!”--the Dayak sumpitan--how it is carried, loaded,
and discharged--poisoned arrows--the _ilang_-weapons of the
Amazonian Indians--the _pecuna_ and its use--its similitude to
the Bornean sumpitan--the Indian blow-gun--a war dance among
the Illanuns and Gillolos--head hunting in Borneo--fray between
the Sigos and the Singé--a disgusting trophy--hanging up the
heads--Sir J. Brooke’s defence of Bornean customs--the brain
hunters of the Philippine Islands--La Gironiere’s experience of
a brain feast--a horrible cup--the Bornean savage compared with
others. Pages 88–106.
CHAP. XXII.--Warfare among the North American Indians--wooing
a war dream--companions in arms--the “squaw of sacrifice”--her
horse, her medicine bag, and her pipe--on the march--no head
scratching allowed--Indian war dances and speeches--bragging
warriors--an exploit worth bragging of--what it is to
be a “brave”--swallowing an Indian’s horse--shifting
camp--praiseworthy care of the very old and very young--the
belle of the party--“How, How”--an instance of Indian
heroism--showing his enemies how a Chippewa can die--how the
Sioux exhibited their admiration of said heroism--Mahtotopa
the Mandan once more--How he fought a duel with the renowned
Scheyenne--a precious scalp--another precious scalp and
how it was obtained--the Indian warrior’s confidence in
dreams--“where is my munedoo?”--wonderful power of a saw-bill
munedoo--concerning the Indian canoe--its antiquity--the
Algongian canoe--no nails or screws used in canoe building--boat
building a job for a tailor--women boat builders--sea
worthiness of the fragile vessels--warfare in Samoa--how to
prevent hostilities--“we are come, and here are the knives
to cut us up”--devotedness of the wives and sweethearts of
Samoan braves--the Samoan’s war tools and symbols--his war
tactics--four hundred prisoners burnt--the glorious distinction
of cutting off a head--a remarkably close shave--dead warriors
food for dogs--the brave Samoan mother--the king of Samoa’s
great privilege--“Perhaps upwards the face”--imploring the
royal clemency--a massacre of Christians--fate of the sandal
wood getters--treachery of the Pine Islanders--the story of
the capture of the “Sisters”--the avenging “powder”--settling
accounts with a batch of convicts--two of the batch saved--their
ingratitude--once more forgiven--the natives not as black as
they are painted--a little story told by Mr. Coulter--the
useful carronades--the remarks of the humane and outraged
captain--considerable loss--very sorry, but couldn’t be
helped!--a fancy picture, but a probable one. Pages 107–133.
CHAP. XXIII.--Warfare in Figi--_bole-bole_ or the
challenging--“Sir, do you know me? Your enemies soon
will”--Figian “fustian”--the missionary Williams’ opinion of the
Figian as a man of war--war orators--battle field tactics--the
fall of the first warrior--“the first rending of the
root”--wearing a dead enemy as a necklace--fighting implements
of the Figians--Tonga weapons--five-bladed swords--indignities
practised on the bodies of the slain--how king Finow disposed
of his warrior prisoners--the defiant Cacahoo--adopting the
child of a dying enemy--heroism of Monfaho’s widow--Figian ship
building--surprising skill of savage boat-builders--ordinary
sea-women--superstition of Figian seamen--inviting the
breeze--the warrior in New Zealand--confirmation of fighting
men--pronouncing the Haha--“Go away, go away”--distribution
of the locks of the slain--cooking the hearts of the
warriors--cannibal feasts after the battle--the art of war in
Australia--Australian war tools--the boomerang and its various
uses--the “hicleman” and the “wammera”--celebrated victims to
the Australian spear--Australian duels--thick heads and thin
heads--the “satisfaction” of an Australian gentleman. Pages
134–155.
CHAP. XXIV.--War among the savages of Africa--the tail-bearing
heralds--great cry and little carnage--Caffre war dance--A
Basuto’s war chant--the battle song of the renowned Cucutle--a
Griqua Pitsho--a council of war--the chief’s address to the
Barolongs and Batlapis--“Let every one speak his mind, and
then I shall speak again”--some one speaks his mind rather
freely--“you are rolled up in apathy; show yourself a man and
a king”--a reproof to the kidney eaters--the African savage a
better man than the American--Death before dishonour--archery
in Eastern Africa--the cannibal Fans considered as bowmen--their
war weapons generally--their poison darts, war knives and
brain-hatchets--their shields of elephant hide--women warriors
of Dahomey--a review of an army of the “fair” sex--King
Gezo’s “fingers”--ambition of an elderly lady--“I long to
kill an elephant to show the king my regard”--Gezo likened
to a hen--the amazon standard-bearers--the lady soldiers
indulge in parables--likewise in strong waters--the warrior
in Abyssinia--pretty picture of a Galla chief--Omen birds--a
non-believer in English gunnery--the sceptics convinced--a
potent candle end--savage metallurgy--the value of a pair
of bellows--the blacksmith in Papua--the king and the
blacksmith--Le Vaillant turns bellows mender. Pages 156–182.
PART X.
INCIDENTS OF PERSONAL PERIL
AND DISCOMFORT OF TRAVELLERS
AND EXPLORERS.
CHAP. XXV.--Pains and penalties of explorers and
adventurers--the reader’s selfishness--Mr. Hutchinson’s
experience of a night’s lodging at Brass, a western African
town--his bed--his bedfellows--how stupid to have blown out
the light!--the biting and scratching, and crawling within,
and the everlasting cackle without--daylight, and the mystery
solved--a night’s lodging on the banks of the Gambia--voices
of the night--assailed by mosquitoes--“I smell the blood of an
Englishman”--sleeping on ants and cockroaches--“Sitting up”
for the night--an arboreal lodging--going up to bed--making
oneself comfortable--half a cigar for supper--unpleasant
neighbours--leopards and other gentle beasts below--mosquitoes
above and around about--eleven hours’ roosting--the leafy
couch abandoned--lost and starved--found and rejoiced--Doctor
Livingstone’s savage experiences--one of many thousand
nights--the grass cutter and the tent pitcher--the “kotla”
or tent-fire--the sleepers, and the dogs who came and ate
the blankets--the dish-washers and the cooks--every man his
own washerwoman--the doctor’s strict cleanliness--“it is
questionable if a descent to barbarous ways ever elevates a
man in the eyes of the savage”--watchmen and watch-dogs--an
alarming camping out incident--the African traveller’s greatest
enemy, the little tsetse fly--its perfect harmlessness towards
mankind and wild animals--its fatal affection for draught oxen
and horses--symptoms of tsetse poison--the cattle of an entire
tribe almost destroyed by the tsetse--the traveller in the
desert of Eastern Africa--Mr. Burton’s experience--his account
of a day’s march--rousing the camp--the porters loth to stir
from the fire--“collect,” “pack,” “set out”--off at last--the
African porter a stickler for prepayment--the privileges and
perquisites of a Pagazi--his gorgeous attire and his insignia
of office--how the Pagazi keeps tally of offenders on the
road--mischievous firing of the huts--queer directions left by
the Pagazi as to where water may be found--the ivory porters and
how they carry their loads--average of the weights carried--no
finery worn on the road--a use found for “bustles”--every man
a bearer of weapons of defence--recreations on the road--signs
of a halt--bravery of the porters--a hundred and fifty of them
scared by a cow--rows on the road--broken heads no provocatives
of ill blood--rammish modes of fighting--the African’s great
objection to hurry--not used to it--daily life at home--quite
happy on plenty of sleep, “pombe,” tobacco, and gossip--the
domestic African given to gambling--“heads or tails”--high
play--my grandmother against yours--eating, the sole aim of
his life--forty winks after dinner--no admirer of the maxim of
“early to bed”--the first approach of Europeans to a cannibal
shore--three fish-hooks for a lobster--queer pockets to put
fish-hooks in--smelling the place the white man touched--the
chief’s distrust of a chair--gigantic savages--barefaced
attempt to steal a cabin-boy--bent on thieving--an attempt to
make off with a mastiff and his kennel--more successful with a
kitten--the dog recovers his spirits and makes free with the
calf of a thief’s leg--summary dismissal of the unscrupulous
guests. Pages 183–203.
PART XI.
RELIGIOUS RITES AND SUPERSTITIONS.
CHAP. XXVI.--Religion in savage lands--the mysterious
“still small voice”--its existence indissociable from human
nature--“incomprehensible” synonymous with “evil” in the savage
mind--nothing so incomprehensive as death--nothing so much
feared--death the savage’s poisoned honey-pot--the greegree-man
must be patronized at any price--Samoan mythology--Tangaloa
and his daughter--she descends and plants a creeping plant
on the barren rock--what the plant grew to--the man who
pushed the heavens up--the young men who resolved to visit
the moon--the one was smoked up and the other climbed up--how
the moon came down and took up a scoffing woman--the child of
the sun--that great luminary in danger of being strangled
with a rope--“Oh! have mercy on me and spare my life”--a
Figian version of the flood--toilsome journey of the soul from
earth to heaven--the savage charm--desperate endeavours to
cheat the grim ferrymen--quarrelsome Figian gods--a singular
case of abduction--the lonely Naiogabui and the daring
Ravovonikaugawa--success of the expedition--Rokoua gets scent
of the elopement and goes in pursuit--he disguises himself--all
fair in love and war--failure of Rokoua’s stratagem--he tries
once more--this time disguised as a fishwoman--the wicked
Naiogabui betrays her father, who is knocked on the head--the
Hades of the Samoans--miscellaneous gods of the Samoans--a
deity for every village--Samoan form of oath--the cup of
truth--mourning the destruction of a god’s image--the most
fashionable god in Polynesia--human sacrifices--whole families
set apart for this purpose, to be fetched when wanted--sudden
death to the victim--Tapu--its ancient institution--universal
influence of the tapu--Mr. Ellis’s opinion of the working
of “tapu”--muzzled pigs and blindfolded chickens--tapued
pigs--the ceremony of taking “tapu” off the porkers--the
princes and noblemen exhibit their prowess in carrying pigs
about--presenting his majesty with pig’s fry--a tremendous
feast--The institution of Tapu in New Zealand--inconvenience of
being tapued--a good jacket lost through the superstition--The
terrible tinder box--how to secure a canoe--the chief’s sacred
head--the sacred kumara grounds--the sacred pole and the
missionaries--the chief’s backbone--the difference between _noa_
and tapu--tapuing a river--the Pakeka and the iron pot--one of
the best uses of tapu--its advantages and disadvantages--Tapu
among the Samoans--snake and shark and thunder tapus--Born
tapus--witchcraft in New Zealand--Introduction of an Englishman
to a “retired” witch--how he found her--she declines to act,
having given up the business and become a “praying” woman--she
is persuaded, and sets about humbugging the visitors--the
little beetle in the thatch--the god begging a blanket--the
Englishman not perfectly convinced--Religion among the Dayaks
of the land and sea--the supreme Tewata--extent of their
religious system--“physic” for sacred anointing--the four chief
spirits of the Dayak belief--how man became less than the
spirits--what becomes of the Dayak when he dies--the artful
“Umot Perusong”--“Mino Buau,” or warrior ghosts--alarming
apparition of a headless dog--Dayak methods of propitiating
the gods--lucky days, omens, and warnings--the ceremony of
making brothers--how Singauding became the brother of Mr. St.
John--a sanguinary cigarette--how the Kiniahs enter into the
bands of brotherhood--making brothers in Western Africa--pledged
in blood--Dayak good and evil spirits--what it is to dream of
Singallong Burong the god of war--delicate way of alluding to
small-pox--has “he” left you?--the Karam of Baram and his god
Totadungan--the Dayak who went to heaven--what he saw--the
sacred Bornean bull--Dayak superstitions concerning dogs and
snakes--the legend of the painted dog--the savage of North
America and his “happy hunting ground”--“Kitchi-manitou” and
“Matchi-munedoo”--the North American Indians’ version of the
flood--a savage Noah--how the earth was reformed--the loon, the
beaver, and the musk-rat--a legend of Kitchi-Manitou--he meets
the first man--pitying his disconsolate condition he finds him
a mate, Mami by name--the happy meeting--their garden of Eden
with its “tables and chairs and glass windows”--Kitchi-Manitou
warns them against the fruit of the evil tree--Mami is tempted
and falls--she invites her husband and his weakness is too
strong for him--anger of Kitchi-Manitou--banishment of the
erring pair--they begin their worldly cares--Mami’s husband
finds a book--finding it too big to carry about he declines to
appropriate it--he is furnished with one of convenient size
in which he learns the art of medicine--the Indian who made a
return trip to heaven--how he got there, what he saw, and how
he got back to earth again--the man of the fire-stone--his
great enemy Manabozho--they have a terrible fight and the
fire-stone man is beaten--how Manabozho exerted himself for
the good of mankind--his friend Chibiabos--the Manitous play
Chibiabos a cunning trick--grief of Manabozho--the friends
are united--discovering a “thunder’s nest”--Hans Hansom and
the beaver trapper--“second sight” among the Winnebagos--the
prophecy--its verification--the dream of Little Wasp--Indian
picture-writing--signs of the different tribes--what stands for
“kill”--a narration in pantomime--Crashey Jane’s compliments to
the editor--Mr. Catlin’s Indian experiences--he paints the “old
bear”--the artist is made much of and likes it--the benighted
savages kiss the hem of Mr. Catlin’s swallow-tail--he does
not get on quite so well with the ladies--all difficulties
conquered--Mandan festival of the deluge--“seeking whom
he may devour”--discomfiture and flight of the prince of
darkness--covetousness of the North American Indians--Mr.
Murray’s experience on this head--the old gentleman who coveted
the elastic jacket--how he found it a tight fit--“a good
creature in the ice-month”--the Ojibbeway nations of old--the
Pawnees--the Delawares--the confederate six nations--the
Shawnees--From North America to Abyssinia--religious ceremonies
observed in that country--mothers of small account--purification
of houses and platters--the Kalijas and the Lubas--concerning
Boudas--Bouda exorcists--Mr. Stern makes the acquaintance of
a Bouda--the woman’s tremendous struggles and arrival of the
exorcist--his operations--he interrogates the Bouda and obtains
from it some interesting information--its strange vagaries
before it consents to take its departure--the Zar--Religion
of the Dahoman--the food of the sacred buzzards--fetish
snakes and the punishment for harming them--the Bonny
people and the jewjews--popular superstitions--the king’s
charms against witchcraft--the sacrifice to the bar--the
unconscious victim--his doom--sacred pig’s jaws--“talk and
pray”--devil worship--the “Sukia” of the Mosquito shore--her
unprepossessing appearance--Mr. Bard gives her a piece of
calico on condition she stands in the midst of a blazing
fire--she earns the calico and lives to wear it--the belly
gods of the Tinguians--Madagascar “the country without a
god”--“Sikidy”--the ceremony of touching the bull--King Peppel’s
religious convictions--a palaver unpalatable to his sable
majesty--“Suppose God were here I must kill him”--a modest wish
to live for ever--Mr. Moffat and the African king--startling
news of a universal resurrection--“will all the slain in battle
arise?”--a Namaqua chief’s religious ideas--frying the sun
in a pot--“when we are dead we _are_ dead”--Boles-ki-bo--a
Basutos witch-finder--guessing made easy--end of the farce,
commencement of the tragedy--unclean meats of the Damaras--on
the manufacture of rain--drought at Kuruman--the rain-maker sent
for--the commands of the great benefactor--he churns rain from a
milk sack--goat rain and ox rain--the ceremony of the blighted
tree--the sprinkling of the people with a zebra’s tail dipped in
water--still no rain--he demands a baboon “perfect to a hair”
and is not sorry that it cannot be procured--he must have the
heart of a lion--he must have something else too horrible to
name, and has it--still the heavens are inexorable--the last
appeal, “It is the face of the white man that scares the rain
clouds”--unpleasant predicament for a man with a white face--the
impostor’s end--A fine day for a butcher’s knife--Figian
coming of age--how Mr. Petherick “Barnumized” the natives as
a rain-maker--perpetrates something not many degrees short of
blasphemy--the artful device of the floured flies--a Sabbath
in Equatorial Africa--The worship of Njambai--paying for
peeping--“who bewitched the king?”--the appeal to Ilogo--an
unlucky wizard--appalling end of a witch man--Mfumbo the
all-powerful--what came of felling a “devil-tree”--the business
of a Mganga--how he points out the road the traveller should
travel--King Passol’s dancing fetish--his extraordinary
performance on stilts--“he be de debil”--a bal-masqué--“dance,
oh snake! for this is indeed a happy day”--old King
Kalabar--“Nabikems”--Kalabar fash--A Yoruba man’s opinion of the
chameleon. Pages 204–336.
PART XII.
SAVAGE DEATH AND BURIAL.
CHAP. XXVII.--Disrespect for human life not synonymous with
personal indifference to death--burial ceremonials in cannibal
Figi--the Figians no respecters of persons as regards this
custom--preparations for burying a living king--the “grave
grass”--paving the king’s grave--an affectionate son--“see,
his body moves, but it does so unconsciously”--Figian
symbols of mourning--mourning suits of leaves--the “causing
to laugh”--murder of the Figian sick--“pray don’t bury
me”--sexton’s work--the poorest savage sure of a comfortable
“narrow bed”--the howling of a dog considered ominous--ditto,
a cat’s clawing on the grave of a woman--how death came into
the world--the sacrifice of fingers--the token of the bloody
apron--the art of embalming--the corpse-praying priest--the
“sin hole”--ceremonies at the burial of King Finow--heroic
appeals to the departed king by his warriors--the scene at the
sepulchre--the journey of the sand bearers--shaving the head
and burning the cheek bones--twenty days’ mourning--the Mee
too Buggi--singular expression of fidelity--Finow’s faithful
fishermen--the Sandwich Islander’s badge of mourning--knocking
out the teeth--cutting the ears--putting the tongue in
black--a melancholy procession--the house of Keave--a pitiful
spectacle--no admittance to the sacred building--the Pahio
tabu--Heathen cities of refuge. Pages 337–360.
CHAP. XXVIII.--Burial rites in Samoa--burying alive--taking
his pigs to a better market--a Samoan inquest--Samoan
wakes--carrying a dead body about--Samoan coffins--dexterous
embalming--the mysterious grave fires--a trap to catch a lost
soul--burial customs of the New Zealanders--ornamenting
the dead body--the sexton in Borneo--the weeping-stone of
the Permujans--burning the dead in Western Sarawak--the
burning less efficacious than burying--the hereditary office
of sexton--difficulties of finding a sexton--sepulchral
rites of the Sea Dayaks--useful things for consumption in
the next world placed in the grave--Sea Dayaks who fall in
battle not disturbed--Mourning among the Indians of North
America--dirtiness the most favourite symbol--tombs in the
air--exorcising an evil spirit--custom of the Sacs and Foxes--of
the Tahkalis--of the New Caledonians--a New Caledonian
suttee--barbarous treatment of the widow--her scorching, and
her three years’ mourning and drudgery--the village of the
dead--burial unknown among the Mandans--a Mandan place of
skulls--praying to the dead--singular ceremonies attending the
interment of an Ojibbeway--Ojibbeway mourners--disposing of
the property of the dead--a Chippewa ghost story--an invisible
presence--a spirited ghost--veneration for the dead--a royal
funeral. Pages 361–385.
CHAP. XXIX.--Funeral rites in Damara land--dutiful behaviour
of the eldest son of the deceased--a Damara tomb--offering a
pail of milk at the grave--the Koossan method of disposing of
their dead--deserting the sick--duties of the dead Koossan’s
wife--returning in the night to burn down the house--the
ox-tail hair necklace worn by the Koossan widower--Koossan
chiefs buried in the cattle-fold--the magic woman among the
Koossans--no recovering spilt water--no cure, no pay--fate of
the unlucky mortal whom the magic woman denounces--death in
Central Africa--waking a defunct man--no half-mourning among
savages--the guests who are invited to the wake--_Bota woga_--a
tremendous boose--a slave barracoon at Santanga--the sight
that M. Chaillu saw--a thousand bleaching skeletons--funeral
ceremonies in Angola--a jollification in consequence of the
death of his mother--the mortal remains of a Bechuana--planting
the top of the head with grass--the burying-ground at
Fetish point--disinclination of the natives to approach the
place of graves--the tomb of old King Passol--a wealthy
grave-holder--burying at Anbago, Western Africa--the bereaved
wife carried a pick-a-back--security for “Gungo”--a Barrodo
Beondo funeral--occupying the bed of the deceased--“making
a cry” among the Bulloms and Timannecs--King Archibongo
and his devil house--the painted widows--the “chop-nut”
test--Malagasey burial rites--ceremonials observed on the
death of Prince Razahooatrino--lying in state--the attendant
slaves and the fly fanners--subscription among the mourners
to pay the funeral expenses--1500 oxen slain and eaten at a
funeral feast--stepping over dead oxen--no special places for
burial in Madagascar--death in Australia--the name of the dead
never mentioned by the surviving relatives--perching dead old
women on tree boughs--“take that for dying!”--the Abyssinian a
believer in the doctrine of purgatory--dancing and singing and
face-scratching--funeral of an Ailat man--how the Sambo Indian
is buried--the body in the pitpan--running away with the corpse
to cheat the devil--artful device of the corpse-bearers--cutting
down the palm trees--the way to find out if “Wulasha” has
been cheated--what the traveller Stephens saw at La Rayas, in
Mexico--a _Christian_ burial--death in Dahomey--the very last
grand custom--the king’s ingenious device for the more ready
performance of human sacrifice--a victim saved--how a Dahoman
king is buried--providing his majesty with means for paying his
way in the next world. Pages 386–418.
[Illustration]
List of Wood-Cuts,
FROM DESIGNS BY HARDEN S. MELVILLE.
ENGRAVED BY H. NEWSOM WOODS.
PAGE
FORBE’S RECEPTION BY THE KING OF DAHOMEY 1
A MALAGASEY BALL 52
BORNEO 54
AUSTRALIAN WEAPONS 66
POLYNESIAN WAR CANOE 67
WAR DANCE OF NEW ZEALANDERS 88
DAYAK AND MALAY WEAPONS 93
POLYNESIAN GOODS BOAT 106
NORTH AMERICAN WAR WEAPONS 111
A CHIPPEWA WARRIOR 115
POLYNESIAN WAR TOOLS 122
THE EUROPEAN’S HUT IN THE WILDERNESS 133
TORRES’ STRAITS CANOE 147
AN AUSTRALIAN DUEL 154
AFRICAN ARMS 162
THE UNIVERSAL WEAPON 168
A SAVAGE BOWMAN 169
PAPUAN BLACKSMITHS 180
THE EXPLORER’S HIGHWAY 183
THE TWO DOGS OR NONE 192
BOATMEN OF ROCKINGHAM BAY 203
THE TRUE WORD EXPOUNDED IN WESTERN AFRICA 204
SAMOAN IDOL WORSHIP 218
A POLYNESIAN IDOL 221
SPECTRE OF A HEADLESS DOG 240
MAKING BROTHERS 243
THE DREAM OF LITTLE WASP 262
THE COVETOUS PAWNEE 275
AN IROQUOIS WARRIOR 280
A WOMAN UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF BOUDA 289
PUNISHMENT FOR KILLING FETISH SNAKES 293
CEREMONY OF TOUCHING THE BULL 301
DIVINATION SCENE 307
MAKING RAIN 312
DU CHAILLU’S PEEP INTO A HEATHEN TEMPLE 321
THE WIZARD IN THE STOCKS 324
INHABITANTS OF THE FAN COUNTRY 336
BURYING ALIVE IN FIGI 337
MOURNING SUIT OF LEAVES 341
FUNERAL OBSEQUIES OF KING FINOW 354
A SAMOAN SEPULCHRE 364
A MANDAN CHIEF 374
MANDAN PLACE OF SKULLS 375
“HE HEARD THEM RECOUNT THEIR VALIANT DEEDS” 380
DAMARA TOMB 387
AFRICAN WAKE 392
THE “MASTER OF LIFE” IN EQUATORIAL AFRICA 395
THE VERY LAST DAHOMAN “CUSTOM” 414
[Illustration: Forbes’s Reception by the King of Dahomey.]
PART VII.
SAVAGE KINGS AND COURTS.
CHAPTER XVII.
The Savage considered as a child of nature--A saltatory
welcome--Gezo, King of Kings--Items of Dahoman royal
treasure--Distribution of the presents--Kings and Ambassadors
joining in the scramble--The human sacrifices--A “Grand
Custom” of the year 1862--The King of Abó--The terrible Neam
Nam--Browowdi, King of Issapoo--A King of Old Kalabar--King Eyo
Honesty--The order of Egbo--The Mambo of Lunda--The Jaga.
At first sight it would seem hard to show a greater anomaly than
an unthinking instinct-obeying nation of savages consenting to be
controlled and governed by a fellow barbarian, equally unthinking, and
morally powerless; and the said anomaly is the more striking when the
savage is viewed as the vulgar view him,--as a free-born “child of
nature,” intolerant of rule, and guided in all his behaviour by certain
instinctive high-souled sentiments, and vast powers of mind, that
require only cultivation to fit their possessor for the achievement of
all that ever was yet successfully attempted by man. This, however, is
very far from the fact. Without doubt, and as we have only to refer
back to our own ancient barbarism to be convinced, the germ of perfect
manhood lies in every savage, but like the ore of gold and iron, the
true metal lies deep, and to free it from dross and make its lustre
apparent is a process neither easy nor rapid. Again, like golden ore,
in which the precious deposit shows here and there with a sheen that
undoubtedly reveals its presence, does the savage’s mind manifest its
existence in fitful flashes and glimmerings, that, alas! only reveal to
him what a helpless wretch he is, and what a terribly responsible thing
is life, with children and wife, and all its other precious belongings,
and which, in an instant, may be spilt and vanish like a capsized gourd
of water.
This--the end of life--is the end of everything with our brother the
savage; life to him is only good according to the ease it enables
him to get in the land he lives in. The first business of his life
is to make himself comfortable; the second is how to hold such
appurtenances to his comfort as he has gained. If he is a little man,
any man a trifle bigger coming his way may strip him, seize his wife
and children as slaves, knock him on the head, and appropriate his
hut; if he is a big man any two big men who choose to conspire may
serve him in the same cruel way: what then remains to be done, but to
combine for the good of the common weal? which may be aptly likened to
a common _wheel_--the chief being the _stock_, the various
_headmen_, or councillors, the _spokes_, or spokesmen, and
the _fellowes_, just as many savage fellows as the tribe, or band,
or _tire_ embraces.
Still, who is to be “king,” or “chief,” or “Jaga,” or “Mambo,” or
whatever else you please, as representing the stock or common centre
of the said wheel? About this question, however, we need not trouble
ourselves, and simply because, just as the queen bee is born in a hive,
so are men born commanders of men; that is, originally; the fact of
their descendants degenerating, and being totally unfit to wield a
sceptre is nothing to the purpose. Custom and Fashion then step in,
and these two of themselves are monarchs potent enough to settle the
gravest question that could possibly arise, even in the most civilized
countries in the world. Wherever a leader is wanted, a leader will be
found; he may be a wrong-headed leader, or conceited, or cruel, or
arbitrary; but so sure as he remains at the helm, for the short space
only of a year, you may depend that he is no make-believe; and the very
worst you can say of such an one is, that it is a pity that a king
should possess so many bad qualities; that he deserves to die for them,
if you please; nay, go as far as killing him, and how different are
your feelings than though you had killed a merely contemptible upstart.
Of course I talk of “killing” as a figure of speech, in its extremest
sense. There, however, is one king now existing whom, if with his life
would end the hideous work of blood and carnage prevailing in his
nation, might well be wished dead. I allude to the King of Dahomey,
who, as a trafficker in human beings, dead and alive, is an ulcer on
the face of the world; a man whose guilt is so black that it may never
be washed away, though they laved him in rivers of water as deep as
those of tears and blood that he has caused to flow.
We hear very little of this potentate. Now and then an adventurous
European will penetrate his awful domains, and give to the world some
account of the horrors he sees and hears; once in a while we read in
the African News that “the King of Dahomey threatens a massacre on such
or such a place,” or that the barbarous “annual custom” is about to
commence, with an enumeration of the victims already secured, and whose
blood is required to “water the late king’s grave.” Of all Englishmen
who have witnessed the abominations of Dahomey, none have recorded them
more graphically than Commander Forbes, and it is from his account
chiefly that what is here related of Dahomey is derived.
Commander Forbes’s first introduction to the King of Dahomey was, to
say the least, calculated to make a lasting impression on his memory.
Within a short distance of the royal residence Mr. Forbes and his
party halted at the house of a friend, and attired themselves in
full uniforms, and then moved forward to some shady trees to await
the arrival of the carbooceers who were to conduct them to the royal
presence. After the adventurous Europeans came a crowd of hammock-men
and other Dahoman followers. About a quarter of a mile from the halting
place stood a vast assembly of carbooceers and soldiers with umbrellas
of state, flat-topped and ornamented like those of the Chinese, and
banners of every hue and most varied devices. Beside the Dahoman
standards, each of which was ornamented by a human skull, floated the
national flags of France, England, Portugal, and Brazil, whilst every
carbooceer had his own particular pennon.
The first chief who advanced towards Commander Forbes’s party from this
gay crowd of carbooceers was Boh-peh, the governor of the capital,
dressed in a country cloth wrapped round his body, a slouched hat,
necklaces of coral and other beads, and armed with a handsome sword.
Behind him came a retinue of soldiers, his standard, his umbrella of
state, and his stool of rank; and, lastly, a band of most discordant
music. Arriving in front of Forbes’s party, he bowed, and then marched
from right to left round their seats three times, completing each
circuit with a low obeisance. On his third round he discharged three
muskets, and danced a short measure, then advanced and shook hands, and
seated himself on his stool of office, which its bearer had placed on
the Englishman’s right hand.
Ah-hoh-peh, the king’s brother, and Gaseh-doh, the chief of the
carbooceers of Dahomey, followed, with similar attendants and
ceremonies. When the whole party were seated, a body of the royal
household, having half their heads shaved, took position in front,
and sang a hymn of welcome to the Englishmen. The Dahoman guard
were showily dressed in scarlet, trimmed with beads and other
ornaments, with their heads covered by silver caps, some of which were
distinguished by a pair of small silver horns. In his right hand,
each carried a horse-tail whip, with which he beat time to the air
of the chant. Next advanced Poh-neh-soo (at once a military officer,
court-fool, and headsman) and his party of blunderbuss men, who
likewise fired a salute, and then drank healths with the Europeans;
after which, the latter entered their hammocks, and the entire party
proceeded towards the palace, amid the firing of muskets and short
brass guns.
The travellers found the palace of Dange-lah-cordeh surrounded at a
distance of twenty feet with human skulls, many of which had crumbled
with time, or had blown down. The square of the palace was filled with
armed people sitting on their hams, the polished barrels of their
muskets standing up like a forest. Under a thatched gateway sat the
king surrounded by his immediate wives; while on each side sat the
amazons all in uniform, armed and accoutred; and in the centre of the
square squatted the males. Hundreds of banners and umbrellas enlivened
the scene, and a constant firing from great guns and small arms
increased the excitement.
When near the king’s seat, the European party came to a halt, while
the carbooceers bowed down and kissed the dust. Passing before the
throne, they bowed and made the circuit of the square three times, the
carbooceers prostrating themselves each time. Then the Englishmen stept
from their hammocks and approached the king, who had been reclining,
but now rose, and several discordant bands struck up a quick step,
whilst guns were fired, and all shouted, except the ministers and
carbooceers, who prostrated and threw dust over their heads, as Mr.
Forbes advanced and shook hands with the king.
King Gézo, of Dahomey, was about forty-eight years of age, good
looking, with nothing of the negro feature, and his face wanting
several shades of being black; his appearance was commanding, and his
countenance intellectual, though stern in the extreme. Indeed, he
is described as being short of positively handsome only by a slight
squint. He was plainly dressed in a loose robe of yellow silk, slashed
with satin stars, and half moons, Mandingo sandals, and a Spanish hat
trimmed with gold lace.
Taking their seats facing the royal mat, the party entered into a
complimentary conversation, after which the ministers were introduced
by name to our countrymen. His Majesty then enquired if his guests
would like to see a review of his amazons, and of course his guests
were delighted at the offer. Three regiments were paraded, one being
distinguished by a white cap ornamented with the blue alligator,
another by a blue cross, and the third by a blue crown. The officers
were recognized by their coral necklaces and superior dresses; while
each carried a small whip which they freely plied when required.
Firing, rushing hither and thither, and advancing to the throne to
address the king, were the chief features of the review; at the
conclusion of which two amazon heralds, bearing long trumpets, blew a
blast and then blazoned forth the numerous names of Gézo, King of
Kings.
The king having asked Commander Forbes to drink, rose, and with his
glass in hand tapped that of each of his guests; then there thundered
forth a salute of guns almost drowned by the shouts of the multitude.
The ministers and carbooceers danced, and the ladies held clothes
before the king. Men must not see the king eat or drink. On the whole
it was Mr. Forbes’ distinct conviction that no king could have been
more civil or more condescending.
The same gentleman had the good (?) fortune to be present at the
ceremony of Ek-bah-tong-ek-bah, or “display of the king’s wealth,” an
exhibition of a perfectly unique character and finding no parallel
throughout the world. The fundamental principle of the King of
Dahomey’s government is profuse generosity to his subjects. His
constant aim is to inculcate the notion that his riches are boundless
and his good nature none the less so. How hollow and fictitious are
both these assumptions was evident enough to Commander Forbes, although
for his head’s sake he dare not express such a conviction while in the
land of “Grand Customs.”
“It was little more than seven o’clock a.m. when we were informed that
a royal messenger had arrived to summon us to witness the custom to
be performed on this day--the Ek-bah-tong-ek-bah, or “display of the
king’s wealth.” At a little distance from our gate the road was fenced
off and a guard set on the temporary gate, so as to prevent any one
entering who was not invited to bear a part in the proceedings of the
day. They who wished to inspect the royal treasures which were to be
shown to the people assembled in the Ahjahee market-place.
“When we arrived at the palace square at the foot of the ladder leading
to the palace house, on each side were three human heads recently
decapitated, the blood still oozing; on the threshold of the entrance
gate was a pool of blood from six human sacrifices over which we had
to step. In the square was a huge model of an elephant caparisoned
on wheels, on which the king is drawn when going short journeys. The
king never walks, nor rides on horseback, but is either carried in a
hammock, or drawn on this elephant, or in a carriage or wheeled chair.
In the centre of the court-yard stood a crimson tent or pavilion forty
feet high, ornamented with emblems of human and bullock’s heads,
skulls, and other devices equally barbarous and disgusting. On the top
was the figure of a Dahoman standard-bearer (or half-heads, as they are
called, having half their heads shaved) bearing a standard, having for
a device a skull in a calabash standing on three other skulls. About
the yard were many flags of all colours, some having as their devices
men cutting off other’s heads, and others tying prisoners, and many
national flags, amongst which were several Union Jacks. In and about
the pavilion were the female host of ministers, carbooceers, amazons,
wives, and virgins. The king had not arrived; all were gaily dressed,
and armed, and accoutred.
“On the neutral ground where we stood facing the pavilion (while the
mayo and ce-a-boo-gan grovelled in the dust like mandarins kow-towing
to the royal chair) roamed an ostrich, an emu, several dwarfs,
hunchbacks, and albinoes, besides troops of dogs of almost every
country and variety. All the ministers and carbooceers were arrayed
in red-striped flowing robes laden with necklaces of coral and other
beads. Each wore a scimitar, a short sword, and a club.
“Presently, under a salute fired from musketoons and small brass pieces
within the court and cannon outside, the king arrived, dressed in a
white silk flowing robe flowered in blue and a gold-laced hat, and took
his seat in a sofa under the pavilion. Forthwith the bands struck up
and the heralds proclaimed that Gézo, the Leopard and the Hawk, had
taken his place; fifty-eight ministers and carbooceers at the same
time marched three times in single file, and at the third time all
prostrated and kissed the dust. So soon as this ceremony was concluded
the business of the day commenced. This is a public display of the
monarch’s wealth, carried on the heads of slaves through the town to
the market and back again. The procession consisted of between six and
seven thousand people.”
To enumerate, however, every item of “wealth” carried by these six or
seven thousand individuals would certainly be to weary the reader,
even though she were a lady, loving, next to possessing gold and gems,
to hear and read about them; besides, there is much among the Dahomey
“crown jewels” which the said lady reader could match in point of
value in her wash-house or lumber-room. Let us take a few notes of the
members of the procession:--
52 women carrying white flowered vases.
6 carrying jars.
10 carrying French ornaments under glass shades.
1 carrying a washing pan.
1 carrying a crimson cushioned rocking chair.
1 carrying a box.
1 carrying a washing-stand.
1 carrying a toilette table, drawers, and glass.
2 carrying stools.
3 carrying banners.
1 carrying a skull in a copper pan.
2 carrying calabashes full of skulls.
2 carrying shields.
Head bunseh’s mother in scarlet, wearing a Life Guardsman’s helmet and
plumes, and attended by a lady in Charles II. hat and plumes, both
magnificently dressed.
8 Malam’s wives.
Band of 20.
Guard of 100.
Band of 12.
4 women carrying pans of skulls.
2 carrying jars surmounted with skulls.
1 carrying a large pan of skulls.
1 carrying a banner.
2 carrying umbrellas over the king’s women and attendants, in crimson
cloth dresses and slouched hats trimmed with gold.
Band of 20.
Guard of 30.
2 women carrying pans of skulls.
2 carrying jars of skulls.
2 carrying a banner and two umbrellas each.
King’s grandmother, in head-dress of silver, crimson and silver robe
and train, held by a maiden bearing a gold-headed stick.
One of the King’s grandfather’s widows in scarlet and gold.
1 man carrying a banner.
1 carrying a tray containing three human skulls.
The King’s washing-tub borne by 30 guards.
2 men carrying a scarlet and gold sedan chair.
300 carrying dishes with a basket in each.
55 carrying blue glass goblets.
50 carrying white glass goblets.
6 carrying a drum trimmed with skulls.
1 carrying umbrella ornamented with eighty human jaw-bones.
Men carrying a native sofa. Etc. etc. etc.
All the possessions of the king, in fact, from his grandmother to
his washing-tub, were to be found, and made no doubt as a whole a
tremendous display, though it is by no means unreasonable to say that
the sum of the “king’s wealth” brought under the hammer of a London
auctioneer would realize little more than would the contents of any
first-rate villa-residence at Clapham or Richmond.
It should be stated, however, that as well as this household gear,
the royal exchequer was brought out and carried in measures. In this
again the king was fortunate as regards opportunity for display;
_cowries_ form the currency of Dahomey--and goodness knows
the many thousands of these it takes to make a single English
sovereign--therefore it was easy enough to arrange that, although in
form of money the king possessed no more than a little over a thousand
pounds, porter after porter should go trooping past, each with such a
load of money as made the mouths of the spectators water with envy.
Well, their longing was not to remain entirely ungratified. The king,
although a vastly rich, is not a greedy man; and annually he makes
presents to one and all of his loyal subjects; not in a hole and corner
sort of way, but publicly--with the mob before him, and the riches, the
cowries, the bales of cloth, the tobacco, and the kegs of rum in heaps
and piles and pyramids at his elbow; and scrambles the astonishing
gifts fairly and without favour--or so it seems. Let us, however, see
what Mr. Forbes has to say on the subject.
“On the last day of May, commenced the custom of the
Ek-que-noo-ah-toh-meh, or throwing the presents from the Ah-toh. It
is on this day human sacrifices are offered by the king among his
gifts to his people. In the centre of the market-place a platform was
erected twelve feet in height, enclosed by a parapet breast high. The
whole was covered with cloths of all colours, and surmounted by tents,
gaudy umbrellas, and banners of varied hues and devices, among which,
as usual, were several Union Jacks. On the west front of the Ah-toh,
which must have been at least one hundred feet square, was a barrier
of the prickly acacia, and within this were the victims for the day’s
sacrifice, lashed in baskets and canoes as on yesterday. A dense naked
mob occupied the area, whilst a guard of soldiers prevented them from
bearing down the barrier. Beyond, in all directions, were groups of
people collected round the banners and umbrellas of the different
ministers and cabooceers. The naked mob consisted of the soldiers of
the king, his brothers and sons, the ministers and higher cabooceers:
each carried a grass-cloth bag round his waist; and the actual business
of the day was a public display of the generosity of the king, who
scrambles goods of all kinds among these warriors.
“The king had preceded us, and as we took our seats under a canopy to
the right of the Ah-toh, His Majesty appeared on the platform under the
shade of a handsome umbrella of crimson velvet and gold, dressed in an
old black waistcoat, a white nightcap, and a cloth round his loins,
and was greeted with loud shouts from the military expectants, who now
formed into bands, and carrying their officers on their shoulders,
marched past the royal position, the king’s own taking the lead. This
they did three times, and then halted immediately under the king’s
position, who harangued them on the impropriety of fighting during the
scramble, and having thrown a few cowries by way of trial, commanded us
to join him.
“Ascending the ladder the appearance was truly novel: in three separate
heaps in different parts of the platform were three thousand heads of
cowries, several heaps of cloths, rum in kegs, and rolls of tobacco;
one side was occupied by tents for the royal wives; while others were
grouped about in different parts of the platform in gaudy dresses.
At the upper end stood the king surrounded by his ministers, and at
the lower were, under canopies of showy umbrellas, two tables bearing
liquors and glasses, one for the cha-cha, the other for ourselves.
After taking our seats we were directed to stand under an umbrella
facing the mob, and now commenced in real earnest the scramble, the
king labouring hard throwing down cowries, cloth, tobacco, etc. The
cowries appeared to be the property of the lucky ones who caught them,
but the cloths were instantly handed to the officers, and if not, a
fight ensued that was terrible to behold.
“The naked multitude emitted an effluvium only to be compared to the
fetid atmosphere of a slave ship, and as the mass oscillated, there
arose a vapour like the miasma of a swamp, as they were perfectly
bathed with perspiration.
“Besides throwing gifts to the soldiers, His Majesty was all smiles and
liberality in his donations to the ministers and a number of others;
but to no one was any large sum given. At one time he sent us a basket
containing ten heads of cowries and two pieces of cloth as a present,
and at another a constant supply of cowries and cloths to scramble
among the mob.
“Among the recipients of the royal bounty were two kings and several
ambassadors, including one from Ashantee called Cocoa Sautee.
“Towards noon the brigantine on wheels put off to discharge her
cargo of rum, tobacco, and cowries, which were added to the heaps on
the platform. The king’s party of soldiers keeping together, were
evidently the principal recipients, and we soon found that something
like an equal distribution among them was aimed at. A captain of
musquetoon-men, named Poh-veh-soh, at once a military officer, court
fool, and headsman, caught my attention, and I threw him three pieces
of cloth full of cowries; on receiving the third he was ordered off the
ground. Rum was distributed to the _élite_ on the platform, and a
breakfast provided for us, besides food for the ministers and wives.
“By two o’clock one of the heaps of one thousand heads of cowries had
been thrown away and part of another given to the higher classes. Some
three or four hundred pieces of cloth, a few kegs of rum, and rolls of
tobacco, having all disappeared, His Majesty retired to rest awhile.
“Would to God that I could here close the account of this day’s
proceedings, simply detailing the barbarous policy of raising the
worst passions of man in order to make people believe in the profuse
distribution of a pay which if doled out individually would be a mere
pittance. The crowd can have no idea of the sum scrambled for; all they
know is that a continuous shower is kept up for seven hours, and they
consider it must be immense. Even if a man gets none he is content to
know that he has been unfortunate, and should he proclaim his ill-luck
he would not be believed, each supposing the other to be disguising the
real quantity he has gained.
“During the royal absence a dead silence reigned as if by general
consent; when by accident it was broken it was reinforced by the
eunuchs sounding their metal bells, tolling the knell of eleven human
beings. Out of fourteen now brought on the platform, we, the unworthy
instruments of the Divine will, succeeded in saving the lives of
three. Lashed in their baskets these sturdy men met the gaze of their
persecutors with a firmness perfectly astonishing. Not a sigh was
breathed. In all my life I never saw such coolness so near death. It
did not seem real, yet it soon proved frightfully so. One monster
placed his finger to the eyes of a victim who hung down his head, but
finding no moisture drew upon himself the ridicule of his fiendish
coadjutors. Ten of the human offerings to the bloodthirsty mob, and
an alligator, and a cat, were guarded by soldiers, the other four by
amazons.
“In the meantime the king returned, and calling us from our seats at
the further end of the platform, asked if we should wish to witness the
sacrifice. With horror we declined, and begged to be allowed to save
a portion of them. After some conversation with his courtiers, seeing
him wavering, I offered him a hundred dollars each for the first and
last of the ten, while at the same time Mr. Beecroft made a similar
offer for the first of the four, which was accepted, and the three were
immediately unlashed from their precarious position, but forced to
remain spectators of the horrid deed to be done on their less fortunate
countrymen. What must have been their thoughts?
“The king insisted on our viewing the place of sacrifice. Immediately
under the royal stand within the break of acacia bushes stood seven
or eight fell ruffians, some armed with clubs, others with scimetars,
grinning horribly. As we approached the mob yelled fearfully and
called upon the king “to feed them--they were hungry.” It was at a
similar exhibition that Achardee (President of Jena) while looking
into the pit with the king was seized, thrown down, and murdered on
the spot. Disgusted beyond the power of description we retired to our
seats, where also the cha-cha had retreated; not so his brothers, for
I regret to say they remained delighted spectators of the agonies of
the death of these innocent victims. As we reached our seats a fearful
yell rent the air. The victims were held high above the heads of their
bearers, and the naked ruffians thus acknowledged the munificence of
their prince. Silence again ruled, and the king made a speech, stating
that of his prisoners he gave a portion to his soldiers, as his father
and grandfather had done before. Having called their names, the one
nearest was divested of his clothes, the foot of the basket placed
on the parapet, when the king gave the upper part an impetus and the
victim fell at once into the pit beneath. A fall of upwards of twelve
feet might have stunned him, and before sense could return the head was
cut off and the body thrown to the mob, who, now armed with clubs and
branches, brutally mutilated and dragged it to a distant pit, where
it was left as food for the beasts and birds of prey. After the third
victim had thus been sacrificed the king retired and the chiefs and
slave dealers completed the deed which the monarch blushed to finish.”
Again I would remind the reader that this horrible business is not a
thing of the past but of the present. True it was in the years 1849–50
that Mr. Forbes witnessed the horrors he describes, but had he been
in Dahomey in 1859–60 he would have witnessed as bad, or worse. Here
indeed, and taken from the _Times_ newspaper, is an account of the
very last Dahoman “Grand Custom.”
“The following information from Dahomey has been received at the Church
Missionary House, from the commander of Her Majesty’s ship Griffin, at
Little Popo, August 6th, 1862:--
“Sir,--I think it my duty to lay before you, with as little delay as
possible, the following information concerning Dahomey:
“On the 5th of August, when at anchor off Little Popo, I received a
letter from the shore, stating that Mr. Euschart, a Dutch merchant,
residing at Popo, had just returned from Dahomey, and that he had news
of great interest for my ear. This Mr. Euschart I have had frequent
conversations with, and I have every reason to believe that his
information is most accurate, trustworthy, and reliable. I therefore
borrowed a surf boat from a Dutch brig in the roads, and, having manned
her with ten of my own Kroomen, I with great difficulty effected a
landing, two boats out of three that tried the beach that day being
capsized, owing to the very heavy surf. I give the substance of Mr.
Euschart’s information as closely as possible, having jotted it down in
my note-book during our conversation.
“It appears that Mr. Euschart went to Whydah on business in the middle
of June, and on the 24th of June, while still at Whydah, received the
stick of the King of Dahomey, with an instruction that his presence
was required at Abomey. Mr. Euschart tried every method of evading the
journey, but without avail, the carbooceers of Whydah plainly telling
him that he would be carried to Abomey as a prisoner if he did not at
once willingly obey the King’s message.
“Accordingly at one p.m. on June 26th, having provided himself with six
hammock men, he left Whydah for Abomey, escorted by an armed party of
Dahomians, and reached Alada, the old residence of the King of Dahomey,
the same evening; June 27th, one p.m., left Alada, and arrived at
Tabour at ten p.m.; June 28th, 5.30 a.m., started for Kamos, through
swamp, and easily passed; 9.30 a.m., started, and arrived outside
Abomey at 7.30 p.m., the road on the way having been very good. He
was at once shown into a very fair house, and told to remain there
during the night. June 29th, received a message from the King that he
was to be presented the next day. June 30th, entered walled part of
town through Royal gate; received there by two head carbooceers, who
saluted him, saying: ‘King had never seen a Dutchman; King’s father had
never seen a Dutchman; and now they had plenty of people to kill they
were very glad to see a Dutchman.’ He was then ordered to drink the
King’s health four times, after which the carbooceers danced round him,
singing and firing guns. He was then conducted to the King’s palace,
and received there by the Prime Minister, who told him the King would
receive him next day.
“July 1.--Received by the king, who was seated outside the palace on
a raised dais, surrounded by amazons. He saluted the king in European
style. The king at once got up and shook hands with him, said he was
very glad to see a Dutchman, and continued talking in Portuguese for
about ten minutes. He was then ordered to return to his house and keep
inside three days.
“July 5.--He was brought to the market-place, where he was told many
people had been killed the night before. He first saw the body of Mr.
William Doherty (a Sierra Leone man), late a missionary and church
catechist at Ishagga. The body was crucified against a large tree--one
nail through the forehead, one through the heart, and one through each
hand and foot; the left arm was bent, and a large cotton umbrella
in the grasp. He was then taken to the market, where the king was
seated on a raised platform, from which he was talking to the people
much ‘war palaver,’ and promising them an attack upon Abbeokuta in
November. Cowries, cloth, and rum were then distributed. In front of
the market-place, rows of human heads, fresh and gory, were ranged, and
the whole place was saturated with blood, the heads evidently belonging
to some of the Ishagga prisoners who had been killed during the night,
after having been tortured in the most frightful manner.
“Until July 10th Mr. Euschart was ordered to remain quiet in his house,
and not to move or look out after sundown.
“July 10.--The ground shook violently--evidently, from the date, the
effect of the earthquake felt at Accra. Mr. Euschart was at once
brought to the market-place, where he found the king again seated on
the raised platform, surrounded by Amazons; the king told him that
the ground shaking was his father’s spirit, complaining that ‘Customs
were not made proper.’ Three Ishagga chiefs were then brought before
the king, and told they were to go and tell his father that ‘Customs
should be better than ever.’ Each chief was then given a bottle of rum
and a head of cowries, and then decapitated. Twenty-four men were then
brought out, bound in baskets, with their heads just showing out, and
placed on the platform in front of the king; they were then thrown down
to the people, who were dancing, singing, and yelling below; as each
man was thrown down he was seized and beheaded, the heads being piled
in one heap and the bodies in another; every man who caught a victim
and cut off the head received one head of cowries (about 2_s._).
After all were killed Mr. Euschart was conducted home.
“July 11.--Taken to another part of the town, where exactly similar
horrors were being perpetrated.
“July 12.--All the platforms were taken down, and the programme
appeared to be firing guns, singing, and dancing all day; there were
no more public sacrifices for ten days, but it is supposed many took
place during the nights.
“July 22.--Taken to see the ‘Grand Customs’ at the palace of the late
king, at the gate of which two platforms had been erected; on each
platform sixteen men and four horses were placed; inside the house
was placed another platform, on which were placed sixteen women, four
horses, and one alligator. The men and women were all Sierra Leone
people captured at Ishagga, and were dressed in European clothes;
each group of sixteen men seated, or rather bound, in chairs placed
round a table, on which glasses of rum were placed for each. The king
then ascended the platform, where he adored the Dahomian fetish, and
seemed to make obeisance to the prisoners, whose right arms were then
loosed to enable them to take up the glass to drink the king’s health.
After the king’s health had been drunk, the effects of the late king
were paraded and worshipped by the people as they passed; a grand
review of the troops then commenced, and as each marched past the king
harangued them, and promised the sack of Abbeokuta in November. Nearly
the whole of the troops wore fire-arms; a few select corps had rifles,
but the greater part were armed with flint-lock muskets. The artillery
consisted of about twenty-four guns (twelve-pounders). The number
of troops altogether could scarcely be less than 50,000, including
10,000 amazons, all apparently well disciplined troops. After the
review was over the prisoners were beheaded, their heads being hacked
off with blunt knives; at the same time the horses and alligator were
dispatched, particular care being taken that their blood should mingle
with that of the human prisoners.
“When all was finished Mr. Euschart was permitted to leave Abomey,
which, it is needless to say, he immediately did, having received the
magnificent _viatica_ of eight heads of cowries (16_s._), one
piece of country cloth, and two flasks of rum.
“Mr. Euschart firmly believes that Abbeokuta will, without doubt, be
attacked by the whole Dahoman army towards the end of November.
“T. L. PERRY, Commander.
“To the Governor of Lagos.”
It is instructive to turn from this, one of the last reports from
this land of human butchery, to another letter written as long ago
as November 27, 1724, by one Bullfinch Lamb, a “guest by compulsion”
of Trudo Andati, at the time in question King of Dahomey. The
epistle appears in “Dahomey and the Dahomans,” and would seem to
be the effusion of a gentleman connected with the service of the
British Crown, and who had got into a mess, rather through his urgent
commercial spirit than through any unavoidable exigence of duty or
voluntary adventure.
“November 17, 1724.
“Sir,--About five days ago the king of this country gave me
yours of the 1st instant, and immediately required me to answer
it in his presence, which I did, though in a very different
manner, so that if I do not recall it, I hope that you will
excuse that as well as this. As to the late conference I had
with his majesty, on receiving your letter, I think he does not
want to make a price to let me go, for when I pressed him much
to tell me on what terms he would send me away, his answer was,
he did not want to sell me, I was not a black man; but upon
my again pressing him he made a sort of jesting demand to the
sum of I think 700 slaves, about £10,000, or £14 a-head. Which
strange ironical way of talking, as I told him, made my blood
run cold in my veins; and, upon recovering myself, I asked him
if he thought the king of my country would listen to such an
outrageous proposal, and that you and the company would think
that both he and I had lost our senses, should I have writ
anything like what he said. Upon which he laughed, and told me
not to put anything of that in the letter; for that he would
order his head captain of trade to treat with you upon that
subject, and that if you had not something very fine for him
at Whydah you must write to the company. Upon which I told him
I feared I must die in his country, and that I would only send
for a few clothes and necessaries, which I desired he would
let his people bring for me, and he agreed to it, so that I
don’t find there is any other way of redeeming me than by the
company sending him a present of a crown and sceptre, which
must be paid for out of what remains due to the late King of
Ardah. I know nothing else but what he will think mean, being
stocked with great quantities of plate, wrought gold, and other
rich things, and also all sorts of rich gowns, cloths, hats,
caps, etc. He has likewise all sorts of common goods beyond
measure, and gives away booges like dirt and brandy like water,
for he is prodigiously vain and proud; but he is withal, I
believe, the richest king and greatest warrior in this part of
the world, and you may depend upon it in time will subdue most
of the countries round him. He has already set his two chief
palaces round with men’s skulls, as thick as they can lie on
the walls, one by another, and are such as he has killed in
war; each of which palaces are in circumference larger than St.
James’s Park, about a mile and a half round. I hope my royal
masters will take my case into consideration, and think of the
long and many sufferings I have had in their service, and what
a miserable condition I am still in, as it were, banished all
the pleasures of this life, not only from my wife, and other
friends, but all conversation in general; so that I am like
one buried alive from the world, and think nothing can come
near my unhappy fate, to lose my time and spend my youth, as it
were, for nothing in such a cursed place as this, and not see
a likelihood of getting out of it, but that I must end my days
here. To prevent all which, I hope that they and you, in their
behalf, will use your utmost endeavours, by such means as are
requisite, for my deliverance, which I shall very impatiently
pray to God to bring to pass. Governor Baldwin promised me in
his last, upon his arrival in London, he would lay my case
before our royal masters. Therefore, when you, write, I beg
you will remind him and them thereof, and note the contents of
what I now write. If any letters come from England for me, I
believe either them or anything else will come safe to my hands
by the king’s people. He is very willing I should have letters
come to me, or anything else. Nor will he be guilty of any mean
action in keeping anything from me, if it were twenty slaves.
Neither do I believe he would detain any white man that should
come here, but me whom he deems a captive taken in his wars.
He sets a great value upon me, he never having had a white man
here before, only an old mulatto Portuguese, which he had bought
of the Popoe people, at the rate of about £500, as near as I
could compute. And though this white man is his slave, he keeps
him like a great carboceer, and has given him two houses, and
a heap of wives and servants. It may be that once in two or
three months he mends (he being a tailor by trade) some trifle
or other for his majesty, but after the devil of a manner. So
that if any tailor, carpenter, smith, or any sort of white man
that is free, be willing to come here, he will find very good
encouragement, and be much caressed, and get money if he can be
contented with his life for a time; his majesty paying everybody
extravagantly that works for him. And then it might be one means
of letting me go with a promise of returning to trade with him;
but he now says, if I go, he does not know whether he shall
see any more white men, thinking they add to his grandeur; so
that if any fellow whatsoever comes up and goes down again, it
will possess him with a notion that more white men will come,
and so let me go in order to encourage their coming. Or, if my
little servant, Henry Tench, he at Whydah, and is willing to
come to me, it may in time be much for his interest, as now
being a boy, the king will be entirely fond of him, for, though
I do nothing for him, he has put me into a house and given me
half-a-dozen men and women servants, also a constant supply to
maintain myself and them. If I loved brandy, I might soon kill
myself, having enough of that, also of sugar, flour, and the
like. And when he kills oxen, which is often, I am sure of a
quarter, and sometimes a live hog, sheep, or goat; so that I
shall not starve (but this is nothing, I still want content).
And when he comes out in public, the Portuguese and I are called
out to sit all day in the sun, only our boys are permitted to
hold our kideysols or umbrellas over our heads; but then he
pays us pretty well for it, sometimes giving us two, sometimes
three or four grand cabess apiece, and a huge flask of brandy
to drink there, besides one or two more for each to carry home.
Most of the ink you sent me being unfortunately spilt, I beg you
will send me a packet of ink powder. His Majesty has likewise
got from me the greatest part of the paper, having a notion in
his head of a kite, which, though I told him was only fit for
boys to play with, yet he says I must make one for him and I
to play with, so I beg you will send me two quires of ordinary
paper and some twine for that use, and a score of matches, his
majesty requiring me sometimes to fire his great guns; and I am
much in fear of having my eyes put out with the splinters. He
has twenty-five cannon, some of which are upwards of a thousand
weight, so that a man would think the devil helped to bring
them here, this place being about two hundred miles distant
from Whydah, and at least one hundred and sixty from Ardah. His
Majesty takes great delight in firing them twice round every
market day, only now that his people are making carriages for
them. And though he seems to be a man of as great natural parts
and sense as any of his colour, yet he takes great delight in
trifling toys and whims, so that if you have anything of that
kind, I pray you will send them me, or any prints or pictures,
he much loving to look in a book, and commonly carries a Latin
mass book in his pocket, which he had from the mulatto; and
when he has a mind to banter anyone out of their requests, he
looks in his book as studiously as if he understood it, and
could employ his thoughts on no other subject; and much affects
scrawling on paper, often sending me his letters, but then he
sends an interpreter with a good flask of brandy and a grand
cabess or two.--Your humble servant,
“BULLFINCH LAMB.”
So that on the whole one cannot help wondering why it is that Master
Bullfinch--who in the course of his letter shows himself such a selfish
individual--cannot settle down and make himself comfortable. Whether
or no he ever escaped, the chronicle sayeth not; probably not; and
no great matter either, perhaps, considering Mr. Lamb’s unscrupulous
suggestion that half-a-dozen of his wretched countrymen might be
induced to thrust their heads into the mouth of this Dahoman lion, that
he, Master Lamb, might be enabled to escape.
Besides the King of Dahomey, there are many other monarchs big and
little in this quarter of Africa; but though they be ten times more
savage--if to be savage is to be remote from civilization and its
influences--we find not one as treacherous and thirsty for blood. In
the course of his explorations in Western Africa, Mr. Bakie had the
honour to meet several kings, among others the monarchs of Abó and
Igbo. Let us approach the former royal presence.
“We promised to come on shore the next morning and pay our respects.
I accordingly made an early start, and accompanied by Mr. May, Mr.
Crowther, and Dr. Hutchinson, proceeded in the gig and pinnace, the
crews of which were dressed in flaming red caps and shirts. Abó is
situated nearly a mile up a creek, the mouth of which is almost
invisible from even a very short distance. On entering it we found
it at first so extremely narrow that we had to lay in our oars and
use paddles, but, after a time, it opened into a wide expanse, the
surface of which was covered with canoes of various sizes. Numbers of
inhabitants were to be seen gazing at us, and altogether there was
more bustle and activity, and more signs of a trading people than
anything we had previously witnessed. Having reached the landing-place,
we marched in a kind of procession, headed by a Krú-man carrying the
English ensign, and accompanied by a royal messenger bearing a gaudy
flag. We had some little difficulty in keeping good order through the
narrow lanes, densely crowded as they were by the populace; as natives,
both men and women, were constantly coming towards us, and insisting
on shaking hands with us, which ceremony is here performed by the
two parties taking loose hold of the fingers of each other’s right
hands, and then slipping them, making at the some instant a snapping
noise with the aid of the thumb. We were not sorry to reach Ishúkuma’s
palace, a low dwelling of mud and thatch, with a small court some
twenty feet square in the centre. This was surrounded by a kind of
verandah, in which we were placed, a chair being brought for me, and
mats for the remainder of the company. Near us was a fetish, composed
of some old bones and a few trinkets, and close to this, under a canopy
of white calico, was a huge mat for his royal highness. Presently
he entered, accompanied by several of his wives, and other female
relatives, who all sat on his left. He seemed a little oldish-looking
man, of easy disposition, and not much intellect. He was attired in a
woollen nightcap, a white shirt, and in home-built pantaloons of native
cloth, shaped after an extreme Dutch design. The court was by this time
completely filled with crowds of natives, whose incessant noise and
chattering prevented us from commencing, and at last I had to request
him to enforce silence. This he attempted to do, in vain, until at
last, assisted by the more energetic of his spouses, and in particular
by a strong-minded sister, whose shrill tones, heard high above the
din, finally beat down all opposition, and produced a temporary calm.
I seized the moment, and, by our interpreter, told Ishúkuma, that we
had come to make his acquaintance and his friendship, and to ascertain
if the people were willing to trade with us. I expressed our sorrow
at hearing of the death of Obi, who had been the white man’s friend;
also our regret at the absence of his brother. I said that we were
desirous of fulfilling the promise made by the officers in the former
expeditions, and that we should try to do good to his country. He
replied by declaring his satisfaction at seeing white men here once
more, thanking us for our compliments, and offering, if we could wait
a few days, to send a special canoe for his brother. I told him that
we had a long distance to go, and that we must proceed while there was
plenty of water in the river, but that on our return we should again
call.”
Impressive, however, as must have been an interview with such awful
majesty, Mr. Bakie managed to survive it; indeed, so accustomed was he
to the company of kings as to make nothing of meeting two, and even
three, within a week. A day or so after his visit to the court of the
King of Abó, he brought his ships to anchor off the dominions of King
Ajé, and the result of a message to that august person was that he
would visit our traveller aboard.
“Presently Ajé was seen to approach in a large canoe, with seventeen
paddles of a side, and accompanied by several of his wives and some of
his brothers and their wives. Another salute was fired, after which
we received our visitors on board, and with some difficulty got them
all seated on the poop. Ajé is a tall, rather stout, young-looking
man, very superior in appearance to his brother, and is said in
manner and countenance greatly to resemble his father. He appeared
dressed in home-made scarlet cloth trousers, a scarlet uniform coat,
a pink beaver hat, under which, apparently to make it fit, was a red
worsted nightcap; no shoes, beads round his neck, and in his hand a
Niger-expedition-sword. After talking of general matters, I spoke of
his father, of Captain Trotter (a former explorer), of trade, and of
our wishes and intentions; on which he replied that he considered that
whatever his father wished or promised was binding on him, adding,
however, that we seemed very long in carrying out our part of the
agreement. I gave him a double-barrelled gun, a large sabre, a scarlet
robe, some cloth and beads, and some scissors, mirrors, and needles
for his wives, and also three krus (27,000) of cowries. This last, he
said, must be shared by his brother, on which I offered Tishukuma an
equal amount and gave him also other presents. With all Ajé seemed
dissatisfied, and asked why we did not give as much as Captain Trotter
did, on which I mentioned our long voyage, the many presents we had
given away, and our stock being exhausted. Still he asked for things
I had not, until I was obliged to speak more plainly, telling him how
unreasonable his behaviour was, and how unlike what I expected in a
son of Obi. He then laughed, showing that he was merely trying to get
as much as he could, a daily Abó practice. Ajé next asked for the
traders, who were sent for, and showed them a quantity of firewood,
yams, palm-oil, and a bullock he had for sale. He proved a very keen
hand, and only parted with his articles at a high price; he looked
to everything himself, saw things handed on board, and the cowries
counted. He gave me his dash, a bullock, and two hundred yams, which
latter were here, though very good, very small and rounded. I took
him round the ship, fired a swivel off before him, and showed him the
engine. I explained to him that as our provisions were nearly expended,
I could offer him but little, on which he said he would merely ask
for some biscuit, which I gave him. He was much amused with the
shower-bath, which he called all his wives to look at, and was much
pleased with a German accordion which I gave him.”
Mr. Bakie’s greatest adventure, however, was with the formidable King
or Chief of Neam Nam, whose subjects were regarded by surrounding
tribes as monsters of the blackest dye, and the chief himself as the
Fe-fo-fum of ogres. The natives begged him not to think of visiting
this nest of scorpions where he and his party would undoubtedly be
slain and eaten, and have to think themselves highly fortunate if
they escaped the most cruel tortures into the bargain. Bakie wanted
guides, but it was only on the most unheard-of terms that he was able
to procure them, as well as porters to carry presents wherewith to
propitiate the terrible Neam Nam. At last, however, these difficulties
were overcome, and the adventurers, after a considerable march, came
in sight of Mundo, a Neam Nam village. “I could not, however, induce
them to enter it, and, throwing off their loads, they decamped, leaving
only the interpreter in the firm grip of two of my followers. Nothing
daunted, my men took up the rejected loads and we proceeded towards the
village. On nearing it, the sound of several tom-toms and the shrill
whistle of their calls plainly indicated that the Neam Nam were on the
alert. A large party bearing their arms and shields issued forth to
meet us, and, drawing up in line across our path, seemed determined
to impede our progress. Heedless of the impediment, we proceeded on
our way, and my khartoumers, in the best spirits, joined lustily in a
song. The sight of the savages before us was imposing, each man guarded
the greater part of his body with a large shield, holding a lance
vertically in his right hand. The party were evidently surprised at
the confidence and unoffending manner of our approach, and evinced a
greater disposition to run away than to attack. On we went joyfully,
and when within two yards of them, their ranks opened, allowing us
a passage through them, of which as a matter of course we availed
ourselves, and entered the village (apparently deserted by women and
children), with the Neam Nam following in the rear, and passing through
a street of huts rather distantly situated from one another, we reached
a slight eminence commanding a fine view of a highly fertile country.
During our march the tom-toms continued their noise, but, regardless of
consequences, we took up our position under the shade of a magnificent
sycamore tree in the vicinity of a couple of huts; and, disembarrassing
ourselves of our baggage, we quietly seated ourselves in a circle round
it, exposing our fronts to the natives, who in great numbers soon
surrounded us, apparently astonished at the coolness we displayed;
they gradually closed, and, the front rank seating themselves, their
proximity became disagreeable, as they hemmed us in so closely that
several of them actually seated themselves upon our feet, indulging
at the same time in laughter and loud conversation which we could not
understand. Enjoining patience on my men, and convinced that, in case
of necessity, the harmless discharge of a gun or two would scatter
our visitors, I learnt with some difficulty, through the medium of
the Baer and Dor interpreters, that these savages looked upon us in
the light of bullocks fit for slaughter, and that they contemplated
feasting upon us; but they disputed the propriety of slaying us until
the arrival of their chief, who I learnt was not in the village. With
this knowledge, a hearty laugh and many jokes as to their condition
were indulged in by my brave companions, who, confident in their own
arms, behaved admirably. The excessive joy of our would-be butchers
ceased at the appearance of an aged grey-headed man, who, after a short
intercourse with the Baer interpreter, in a loud voice addressed the
mob in words to the following effect: ‘Neam Nam, do not insult these
strange men; do you know whence they come?’ ‘No, but we will feast on
them,’ was the rejoinder. Then the grey-headed old man, holding up his
spear and commanding silence, proceeded thus: ‘Do you know of any tribe
that would dare approach our village in so small a number as these
men have done?’ ‘No,’ was again vociferated. ‘Very well, you know not
whence they came, neither do I who am greatly your senior, and whose
voice you ought to respect. Their country must indeed be distant, and
to traverse the many tribes between their country and ours ought to
be a proof to you of their valour. Look at the things they hold in
their hands; they are neither spears, clubs, nor bows and arrows, but
inexplicable bits of iron mounted on wood. Neither have they shields
to defend their bodies from our weapons; therefore, to have travelled
thus far, depend upon it their means of resistance must be so puzzling
to us, and far superior to any arms that any tribe--ay, even our
own--can oppose to them: therefore, Neam Nam, I, who have led you to
many a fight, and whose counsels you have often followed, say, shed not
your blood in vain, nor bring disgrace upon your fathers, who never
have been vanquished. Touch them not, but prove yourselves worthy the
friendship of such a handful of brave men, and do yourselves honour by
entertaining them, rather than degrade yourselves by the continuance of
your insults.’
“This address seemed to have a beneficial effect with the majority. The
old man motioning two or three of them out of the way, seated himself
near me and endeavoured to converse with me, but failing, he called
the interpreter. His first wish was to examine my rifle: removing the
cap, I handed it to him. Long and silent was his examination, the most
inexplicable part seeming the muzzle, which, instead of being pointed,
had a hole in it. Placing his finger therein, he looked at me with
the greatest astonishment, and to give him a practical explanation,
I seized a fowlingpiece from the hands of my favourite hunter, and
pointing to a vulture hovering over us, I fired: and before it touched
the ground, the crowd were prostrate and grovelling in the dust, as if
every man of them had been shot. The old man’s head, with his hands
on his ears, was at my feet; and when I raised him his appearance was
ghastly and his eyes were fixed on me with a meaningless expression.
I thought he had lost his senses. After shaking him several times I
at length succeeded in attracting his attention to the fallen bird
quivering in its last agonies between two of his men. The first signs
of returning animation he gave was, putting his hand to his head, and
examining himself as if in search of a wound. He gradually recovered;
and as soon as he could regain his voice, called to the crowd, who one
after the other first raised their heads, and then again dropped them,
at the sight of their apparently lifeless comrades. After the repeated
call of the old man, they ventured to rise, and a general inspection of
imaginary wounds commenced. I attempted to carry on a conversation with
the old man, whose name was Murmangae, and learnt that the chief’s name
was Dimoo, and that he had but lately succeeded his deceased father in
the chieftainship. Gaining confidence, he again reverted to our arms,
which, however, he expressed a fear of touching, and requested to know
how the noise was produced; and whilst I was endeavouring to explain
the gun to him, the chief, accompanied by numerous followers, arrived.
To my disappointment, however, he treated us with great mistrust, and
drawing up his men seemed inclined to attack us, on which a lengthened
conversation between the old man and himself took place. At this
stage of the proceedings, a single elephant was seen approaching the
village. The chief, who had been standing, advanced towards me, and,
pointing to the elephant, abruptly asked if our thunder could kill
that. On my replying in the affirmative, ‘Do it,’ he said, ‘and I will
respect you.’ The aspect of affairs had now assumed anything but a
peaceful appearance; but relying upon my own resources and diplomacy,
I resolved on gaining the good will of the chief, and despatched one
half of my best shots to endeavour to bring down the elephant, whilst
with the other half, in case of emergency, I knew I could defend our
property. The brave fellows confidently sallied forth, although a few
of them only possessed rifles, much too light for the work expected of
them, whilst others had only double-barrelled fowling pieces loaded
with ball. They were followed by the whole of the savages to within
about three hundred yards of the elephant, when the hunters dispersed,
and simultaneously fired at the elephant, within a range of twenty
yards, from various directions. On the first discharge, the Neam Nam
and their chief exhibited every sign of fear, some by falling on the
ground, and others by taking to their heels. The elephant, a young
male with tusks about a foot long, received shot after shot in quick
succession. He merely elevated his trunk and ears, and moved round as
if on a pivot, until about two rounds had been discharged at his head
and shoulders with double charges of powder; he fell, and our prestige
was established. The chief and his followers recovering themselves,
approached more in the guise of petitioners than aggressors, and
stated that if we would only withhold our thunder, they would be our
best friends. Presents of beads to Dimoo and our old friend closed
the compact; and on being informed that similar valuables would be
given away for provisions, the chief proclaimed aloud the fact to
the bystanders, who declared they would furnish us with anything the
village contained.”
Still lingering in Western Africa we arrive at the Fernandian town of
Issapoo, whose king is named Browowdi. Mr. Hutchinson introduces us to
his majesty as well as to his palace.
The monarchy here, as in all Fernandian towns, is hereditary, not from
father to son, but from uncle to nephew. His palace was certainly
a most extraordinary place for human residence. Yet, on my getting
inside, his first exhibition to me was, as the interpreter explained
it, his throne and crown, the former consisting of a filthy stool, that
looked old enough and dirty enough to have been handed down in his
family for several scores of generations; and the latter, an equally
filthy old hat of bamboo leaf, with a monkey’s tail pendent from it.
Inside the house, the light came in through dozens of crevices in the
walls as well as the roof. The wall consists only of boards placed
side by side, reaching from the ground to the roof, all of which are
moveable, so that the inmate has only to shift one or two at any side,
and he lets himself in or out as he pleases. Across the house inside
are placed a number of poles, on which are suspended hats, skins, rusty
guns, cloth, and calabashes; but no windows, stools, beds, or tables,
save the old throne, and a tax-gatherer would find a great scarcity
of available chattels in the place. The coronation of a king is a
ceremonial that I have not yet had the pleasure of witnessing, but it
has been reported to me as one possessing interesting features. It is
so bound up with their notions of a spirit or devil, that I deem it
necessary to explain the peculiarity of their belief on this latter
point. Maaon is the title given to the devil, and the botakimaaon
(his high priest) is supposed to have influence with him through
communication with the cobracapella, the koukarouko. Their faith in
God, to whom the name of “Rupe” is given, is a loftier aspiration than
that of the devil, but they believe that the Deity’s favour can be only
obtained by intercession through the koukaroukos at the bottom, the
candidate for regal honours standing alongside, and all his subjects
_in futuro_ being about. This conference is, I believe, carried on
by means of ventriloquism, a faculty with which many of the Fernandians
are reported to be endowed. The botakimaaon then delivers to the king
the message from the koukarouko for his guidance in his high station,
shakes over him a quantity of yellow powder, entitled “isheobo,” which
is obtained by collecting a creamy coat that is found on the water at
the mouths of some small rivers, evaporating the water, and forming a
chalky mass of the residue. From the lightness as well as friability
of this article, I believe it to be of a vegetable nature. He has then
placed upon his head the hat worn by his uncle, and the crowning is
accomplished. After becoming a king, his majesty is forbidden to eat
cocoa, deer, or porcupine, which are the ordinary condiments of the
people; and the ceremonial is concluded by the latter having some of
the yellow powder rubbed over their foreheads by the botakimaaon, with
instructions to use the same material in like manner every morning for
seven days.
From Issapoo we accompany Mr. Hutchinson to Duketown, and on the road
that gentleman tells us of the iron palace that was sent out some
years since from Liverpool for the late king Eyamba; and which, though
now utterly ruined, may be recollected in its prime, as well as King
Eyamba, in the same enviable condition, and still another king, one
Archibong, though whether Archibong was Eyamba’s successor, or _vice
versâ_, is not quite clear. However, the reader may judge for
himself.
“No man was more impressed with an idea of the dignity attachable to
the trappings of royalty than Eyamba, and so he must have a carriage.
But the horses soon died, after dragging out life for some time. The
skeletons of two only were visible about Duketown, perfect _anatomies
vivantes_, at the time of my first visit there. Horses not being
native to this part of the country, it puzzled the lexicographers very
much to find a name for them in their Etick tongue, the language spoken
at Old Kalabar. At length they hit upon the term _Euang makara_,
which signifies “white man’s cow;” and to carry the absurdity further,
entitled Eyamba’s carriage _Efot euang makara_, which literally
means “white man’s cowhouse.” When I beheld the nature of the streets
and roads in and around the town, it was a marvel to me how Eyamba
could find a place broad or level enough for four wheels to roll upon.
But he did make out a few yards meet for that purpose; and there it
was his custom to have the carriage drawn before him by a number
of slaves, whilst he walked after it, with his shining brass crown
upon his head, and an immense party-coloured parasol held aloft by a
strong-armed man. The Irishman who got into a sedan chair, and, finding
the bottom out of it, said he might as well be walking, were it not
for the grandeur of the thing, had a nearer semblance to state than
this gander-brained monarch, who often used to boast of his desire to
see Wellington and Napoleon, that he might shew his pre-eminence over
them; and who was accustomed to sign all his letters and documents as
Eyamba V., king of all black men. Everything in this once magnificent
house was, on my visit to it, in a state of perfect ruin and decay,
for his majesty died a few years after it had been constructed. This
condition of affairs may be explained by the fact that there exists
among the people of Old Kalabar, as amongst the majority of the heathen
nations in western Africa, a silly superstition, that when a man dies
he requires the spirit of all that belonged to him in this world, his
wives, slaves, cloths, chattels, and furniture, for use in the unknown
world to which he has gone. In proportion to what his competency was,
and to the means of his friends to make a corresponding sacrifice for
him, so is his anticipated comfort in the next state to be measured.
I have been since informed that in a few hours after its fall there
was not a single piece of its structure to be found on the site of
its former location; for the inhabitants all acted as so many human
turkey-buzzards; and the earliest bird of course picked up his choice
of the best worms. Coming out of the palace, and not fifty yards from
it, although I had a hill to go down, a rut to scramble through,
and an eminence to ascend, I find myself in front of the Duketown
palaver-house, a species of senatorial forum, where all the legislative
matters of the country, the municipal affairs of the town, palavers on
matters public or private, are discussed and settled by the king and
the Egbos. The palaver-house consists of two walls running parallel for
about forty yards, terminated by a transverse wall, about as many feet
in length, and thatched with a stout bamboo roof. The end by which it
is entered is opened from side to side; a space of nearly eighteen
inches intervene between the tops of the walls running lengthways and
the roof; and there is an ascent from the road by half-a-dozen steps
to the floor, which is hard and smooth. In the centre of the entrance
is a huge hollow brass pillar reaching up to the roof, further in are
two more of equally imposing diameter, whilst between them are a large
bell and a piece of wood; the latter is drum-like in shape, with a
slit longitudinally in it, and fixed to the pillar. This is the Egbo
drum, which is beaten to alarm the inhabitants in case of fire, to give
notice of the attack of an enemy, or to signify the fact of a leopard
having been captured, each occurrence being indicated by a peculiarity
of beating the drum, which is known as soon as the sound is heard. In
the farthest corner of the house is a private sanctuary, into which
none but the privileged are admitted on occasions of Egbo meetings, and
outside the front are two flourishing ju-ju trees, with five pillars of
stone before them, said to be solidified basaltic lava, brought from
Prince’s Island, and erected there to the memory of five sovereigns of
Old Kalabar. Not far from this palaver-house was the residence of the
late king, Archibong I. There was nothing noticeable in it beyond that
of any other gentleman trader’s abode; but the king was one of the most
extraordinary specimens of sable humanity I ever met. He could neither
read nor write the English language, but spoke it in a very imperfect
gabble, and go to his house whenever you would, he was nearly always in
the condition in which he might be expected to agree with the sentiment
of Sancho Panza: blessings on the man who first invented sleep. On
the first day of the week, which consists of eight days, he was
accustomed to entertain all the supercargoes and surgeons in the river
at dinner, and this was called Chop-day. Duketown Chop-day is entitled
Aqua-el-dere, and is equivalent to our Sunday, but it is only as a day
of rest--drinking rum and palm wine being their chief devotions. They
wash their court-yards with cow-dung and water on that morning, and
the largest market in the week is held on Aqua-el-dere. Eyamba, when
king, adopted it as his chop-day because it was the most honoured in
the week, and he wished to be considered the most consequential man in
the country. King Archibong followed in his footsteps with reference
to the same practice. A similar custom is adopted on the second day of
the week, called Aqua-ibibio. The dishes served up at King Archibong’s
were very creditable to his culinary establishment. They consisted of
various kinds of soup, containing goat’s flesh, fish, pork, cocoa
leaf and root, plantains, bananas, with a variety of other dishes,
such as Apicius, Meg Dod, or Alexis Soyer never smiled upon, and which
are said to have contained “pepper enough in them to have scalded a
silver spoon.” These were followed by roast maize, ground-nuts, and
shrimps as a dessert. Mimbo or Mim-efick, the native name for palm
wine, was the beverage at these dinners. It is a milky fluid, having
sometimes an acid and sometimes a saccharine taste, and is procured
from a particular species of the palm tree, by tapping it at the top
and allowing the juice to exude into calabashes placed there to receive
it. One dish relished very much by the king was a plate of pounded
yam, made into the putty-like consistence of ju-ju wood, with a soup
entitled palaver sauce. The mode of eating it was by grasping a lump
from the dish, rolling it on the palm of the hand into the shape of a
racket ball, putting the index finger into the centre, dipping it into
the soup, and bolting it. The table was always neatly laid out with
silver service, and the viands were brought up in large calabashes;
covered with white cloths, on the head of a number of female slaves.
So much for departed Duketown kings and their eccentricities; now let
us turn, for it is worth while, to the present ruler of that locality
as well as of the neighbouring settlement of Creektown. It is worth
while as furnishing one of a hundred instances that might be quoted
of the good effected by the teachings of Christianity, as well as an
answer to those wondrously wise folk who sneer at missionaries and
their doings. “King Eyo Honesty” is the honourable title of the present
monarch of Duketown.
“King Eyo is anxious for the civilization of his people and the
cultivation of his country, but he has had no one to teach them
anything of the latter, and so the fruitful soil of his dominion lies
unproductive, save in the one material of palm oil. Those who agree
with me in thinking Christianity and civilization to be cause and
effect in Africa, as they are all over the world, will rejoice to hear
that he has given every countenance and assistance to the body of
Presbyterian missionaries settled at Old Kalabar. He speaks, reads,
and writes the English language very well, keeps his own accounts, and
translates the Rev. Mr. Waddell’s sermons into the Efick tongue for
his congregation. The king’s sons are the only members of his family
that have made an open confession of their belief in the doctrines
of Christianity, but Eyo enjoins the sacred keeping of the Lord’s
day, has no dinner for the traders when it comes round in its eighth
day rotation, has abolished the market formerly held on Sundays
at Creektown, commands the weekly attendance of his people at the
missionary service in the galvanised iron church, is most respectful
and attentive during worship, and follows the preacher, translating
sentence after sentence for the audience. He is a man past forty years
of age, about five feet eight inches in height, of a stout muscular
frame, with eyes and lips of the usual prominence observable in the
Æthiopian face, and grey whiskers. His dress consists of a cloth,
generally silk, tied round his loins, a silk handkerchief thrown over
his shoulders, a black hat with a gold band and a binding of the same
material about the edge. His ornaments are circlets of blue glass or
coral beads round his neck, wrist, and ankles, with a massive gold
ring on the index finger. He partakes freely of snuff, and this is
carried by his slave in a silver box. It is the only luxury in which
he indulges, for he never smokes, and from spirituous liquors no
man can be more abstemious. When he goes in state to Duketown, as
he always does on business occasions, to the trading ships in the
river, he is invariably accompanied by a train of large canoes, from
one of which a gun is fired to announce his approach as the royal
party turns the angle opposite Oldtown. The king is always seated
in a six-oared gig belonging to the ship to which he is proceeding,
whilst the canoes contain his eldest son, young Eyo, and his three
brothers, with an innumerable host of slave attendants. He has a
gigantic parti-coloured parasol held over his head on these occasions,
as he has whenever walking about his town, or seated in one of his
court-yards, overlooking his trade books. The musical band accompanying
the king consists of an Egbo drum, placed transversely in the canoe,
which is not beaten on the ends as our drums are, but on the top of
its longitudinal surface with a pair of sticks; an instrument formed
of iron, as of the saucers of two shovels welded face to face, and
struck with a piece of the same metal; a cow’s-horn, blown rather
discordantly; and clattering-boxes made of bamboo matting, with a
string to them held in the hands like Spanish castanets, and shaken
vigorously to produce a noise by the agitation of the pebbles or pieces
of broken crockery-ware they contain. Yet, with this primitive attempt
at music, the banners flying from the canoes, the simultaneous hoisting
of flags on all the ships in the river, and the return of a salute from
the vessel to which he is proceeding, when the king’s party becomes
visible, gives the whole scene a very animated appearance.”
By-the-by, mention has several times been made of the curious
institution existing in this part of the world known as the order
of “Egbo.” It is a sort of negro brotherhood of kings, chiefs, and
free men, and the title is derived from “Ekpe,” the Efik name for
tiger. There are eleven grades, the three superior of which are not
purchaseable by slaves. In former times the Egbo title was confined
entirely to freemen, the second or third generation of a slave born
within the pale of an Egboman’s dwelling being liberated by this fact,
and allowed to purchase it after their parents were dead. It cannot be
compared to any institution familiar to European minds but to that of
Freemasonry. Previous to initiation, the Egbo candidate is obliged to
go through a number of ceremonial observances; as, for instance, on a
“Brass Egbo”--one of the superior grades--applicant’s admission into
that order, his body is daubed over with yellow dye to simulate brass,
and there is a sacrifice of animals on the occasion. The secrets and
meetings of Egbo men are strictly private. If a man, woman, or child
have a complaint of grievance against a master or neighbour, he or she
has only to give notification of it by slapping an Egbo gentleman on
the front of his body, or by going into the market square and tolling
the large Egbo bell. The gentleman apprised by the first-mentioned
form of notice, is bound to have at once an Egbo meeting to redress
the grievance complained of, and if this be found to be trivial the
punishment is inflicted on the complainant. When an Egbo man wants to
make a proclamation relative to a theft committed, or the recovery
of a debt, he sends out into the town what is supposed to be Idem,
or spiritual representation of Egbo, a man with a black vizard on
his black face, and the whole of his body covered cap-a-pie with a
fantastical dress of bamboo matting. This personage is sometimes
preceded by a few drummers, and he always has a bell fastened to his
side, which rings as he goes along. In his left hand he carries a bunch
of green leaves (for he is believed to have been exorcised from the
woods, and of course must keep up his sylvan character); in his right
is an enormous cow-hide whip with which he flogs every slave, man or
woman, whom he meets, as taste or inclination may suggest. A brutal
peculiarity of the Egboship is this, that the want of a single variety
of the title will expose him who is so unfortunate as to lack it, to
the lashings of the Idem of that particular grade which he has not
purchased. If an individual who is in possession of all the inferior
grades, and of three of the superior ones, happens to be out on the
day when the Idem of that particular Egbo that he was in want of is
walking, he is marked out from the common multitude and treated with
extra severity. Should the Idem not meet any slave in the streets to
whip on his rounds, he is at liberty to go into their houses and whip
them to his heart’s content. The sound of Egbo bells, and the name of
Egbo day, are enough to terrify all the slave population of Duketown,
and when they hear it they hide in every available place. Latterly
females have been permitted to buy Egbo privileges, but are not allowed
to be present at the councils of the Egbo gentlemen, nor to enter at
any time within the wall of the Egbo Palaver-house. When a yellow flag
floats from the king’s house it is understood to be Brass Egbo day, and
none but a few of the privileged are allowed to walk abroad. A strip
of cloth of the same colour nailed to any man’s door implies that his
house is under the powerful protection of Brass Egbo, the indication
being significant of the master’s absence from home. If an Idem meets
a European in his progress, where there are two roads or pathways
available, the Idem walks off on the one different from that which
the white man is approaching; if there be but one road, the latter is
expected to turn his back and let the supposed spirit pass unnoticed
and undisturbed. “Aqua Osong,” the last day of the Kalabar week, is
grand Egbo day, on which there is a carnival and Egbo procession, with
the usual amount of brutality. All legal and judicial proceedings in
the country are ushered in and carried out under Egbo demonstrations,
for the purpose evidently of keeping the law _in terrorem_ over
the slave population. And no stronger evidence of this can be adduced
than that a man tried and condemned by Egbo law has to forfeit all his
slaves and other property in his possession, no matter to whom this
latter may belong. These are all divided as prey amongst the highest
Egbo authorities. Persons sentenced to death by Egbo trial are allowed
what is considered a privilege of leaving this world in a state of
intoxication. There is a class of people called Bloodmen, who live
in the interior at the plantations, and whose presence in Duketown
does not give much comfort to the Egbo authorities. Sometime after
the death of King Eyamba in 1846, a number of slaves belonging to the
duke’s family ran away from their owners, and entered into a blood
covenant for mutual protection. In a short time others joined them, and
they now amount to several thousands. The present King of Duketown,
Duke Ephraim, is the lineal descendant of the master of the original
refugees, and consequently has considerable influence over them. Some
time back they tried to be allowed the establishment of a separate
Egboship for themselves, but were refused. They come into town
whenever any ceremonial is to be performed having reference to a deed
of blood; but what their relation is to the Egbo order still remains a
profound secret. The gentlemen at Old Kalabar have all private fetishes
at their houses--the skulls of human beings, the bones of leopards,
hippopotami, crocodiles, and manattis, arranged according to the
owner’s taste and fancy. Peculiar species of food are not eaten by many
families, from the fact that some members of them die after eating of
such condiments, and their ju-ju consequently places an interdict on
their use.
At Lunda, another settlement in Western Africa, the individual at the
head of the State is called the “Mambo.” This gorgeous personage,
together with his chief ministers, is thus described by the traveller
Valdez, to whom audience was given:
“The Mambo sat on a number of tiger-skins, so arranged that all the
tails radiated, thus forming the figure of a large star, and in the
centre was spread an enormous lion-skin, which covered a portion of
all the others. A stool, covered with green cloth and placed on the
lion-skin, formed the throne of the Mambo. This dignitary was dressed
in a most magnificent style, far surpassing in grandeur of display all
the other potentates of the interior of Africa. His head was adorned
with a mitre, about two spans high, in shape resembling a pyramid,
and formed of feathers of a bright scarlet colour. His forehead was
encircled by a diadem ornamented with a great variety of valuable
jewels of great brilliancy; a sort of frill or fan of green cloth,
supported by two small ivory arrows, was standing up from the back of
his head; the neck and shoulders being covered with a kind of spencer
or capuchin without sleeves. The upper part of this cape was ornamented
with the bottom of cowrie shells, under which was a row of imitation
jewels. The lower part had a most brilliant and dazzling effect, in
consequence of a great number of small mirrors, or square and round
pieces of looking-glass, being tastefully arranged alternately with
the precious stones all round it. His shoulders, breast, and back,
were thus covered with a garment at which no one in that resplendent
sunshine could for one moment look fixedly.
“The arms above the elbows were ornamented with a band of cloth of
about four inches broad, the borders and edges of which had attached
to them strips of skin, with hair of about four or five inches long
hanging down like a fringe. None but the Muata Cazembe, or prime
minister, and his nearest relatives are allowed to wear this badge of
royalty. From his elbows to the wrist the arms were ornamented with
sky-blue stones, while the yellow cloth, something similar to the
Highlandman’s kilt, extended from the waist to the knees. This garment
had two borders of about four inches wide, the upper one blue, and the
lower red.
“He also had a kind of girdle or swathe of several yards long, which
was worn in a rather peculiar manner; one end of it being fastened to
the other cloth by a small ivory arrow a little below the waist, and
the whole then wound round the body in small regular folds. A leather
belt which is girt round the body preserves this garment in its place.
Both are considered as the insignia of imperial authority.
“The insipo or girdle of hide is cut from the entire length of an ox’s
skin, and is about five or six inches in breadth. When the insipo is
girded on, the tassel of the tail is left trailing under a sort of fan,
formed by the folds or plaits as before mentioned. The Muata Cazembe
had hung from his insipo under his right hand a string of pearls, to
the end of which a small bell was attached, which, knocking against his
legs as he moved, rang at intervals. He had also pearls strung round
his legs from his knees downwards, similar to those he wore on his
arms. While the whole of his body was thus richly ornamented, his face,
hands, and feet were left entirely uncovered.
“The Muata Cazembe had seven umbrellas, forming a canopy to shelter him
from the sun. These varied in colour, and were fastened to the ground
with long bamboos, covered with stuff of different hues manufactured by
the natives. Twelve negroes simply clad, and each of them holding in
his hand a nhumbo’s tail, were stationed round the umbrellas.
“The nhumbo is an antelope about the size of a three-year old ox, and
of a chestnut colour, having a black cross along the back, and a great
deal of hair about the shoulder-blades--about the same quantity as a
horse has upon his mane and tail. It has cloven feet, head and horns
like a buffalo, and the flesh is excellent food. The nhumbo tails held
by the negroes were in the form of a broom, and the part which served
as a handle was adorned with beads of various colours. All the tails
were put in motion at the same time whenever the Muata Cazembe thought
proper to make a sign with a small one of the same kind, which he used
himself.
“At a short distance from him were negroes gravely employed in looking
for and sweeping away whatever was unpleasant or offensive to the
sight. After them came two other negroes, with baskets on their
shoulders, to pick up anything which might be overlooked; but the place
was so clear that not one of them could find anything to do, although,
according to custom, the appearance of being busy was kept up. Two
curved lines issued from the extremities of the Muata’s chair, and met
at the distance of twenty paces in front, opposite the Mambo. The line
on the left was marked by the point of a stick which was trailed along
the ground; that on his right by chalk. In front of these curved lines,
forming an avenue of about three spans in width, were two files of
figures resembling idols, beginning from the sides of the curved lines.
The size of these figures, which were only half-lengths, was about
twenty inches; they were nailed to sticks thrust in the ground, were
very rudely made, had Kaffir features, and were ornamented with the
horns of beasts. In the centre of the avenue was a cage in the form of
a barrel, containing another smaller figure.
“Two negroes sat on the ground near the two outermost figures fronting
the king, each having an earthen vessel full of live ashes before him,
and were employed in throwing on the fire a quantity of leaves, which
produced a dense aromatic smoke. The backs of the images being placed
towards the Muata Cazembe, from under the last--the one nearest the
earthen vessels--a rope was extended to the Mambo’s feet; for what
purpose I could not by any means ascertain.
“The two wives of the Mambo were the only ones present in the Chipango,
the gate of which was open. One of these ladies was sitting on a stool,
covered with a green cloth; her arms, neck, and bosom ornamented
with stones of different colours, and her head adorned with scarlet
feathers, like the head-dress of the Mambo, but shorter and smaller.
“The second wife sat on a lion’s skin at the left-hand side of the
gate, with no other dress than a cloth, which was entirely without
ornaments. Behind the two wives stood more than four hundred women of
different ages, all dressed in nhandas, a kind of interwoven cloth made
of the bark of trees.”
In another part of this strange country the ruler is known by the
euphonious title of “Jaga;” and whenever a vacancy occurs in the
government by the death of the Jaga, the Tendalla or prime-minister
convokes the heads of the electoral college, which comprises the
Macotas or counsellors, the Cazas or noblemen, and the Catondo or
commander-in-chief, who together with himself (the Tendella), compose
the cabinet council. When this body is assembled they proceed to
investigate the claims of the various individuals connected with the
families who are considered as legitimate aspirants to the regal
dignity.
Having first decided as to the family, their next inquiry has reference
to the individual best qualified to bear the royal dignity; but it is
seldom that matters proceed so far, for it is generally understood
beforehand by the members of the electoral college who is the
legitimate and popular claimant.
These important questions once settled, they next proceed to build a
suitable house for a new Jaga, and to lay out the garden, etc., and
also to erect houses for themselves around it. After these preliminary
proceedings, they next direct their steps to the residence of the man
of their choice, and unceremoniously entering, bring him out as if he
were a malefactor and present him to the multitude, who, amidst the
clang of marimbas and beating of drums, raise a simultaneous shout on
his appearance. He is then conveyed on the shoulders of his sons, or of
the people, to the Quilombo or fortified residence provided for him,
where he remains for several days, none being allowed to visit him,
with the exception of two relations and the Tendella. At the end of two
months he removes to a house previously prepared on the borders of the
River Undua, where he remains for twenty or thirty days. Here he may be
said to form his new ministry--deposing some officers and appointing
others. On this occasion he also selects his principal wife. When all
these arrangements are finished, the Jaga returns to the locality where
he intends to reside, and fixes the exact spot as follows:--Having
formed his Quilombo, he takes his bow and discharges an arrow, and
wherever it falls there he must erect his permanent residence, called
Semba. Around it are built the houses of his wives, who in general
amount to fifty in number. Next to these are located the senzales of
the Macotas and their wives of the followers of the former Jaga, and
lastly of those who were with the elected Jaga at the Senzald, where
formerly he acted as Maquita.
The last of these ceremonies is that called the Sambamento, after which
the Jaga is considered qualified to exercise all the functions of his
office.
The particular period at which this most cruel and barbarous custom
originated is not known. Some of the Jagas have been known to dispense
with it altogether.
When it is decided to celebrate the Sambamento, some of the Sovas or
Maquitas are dispatched to find the Nicango or victim. The person
selected is uniformly a black, who must have no relationship or
connection with the Jaga or any of the Maquitas or Macotas. When the
Nicango arrives, he is received at the Quilombo and treated in the same
manner as the Jaga; he is provided with everything he requires, and
all his orders are obeyed with the same promptitude.
The day on which the Sambamento is to be celebrated being appointed,
the Maquitas are informed of the fact, and as large a number of the
people as can be accommodated at the Quilombo being invited, they
all assemble in front of the residence of the Jaga. The Maquitas and
the Macotas form themselves into a circle, the rest of the people
assembling around. The Jaga then takes his seat in the centre of the
circle, on an iron stool, in a circular concave form with a hole
through the centre of the top. The Bansacuco is seated beside the Jaga,
together with all the concubines. The Cassange-Cagongue then strikes
the gong, which is of iron in the form of an arch, with two small bells
attached, and with a bar across it. The Cassange-Cagongue continues to
ring the bells during the ceremony.
The Nicango is then introduced and placed in front of the Jaga, but
with his back towards him. The Jaga being provided with a cutlass of a
semi-circular form, commences operations by cutting open the back of
the Nicango until he reaches the heart, which he extracts, and having
taken a bit of it he spits it out and gives it to be burned.
The Macotas in the meantime hold the corpse of the Nicango in such a
manner that the blood from the wound in the back is discharged against
the breast and belly of the Jaga, and falling through the hole in the
iron stool is collected by the Maquitas in their hands; they then rub
their breast and beard with it, at the same time making a great clamour
vociferating “Great is the Jaga and the rites of the State.”
The corpse of the Nicango is next carried to some distance, where it
is first skinned and then divided into small pieces and cooked with
the flesh of an ox, a dog, a hen, and some other animals. The meal
being prepared it is first served to the Jaga, next to the Maquitas and
Macotas, and then to all the people assembled, and woe to the unhappy
wight who has the temerity to refuse partaking of the repast from any
repugnance to the ingredient, as in such case the law made and provided
is that he and his family forfeit their liberty and are therefore at
once sold into captivity.
Singing and dancing conclude the Sambamento.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XVIII.
Dr. Livingstone’s reception by Shinte--A South-African
Chieftess--She gives her guests “a bit of her mind”--Breaches
of Court etiquette--Abyssinian cure for melancholy--Mr. Bruce
and the Lady Sittina--Greasing the King of Seenaar--Majesty in
Madagascar--A Malagasey palace--The Feast of the Queen’s Bath--A
Court ball in Madagascar.
Turning from Western to Southern Africa, let us see how royalty
comports itself. As in the former case there is a wide choice of
potentates, but we will take but two--Shinte, King of Makalolo, and
Manenko, Chieftess of Balonda.
“We (Dr. Livingstone and party) were honoured with a grand reception
by Shinte about eleven o’clock. The native Portuguese and Mambari went
fully armed with guns, in order to give Shinte a salute, their drummer
and trumpeter making all the noise their very old instruments would
produce. The kotla, or place of audience, was about a hundred yards
square, and two graceful specimens of a species of banian stood near
the end. Under one of these sat Shinte on a sort of throne covered with
a leopard’s skin. He had on a checked jacket and a kilt of scarlet
baize edged with green; many strings of large heads hung from his neck,
and his limbs were covered with iron and copper armlets and bracelets;
on his head he wore a helmet made of beads woven neatly together, and
crowned with a great bunch of goose-feathers. Close to him sat three
lads with large sheaves of arrows over their shoulders.
“When we entered the kotla, the whole of Manenko’s party saluted
Shinte by clapping their hands, and Sambanza did obeisance by rubbing
his chest and arms with ashes. One of the trees being unoccupied I
retreated to it for the sake of the shade, and my whole party did the
same. We were now about forty yards from the chief and could see the
whole ceremony. The different sections of the tribe came forward in the
same way that we did, the head man of each making obeisance with ashes
which he carried with him for the purpose; then came the soldiers, all
armed to the teeth, running and shouting towards us, with their swords
drawn and their faces screwed up so as to appear as savage as possible
for the purpose, I thought, of trying whether they could not make us
take to our heels. As we did not, they turned round towards Shinte and
saluted him, then retired. When all had come and were seated, then
began the curious capering usually seen in pictures. A man starts up,
and imitates the most approved attitudes observed in actual fight, as
of throwing one javelin, receiving another on the shield, springing on
one side to avoid a third, running backwards or forwards, leaping, etc.
This over, Sambanza and the spokesman of Nyamoana stalked backwards and
forwards in front of Shinte, and gave forth in a loud voice all they
had been able to learn either from myself or people of my past history
and connection with the Makololo; the return of the captives, the wish
to open the country to trade, etc. Perhaps he is fibbing, perhaps
not--they rather thought he was; but as the Balonda had good hearts,
and Shinte had never done harm to any one, he had better receive the
white man well and send him on his way. Sambanza was gaily attired,
and, besides a profusion of beads, had a cloth so long that a boy
carried it after him as a train.
“Behind Shinte sat about a hundred women clothed in their best, which
happened to be a profusion of red baize. The chief wife of Shinte, one
of the Matebele or Zulus, sat in front with a curious red cap on her
head. During the intervals between the speeches these ladies burst
forth into a sort of plaintive ditty; but it was impossible for any of
us to catch whether it was in praise of the speaker, of Shinte, or of
themselves. This was the first time I had ever seen females present in
a public assembly. Generally the women are not permitted to enter the
kotla, and even when invited to come to a religious service they would
not enter until ordered to do so by the chief; but here they expressed
approbation by clapping their hands and laughing to different speakers,
and Shinte frequently turned round and spoke to them.
“A party of musicians, consisting of three drummers and four performers
on the piano, went round the kotla several times, regaling us with
their music. The drums are neatly carved from the trunk of a tree, and
have a small hole in the side covered with a bit of spider’s web; the
ends are covered with the skin of an antelope pegged on, and when they
wish to tighten it they hold it to the fire to make it contract--the
instruments are beaten with the hands.
“The piano, named _marimba_, consists of two bars of wood placed
side by side here quite straight, but farther north bent round so as
to resemble half the tire of a carriage wheel; across these are placed
about fifteen wooden keys, each of which is two or three inches broad,
and fifteen or eighteen inches long--their thickness is regulated
according to the deepness of the note required; each of the keys has a
calabash beneath it from the upper part of each a portion is cut off to
enable them to embrace the bars, and form hollow sounding-boards to the
keys, which also are of different sizes according to the note required,
and little drumsticks elicit the music. Rapidity of execution seems
much admired among them, and the music is pleasant to the ear.
“When nine speakers had concluded their orations Shinte stood up, and
so did all the people. He had maintained true African dignity of manner
all the while; but my people remarked that he scarcely took his eyes
off me for a moment. About a thousand people were present according to
my calculation, and three hundred soldiers. The sun had now become hot,
and the scene ended by the Mambari discharging their guns.
“As the river seemed to come from the direction in which we wished
to go, I was desirous of proceeding farther up with the canoes, but
Nyamoana interposed numerous objections, and the arrival of Manenko
herself settled the point in the negative. She was a tall strapping
woman, about twenty years of age, and distinguished by a profusion of
ornaments and medicines, which latter are supposed to act as charms.
Her body was smeared all over with a mixture of fat and red ochre as a
protection against the weather, a necessary precaution, for, like most
of the Balonda ladies, she was in a state of frightful nudity, not so
much from want of clothing as from her peculiar ideas of elegance in
dress. When she arrived with her husband Sambanza, she listened for
some time to the statements I was making to the people of Nyamoana,
after which her husband commenced an oration, during the delivery of
which he picked up a little sand, at intervals of two or three seconds,
and rubbed it on the upper part of his arms and chest. This is a common
mode of salutation in Londa; and when they wish to be excessively
polite they bring a quantity of ashes or pipe-clay in a piece of skin
and rub it on the chest and upper front part of each arm; others drum
their ribs with their elbows, while others touch the ground with one
cheek after the other and clap their hands. When Sambanza had finished
his oration he rose up and showed his ankles ornamented with a bundle
of copper rings. Had they been very heavy they would have impeded his
walk; and some chiefs wore so many as to be forced to keep one foot
apart from the other, the weight being a serious inconvenience in
walking. Gentlemen like Sambanza who wish to ape their betters adopt
their gait, strutting along with only a few ounces of ornament on their
legs just as if they had double the number of pounds. When I smiled at
Sambanza’s walk the people remarked, ‘That is the way in which they
show off high blood in these parts.’
“When erecting our sheds at the village, Manenko, the chieftess, fell
upon our friends and gave us a specimen of her powers of scolding.
Masiko had once sent to Samoana for a cloth, which is a common way of
keeping up intercourse. After receiving it he returned it, because it
had the appearance of having had witchcraft medicine on it. This was
a grave offence; and Manenko had now a good excuse for retaliation,
as Masiko’s ambassadors had slept in one of the huts of her village
without asking leave. She set upon them furiously, advancing and
receding in true oratorical style, belabouring her own servants for
allowing the offence, and raking up the faults and failings of the
objects of her ire ever since they were born; in conclusion, expressing
her despair of ever seeing them become better until they were all
killed by alligators. Masiko’s people received this torrent of abuse in
silence, and as neither we nor they had anything to eat, we parted next
morning. In reference to the sale of slaves they promised to explain to
Masiko the relationship which exists between even the most abject of
his people and our common Father, and that no more kidnapping ought to
be allowed. We promised to return through his town when we came back
from the sea-coast.
“Manenko gave us some manioc roots in the morning, and had determined
to carry our baggage to her uncle Shinte. We had heard a sample of what
she could do with her tongue, and as neither my men nor myself had much
inclination to encounter this black virago we proceeded to make ready
the packages; but she said the men whom she had ordered for the service
would not arrive until to-morrow. I felt annoyed at this further delay
and ordered the packages to be put into the canoes at once: but Manenko
was not to be circumvented in this way; she came forward with her
people, seized the baggage, and declared that she would carry it in
spite of me. My men succumbed and left me powerless. I was moving off
in high dudgeon to the canoes when she kindly placed her hand on my
shoulder and, with a motherly look, said, “Now, my little man, just do
as the rest have done.” My feeling of annoyance of course vanished, and
I went out to try for some meat.
Ignorance of court etiquette in savage no less than in civilized
countries is a fruitful source of danger, or at least unpleasantness,
to the traveller ambitious to move in what the newspapers vaguely
describe as “select circles.” Mr. Stern, in his recent travels among
the Falashas of Abyssinia, was on one occasion advised of this fact in
a rather astonishing manner. Breakfast was served in the royal tent,
and it was during the progress of the meal that our traveller nearly
lost the esteem and regard he had hitherto enjoyed. “According to the
Abyssinian notion every man who claims to be of patrician descent,
should emulate the noises made by a certain unclean animal whilst
eating his meals. My ignorance of this elegant acquirement (for I had
unfortunately not yet attained it) drew upon me the frowns as well as
the whispered censures of the guests. Unconscious of the cause of this
unexpected notoriety, I asked whether there was anything peculiar in my
appearance or deportment that provoked criticism. ‘Certainly,’ was the
rejoinder, ‘your conduct is so ungentlemanly that all the guests think
you must be a very low fellow and quite unaccustomed to move in genteel
society.’ ‘And to what am I indebted for this good opinion?’ returned
I. ‘To the mode in which you eat; for if you were a gentleman you
would show by the smacking of your lips the exalted station to which
you belong; but since you masticate your food in this inaudible manner
every one believes that you are a beggar and accustomed to eat in that
unostentatious manner which pretended poverty prompts individuals to
adopt.’ I assured them that any breach of etiquette must be attributed
to the difference of the customs in my own country and not to the
low motive they assigned, an apology which amply satisfied the most
accomplished courtier in the royal tent.”
It is the constant practice in Abyssinia to beset the king’s doors and
windows within his hearing, and there, from early morning to night, to
cry for justice as loud as possible in a distressed and complaining
tone, and in all the different languages they are master of, in order
to their being admitted to have their supposed grievances heard. In a
country so ill governed as Abyssinia is, and so perpetually involved
in war, it may be easily supposed there is no want of people who have
real injuries and violence to complain of: but if it were not so,
this is so much the constant usage, that when it happens (as in the
midst of the rainy season) that few people can approach the capital
or stand without in such bad weather, a set of vagrants are provided,
maintained, and paid, whose sole business it is to cry and lament, as
if they had been really very much injured and oppressed; and this,
they tell you, is for the king’s honour, that he may not be lonely,
by the palace being too quiet. This, of all their absurd customs, was
the most grievous and troublesome to Mr. Bruce. Sometimes, while Mr.
Bruce was busy in his room in the rainy season, there would be four
or five hundred people, who all at once would begin, some roaring and
crying, as if they were in pain, others demanding justice, as if they
were that moment suffering, or if in the instant to be put to death;
and some groaning and sobbing as if just expiring; and this horrid
symphony was so artfully performed, that no ear could distinguish but
that it proceeded from real distress. Mr. Bruce was often so surprised
as to send the soldiers at the door to bring in one of them, thinking
him come from the country, to examine who had injured him: many a time
he was a servant of his own, or some other equally known; or, if he was
a stranger, upon asking him what misfortune had befallen him he would
answer very composedly, nothing was the matter with him; that he had
been sleeping all day with the horses; that hearing from the soldiers
at the door that Mr. Bruce was retired to his apartment he and his
companions had come to cry and make a noise under his window, to do him
honour before the people, for fear he should be melancholy by being too
quiet when alone, and therefore hoped that he would order them drink
that they might continue with a little more spirit.
In the course of his Abyssinian journeyings, the traveller just
mentioned had occasion to pass through a place called Arendi, which
was governed by a female named Sittina, or the Lady. Our traveller
waited on this high and mighty personage. Upon entering the house, a
black slave laid hold of him by the hand, and placed him in a passage,
at the end of which were two opposite doors. Mr. Bruce did not well
know the reason of this; but staid only a few minutes, when he heard
one of the doors at the end of the passage open, and Sittina appeared
magnificently dressed, with a kind of round cap of solid gold upon the
crown of her head, all beaten very thin, and hung round with sequins;
with a variety of gold chains, solitaires, and necklaces of the same
metal, about her neck. Her hair was plaited in ten or twelve small
divisions like tails, which hung down below her waist; and over her
was thrown a common cotton white garment. She had a purple silk stole,
or scarf, hung very gracefully upon her back, brought again round her
waist, without covering her shoulders or arms. Upon her wrists she had
two bracelets like handcuffs, about half an inch thick, and two gold
manacles of the same at her feet, full an inch in diameter, the most
disagreeable and awkward part of her dress. Mr. Bruce expected she
would have hurried through with some affectation of surprise. On the
contrary, she stopped in the middle of the passage, saying, in a very
grave manner, “Kifhalec,--how are you?” Mr. Bruce thought this was an
opportunity of kissing her hand, which he did, without her shewing any
sort of reluctance. “Allow me as a physician, Madam,” said Mr. Bruce,
“to say one word.” She bowed with her head, and said, “Go in at that
door, and I will hear you.” The slave appeared, and carried him through
a door at the bottom of a passage into a room, while her mistress
vanished in at another door at the top, and there was the screen he had
seen the day before, and the lady behind it. She was a woman scarcely
forty, taller than the middle size, had a very round plump face, her
mouth rather large, very red lips, the finest teeth and eyes he had
seen; but at the top of her nose, and between her eyebrows, she had a
small speck made of antimony, four-cornered, and of the size of the
smallest patches formerly worn by ladies of fashion; another rather
longer upon the top of her nose, and one in the middle of her chin.
“Tell me what you would say to me as a physician.” “It was, madam, but
in consequence of your discourse yesterday. That heavy gold cap with
which you press your hair will certainly be the cause of a great part
of it falling off.” “I believe so; but I should catch cold, I am so
accustomed to it, if I was to leave it off. Are you a man of name and
family in your own country?” “Of both, madam.” “Are the women handsome
there?” “The handsomest in the world, madam; but they are so good,
and so excellent in all other respects, that nobody thinks at all of
their beauty, nor do they value themselves upon it.” “And do they allow
you to kiss their hands?” “I understand you, madam, though you have
mistaken me. There is no familiarity in kissing hands; it is a mark of
homage and distant respect paid in my country to our sovereigns, and
to none earthly besides.” “O yes! but the kings.” “Yes, and the queens
too, always on the knee, madam. On her part, it is a mark of gracious
condescension, in favour of rank, merit, and honourable behaviour;
it is a reward for dangerous and difficult services, above all other
compensation.” “But do you know that no man ever kissed my hand but
you?” “It is impossible I should know that, nor is it material. Of
this I am confident, it was meant respectfully, cannot hurt you, and
should not offend you.” “It certainly has done neither,” replied Her
Majesty--and so ended her first lesson on the etiquette of civilized
life.
On another occasion, while in the neighbourhood of Seenaar, our
traveller waited on the king; and about eight o’clock came a servant
from the palace, telling Mr. Bruce that then was the time to “bring
his present.” He sorted the separate articles with all the speed he
could, and went directly to the palace. The king was sitting in a large
apartment, as far as he could guess, at some distance from the former.
He was naked, but had several clothes lying upon his knee, and about
him, and a servant was rubbing him over with very stinking butter or
grease, with which his hair was dropping as if wet with water. Large
as the room was, it could be smelled through the whole of it. The king
asked Mr. Bruce if he ever greased himself as he did? Mr. Bruce said,
very seldom, but fancied it would be very expensive. He then told him
that it was elephant’s grease, which made people strong, and preserved
the skin very smooth. Our traveller said he thought it very proper, but
could not bear the smell of it, though his skin should turn as rough
as an elephant’s for the want of it. The king replied, that if Mr.
Bruce had used it, his hair would not have turned so red as it was, and
that it would all become white presently, when that redness came off.
“You may see,” continued he, “the Arabs driven in here by the Daveina,
and all their cattle taken from them, because they have no longer any
grease for their hair. The sun first turns it red, and then perfectly
white; and you will know them in the street by their hair being the
colour of yours. As for the smell, you will see that cured presently.”
After having rubbed him abundantly with grease, the servants brought
him a pretty large horn, and in it something scented, about the
consistence of honey. It was plain that civet was a great part of the
composition. The king went out at the door, Mr. Bruce supposes into
another room, and there two men deluged him with pitchers of cold
water. He then returned, and a slave anointed him with this sweet
ointment; after which he sat down as completely dressed, being just
going to his woman’s apartment where he was to sup. Mr. Bruce told him,
he wondered why he did not use rose-water as in Abyssinia, Arabia, and
Cairo. He said he had it often from Cairo, when the merchants arrived;
but as it was now long since they came, his people could not make more,
for the rose would not grow in his country, though the women made
something like it of lemon-flower.
Making a skip from Abyssinia to Madagascar we there find the “Royal
state” a ludicrous blending of gingerbread splendour and magnificent
muddle. By-the-by, things may have reformed here by this time, as the
queen of whom this description treats is lately dead: let us hope that
this is the case. Our business, however, is to recite the evidence
of our witnesses--the witness in this case being the courageous and
truthful Ida Pfieffer.
“Towards four o’clock our bearers carried us to the palace. Over the
door is fixed a great gilt eagle with extended wings. According to the
rule here laid down by etiquette we stepped over the threshold first
with the right foot, and observed the same ceremony on coming to a
second gate leading to a great court-yard in front of the palace. Here
we saw the queen sitting on a balcony on the first storey, and were
directed to stand in a row in the court-yard opposite to her. Under
the balcony stood some soldiers, who went through sundry evolutions,
concluding with a very comic point of drill which consisted in suddenly
poking up the right foot as though suddenly stung by a tarantula.
“The queen was wrapped, according to the custom of the country, in a
wide silk simbu and wore on her head a big golden crown. Though she sat
in the shade a very large crimson umbrella was held up over head; this
being, it appears, a point of regal state.
“The queen is of rather dark complexion, and sturdily built, and
although already seventy-five years of age she is, to the misfortune
of her poor country, still hale and of active mind. At one time she is
said to have been a great drunkard, but she has given up that fatal
propensity some years ago.
“To the right of the queen stood her son Prince Rakoto, and on the left
her adopted son Prince Ramboasalama; behind her sat and stood sundry
nephews and nieces and other relatives, male and female, and several
grandees of the empire.
“The minister who had conducted us to the palace made a short speech
to the queen; after which we had to bow three times and to repeat the
words ‘Esaratsara tombokoe,’ equivalent to ‘We salute you cordially,’
to which she replied ‘Esaratsara,’ which means ‘well-good.’ Then we
turned to the left to salute the tomb of Prince Radama lying a few
paces on one side, with three similar bows; whereupon we returned to
our former place in front of the balcony and made three more. Mr.
Lambert (who accompanied Madam Pfieffer) on this occasion, held up
a gold piece of fifty franks value and put it in the hands of the
minister who accompanied us. This gift, which every stranger has to
offer the first time he is presented at court, is called ‘Monosina.’
It is not customary that it should consist of a fifty-franc piece; the
queen contents herself with a Spanish dollar, or a five-frank piece.
After the delivery of the gold piece, the queen asked Mr. Lambert if he
wished to put any question to her, or if he stood in need of anything;
to which he answered, ‘No.’ She also was condescending enough to turn
to me and ask if I was well and if I had escaped the fever. After I had
answered this question, we stayed a few minutes longer looking at each
other, and then the bowings and greetings began anew. We had to take
leave of Radama’s monument, and on returning were reminded not on any
account to put the left foot first over the threshold.”
The royal palace of Madagascar is described by Mrs. Pfieffer as a very
large wooden building, consisting of a ground floor and two storeys
surmounted by a peculiarly high roof. The storeys are surrounded by
broad galleries. Around the building are pillars, also of wood, eighty
feet high, supporting the roof which rises to a height of forty feet
above them, resting in the centre on a pillar no less than a hundred
and twenty feet high. All these columns, the one in the centre not
excepted, consist of a single trunk; and when it is considered that the
woods which contain trees of sufficient size to furnish these columns
are fifty or sixty English miles from the capital, that the roads are
nowhere paved and in some places are quite impassable, and that all the
pillars are dragged hither without the help of a single beast of burden
or any kind of machine, and are afterwards prepared and set up by means
of the simplest tools, the building of this place may with truth be
called a gigantic undertaking, and the place itself be ranked among
the wonders of the world. In bringing home the chief pillar alone five
thousand persons were employed and twelve days were occupied in its
erection.
“All these labours were performed by the people as compulsory service
for which they received neither wages nor food. I was told that during
the progress of the work fifteen thousand persons fell victims to the
hard toil and the want of proper nourishment. But the queen is little
disturbed by such a circumstance--half the population might perish if
only her high behests were fulfilled.
“In front of the principal building a handsome and spacious court-yard
has been left. Around this space stands several pretty houses, all
of wood. The chief building is in fact uninhabited and contains only
halls of state and banquetting rooms. On the left the ‘silver palace’
adjoins the larger one. It takes its name from the fact that all
the vandyked ends with which the roof is decorated are hung with
innumerable little silver bells. Beside the silver palace stands the
monument of King Radama--a tiny wooden house without windows; to this
fact, however, and to the further circumstance of its being built upon
a pedestal, it owes its sole resemblance to a monument.”
The singular custom prevails in Madagascar, that when a king dies all
his treasures in gold and silver ware, and other valuables, are laid
with him in the grave. In case of need, however, the king can dig up
the treasure. “As far as I could ascertain,” says the observant Ida
Pfieffer, “this had been done in several instances.”
The same lady favours us with a description of the chief national
festival among the Malagaseys, the “Feast of the Queen’s Bath.” It
takes place on New Year’s Day.
“On the eve of the feast all the high officers, nobles, and chiefs,
appear at court invited by the queen. They assemble in a great hall;
presently a dish of rice is carried round, each guest taking a pinch in
his fingers and eating it. That is the whole extent of the ceremony on
this first evening.
“Next morning the same company assemble in the same hall. As soon as
they have all met, the queen steps behind a curtain which hangs in a
corner of the room, undresses, and has water thrown over her. As soon
as she has been dressed again she steps forward, holding in her hand an
ox horn, filled with the water which has been poured over her. Part of
this she pours over the assembled company. Then she betakes herself to
a gallery overlooking the court-yard of the palace and pours the rest
over the military assembled there for parade.
“On this auspicious day nothing is seen throughout the whole country
but feasting, dancing, singing, and rejoicing, which is continued till
late at night. The celebration is kept up for eight days dating from
the day of the bath. It is the custom of the people to kill as many
oxen on that day as they contemplate consuming during the other seven;
whoever possesses any oxen at all kills at least one at this feast. The
poor people get pieces of meat in exchange for rice, sweet potatoes,
tobacco, etc. The meat is still tolerably fresh on the eighth day. It
is cut into long thin strips, which are salted and laid one on the
other. The preliminary celebration of the feast occurs a week earlier
and consists of military processions. The votaries of pleasure then
begin their feast and thus have a fortnight’s jollity--a week before
the feast and a week after.
“The soldiers whom I saw in the procession pleased me well enough. They
went through their manœuvres with tolerable accuracy, and, contrary to
my expectation, I found the music not only endurable but positively
harmonious. It appears that some years ago the queen sent for an
European band-master and a complete set of instruments; and her worthy
subjects were inducted into a knowledge of music probably by means of
a stick. The soldiers were dressed in a simple, neat, and perfectly
uniform manner. They wore a tight-fitting jerkin reaching to the chest
and covering part of their loins. The chest was bare and covered by the
gleaming white belts supporting the cartridge-box, which had a good
effect in contrast to the black skins of the soldiers. Their heads are
uncovered. Their arms consisted of a musket and the national lance
called _sagaya_.”
According to the same authority, however, satisfactory as is the
appearance of the Malagasey soldier, his lot is a very hard one. He
receives no pay, and even his regimentals must be provided out of his
own scanty means. To meet these expenses he is obliged, if he is a
craftsman, to beg so much leave each day of his superior; or, if farm
work be his avocation, he on certain days of the week abandons the
barrack for the plough. The soldier, however, says Mrs. Pfieffer, who
would obtain enough leave of absence to enable him to maintain himself
in anything like comfort, must propitiate his captain by giving him
part of his earnings. The officers are generally very little richer
than the soldiers. They certainly receive, like the civil officials, a
remuneration for their services from the customs’ revenues; but the pay
is so small that they cannot live upon it, and are compelled to have
recourse to other means, not always of the most honest description.
According to the law a very small portion of the customs’ revenue
should come to the common soldier; but so insignificant is the amount
that neither common soldiers nor officers think it worth while to make
any fuss about it.
So it comes about that the unlucky Malagasey soldier who can find no
work, and is too far from his native village to receive assistance from
his friends, is in danger of starvation. His leisure hours are spent
in grubbing about the country in search of herbs and roots with which,
and a little rice, he manages to keep life and soul together. The rice
he throws into a pot filled with water, and after it has soaked for a
time the rice-water serves him for a dinner; in the evening he banquets
on the soddened grain remaining in the pot. But in war time, as soon as
he is on an enemy’s territory, he makes up for his protracted season
of “short commons;” he plunders right and left and literally lives
upon the fat of the land; his long training has provided him with an
excellent appetite; indeed, it is said that four able-bodied Malagaseys
are equal to the task of consuming an entire ox in the space of four
days, and at the termination of the feast to be so little incommoded as
to be able to flee from pursuit with the nimbleness of deer-hounds.
The Malagasey soldier at war, however, is only to be envied while his
health remains unimpared, and while he is lucky enough to keep his
carcase within a sound skin. His comrades are bound to take care of
him in sickness--but how are they to do this when they themselves are
pinched by poverty and are without even the common necessaries of life?
It frequently happens on a march that the sick soldier’s companions
will endeavour to rid themselves of him; not by killing him outright,
but by the less charitable process of denying him food to eat or water
to quench his thirst, till, preferring death to further torture, he
begs to be laid under a tree and left, when his tender nurses readily
yield to his solicitations, and he is left to die.
Let us wind up our notice of Royalty and its attributes in Madagascar
by a description of a court ball.
The ball began soon after one o’clock in the day, and was not held in
the apartments of the palace, but in front of the building, in the
great fore-court in which we had been admitted to our audience. As on
that former occasion, the queen sat on the balcony under the shade of
her great parasol, and we were obliged to make the usual obeisances to
her and to the tomb of King Radama. This time, however, we were not
made to stand; comfortable arm-chairs were assigned to us. Gradually
the ball company began to assemble; the guests comprised nobles of both
sexes, officers and their wives, and the queen’s female singers and
dancers. The nobles wore various costumes, and the officers appeared in
European dress: all were obliged to make numerous obeisances. Those who
appeared in costume had seats like ours given them; the rest squatted
about as they liked, in groups on the ground.
“The queen’s female dancers opened the ball with the dreary Malagasey
dance. These charming creatures were wrapped from top to toe in white
simbus, and wore on their heads artificial, or, I should say, very
inartificial flowers, standing up stiffly like little flagstaffs; they
crowded into a group in such a way that they seemed all tied together.
As often as they staggered past the queen’s balcony or the monument
of King Radama, they repeated their salutes, and likewise at the end
of every separate dance. After the female dancers had retired, the
officers executed a very similar dance, only that they kept somewhat
quicker time, and their gestures were more animated--that is to say,
they lifted their feet rather higher than the performers of the other
sex. Those who had hats and caps, waved them in the air from time to
time, and set up a sharp howling, intended to represent cries of joy.
“After the officers followed six couples of children in fancy dresses.
The boys wore the old Spanish costume, or were attired as pages, and
looked tolerably well; but the girls were perfect scarecrows. They wore
old-fashioned French costumes--large, stiff petticoats, with short
bodices--and their heads were quite loaded with ostrich feathers,
flowers, and ribbons. After this little monkey community had performed
certain polonaises, schottisches, and contre-danses, acquitting
themselves, contrary to my expectation, with considerable skill, they
bowed low and retired, making way for a larger company, the males
likewise clad in the old Spanish, the females in the old French garb.
“All these various costumes are commanded by the queen, who generally
gets her ideas from pictures or engravings that come in her way. The
ladies add to the costume prescribed by royalty whatever their own
taste and invention may suggest, generally showing great boldness and
originality in the combination of colours. I will give my readers an
idea of what these costumes are like, by describing one of them.
“The dress was of blue satin, with a border of orange colour, above
which ran a broad stripe of bright cherry-coloured satin. The body,
also of satin, with long skirt, shone with a brimstone hue, and a light
sea green silk shawl was draped above it. The head was covered in
such style with stiff, clumsily-made artificial flowers, with ostrich
feathers, silk ribbons, glass beads, and all kinds of millinery, that
the hair was entirely hidden--not that the fair one lost much thereby,
but that I pitied her for the burden she had to carry.
“The costumes of the other ladies showed similar contrasts in colour,
and some of these tasteful dresses had been improved by a further
stroke of ingenuity, being surmounted by high conical hats, very like
those worn by the Tyrolese peasants.
“The company, consisting exclusively of the higher aristocracy,
executed various European dances, and also performed the Sega, which
the Malagaseys assert to be a native dance, though it is really
derived from the Moors. The figures, steps, and music of the Sega are
all so pleasing that, if it were once introduced in Europe, it could
not fail to become universally fashionable.
[Illustration: Malagasey Ball.]
“This beautiful dance was far from concluding the ball. After a short
pause, during which no refreshments were offered, the _élite_ of
the company, consisting of six couples, stepped into the court-yard.
The gentlemen were Prince Rakoto, the two Labordes, father and son,
two ministers, and a general--all the ladies were princesses or
countesses. The gentlemen were dressed in old Spanish costume, except
Prince Rakoto, who wore a fancy dress so tastefully chosen, that
he might have appeared with distinction in any European Court ball.
He wore trousers of dark blue cloth, with a stripe down the side, a
kind of loose jerkin of maroon-coloured velvet, ornamented with gold
stripes and the most delicate embroidery, and a velvet cap of the same
colour, with two ostrich feathers, fastened by a gold brooch. The whole
dress fitted so well, and the embroidery was so good, that I thought
Mr. Lambert must have taken the prince’s measure with him to Paris,
and that the clothes had been made there; but this was not the case.
Everything, with the exception of the material, had been prepared at
Tananariva--a proof that, if the people of Madagascar are deficient in
invention, they are exceedingly clever in imitating models set before
them.
“This group of dancers appeared with much more effect than their
predecessors, for all the ladies and gentlemen were much more
tastefully attired than the rest of the company. They only performed
European dances.
“The whole of these festivities, which had occupied three hours, had
not put the queen to the slightest expense. The court-yard was the
dancing floor, the sun provided illumination, and every guest was at
liberty to take what refreshment he chose--_when he got home_.
Happy queen! How sincerely many of our ball-givers must envy her!”
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Borneo.]
CHAPTER XIX.
Installation of a Dayak Rajah--A visit to the Grungs--A Dayak
dance--Captain Hall’s visit to Corea--The chief on board the
“Lyra”--Entertained at one’s own expense--The chief loses his
temper--The marriage of King Finow’s daughter--The marriage
ceremonies--Mummying a king--King John’s skull--The Bushman’s
mourning.
In Borneo we find the ruling power to be a Sultan, assisted in his rule
by “Rajahs” and “Pangerans” and “Bandars,” and many others whose titles
are equally unintelligible to us. Each of these minor rulers, however,
appears to rule absolutely over the people in their immediate care;
and much ceremony is observed at their installation. Sir James Brooke,
himself a rajah, was once present at the election of three of these
petty rulers.
With the Dayaks all council is divided into _hot_ and _cold_--peace,
friendship, good intentions, are all included under the latter head;
war, etc., are under the former. Hot is represented by red, and cold by
white. So in everything they make this distinction; and as the public
hall is the place for war councils and war trophies, it is hot in
the extreme, and unfit for friendly conference. A shed was therefore
erected close to the Orang Kaya’s house wherein the ceremony was to
take place. “About nine in the evening we repaired to the scene; loud
music, barbarous but not unpleasing, resounded, and we took our seats
on mats in the midst of our Dayak friends. A feast was in preparation,
and each guest (if I may call them such) brought his share of rice
in bamboos and laid it on the general stock. As one party came up
after another, carrying their burning logs, the effect was very good;
and they kept arriving until the place and its vicinity was literally
crammed with human beings. A large antique sīrih-box was placed in the
midst, and I contributed that greatest of luxuries, tobacco.
“The feast in the meantime was in preparation, some of the principal
people being employed in counting the number who were to eat and
dividing the bamboos into exactly equal portions for each person. About
six inches were allotted to every man, and it took a very long time to
divide it, for they are remarkably particular as to the proper size and
quantity to each share. The bamboos of rice being, however, at length
satisfactorily disposed, the Orang Kaya produced as his share a large
basin full of sauce composed of salt and chilis, and a small stock of
sweetmeats, and then the ceremony of his installation commenced as
follows:
“A jacket, a turban, a cloth for the loins, and a kris (all of white),
were presented to the chiefs as a token of sejiek dingin, or cold
(_i.e._ good). The chief then rose, and taking a white fowl and
waving it over the eatables, repeated nearly the following words [The
commencement, however, is curious enough to dwell upon: the opening
is a sort of invocation beginning with the phrase ‘Samungut Samungi.’
Samungut is a Malay word, Samungi signifying the same in Dayak; the
exact meaning it is difficult to comprehend, but it is here understood
as some principal spirit or fortune which is in men and things. Thus
the Dayaks in stowing their rice at harvest, do it with great care from
a superstitious feeling that the Samungi of the padi will escape. They
now call this principal to be present--that of men, of pigs (their
favorite animal), of padi, and of fruits. They particularly named my
Samungi, that of my ancestors, of the Pangeran from Borneo, of the
Datus and of their ancestors, and of the ancestors of their own tribe.
They call them--that is, their Samungi--to be present. They then call
upon Jovata to grant their prayer that the great man from Europe and
the Datus might hold the government for a length of time]:--‘May the
government be cold (good). May there be rice in our houses. May many
pigs be killed. May male children be born to us. May fruit ripen. May
we be happy, and our goods abundant. We declare ourselves to be true
to the great man and the Datus; what they wish we will do, what they
command is our law.’ Having said this and much more the fowl was taken
by a leading Malay who repeated the latter words, whilst others bound
strips of white cloth round the heads of the multitude. The fowl was
then killed, the blood shed in a bamboo, and each man dipping his
finger in the blood touched his forehead and breast in attestation
of his fidelity. The fowl was now carried away to be cooked, and
when brought back placed with the rest of the feast, and the dancing
commenced. The chief coming forward uttered a loud yell ending in
‘ish,’ which was oftentimes repeated during the dance. He raised his
hand to his forehead and, taking a dish, commenced dancing to lively
music. Three other old chief-men followed his example, each uttering
the yell and making the salute, but without taking the dish. They
danced with arms extended, turning the body frequently, taking very
small steps and little more than lifting their feet from the ground.
Thus they turned backwards and forwards, passed in and out in the inner
rooms, and frequently repeating a yell and making the salutation to me.
The dish in the meantime was changed from one to the other; there was
little variety, no gesticulation, no violence, and though not deficient
in native grace, yet the movements were by no means interesting. The
dance over the feast commenced, and everything was carried on with
great gravity and propriety. I left them shortly after they begun to
eat, and retired, very fagged, to my bed, or rather my board, for
sitting cross-legged for several hours is surely a great affliction.”
Sir J. Brooke, in company with a modern writer on Bornean manners and
customs--Mr. St. John--on another occasion paid a ceremonial visit to a
chief of the Grungs, and with results that are worth chronicling.
“We found the village crowded with the representatives of all the
neighbouring tribes; long strings of men, women, and children were
continually arriving as we approached. Directly we ascended the notched
tree that served as a ladder to the Orang Kaya’s house, we found that
we were no longer free agents. A crowd of old women instantly seized us
and pulled off our shoes and stockings and commenced most vigorously
washing our feet: this water was preserved to fertilize the fields. We
were then conducted to a platform but slightly raised above the floor
and requested to sit down, but the mats were so dirty that we could
scarcely prevail upon ourselves to do so--perhaps the only time it has
occurred to us; generally the mats are charmingly neat and clean. The
arrival of our bedding freed us from this difficulty.
“We were surrounded by a dense mass of men, women, and children who
appeared all to be talking at once; in fact, more excitement was shewn
than I have before observed. We had to do so many things, and almost
all at once,--to sprinkle rice about, to pour a little water on each
child that was presented to us, until, from force of example, the women
and even the men insisted upon the ceremony being performed on them.
“Silence being at last restored, Kasim explained in a long speech the
object of Captain Brooke’s visit. He spoke in Malay, interlarding it
occasionally with Dayak phrases--I say Malay, but Malay that is only
used when addressing the aborigines,--clipping and altering words,
changing the pronunciation, until I find that some have been deceived
into believing this was the true Dayak language. It is to these people
what the Lingua Franca is to Western Asia.
“We got a little respite while eating our dinner; but as soon as we
had finished we were again surrounded. The priestesses of the place
were especially active tying little bells round our wrists and ancles
and bringing rice for us to--how shall I explain it?--in fact for us
to spit on, and this delectable morsel they swallowed. No sooner had
these learned women been satisfied than parents brought their children
and insisted upon their being physicked in the same way, taking care to
have a full share themselves. One horrid old woman actually came six
times.
“The Orang Kaya now advanced and there was strict attention to hear
what he was about to say. He walked to the window and threw some grains
out, and then commenced a kind of prayer asking for good harvests,
for fertility for the women, and for health to them all. During the
whole invocation he kept scattering rice about. The people were very
attentive at first, but soon the murmur of many voices almost drowned
the old man’s tones. He did not appear very much in earnest, but
repeated what he had to say as if he were going over a well-remembered
but little understood lesson; in fact, it is said these invocations
are in words not comprehended even by the Dayaks themselves--perhaps
they are in some Indian language. Then a space was cleared for dancing;
the old Orang Kaya and the elders commenced and were followed by the
priestesses. They walked up to us in succession, passed their hands
over our arms, pressed our palms, and then uttering a yell or a
prolonged screech, went off in a slow measured tread, moving their arms
and hands in unison with their feet, until they reached the end of the
house and came back to where we sat; then another pressure of the palm,
a few more passes to draw virtue out of us, another yell, and off they
went again; at one time there were at least a hundred dancing. Few of
the young people joined in what appeared in this case a sacred dance.
“For three nights we had had little sleep on account of these
ceremonies; but at length, notwithstanding clash of gong and beat of
drum, we sank back in our beds and were soon fast asleep. In perhaps a
couple of hours I awoke; my companion was still sleeping uneasily; the
din was deafening, and I sat up to look around. Unfortunate movement!
I was instantly seized by the hands of two priests and led up to the
Orang Kaya who was leisurely cutting a fowl’s throat. He wanted Captain
Brooke to perform the following ceremony, but I objected to his being
awakened, and offered to do it for him. I was taken to the very end of
the house and the bleeding fowl put in my hands; holding him by his
legs I had to strike the lintels of the doors, sprinkling a little
blood over each. When this was over I had to waive the fowl over the
heads of the women and wish them fertility, over the children and wish
them health, over all the people and wish them prosperity; out of the
window and invoke good crops for them. At last I reached my mats and
sat down preparatory to another sleep, when that horrid old woman led
another detachment of her sex forward to recommence the physicking:
fortunately but few came, and after setting them off dancing again I
fell asleep and in spite of all the noises remained so till morning.”
When, in the year 1818, Captain Basil Hall undertook what was in those
days considered a formidable undertaking--a voyage of discovery to
the coast of Corea and the great Loo Choo Island--he was entertained
at the former place by a potentate of so remarkable a character as to
entitle him to a place among the necessarily few and consequently rare
specimens of savage royalty which figure on these pages. It will be
understood that Captain Hall’s ship, the “Alceste,” had anchored off
Corea, and in the morning sent a boat ashore to feel the way to closer
intimacy.
“The curiosity of the natives was already aroused; every boat was
crowded with people, and ornamented with numerous flags and streamers;
but one of them being distinguished by a large blue umbrella, we
steered towards it, on the supposition that this was an emblem of
rank, in which opinion we were soon confirmed by the sound of music,
which played only on board this boat. On coming closer we saw a fine
patriarchal figure seated under the umbrella; his full white beard
covered his breast and reached below his middle; his robe or mantle,
which was of blue silk and of an immense size, flowed about him in a
magnificent style. His sword was suspended from his waist by a small
belt; but the insignia of his office appeared to be a slender black
rod tipped with silver, about a foot and a half long, with a small
leather thong at one end, and a piece of black crape tied to the
other; this he held in his hand. His hat exceeded in breadth of brim
anything we had yet met with, being, as we supposed, nearly three feet
across. The old chief by signs expressed his wish to go to the ships.
We accordingly rowed to the “Lyra,” which lay nearer to the shore than
the “Alceste.” When the chief’s boat was within ten yards of the brig,
they let go their anchor and threw a rope on board her by which they
drew the boat alongside in a very seamanlike style. The old man did
not find it an easy matter to get up the ship’s side, encumbered as he
was with his splendid robes; he was no sooner on board, however, than
we were crowded with the natives, who boarded us on all sides. Some
climbed up the rigging so as to overlook the quarter-deck, others got
on the poop, and a line was formed along the hammock netting from one
end of the brig to the other. As the evening was fine, it was thought
best to entertain the venerable chief upon deck, rather than give him
the trouble of going down to the cabin, which, indeed, we had reason
to fear would prove too small for the party. Chairs were accordingly
placed upon deck, but the chief made signs that he could not sit on
a chair, nor would he consent for a time to use his mat, which was
brought on board by one of his attendants. He seemed embarrased and
displeased, which we could not at the moment account for, though it
has since occurred to us that he objected to the publicity of the
conference. At length, however, he sat down upon his mat and began
talking with great gravity and composure, without appearing in the
smallest degree sensible that we did not understand a single word that
he said. Meanwhile the crowd of natives increased, and their curiosity
became so great, that they pressed round us in a way nowise agreeable.
Some of them roved about the ship and appeared highly entertained
with everything they saw. The chief himself, however, did not appear
at ease, but continued giving directions to his officers and people
about him with an air of impatience. He more than once ordered them
all into their boats, but they always returned after a few minutes.
One man persevered in climbing over the hammocks close to the chief to
see what was going on; the noise made to keep him back attracted the
chief’s attention, who immediately gave orders to one of the attendants
for his being taken away: it will be seen by and by what was his fate.
It was nearly dark when the chief gave directions for preparing
the boats, and at the same time to two of his attendants to assist
him to get on his legs. Each took an arm, and in this way succeeded
in raising him up, which was no sooner observed by the people, than
they jumped into their boats with the utmost alacrity, and the chief,
after many bows and salaams, walked into his boat. This did not give
him so much trouble as he had experienced in coming on board, for a
platform of grating and planks had been prepared for his accommodation
during his visit, an attention with which he seemed much pleased. So
far all seemed well; but there was still something amiss, for the old
man, seated in state under his umbrella, remained alongside with his
attendants ranged on deck about him, he and his people preserving the
most perfect silence, and making no signs to explain. We were greatly
puzzled to discover what the old gentleman wanted, till at length it
was suggested that, having paid us a visit, he expected a similar
compliment in return. This idea was no sooner started than we proceeded
to pay our respects to him in his boat. He made signs for us to sit
down, honouring us at the same time with a corner of his own mat. When
we were seated he looked about as if in distress at having nothing to
entertain us with, upon which a bottle of wine was sent for and given
him. He ordered an attendant to pour it into several bowls, and putting
the bottle away, made signs for us to drink, but would not taste it
himself till all of us had been served. He was nowise discomposed at
being obliged to entertain his company at their own expense; on the
contrary, he carried off the whole affair with so much cheerfulness
and ease as to make us suspect sometimes that he saw and enjoyed the
oddity of the scene and circumstances as fully as we did ourselves.
After sitting about ten minutes we left the chief in great good humour
and returned on board, thinking of course that he would go straight to
the shore; but in this we were mistaken, for we had no sooner left him
than he pushed off to the distance of ten or twelve yards, and calling
the other boats round him, gave orders for inflicting the discipline
of the bamboo upon the unfortunate culprit who had been ordered into
confinement during the conference. This exhibition, which it was
evidently intended we should witness, had a very ludicrous effect,
for it followed so much in train with the rest of the ceremony, and
was carried on with so much gravity and order, that it looked like
an essential part of the etiquette. During the infliction of this
punishment a profound silence was observed by all the party, except
by five or six persons immediately about the delinquent, whose cries
they accompanied by a sort of song or yell at each blow of the bamboo.
This speedy execution of justice was, no doubt, intended to impress us
with notions of Corean discipline. As it was now dark we did not expect
the chief to pay any more visits this evening; but we underrated his
politeness, for the moment the above scene was concluded he steered
for the ‘Alceste.’ He was in great good humour, and seemed entertained
with the efforts which were made to please him. He asked to look at a
mirror which had caught his attention. When it was put into his hands
he seemed very well satisfied with the figure which it presented, and
continued for some time pulling his beard from side to side with an
air of perfect complacency. One of the attendants thought there could
be no harm in looking at the mirror likewise; but the chief was of
a different opinion, and no sooner observed what he was doing, than
he very angrily made him put down the glass and leave the cabin. The
secretary, too, fell under his displeasure, and was reprimanded with
much acrimony for overlooking our paper when we were writing. Scarcely
five minutes elapsed in short during his stay, without his finding
some cause of complaint against his people; but we could not determine
whether this arose from mere captiousness, or was done to give us a
higher notion of his consequence, because in the interval he was all
cheerfulness and good humour. He was offered tea and cherry-brandy,
which he took along with us, and appeared at his ease in every respect.
We thought that he made signs implying a wish for us to visit him on
shore; to this we cheerfully assented, and an arrangement for landing
in the morning was made accordingly by means of similar signs, with
which the chief appeared much pleased, and rose to go away. He had not
got much beyond the cabin-door, however, before the serenity of his
temper was once more overturned. On passing the gun-room skylight, he
heard the voices of some of his people whom the officers had taken
below, and who were enjoying themselves very merrily amongst their new
acquaintance. The old chief looked down, and observing them drinking
and making a noise, he called to them in a loud passionate voice, which
made them leave their glasses and run up the ladder in great terror.
From thence alarm spread along the lower deck to the midshipmen’s
berth, where another party was carousing. The grog and wine with which
they had been entertained was too potent for this party, as they did
not seem to care much for the old chief, who, posting himself at
the hatchway, ascertained by personal examination who the offenders
were. On this occasion his little rod of office was of much use; he
pushed the people about with it to make them speak, and used it to
turn them round in order to discover their faces. One man, watching
his opportunity when the chief was punching away at somebody who had
just come up, slipped past and ran off; but the quick eye of the old
man was not so easily deceived, and he set off in chase of him round
the quarter-deck. The man had an apron full of biscuits which had been
given to him by the midshipmen; this impeded his running, so that the
chief, nothwithstanding his robes, at last came up with him; but while
he was stirring him up with his rod, the fellow slipped his cargo of
bread into a coil of rope, and then went along with the chief quietly
enough. The old man came back afterwards and found the biscuits,
which he pointed out to us to show that they had not been taken away.
He continued for some time at the hatchway, expecting more people,
but finding none come up, he went below himself to the main-deck and
rummaged under the guns and round the mainmast to discover whether any
one was concealed, but finding no person there he came upon deck, and
shortly after went into his boat.”
The reader has already made the acquaintance of King Finow; here
are some further particulars of him and the manner of his court in
connection with the marriage of his daughter. He had three daughters,
the eldest of whom, about eighteen years of age, had been long
betrothed to Tooitonga, who having expressed his wish that the marriage
should take place, Finow gave orders for the necessary preparations.
Tooitonga was now about forty years of age. The particulars of this
chief’s marriage, which was somewhat different from those of other
chiefs, shall be here described.
The young lady having been profusely anointed with cocoa-nut oil, and
scented with sandal-wood, was dressed in the choicest mats of the
Navigator’s Island, of the finest texture, and as soft as silk. So many
of these costly mats were wrapped round her, perhaps more than forty
yards, that her arms stuck out from her body in a ludicrous manner, and
she could not, strictly speaking, sit down, but was obliged to bend in
a sort of half-sitting posture, leaning upon her female attendants, who
were under the necessity of again raising her when she required it. A
young girl, about five years of age, was also dressed out in a similar
manner to be her immediate and particular attendant; four other young
virgins, about sixteen years of age, were also her attendants, and were
dressed in a manner nearly similar, but not with quite so many mats.
The lady and her five attendants being all ready, proceeded to the
marly of Tooitonga, who was there waiting for their arrival together
with a number of other chiefs, two matabooles sitting before him. The
lady and her attendants being arrived, seated themselves on the green
before Tooitonga. After the lapse of a little time, a woman entered
the circle with her face covered up with white gnatoo; she went into
the house of the marly, and proceeded towards the upper end, where
there sat another woman in waiting with a large roll of gnatoo, a
wooden pillow, and a basket containing bottles of oil. The woman, whose
face was veiled, took the gnatoo from the other, wrapped herself up
in it, and laying her head upon the wooden pillow went, or pretended
to go, fast asleep. No sooner was this done than Tooitonga rose up,
and taking his bride by her hand led her into the house, and seated
her on his left hand. Twenty baked hogs were now brought into the
circle of the marly, and a number of expert cooks came in with knives
(procured from European ships; formerly they used bamboo) to try their
skill in carving with speed and dexterity, which is considered a great
recommendation. A considerable part was shared out to the chiefs, each
taking his portion and putting it in his bosom.
The remainder of the pork was then heaped up and scrambled for at an
appointed signal. The woman who had laid herself down, covered over
with gnatoo, now rose up and went, taking with her the gnatoo and the
basket containing the bottles of oil as her perquisites. Tooitonga
then took his bride by her left hand and led her to his dwelling,
followed by the little girl and the other four attendants. The people
now dispersed each to their home. Tooitonga being arrived with his
bride at his residence, accompanied her into the house appropriated
for her, where he left her to have her mats taken off and her usual
dress put on, after which she amused herself in conversation with the
women. In the meantime a feast was prepared for the evening, of pigs,
fowls, yams, etc., and cava. This was got ready on the marly, where,
about dusk, Tooitonga presiding, the company sat down to receive their
portions, which the generality reserved to take home with them; the
lower orders, indeed, who had but a small quantity, consumed theirs
on the spot. After this cava was shared out and drunk. The musicians
(if so they can be called) next sat down at the bottom of the ring,
opposite to Tooitonga, in the middle of a circle of flambeaus, held by
men who also held baskets of sand to receive the ashes. The musical
instrument consisted of seven or eight bamboos of different lengths
and sizes (from three to six feet long), so as to produce--held
by the middle, and one end being struck on the ground--different
notes according to the intended tune (all the knots being cut out of
the bamboo, and one end plugged up with soft wood). The only other
instrument was a piece of split bamboo, on which a man struck with
two sticks, one in each hand, to regulate the time. The music was an
accompaniment to dancing, which was kept up a considerable time. The
dancing being over, one of the matabooles addressed the company, making
a moral discourse on the subject of chastity. The company then rose
and dispersed to their respective homes. The bride was not present at
this entertainment. Tooitonga being arrived at his house, sent for the
bride, who immediately obeyed the summons. The moment they retired
together, the lights were extinguished, and a man appointed at the
door for the purpose announced it to the people by three hideous yells
(similar to the war whoop), which he followed up immediately by the
loud and repeated sounds of the conch.
For the accuracy of the following description of an Australian monarch
Mr. W. H. R. Jessop is responsible:--
“King John, chief of the great Adelaide tribe, after reigning many
years to the satisfaction of his numerous subjects, was taken ill and
died. His body was not buried as would have been the fate of a common
body, but disembowelled, thoroughly washed, and trussed like a fowl.
Then a triangle was erected like that of a gipsey’s fire, and from it
he was reverently suspended. Over all a tabernacle was made of green
boughs and grass, something in the shape of a beehive. Beneath the
venerated remains thus shrouded, a slow fire was kindled--so slow as to
burn three weeks and not consume the body, against which calamity every
precaution was taken by watching day and night.
“Meanwhile the subjects of the deceased monarch assembled, each one
bearing in his hand a shell, and crowding round the enclosure where the
body was roasting. Then followed a ceremony much too horrid for detail.
It shall only be hinted at. Like all animal bodies subjected to the
action of fire ... the saucer-like shells that were held beneath ...
with which every subject anointed the tip of his tongue!
“Well, when the body had been duly smoked, and as far as possible
mummied, the king’s dutiful _lubras_ took it down, wrapped it up
carefully, and for three months, by means of relief squads, carried
it to and fro through the entire length and breadth of the defunct
king’s domains. The bounds having thus been beaten they return to
head-quarters, and there having selected a gum-tree, proper and tall,
they set the old man gently and firmly in a fork of the topmost bough.
But he might get cold, for they don’t believe in his death while his
body is to be seen, so they build over him a little tent of twigs and
grass, and then leave him to his fate.”
In an earlier part of Mr. Jessop’s hook (Sturtland and Flindersland)
mention is made of a certain “King John,” the proprietor of a skull of
marvellous thickness, which was deposited as a natural curiosity in
the “office” at the Sturtland station. Whether there were two monarchs
of the same name, or this was the veritable skull of the king of
Adelaide fallen from its nest in the gum-tree is not known, though as
the latter monarch was renowned for shrewdness and intelligence, it
is probable that the thick skull belonged to him. “Of his prowess and
the difficulties of his position,” writes Mr. Jessop, “his skull is a
lasting monument, more durable than brass or stone,” graven by art or
man’s device. “Upon it I counted fourteen cavities, in each of which a
marble would rest, all dents made by the waddies or clubs of enemies
whom he had encountered.”
As already intimated the plebeian Bushman receives none of the
sepulchral honours paid to the king. When he shows signs of giving up
the ghost, his friends carry him out of his “wurley,” or hut, and one
of them lays him straight along the ground as though he were already
dead, with his hands by his side, and his feet close together. The
dying man’s friend then commences what to a looker on would pass for
a sort of mesmeric process: he strokes the patient from head to foot,
carefully drawing his hands down the whole length of the body, and when
arrived at the extremities pretending to throw something away. When
this has gone on for the proper time, he pulls up stones and casts them
with angry gestures at some imaginary spirit; not, however, to drive
off any that he had just cast out, but to keep away the chief of evil
spirits, who is always at hand to snatch away a Bushman’s life when he
is so weakened by sickness as to be unable to take fast hold on it.
Should he recover, well and good; but should he die (and it is more
than likely), he is wrapped in his opossum rug after the fashion of a
mummy, strings being wound round his body from his neck to his feet;
and when he is laid in the grave, stones are placed upon him till they
reach the surface of the ground. In some cases, however, the body is
buried upright, and in a bent or sitting posture. The grave is of
an oval or elliptical shape, as might be expected; but what is very
remarkable, the body when laid straight always has its feet to the
east and head to the west, as though to be able to welcome the rising
sun.
Mourning seems to be a very prevalent custom among all the natives, and
they show by their adoption of pretty nearly the same mode a common
bond which seldom appears in any other of their ways and actions.
There are two fashions which take the lead of all others, one in
which red and blue colours are used, and the other in which white is
most conspicuous. These colours are painted on the face in streaks
of various forms, strongly suggestive of the tattooing of the New
Zealanders; but sometimes laid on in such a way that the nose is half
of one colour and half of another.
The women are said to restrict their exhibitions of grief to the
colours alone, but the men extend their signs of woe to plastering
the head with white clay, which their respect will not allow them to
remove; time alone has the power of assuaging their sorrow by crumbling
the nightcap to pieces. As the women work or hunt for food while
the men sit in the wurley all day, this excess of pain and grief is
probably nothing more than an excess of laziness, especially as it
lasts from one to two months at a time. The red earth or ruddle is
found in one spot only in the northern country, somewhere near the
gorge in the Hayward Range. This is much celebrated, and is sought
after by every tribe far and near; and although these tribes are
hostile to each other, and on any other occasion to meet would be to
fight, like the North-American Indian and his “Pipe-stone Quarry,” the
Ruddle plain is neutral ground on which Bushmen foes may meet and dig
in harmony.
[Illustration: Australian Weapons.]
[Illustration: Polynesian War Canoe.]
PART VIII.
SAVAGE M.D.’s.
CHAPTER XX.
Polynesian Surgeons--Figian treatment--A shipwrecked
Figian--Samoan Priests and Doctors--Samoan physics--Polynesian
Disease-makers--Namaquan cruelty--Left to die--Savage
arithmetic--Bartering for Sheep--The Abiadiongs--A Pawnee
M.D.--An Indian Sawbones--A medicine dance--An Indian
vapour bath--Cupping three Queens--What is expected of a
Physician--Hints to Travellers in the East--Stimulants to be
avoided in the East--Cold water bathing in Nubia.
The science of surgery and medicine, as practised among savages, forms
not the least curious and interesting feature in the story of their
lives. Since they have as a rule no belief in natural or unavoidable
death, it follows that natural or unavoidable sickness, as being the
agents of death, are no more faithfully entertained. Unlike us, who
have a name for the thousand ills that afflict us--from tooth-rash to
elephantiasis--the savage has but one name for all the diseases he
is acquainted with, and that one name is--the devil. Ague--and it is
the devil within the man shaking his limbs; rheumatism, myriads of
tiny imps are under the skin nibbling the wretched sufferer’s bones;
stomach-ache, tooth-ache, head-ache--it is the devil, and nobody and
nothing else.
The business of the witch-doctor, or the greegree man, is to eject the
devil from his patient--by fair means or foul as soon as possible.
Dispersed through various preceding chapters instances of the way
in which the ejection is attempted have already been given; we have
witnessed how the Indian medicine-man operated on the sick baby, and
on the unlucky little girl who had a stitch in her side; how the Dayak
doctor cheated the devil and laid a trap for, caught, and replaced his
patient’s departing spirit of life; how the Patagonian quack attempted
the cure of the Patagonian infant. The medical and surgical customs of
many savage nations, however, remain yet to be noticed. Let us see how
they till lately managed such things in Polynesia.
A fractured limb they set without much trouble: applying splinters
of bamboo cane to the sides, and binding it up till it was healed. A
dislocation they usually succeeded in reducing, but the other parts of
their surgical practice were marked by a rude promptness, temerity,
and barbarism almost incredible. A man one day fell from a tree and
dislocated some part of his neck. His companions, on perceiving it,
instantly took him up; one of them placed his head between his own
knees, and held it firmly, while the others, taking hold of his body,
twisted the joint into its proper place.
On another occasion, a number of young men in the district of Faro,
were carrying large stones suspended from each end of a pole across
their shoulders (their usual mode of carrying a burden); one of them so
injured the vertebræ as to be almost unable to move; he had, as they
expressed it, _fate te tua_, broken the back. His fellow-workmen
laid him flat on his face on the grass, one grasped and pulled his
shoulders, and the other his legs, while a third actually pressed with
both knees his whole weight upon the back where the bones appeared
displaced. On being asked what they were doing, they coolly replied
that they were only straightening the man’s back, which had been
broken in with carrying stones. The vertebræ appeared to be replaced,
they bound a long girdle repeatedly round his body, led him home, and
without any other treatment he was in a short time able to resume his
employment.
The operation of trepanning they sometimes attempted, and say they have
practised with success. It is reported that there are persons living in
the Island of Borabora, on whom it has been performed, or at least an
operation very much resembling it: the bones of the skull having been
fractured in battle, they have cleared away the skin and coverings,
and, having removed the fractured piece of bone, have carefully fitted
in a piece of cocoa-nut shell and replaced the covering and skin, on
the healing of which the man has recovered. I never saw any individual
who had undergone this operation, but from the concurrent testimony of
the people I have no doubt they have performed it.
It is also related by Stedman, that on some occasions when the brain
has been injured as well as the bone, they have opened the skull, taken
out the injured portion of the brain, and, having a pig ready, have
killed it, taken out the pig’s brains, put them in the man’s head, and
covered them up. They persist in stating that this has been done, but
add that the persons always became furious with madness and died.
The sick man finds small compassion in Figi. If he is not very sick
he is left to recover as he may, but the patience of his relations is
soon exhausted. This does not seem to arise so much from inhumanity
of disposition as from the miserable belief that some evil spirit has
a hand in the business, and that as long as life remains in the ill
conditioned body, the demon will be lurking about, and may presently
attack another victim. They are a wonderfully matter-of-fact people,
and do not scruple to make urgent representations to the invalid of
the peril he is threatening his relations with by this vacillating
temper--neither getting well nor dying: “You don’t seem to mend in the
least, in fact you are looking disgustingly ill this morning, where’s
the use of holding out? If you are to die, why not do it at once? Be
reasonable and let some one help you out of your misery.”
Gentle and simple experience the same treatment. Mr. Williams relates
the case of a Princess of Nakembo, who fell sick. The aid of the best
native doctors was secured, large offerings made to the gods, and
a temple begun, to secure their favour, but all was in vain. Rich
puddings from sixteen to twenty-one feet in circumference were made,
and through the priests sacrificed to the gods, but, despite all,
the princess grew worse, and it was formally resolved to do her the
charitable office of strangulation, when the missionaries interfered,
took charge of and cured her. The same authority also quotes the
case of a woman of Somosomo, who was in a very abject state through
the protracted absence of her husband. For five weeks, though two
women lived in the same house, she lay uncared for, becoming reduced
to a mere skeleton. After this she had food and medicine from the
missionaries and improved. One morning, however, as a servant was
carrying her her breakfast he met a funeral party who told him to take
the breakfast back. The man could then remember that on the previous
day he had found an old woman at the house of the invalid who made no
secret of her errand but openly declared, “I came to see my friend and
enquire if she was ready to be strangled, but as she is strong we will
not strangle her yet.” As the sequel proved, the old murderess soon
altered her mind.
Another instance given of the extraordinary treatment the sick and
afflicted of Figi receive at the hands of their fellows concerns a
native sailor. There was a violent storm, and the unfortunate in
question with several others were spilt into the sea, and, as was
thought, perished every one. This one man, however, managed to support
himself by swimming till, utterly exhausted, he reached one of a fleet
of canoes, and managed to pull himself aboard unperceived. One would
have thought that his first act would have been to make himself known
to his brother mariners, but he was a Figian among Figians and knew the
probable fate that awaited him. As day broke the man was discovered;
a short council was held, and it being universally agreed that there
was something highly mysterious that this one should be saved while
the rest, including the owner of the ship, who was a prince, should
be lost, and that since he himself could give no better account of
his escape than that “he swam,” the best course would be to knock
him on the head and throw him overboard. One of the crew, however,
presently recognized the wrecked man as a very skilful sailor, and the
craft being short handed, it was finally resolved to let him live,
provided he at once took the great steer oar and steered the vessel. To
handle the steer oar of a Figian canoe is work for a very strong man.
Nevertheless the poor man, weak and trembling from his long immersion,
obeyed and steered the vessel through a long and tedious voyage, when,
more dead than alive, he was carried ashore and housed in a shed. Here
he remained till he was nearly well, when, unluckily, on the very eve
of the ship putting to sea again he showed symptoms of a relapse. “No
one could be spared to look after the invalid, and to take him on the
canoe might give him pain and inconvenience his friends; they therefore
concluded that it would be the best plan to strangle him, which purpose
they, with his own consent, carried out. They kissed and wept over him!
strangled, buried and mourned for him; and the next day set out on
their voyage.”
There is, however, a dreadful charge laid at the door of the Figian
sick--a charge which Europeans who have lived amongst them declare to
be not without foundation. Actuated by inexplicable motives they will,
by lying on the mats of their friends, and by handling their clothing
and cooking utensils, endeavour to communicate the disease with which
they are afflicted. If this be true the anxiety of the Figian to see a
sick relative comfortably entombed is in a great measure accounted for.
Turner, the Polynesian missionary, relates that when a Samoan falls
sick his friends take a present to the priest: he says he will pray to
the god for recovery; and then he goes to the sick person, and anoints
with oil the part affected. He uses no particular oil. When he sits
down he calls some one of the family to hand him some oil, and dipping
his hand into the cup, passes it gently over the part two or three
times. No medicines are used for the sick: if the body is hot, they
go and lie down in cold water; if cold, they kindle a fire and warm
themselves. After death the friends of the deceased are anxious to know
the cause of death: they go with a present to the priest, and beg him
to get the dead man to speak, and confess the sins which caused his
death. The priest may be distant from the dead body, but he pretends to
summon the spirit, and to have it within him. He speaks in his usual
tone, and tells him to say before them all what he did to cause his
death. Then he (the priest) whines out in a weak faltering voice a
reply, as if from the spirit of the departed, confessing that he stole
cocoa nuts from such a place, or that he fished at some particular
spot forbidden by the king, or that he ate the fish which was the
incarnation of his family god. As the priest whines out something of
this sort, he manages to squeeze out some tears, and sob and cry over
it. The friends of the departed feel relieved to know the cause, get up
and go home. At death, one will say to his friend, “I’m going to the
moon--think of me as being there.” Another will say, “I’m going to be a
star;” and mentions the particular part of the heavens where they are
to look for him. Another will say, “I shan’t go away--I shall remain
in the grave, and be here with you.” Thus they seem to think they have
only to choose where their disembodied spirits are to go after death.
They tell of a Tokelau man who went up to the moon, and have their tale
also of “the man in the moon.” They say, too, that the moon is the
special residence of the kings and priests of Tokelau. The stars they
believe to be the spirits of the departed. When the full moon begins
to wane they suppose that it is being eaten by the inhabitants of the
region. From the new moon until the full they consider that the food
is growing again. An eclipse of the moon is thought to be some sudden
calamity destroying the food of the departed kings, and occasions
special concern; and prayers and a meat offering of grated cocoa nut
are immediately presented to their great god Tui Tokelau to avert the
evil. As the eclipse passes off, they think it is all owing to their
prayers.
The Samoans never had recourse to any internal remedy, except an
emetic, which they sometimes tried after having eaten a poisonous
fish. Sometimes, juices from the bush were tried; at other times, the
patient drank water until it was rejected; and on some occasions, mud,
and even the most unmentionable filth was mixed up, and taken as an
emetic draught. Latterly, as their intercourse with Tongans, Figians,
Tahitians, and Sandwich Islanders increased, they made additions to
their pharmacopœia of juices from the bush. As in Egypt, each disease
had its particular physician. Shampooing and anointing the affected
part of the body with scented oil by the native doctors was common; and
to this charms were frequently added, consisting of some flowers from
the bush done up in a piece of native cloth, and put in a conspicuous
place in the thatch, over the patient. Now, however, European medicines
are eagerly sought after; so much so, that every missionary is
obliged to have a dispensary, and to set apart a certain hour every
day to give advice and medicine to the sick. As the Samoans supposed
disease to be occasioned by the wrath of some particular deity, their
principal desire, in any difficult case, was not for medicine, but
to ascertain the cause of the calamity. The friends of the sick went
to the high-priest of the village. He was sure to assign some cause;
and, whatever that was, they were all anxiety to have it removed as
the means of restoration. If he said they were to give up a canoe to
the god, it was given up. If a piece of land was asked, it was passed
over at once. Or if he did not wish anything from the party, he would
probably tell them to assemble the family, “confess, and throw out.”
In this ceremony each member of the family confessed his crimes, and
any judgments which, in anger, he had invoked on the family, or upon
the particular member of it then ill; and as a proof that he revoked
all such imprecations, he took a little water in his mouth and spurted
it out towards the person who was sick. The custom is still kept up by
many; and the sick bed of a dear friend often forms a confessional,
before which long-concealed and most revolting crimes are disclosed.
In surgery they lanced ulcers with a shell or a shark’s tooth, and,
in a similar way, bled from the arm. For inflammatory swellings, they
sometimes tried local bleeding, but shampooing and rubbing with oil
were and are still the more common remedies in such cases. Cuts they
washed in the sea and bound up with a leaf. Into wounds in the scalp
they blew the smoke of burnt chestnut wood. To take a barbed spear from
the arm or leg, they cut into the limb from the opposite side, and
pushed it right through. Amputation they never attempted. The treatment
of the sick was, as it is now, invariably humane, and all that could be
expected. They wanted for no kind of food, which they might desire by
night or day, if it was at all in the power of their friends to procure
it. In the event of the disease assuming a dangerous form, messengers
were dispatched to friends at a distance that they might have an
opportunity of being in time to see and say farewell to a departing
relative. This is still the custom. The greater the rank, the greater
the stir and muster about the sick of friends from the neighbourhood
and from a distance. Everyone who goes to visit a sick friend supposed
to be near death takes with him a present of a fine mat or some other
kind of valuable property as a farewell expression of regard. Among
the worldly minded, whose interests centre in this life, this heaping
together of property by the bedside of a dying relative is still in
high repute.
Of all classes of savage “Mystery-men,” rain-makers, thunder-makers,
fly-makers, etc., the most singular of all, perhaps, are those
denominated disease-makers. Amongst the Tannese, of Polynesia, these
men are feared and worshipped as gods. They are supposed to be
able to create disease and death by _nohak_ burning. Nohak is
literally rubbish, or refuse of food, which these _disease-makers_
are continually searching after. The people therefore take every
precaution, by burning or throwing into the sea all the rubbish they
find lying about, to prevent those men from getting it. Should a
disease-maker find the skin of a lanana, he rolls it up in a leaf, and
wears it all day hanging round his neck, so that the people may see it;
who say to each other, “He has got something; he will do for somebody
at night.” After wearing it all day long, he takes it home in the
evening, and scrapes some bark off a tree; he mixes this up with the
lanana skin, and rolls it up tightly in a leaf, and then puts one end
of it close enough to the fire to cause it to singe and smoulder, and
burn away very gradually. How, when a Tannese falls ill, he is fully
persuaded some disease-maker is burning his _nohak_, so that he
provides himself with a rude kind of horn, made out of some perforated
shell. This shell he gets some one present to blow for him, and this
is fully understood by the disease-maker to mean that the sick man
wishes him to discontinue the burning, and also, that a present shall
be sent to him the next morning; so that when the disease-maker hears
the shell blown, he says to his friends, “That is the man whose rubbish
I am burning, he is ill; let us stop burning, and see what present he
will bring in the morning.” The sick man faithfully keeps his promise,
and, in the morning, some present is made--pigs, mats, and such like.
Whereupon the disease-maker promises he will do all he can to prevent
the rubbish being again burned. Should a person die, his friends
suppose that the disease-makers were not pleased with the presents
made, and burned his rubbish to the end. When it is all burned they
believe the person will die. Nor do the disease-makers seem to be the
impostors, for should one of the craft fall ill, he fully believes some
one is burning his _nohak_, and he blows the shell, and makes the
presents as readily as the rest.
Cruel and abominable as are many of the Polynesian methods of disposing
of their sick and aged, that there is “in lowest depths a deeper
still,” many African tribes furnish an illustration. In an early part
of this volume mention has been made of the poor old Bakalai, whom
Du Chaillu met, and who was “turned out to die.” Such cases are not
without parallel. Burchell quotes such a case, as does Moffat, as
occurring among the Namaquas. This latter gentleman was informed that
in a certain part of the forest there was an old woman squatting all
alone and seemingly dying.
“On reaching the spot we beheld an object of heartrending distress.
It was a venerable looking old woman, a living skeleton, sitting with
her head leaning on her knees. She appeared terrified at our presence,
and especially at me. She tried to rise, but, trembling with weakness,
sunk again to the earth. I addressed her by the name which sounds sweet
in every clime, and charms even the savage ear, ‘My mother, fear not,
we are friends and will do you no harm.’ I put several questions to
her, but she appeared either speechless or afraid to open her lips. I
again repeated ‘Pray mother who are you and how do you come to be in
this situation?’ to which she replied ‘I am a woman, I have been here
four days, my children have left me here to die.’ ‘Your children?’ I
interrupted. ‘Yes,’ raising her hand to her shrivelled bosom, ‘my own
children, three sons and two daughters. They are gone,’ pointing with
her finger, ‘to yonder blue mountain, and have left me to die.’ ‘And
pray why did they leave you?’ I enquired. Spreading out her hands she
replied, ‘I am old, you see, and I am no longer able to serve them;
when they kill game I am too feeble to help them carry home the flesh.
I am not able to gather wood to make fire, and I cannot carry their
children on my back as I used to do.’ This last sentence was more than
I could bear, and though my tongue was cleaving to the roof of my mouth
for want of water, this reply opened a fountain of tears. I remarked
that I was surprised that she had escaped the lions which seemed to
abound and to have approached very near the spot where she was. She
took hold of the skin of her left arm with her fingers and raising
it up as one would do a loose linen, she added, ‘I hear the lions,
but there is nothing on me that they would eat; I have no flesh on me
for them to scent.’ At this moment the waggon drew near which greatly
alarmed her, for she supposed that it was an animal. Assuring her that
it would do her no harm, I said that as I could not stay I would put
her into the waggon and take her with me. At this remark she became
convulsed with terror. Others addressed her, but all to no effect.
She replied that if we took her and left her at another village they
would do the same thing again. ‘It is our custom, I am nearly dead, I
do not want to die again.’ The sun was now piercingly hot; the oxen
were raging in the yoke and we ourselves nearly delirious. Finding it
impossible to influence the woman to move without running the risk of
her dying convulsed in our hands, we collected a quantity of fuel, gave
her a good supply of dry meat, some tobacco, and a knife, with some
other articles, telling her we should return in two days and stop the
night, when she would be able to go with us; only she must keep up a
good fire at night as the lions would smell the dried flesh if they did
not scent her.”
Here is another case; the victim this time is a child, and her
persecutors the Makalolo, likewise a South African tribe.
“The rich show kindness to the poor in expectation of services, and
a poor person who has no relatives will seldom be supplied even with
water in illness, and when dead will be dragged out to be devoured by
the hyænas instead of being buried. Relatives alone will condescend
to touch a dead body. It would be easy to enumerate instances of
inhumanity which I have witnessed. An interesting looking girl came
to my waggon one day in a state of nudity, and almost a skeleton. She
was a captive from another tribe and had been neglected by the man
who claimed her. Having supplied her wants I made enquiry for him,
and found that he had been unsuccessful in raising a crop of corn and
had no food to give her. I volunteered to take her, but he said he
would allow me to feed her and make her fat, and then he would take
her away. I protested against this heartlessness, and as he said he
would not part with his child I was precluded from attending to her
wants. In a day or two she was lost sight of; she had gone out a little
way from the town and being too weak to return had been cruelly left
to perish. Another day I saw a poor boy going to the water to drink,
apparently in a starving condition. This case I brought before the
chief in council and found that his emaciation was ascribed to disease
and want combined. He was not one of the Makalolo, but a member of a
subdued tribe. I showed them that any one professing to claim a child
and refusing proper nutriment would be guilty of his death. Sekeletu
decided that the owner of this boy should give up his alleged right
rather than destroy the child. When I took him he was so far gone as
to be in the cold stage of starvation, but was soon brought round by
a little milk given three or four times a day. On leaving Linyanti I
handed him over to the charge of Sekeletu, who feeds his servants very
well.”
One’s only source of consolation is that among this and neighbouring
tribes intellect is at so low a par that it is more than probable that
they are mainly influenced by a horror of the sight of death, and not
by motives of selfishness or wanton inhumanity. Moreover, if it were
attempted to impart a knowledge of medicine to them, it is doubtful if
in their profound obtuseness they would not inflict much more injury
than work good on a patient that might come under their hands. One
thing is certain, if the following instance furnished by the traveller
Galton may be relied on, their arithmetical capabilities would have to
be greatly cultivated and improved before they could be entrusted with
the admeasurement of drugs; a drop more or less of which kills or cures.
“They have no way of distinguishing days, but reckon by the rainy
season, the dry season, or the pignut season. When inquiries are made
about how many days’ journey off a place may be, their ignorance of
all numerical ideas is very annoying. In practice, whatever they may
possess in their language, they certainly use no numeral greater than
three. When they wish to express four, they take to their fingers which
are to them as formidable instruments of calculation as a sliding rule
is to an English schoolboy. They puzzle very much after five, because
no spare hand remains to grasp and secure the fingers that are required
for units. Yet they seldom lose oxen; the way in which they discover
the loss of one is not by the number of the herd being diminished, but
by the absence of a face they know. When bartering is going on each
sheep must be paid for separately. Thus, suppose two sticks of tobacco
to be the rate of exchange for one sheep, it would sorely puzzle a
Damara to take two sheep and give him four sticks. I have done so and
seen a man first put two of the sticks apart and take a sight over them
at one of the sheep he was about to sell. Having satisfied himself
that that one was honestly paid for, and finding to his surprise that
exactly two sticks remained in hand to settle the account for the other
sheep, he would be afflicted with doubts; the transaction seemed to
come out too pat to be correct, and he would refer back to the first
couple of sticks and then his mind got hazy and confused, and wandered
from one sheep to the other, and he broke off the transaction until
two sticks were put into his hand and one sheep driven away, and then
the other two sticks given him and the second sheep driven away. When
a Damara’s mind is bent upon number it is too much occupied to dwell
upon quantity; thus, a heifer is brought from a man for ten sticks of
tobacco; his large hands being both spread out upon the ground and a
stick placed upon each finger, he gathers up the tobacco; the size of
the mass pleases him and the bargain is struck. You then want to buy
a second heifer: the same process is gone through, but half sticks
instead of whole ones are put upon his fingers; the man is equally
satisfied at the time, but occasionally finds it out and complains
the next day. Once while I watched a Damara floundering hopelessly in
a calculation on one side of me, I observed Dinah my spaniel equally
embarrased on the other. She was overlooking half a dozen of her new
born puppies which had been removed two or three times from her, and
her anxiety was excessive as she tried to find out if they were all
present or if any were still missing. She kept puzzling and running her
eyes over them backwards and forwards but could not satisfy herself.
She evidently had a vague notion of counting, but the figure was too
large for her brain. Taking the two as they stood, dog and Damara, and
comparison reflected no great honour on the man.”
The same gentleman had a very narrow escape of falling into the
merciless hands of a Damara dentist.
“I had occasion to make inquiries for a professional gentleman,
a dentist, as one of my teeth had ached so horribly that I could
hardly endure it. He was employed at a distance, but I subsequently
witnessed, though I did not myself undergo, the exercise of his skill.
He brought a piece of the back sinew of a sheep, which forms a kind of
catgut, and tied this round the unhappy tooth, and the spare end of
the catgut was wound round a stout piece of stick, and this he rolled
up tight to the tooth, and then pressed with all his force against the
jaw till something gave way. I saw the wretched patient sitting for the
rest of the day with his head between his knees and his hands against
his temples.”
The Eboes and Kalabeese of Western Africa hold very curious notions
respecting the administering of doctor’s drugs. When they bury their
dead the sorrowing friends place a tube in the earth communicating with
the body of the deceased, and down this tube they, in after times,
pour palm wine and other liquids for the sustenance of the soul of the
departed, and even medicines, which libations they imagine will produce
the same effect upon the offerer as though absorbed by himself. Thus
an Eboe will come to a surgeon, “Doctor, me sickee;” and when given
the proper medicine, that official must watch the applicant take the
dose on the spot, or he will administer it to the shade of his father,
making the parental benefits to continue even after death; but strange
to say, if given a bottle of rum he becomes suddenly oblivious of his
father’s grave, and forgetting that the ashes of the departed may
probably appreciate rum as much as palm wine and that the paternal clay
may likewise require to be moistened, pours it down his own thorax with
the most lively gestures expressive of satisfaction.
A person styled an Abiadiong, or sorcerer, is always consulted in cases
of sickness, death, or capital crime, to find out the individual who
has brought the malady on his neighbour. He is reputed to derive his
knowledge by education, but is not the bearer of a diploma, save one in
his title. The Abiadiong squats himself beside the sick man--repeats a
number of incantations--tosses strings of beads he has in his hand as
an appeal to the spirit he invokes--rubs the beads alternately on his
own body and that of the sick man--cogitates and decides. Sometimes the
decision is settled by a little copper Palarer beforehand; and, as the
Eboe law gives to the possessor of its privileges an unlimited power
in this respect, it may be imagined what scenes of blood the system
creates and fosters. Alia-lok is the title which, in this country, is
given to a doctor of medicine; but the Kalabeese have little faith
in drugs, and surgical operations are generally performed by the
soft sex. These are confined to two species of cupping--the dry and
the bloody--and to enema administering. The dry cupping is effected
with a pyreform-calabash upon the breasts of women, whose bodies are
chalked over at the same time, to force them to maturity. Razors are
used as scarificators in moist cupping the side and temples of persons
labouring under, what they suppose to be, congestive diseases. Ulcers
are usually dressed by a piece of leaf passed round the diseased part,
and fastened by a bamboo stem. A poison bean, with a string through
a hole bored in it, is frequently worn as a curative ju-ju round a
sore leg--only a modification of the _similia similibus curantur_
system. Perhaps it is to carry out a like idea that dogs are buried in
the ground with their heads above the ground, where the poor creatures
spend three or four days before nature conquers their power of life,
for during this time they are allowed no food. These dogs are generally
impounded so before the door of the sick man. When small-pox prevails
in some places they dot their bodies over with spots of chalk, perhaps
to make the demon of disease believe that they have previously been
visited with a skin affection, and that his ground is already occupied.
It seems easy to set up as M.D. among the Indians of North America.
“Any ignorant idler who takes it into his head to become a doctor gives
notice of it to the Pawnee world, by assuming a solemn deportment,
wearing his robe with the hair outwards, and learning to make a noise
in the throat, which is distinctive of his profession and which
resembles the sound made by a person who is gargling for the relaxed
uvula. Here his medical studies and accomplishments end; and his
reputation depends entirely upon the result of his first attempts, and
must evidently be altogether fortuitous.”
This is the evidence of the traveller Murray, and he further goes on
to back his opinion by quoting two instances of surgical practice that
came under his personal observation.
“In great cases, such as a broken leg or mortal disease of a chief,
the medicine-men are called in to assist with their mummery, but
the treatment of ordinary diseases by these practitioners will be
understood by my noting down accurately what took place at the daily
and nightly visit of the doctor who attended our chief’s lodge. The
patient was one of the children gradually and certainly dying from
shameful maltreatment under the hooping-cough. It should however be
remembered in exculpation of the Galen, that the parents fed the child
three or four times a day with enormous meals of half boiled maize or
buffalo meat, each of which acting as an emetic enabled the wretched
little sufferer to swallow its successor.
“The learned doctor stalked into the lodge with all the dignified
importance of the most practised pulse-feeler, rarely deigning to
salute the parents or other inhabitants. He then stooped down over the
child, took a little earth in his hand which he moistened with saliva,
and with the precious mixture thus formed, he anointed the shoulders,
the forehead, and other parts of the child, especially the pit of the
stomach; then approaching his mouth, to this last, and covering with
his robe his own head and the person of his patient, he commenced the
gargling operation, to which I have before alluded. This I have known
him frequently to continue for three or four hours at the time, when
he left the unfortunate sufferer as he found him without having used
friction or embrocation, or administering medicine of any kind whatever.
“It only remains to add respecting the disciples of Æsculapius, that if
the patient recovers, their fame is blazed abroad, and they receive in
horses, meat, blankets, etc., a fee much higher in proportion to the
wealth of any of the parties than was ever given to Sir Astley Cooper,
or Sir Henry Halford. If the patient dies, the doctor is considered
“bad medicine,” and generally leaves the profession for a year or two,
during which time he pursues the ordinary avocations of stealing,
hunting, or fighting, until his ill name is forgotten or some fortunate
incident has obtained for him a whitewashed reputation.
“I learned that in a hunt a good many Indians had been bruised or
wounded, and several horses killed. Among those who were hurt was
a chief of some distinction; he had a few ribs and one of his arms
broken. The setting of this last, together with the completion of
his wound-dressing, was to be accompanied with much ceremony, so I
determined to be a spectator. I went accordingly to his lodge where
a great crowd was already assembled and with some difficulty made
my way through to the inner circle. Not being quite sure that I was
permitted to see these mysteries, and being fully aware of the danger
of breaking even unintentionally any of their medicine rules, I kept
myself as quiet and unobserved as possible. Before the lodge, and in
the centre of the semi-circle, sat or rather reclined the wounded man,
supported by one or two packs of skins. On each side of him were a row
of his kindred; the elder warriors occupied the front, the younger the
second places, and behind them, close to the lodge, the boys, squaws,
etc. A profound silence was observed, and when all the medicine men
and relatives had arrived and taken their seats, a great medicine pipe
was brought and passed round with the usual ceremonial observance of
a certain number of whiffs to the earth, the buffalo-spirit, and the
Great Spirit. The pipe was not handed to the wounded man, probably
because he was supposed to be for the time under the influence of a bad
spirit, and therefore not entitled to the privileges of the medicine.
When this smoking ceremony was concluded, three or four of the doctors
or conjurors and a few of the great medicine-men assembled round him;
the former proceeded to feel his side and apply some remedy to it,
while one of them set the arm, and bound it very strongly round with
leather thongs. During this operation the medicine-men stooped over
him and went through sundry mummeries which I could not accurately
distinguish.
As soon as the bandages and dressings were completed they began
a medicine dance around him. At first the movement was slow, and
accompanied by a low ordinary chant, but gradually both acquired
violence and rapidity, till at length they reached the height of fury
and frenzy. They swung their tomahawks round the head of the wounded
man, rushed upon him with the most dreadful yells, shook their weapons
violently in his face, jumped repeatedly over him, pretending each
time to give him the fatal blow, then checking it as it descended, and
while once or twice I saw them push and kick his limbs, one of the most
excited struck him several severe blows on the breast. On inquiry, I
learned that all these gesticulations were intended to threaten and
banish the evil spirit which was supposed to have possessed him. While
this was going on a complete silence reigned throughout the crowd, none
being permitted to dance or yell, except those actually engaged in the
medicine ceremonies.
What, however, may be regarded as the Indian’s universal remedy for all
ailments is the sweating bath and sudatory; these sudatories are always
near the village, above or below it, on the bank of the river. They are
generally built of skins, in the form of a Crow or Sioux lodge, covered
with buffalo skins sewed tight together, with a kind of furnace in the
centre; or, in other words, in the centre of the lodge are two walls of
stone about six feet long, and two and a half apart, and about three
feet high; across and over this space between the two walls are laid a
number of round sticks, on which the bathing crib is placed. Contiguous
to the lodge, and outside of it is a little furnace, something similar
in the side of the bank, where the woman kindles a hot fire and heats
to a red heat a number of large stones, which are kept at these
places for this particular purpose; and having them all in readiness,
she goes home or sends word to inform her husband or other one who is
waiting that all is ready, when he makes his appearance entirely naked,
though with a large buffalo robe wrapped around him. He then enters
the lodge, and places himself in the basket with his back towards the
door of the lodge, when the squaw brings in a large stone red-hot,
between two sticks lashed together somewhat in the form of a pair of
tongs, and, placing it under him, throws cold water upon it, which
raises a profusion of vapour about him. He is at once enveloped in a
cloud of steam, and a woman or child will sit at a little distance and
continue to dash water upon the stone, whilst the matron of the lodge
is out, and preparing to make her appearance with another heated stone;
or he will sit and dip from a wooden bowl with a ladle made of the
mountain-sheep’s horn, and throw upon the heated stone, with his own
hands, the water which he is drawing through his lungs and pores the
next moment, in the delectable and exhilarating vapour, as it distils
through the mat of wild sage and other medical and aromatic herbs which
he had strewed over the bottom of his basket, and on which he reclines.
During all this time the lodge is shut perfectly tight, and he quaffs
this delicious and renovating draught to his lungs with deep-drawn
sighs, until he is drenched in the most profuse degree of perspiration
that can be produced; when he makes a signal, at which the lodge is
opened, and he darts forth with the speed of a frightened deer, and
plunges headlong into the river, from which he instantly escapes again,
wraps his robe around him, and makes as fast as possible for home.
Here his limbs are wiped dry and wrapped close and tight within the
fur of the buffalo robes, in which he takes his nap, with his feet to
the fire, then oils his limbs and hair with bear’s-grease, dresses and
plumes himself for a visit, a feast, a parade, or a council.
During Mr. Bruce’s travels through Abyssinia, and while he was
sojourning in the dominions of her Majesty of Sennaar, one afternoon
he was sent for to the palace, when the king told him that several of
his wives were ill, and desired that he would give them his advice,
which he promised to do. He was admitted into a large square apartment,
very ill-lighted, in which were about fifty women, all perfectly black,
without any covering but a very narrow piece of cotton rag about their
waist. While he was musing whether or not all these might be queens, or
whether there was any queen among them, one of them seized him by the
hand and led him into another apartment; this was much better lighted
than the first. Upon a large bench, or sofa, covered with blue Surat
cloth, sat three persons clothed from the neck to the feet with blue
cotton shirts.
One of these, whom Mr. Bruce found to be the favourite, was about six
feet high, and corpulent beyond all proportion. She seemed to him,
next to the elephant and rhinoceros, to be the largest living creature
he had ever met with. Her features were perfectly like those of a
negro; a ring of gold passed through her under lip, and weighed it
down, till, like a flap, it covered her chin, and left her teeth bare,
which were very small and fine. The inside of her lip she had made
black with antimony. Her ears reached down to her shoulders, and had
the appearance of wings; she had in each of them a large ring of gold,
somewhat smaller than a man’s little finger, and about five inches in
diameter. The weight of these had drawn down the hole where the ear was
pierced so much that three fingers might easily pass above the ring.
She had a gold necklace of several rows, one above another, to which
were hung rows of sequins pierced. She had on her ancles two manacles
of gold, larger than any our traveller had ever seen upon the feet of
felons, with which he could not conceive it was possible for her to
walk; but afterwards he found they were hollow. The others were dressed
pretty much in the same manner; only there was one who had chains which
came from her ears to the outside of each nostril, where they were
fastened. There was also a ring put through the gristle of her nose,
and which hung down to the opening of her mouth. It had altogether
something of the appearance of a horse’s bridle. Upon his coming near
them, the eldest put her hand to her mouth and kissed it, saying at the
same time, in very vulgar Arabic, “Kif-halek howajah?” How do you do,
merchant? Mr. Bruce never in his life was more pleased with distant
salutations than at this time. He answered, “Peace be among you! I am a
physician, and not a merchant.” There was not one part of their whole
bodies, inside and outside, in which some of them had not ailments.
The three queens insisted upon being blooded, which desire Mr. Bruce
complied with, as it was an operation that required short attendance;
but, upon producing the lancets, their hearts failed them. They then
all called out for the Tabange, which, in Arabic, means a pistol; but
what they meant by this word was the cupping-instrument, which goes off
with a spring like the snap of a pistol. He had two of these, but not
then in his pocket. He sent his servant home, however, to bring one,
and, that same evening, performed the operations upon the three queens
with great success. The room was overflowed with an effusion of royal
blood, and the whole ended with their insisting upon his giving them
the instrument itself, which he was obliged to do, after cupping two of
their slaves before them, who had no complaints, merely to shew them
how the operation was to be performed.
On another occasion there was recommended to his care a certain
Welled Amlac. He had with him two servants, one of whom, as well as
his master, was ill with an intermitting fever. As our traveller was
abundantly supplied with every necessary, the only inconvenience he
suffered by this was, that of bringing a stranger and a disease into
his family. Being, however, in a strange country himself, and daily
standing in need of the assistance of its inhabitants, he perceived
the policy of rendering services whenever opportunity offered; and,
accordingly, received his two patients with the best possible grace.
To this he was the more induced as he was informed that Welled Amlac
was of the most powerful, resolute, and best attended robbers in all
Maitsha; that this man’s country lay directly in his way to the source
of the Nile; and that under his protection he might bid defiance to
Woodage Asahel, who was considered as the great obstacle to that
journey. After several weeks’ illness the patient recovered. When he
first came to Mr. Bruce’s house, he was but indifferently clothed;
and having no change, his apparel naturally grew worse, so that when
his disease had entirely left him he made a very beggarly appearance
indeed. One evening Mr. Bruce remarked that he could not go home to
his own country without kissing the ground before the Iteghe, by whose
bounty he had been all this time supported. He replied, “Surely not;”
adding that he was ready to go whenever Mr. Bruce should think proper
to give him his clothes. The latter imagined that Welled Amlac might
have brought with him some change of apparel, and delivered it into
the custody of our traveller’s servant; but, on farther explanation,
he found that his patient had not a rag but what was on his back, and
he plainly told Mr. Bruce, that he would rather stay in his house all
his life than be so disgraced before the world as to leave it after
so long a stay, without his clothing him from head to foot; asking
with much confidence: “What signifies your curing me, if you turn me
out of your house like a beggar?” Mr. Bruce still thought there was
something of jest in this, and meeting Ayto Aylo, told him, laughing,
of the conversation that had passed. “There is do doubt,” answered he
very gravely, “that you must clothe him; it is the custom.” “And his
servant too?” asked Mr. Bruce. “Certainly, his servant too: and if he
had ten servants that eat and drank in your house, you must clothe them
all.”--“I think,” rejoined our traveller, “that a physician, at this
rate, had much better let his patients die than recover them at his own
expense.”--“Yagoube,” said his friend, “I see this is not a custom in
your country, but here it invariably is, and if you would pass for a
man of consequence you cannot avoid complying with it, unless you would
make Welled Amlac your enemy. The man is opulent, it is not for the
value of the clothes, but he thinks his importance among his neighbours
is measured by the respect shewn him by the people afar off. Never
fear, he will make you some kind of return; and as for his clothes, I
shall pay for them.” “By no means,” replied Mr. Bruce; “I think the
custom so curious that the knowledge of it is worth the price of the
clothes, and I assure you that, intending as I do to go through the
Maitsha, I consider it as a piece of friendship in you to have brought
me under this obligation.” After this explanation Mr. Bruce immediately
procured the clothes; a girdle, and a pair of sandals, amounting in the
whole to about two guineas, which Welled Amlac received with the same
indifference as if he had been purchasing them for ready money. He then
asked for his servants’ clothes, which he observed were too good, and
that he should take them for his own use when he arrived at Maitsha.
In his capacity of physician Mr. Bruce lays down certain simple rules
to be observed by persons about to travel into far eastern countries;
and though a hundred years old, and more, the said advice is still
wholesome, and may be used with advantage by whomsoever it may concern.
Mr. Bruce’s first general advice to a traveller, is to remember
well what was the state of his constitution before he visited these
countries, and what his complaints were, if he had any; for fear
frequently seizes upon the first sight of the many and sudden deaths we
see upon our first arrival; and our spirits are so lowered by perpetual
perspiration, and our nerves so relaxed, that we are apt to mistake
the ordinary symptoms of a disease, familiar to us in our own country,
for the approach of one of those terrible distempers that are to hurry
us in a few hours into eternity. This has a bad effect in the very
slightest disorders; so that it has become proverbial--If you think you
shall die you shall die.
If a traveller finds that he is as well after having been some time
in this country as he was before entering it, his best way is to make
no innovation in his regimen, further than abating something in the
quantity. But if he is of a tender constitution, he cannot act more
wisely than to follow implicitly the regimen of sober healthy people
of the country, without arguing upon European notions, or substituting
what we consider succedaneums to what we see used upon the spot. All
spirits are to be avoided; even bark is better in water than in wine.
The stomach being relaxed by profuse perspiration, needs something to
strengthen, not to inflame, and enable it to perform digestion. For
this reason (instinct we should call it, if speaking of beasts) the
natives of all eastern countries season every species of food, even the
simplest and mildest rice, so much with spices, especially with pepper,
as absolutely to blister a European palate. These powerful antiseptics
providence has planted in these countries for this use; and the natives
have, from the earliest time, had recourse to them. And hence, in
these dangerous climates, the natives are as healthy as we are in our
northern ones.
Our author lays it down, then, as a positive rule of health, that the
warmest dishes the natives delight in are the most wholesome strangers
can use in the putrid climates of Lower Arabia, Abyssinia, Sennaar,
and Egypt itself; and that spirits, and all fermented liquors, should
be regarded as poisons; and, for fear of temptation, not so much as be
carried along with you, unless as a menstruum for outward applications.
Spring or running water, if you can find it, is to be your only drink.
You cannot be too nice in procuring this article. But as, on both
coasts of the Red Sea, you scarcely find any but stagnant water, the
way which our traveller practised, when at any place that allowed time
and opportunity, was always this: he took a quantity of fine sand,
washed it from the salt quality with which it was impregnated, and
spread it upon a sheet to dry; he then nearly filled an oil-jar with
water, and poured into it as much from a boiling kettle as would serve
to kill all the animalcula and eggs that were in it. He then sifted the
dried sand, as slowly as possible, upon the surface of the water in the
jar, till the sand stood half a foot at the bottom of it; after letting
it settle at night, he drew it off by a hole in the jar with a spigot
in it, about an inch above the sand; then threw the remaining sand out
upon the cloth, and dried and washed it again. This process is sooner
performed than described. The water is as limpid as the purest spring,
and little inferior to the finest Spa. Drink largely of this without
fear, according as your appetite requires. By violent perspiration
the aqueous part of your blood is thrown off; and it is not spirituous
liquor that can restore this, whatever momentary strength it may give
you from another cause. When hot and almost fainting with weakness from
continual perspiration, Mr. Bruce has gone into a warm bath, and been
immediately restored to strength, as upon first rising in the morning.
In Nubia, never scruple to throw yourself into the coldest river or
spring you can find, in whatever degree of heat you are. The reason of
the difference in Europe is that when, by violence, you have raised
yourself to an extraordinary degree of heat, the cold water in which
you plunge yourself checks your perspiration, and shuts your pores
suddenly; the medium is itself too cold, and you do not use force
sufficient to bring back the perspiration, which nought but action
occasioned: whereas, in these warm countries, your perspiration
is natural and constant, though no action be used, only from the
temperature of the medium; therefore, though your pores are shut the
moment you plunge yourself into the cold water, the simple condition of
the outward air again covers you with pearls of sweat the moment you
emerge; and you begin the expanse of the aqueous part of your blood
afresh from the new stock that you have laid in by your immersion. For
this reason, if you are well, deluge yourself from head to foot, even
in the house, where the water is plentiful, by directing a servant to
throw buckets upon you at least once a day, when you are hottest; not
from any imagination that the water braces you, as it is called, for
your bracings will last only for a very few minutes: inundations will
carry watery particles into your blood, though not equal to bathing in
running streams, where the total immersion, the motion of the water,
and the action of the limbs, all conspire to the benefit you are in
quest of.
Do not fatigue yourself if possible. Exercise is not either so
necessary or so salutary here as in Europe. Use fruits sparingly,
especially if too ripe. The musa, or banana, in Arabia Felix, are
rotten-ripe when they are brought to you. Avoid all sorts of fruits
exposed for sale in the markets, as it has probably been gathered in
the sun, and carried miles in it, and all its juices are in a state of
fermentation. Lay it first upon a table covered with a coarse cloth,
and throw frequently a quantity of water upon it; and, if you have an
opportunity, gather it in the dew of the morning before dawn of day,
for then it is far better.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: War Dance of the New Zealanders.]
PART IX.
SAVAGE WARFARE.
CHAPTER XXI.
Hereditary pirates--A Bornean pirate fleet--Rajah Brooke and
the pirates--A tough job against the prahus--No quarter with
the Dayaks--A freebooter captain--Dayak arms--Bornean fighting
tactics--Advance of Sir J. Brooke’s troops--A debate about
fighting--Poisoned arrows--Weapons of the Amazonian Indians--The
blow-gun--A Bornean war dance--War trophies--Heads, scalps, and
brains--Horrible festivity--The Savages of North America.
Amongst the most warlike savages on the face of the earth must be
counted the natives of the coast of Borneo. It would have been more
correct, however, to have alluded to these redoubtable barbarians as
the most warlike on the face of the _sea_ rather than the earth;
for the majority of their conflicts take place in their “prahus” and
“sampans,” and in pursuit of their regular and hereditary calling of
pirates. Nor are they insignificant in point of number; there are the
Sarebus, the Sakarran, the Illanun, the Balagnini, each comprising
a tribe many thousands strong, and sea-robbers to a man, woman, and
child; and, besides these, a whole host of ragamuffin fellows, not
respectable enough for the society of the great pirate community,
and who, being joint-stock owners of a prahu, prowl round the coast,
and snap up any trifle too insignificant for the commanders of the
various fleets; for fleets they are beyond question. The prahus of
which the fleets are composed are long, commodious vessels, propelled
by rowers, and carrying sometimes as many as a hundred men each. Sir
J. Brooke, the celebrated “Rajah of Sarawak,” once had an opportunity
of counting ninety-eight boats about to start on a piratical cruise,
the crews of which, reckoned at the low computation of twenty-five
men each, gave a grand total of nearly two thousand five hundred men.
On the same authority, the internal constitution of these rowers may
be stated as follows:--Commanding each fleet is one man, who holds
his high post either by virtue of high birth or riches; under any
circumstances, however, he must possess bravery and cunning, otherwise,
whatever his station or right conferred by birth, he would very soon
be put down, and a proper leader elected in his place. To each prahu
there is a captain and half a dozen petty officers, generally the
captain’s relations, while all the rest--comprising about four-fifths
of the whole--are slaves. Although, however, these latter are more
or less compelled to serve, they are not without their privileges.
They have the right of plunder, which is indiscriminate, with certain
exemptions--viz., slaves, guns, money, or any other heavy articles,
together with the very finest descriptions of silks and cloths, belong
to the chiefs and free portion of the crew; with the rest the rule is
first come first served.
These worthies are indifferent to blood-shedding, fond of plunder, but
fonder than all of slaves; they despise trade, although its profits
may be shown to be greater than those of sea-plunder, and look on
their calling as the noblest occupation of chiefs and free men. Their
swords they show with boasts, as having belonged to their ancestors,
who were pirates, renowned and terrible in their day. Without doubt
the chief support of the system are the slaves they capture on the
different coasts. If they attack an island, the women and children and
as many men as they require, are carried off. Every boat they take
furnishes its quota of slaves; and when they have collected a full
cargo they visit another coast and dispose of it to the best advantage.
For instance, a cargo of slaves captured on the east coast of Borneo
is sold in the west, and the slaves of the south find ready purchasers
in the north. As the woolly-haired Papuas are generally prized by the
natives, constant visits are made to New Guinea and the easternmost
islands where they are procured and afterwards sold at high prices
amongst any Malay community. On one occasion Rajah Brooke met eighteen
boats belonging to the Illanun pirates, and learned from their chiefs
that they had been two years absent from home; and from the Papuan
negro slaves on board, it was evident that their cruise had extended
from the most eastern islands of the Archipelago to the north-western
coast of Borneo.
Here is a picture of a pirate fleet drawn by Governor Brooke himself:
“At this time it was hinted that a large pirate fleet had been
seen in the vicinity of the coast, and in a day or two afterwards
we had certain news of their having taken the Sadung boats bound
from Singapore; and Datu Pangeran was in consequence despatched to
communicate with them. He returned, bringing the fleet along with him
to the mouth of the river, whence they requested permission to visit
Sarawak, and pay their respects to the Rajah. I was consulted on the
subject, whether I would meet them, and as I preferred a pacific to
a hostile rencontre, and had, moreover, a considerable curiosity
to see these roving gentry, I consented without hesitation. Report
stated that their intention was to attack the Royalist (a war ship
of the English navy), as they had, it was averred, received positive
accounts of her having fifty lacs of rupees on board, and that her
figure-head was of solid gold. As, however, we had no such treasure,
and the meeting was unavoidable and might be hostile, I put myself into
a complete posture of defence, with a determination neither to show
backwardness nor suspicion. The day arrived, and the pirates swept up
the river; eighteen prahus, one following the other, decorated with
flags and streamers, and firing both cannon and musketry; the sight
was interesting and curious, and heightened by the conviction that
these friends of the moment might be enemies the next. Having taken
their stations the chief men proceeded to an interview with the Rajah,
which I attended to witness. Some distrust and much ceremony marked
the meeting; and both parties had numerous followers, who filled the
hall of audience and the avenues leading to it. The pirates consisted
of Illanuns and Malukus from Gillolo. The Illanuns are fine athletic
men with haughty and reserved bearing, and evidently quite ready to be
friends or foes as best suited their purpose.
“Beyond the usual formalities the meeting had nothing to distinguish
it; one party retired to their boats while the other went to their
respective houses, and everything betokened quiet. In the evening I
pulled through the fleet and inspected several of their largest prahus.
The entire force consisted of eighteen boats, three Malukus and fifteen
Illanuns; the smallest of these boats carried twenty men, the largest
(they are mostly large), upwards of a hundred. These larger prahus
are too heavy to pull well, though they carry twenty, forty, and even
fifty oars; their armament consists of one or two six pounders in the
bow, one four pounder, stern-chaser, and a number of swivels, besides
musketry, spears, and swords. The boat is divided into three sections
and fortified by strong planks, one behind the bow, one amidship, and
one astern to protect the steersman. The women and children are crammed
down below, as are the unlucky prisoners taken in the course of an
action.
“Their principal plan is boarding a vessel if possible, and carrying
her by numbers; and certainly if a merchantman fired ill, she would
inevitably be taken, but with grape and canister fairly directed the
slaughter would be so great that they would be glad to steer off before
they had neared a vessel.”
Having given a description, though a necessarily brief one, of these
savage sea-lions, as well as of their laws and government, it may be
worth while to devote a little space to the narration of one of the
very many fights that took place between them and the forces under Sir
J. Brooke, whose chief business, be it understood, was to check and to
do all in his power to suppress the predatory operations of the swarm
of piratical prahus infesting the Malayan Archipelago, to the great
danger not only of peaceful native and Chinese traders, but also of
European merchantmen trading to Singapore and other Chinese ports.
To support Sir J. Brooke in his difficult task, our government in 1843
despatched the “Dido” man-of-war, Captain Henry Keppel, commander.
The “Dido” had been cruising about for a considerable time, and had
performed many toughish jobs in the way of subjugating pirates, when
the time came for the arrival of the English mail at Singapore, which
also included the Bornean letter bags. These were to be forwarded by a
small schooner, but knowing that the said schooner would probably be
anxiously looked for by the pirates, Captain Keppel agreed with Sir
J. Brooke, that it might be as well to send out some assistance to
cruise about the road the schooner must come. It was scarcely worth
while for the “Dido” herself to set out on such an errand, and the
“Dido’s” pinnace was under repair, so it was resolved to man a large
native-built boat, belonging to Sir J. Brooke, and called the “Jolly
Bachelor.” She was fitted with a brass six-pounder long gun, and a
volunteer crew of a mate, two midshipmen, six marines, and twelve
seamen, with a fortnight’s provisions, the whole being under the
command of Mr. Hunt, the “Dido’s” second lieutenant.
After proceeding on her leisurely course for some time, the “Jolly
Bachelor” made out three boats a long way in the offing, to which
they gave chase, but soon lost sight of them owing to their superior
sailing. They, however, appeared a second and a third time after dark,
but without the “Jolly Bachelor” being able to get near them, and it
now being late and the crew being both fatigued and hungry, they pulled
in shore, lighted a fire, cooked their provisions, and then hauled the
boat out to her grapnel near some rocks, for the night; lying down to
rest with their arms by their sides and their muskets round the mast
ready loaded. Having also placed sentries and look-outs near, and
appointed an officer of the watch, they one and all (including the
watch and the look-out it seems), fell fast asleep.
Lieutenant Hunt was the first to awake, and a very considerable
surprise greeted his still sleepy eyes. It was about three o’clock, and
the moon had just risen; the lieutenant disturbed by a slight noise,
raised his head, and lo! there was a savage brandishing his kris and
performing a war dance on the bit of a deck, in an ecstasy of delight,
thinking, in all probability, of the ease with which he had got
possession of a fine trading boat, and calculating the cargo of slaves
he had to sell, but little dreaming of the hornet’s nest into which he
had fallen.
[Illustration: Dayak and Malay Weapons.]
Lieutenant Hunt’s face meeting the light of the moon was the first
intimation conveyed to the pirate that he had made a mistake. He
immediately plunged overboard, and before the officer had sufficiently
recovered his astonishment to know whether he was dreaming or waking,
or to rouse his crew, a discharge from three or four cannon within a
few yards, and the cutting through the rigging by the various missiles
with which the guns were loaded, soon convinced him that it was stern
reality. It was well that the men were lying down when this discharge
took place, as not one of them was hurt; but on jumping to their legs
they found themselves closely pressed by two large war prahus, one on
either side.
To return the fire, cut the cable, man the oars, and back astern to
gain room, was the work of a minute; but now came the tug of war; it
was a case of life and death. The crew of the “Bachelor” fought, says
Captain Keppel quaintly, “as they ought.” Quarter was not expected on
either side; and the quick deadly aim of the marines prevented the
pirates reloading their guns. The Illanun pirate vessels were built in
the peculiar fashion already noticed, that is with partitions through
which ports are bored for working the guns, and these barriers had
to be cut away by round shot before the musketry could be brought to
bear effectually. This done, the grape and canister of the “Jolly
Bachelor” told with fearful execution. In the meantime the prahus had
been pressing forward to board, while the English boat backed astern;
but as soon as this service was achieved, the men of the latter dropped
their oars and seizing their muskets dashed on. The work was sharp,
but short, and the slaughter great. While one pirate boat was sinking
and an effort made to secure her the other escaped by rounding a point
of rocks, where a third and larger prahu, hitherto unseen, came to her
assistance, and putting fresh hands on board and taking her in tow,
succeeded in getting off, although chased by the “Jolly Bachelor,”
after setting fire to the crippled prize which blew up and sank before
the conquerors got back to the scene of action.
The sight that presented itself to the victors on boarding the captured
prahu must indeed have been a frightful one; none of the pirates waited
on board for even the chance of receiving either quarter or mercy, but
all those capable of moving had thrown themselves into the water. In
addition to the killed, some lying across the thwarts with their oars
in their hands at the bottom of the prahu, in which there was about
three feet of blood and water, were seen protruding the mangled remains
of eighteen or twenty bodies.
Detestable, however, as is the trade of war, especially when carried
on from mercenary motives, it is hard for us, with so much of the salt
of the sea in our blood, to regard these savage Dayak rovers without
something very like sympathy. Certain it is that they possess the chief
elements of a great people, perseverance, courage, and a restless
yearning for adventure--much the same sort of folks, dear reader, as
those from which you and I sprang. But our freebooting ancestors were
heroes and led by heroes, say you. Well, here is a Dayak hero, pictured
by one who is himself a hero--a true British man of war and one little
likely to over estimate valour, or to mistake it on the score of
sentimentality.
“Among the mortally wounded lay the young commander of the prahu, one
of the most noble forms of the human race; his countenance handsome as
the hero of oriental romance, and his bearing wonderfully impressive
and touching. He was shot in front and through the lungs, and his end
was rapidly approaching. He endeavoured to speak, but could not. He
looked as if he had something of importance to communicate, and a shade
of disappointment and regret passed over his brow when he felt that
every effort was unavailing and that his manly strength and daring
spirit were dissolving into the dark night of annihilation. The pitying
conquerors raised him gently up and he was seated in comparative ease,
for the welling out of the blood was less distressing, but the end
speedily came; he folded his arms heroically across his wounded breast,
fixed his eyes on the British seamen around, and casting one long
glance at the ocean--the theatre of his daring exploits, on which he
had so often fought and triumphed--expired without a sigh.”
It is not a little singular, however, that although they display so
much courage and indifference to death in naval warfare, their military
tactics are of the very meanest order and are executed with such
lukewarmness that to see them as soldiers and nothing else would be
to conceive them to be the greatest curs on the face of the earth. Of
this Rajah Brooke had most rueful yet ludicrous experience. Thanks
to his own indomitable pluck and the assistance (sparse enough at
best) granted him by the British government, together with that of
the various Bornean tribes whom Brooke had won over to his interest,
the marauding Dayaks were very considerably lessened in numbers and,
better still, damped in piratical ardour; still there were a few very
formidable bodies inhabiting forts along the coast whose interest
it was to favour piracy and who were known to do their earnest best
to thwart the endeavours of the European Rajah. Therefore a grand
council of war was held, at which were present various Malay, Chinese,
and Dayak leaders, and Sir J. Brooke, and it was formally resolved
to combine the various forces and to proceed to storm and carry the
obnoxious forts in a regular way.
All were willing enough to give their word; but our countryman seems
from the very onset to have had a dismal foreboding of what would be
the result. “To judge,” says he, “by the sample of the council, I
should form a very unfavourable expectation of their conduct in action.
Macota (a chief, as are the rest whose names are here mentioned) is
lively and active, but, either from indisposition or want of authority,
undecided. The Capitan China is lazy and silent; Abong Mia and Datu
Naraja stupid.... I may here state my motives for being a spectator
of, or participator (as may turn out) in, this scene. In the first
place, I must confess that curiosity strongly prompted me; since to
witness the Malays, Chinese, and Dayaks in warfare was so new that the
novelty alone might plead an excuse for this desire. But it was not the
only motive, for my presence is a stimulus to our own party, and will
probably depress the others in proportion.”
Besides swords and spears and muskets and some sort of artillery, both
parties availed themselves of other favorite Bornean arms, including
the ranjow; “these ranjows are made of bamboo pointed fine and stuck in
the ground; and there are, besides, holes about three feet deep filled
with these spikes and afterwards lightly covered, which are called
patabong. Another obstacle consists of a spring formed by bending back
a stiff cane, with a sharp bamboo attached to it, which, fastened by
a slight twine, flies forcibly against any object passing through the
bush and brushing against it: they resemble the mole traps in England.
The Borneans have a great dread of these snares; and the way they
deal with them is by sending out parties of Dayaks during the night
to clear the path of such dangers. “The Sambas Chinese (adherents of
the Brooke party) were wretchedly armed, having no guns and scarcely
any muskets; but swords, spears, and shields, together with forty long
thin iron tubes with the bore of a musket and carrying a slug. These
primitive weapons were each managed by _two_ men, one being the
carrier of the ordnance, the other the gunner; for whilst one holds the
tube on his shoulder the other takes aim, turns away his head, applies
his match, and is pleased with the sound. Their mode of loading is as
curious as the piece and its mode of discharge. Powder is poured in,
the end knocked on the ground, and the slug with another knock sent on
the powder without either ramming or cartridge. Indeed it is difficult
to imagine any weapon more rude, awkward, or inefficient. The Borneans
in fighting wear a quilted jacket or spenser which reaches over the
hips, and from its size has a most unserviceable appearance, the bare
legs and arms sticking out from under this puffed-out coat like the
sticks which support the garments of a scarecrow.”
Setting sail with a fleet of vessels containing his gallant army,
in course of time the enemy’s neighbourhood was reached and a fort
built about a mile from the stronghold of their foes. It should be
stated that to supply themselves with materials for this fort another
near home was taken down and the timbers loaded into spare boats.
No opposition was offered. The ground was cleared of jungle; piles
driven in a square about fifteen yards to each face; and the earth
from the centre, scooped out and intermixed with reeds, was heaped up
about five feet high inside the piles. At the four corners were small
watch-houses, and along the parapet of earth a narrow walk connecting
them. While some of the army was thus employed another portion of it
surrounded this the main body of the defence by an outer work made by
slight sticks run into the ground, with cross binding of split bamboos,
and bristling with a _chevaux de frise_ of sharpened bamboos about
breast high. The fastenings of the entire work were of ratan, which is
found in plenty. The entire fortress was commenced and finished within
eight hours.
Knowing the weakness of the enemy, Sir J. Brooke now proposed that they
should sally out and attack them, and in case of pursuit or severe
repulse it was only a matter of ten minutes’ run to regain the fort,
where they could defy further molestation. But the proposition took the
army aghast. What! walk right up to the brass guns? Surely the English
Rajah must be mad. The attack must be made from behind a wall, or not
at all; and why not, when to build forts was so easy? and it was only a
matter of so many seven hours’ labour to build fort after fort as they
advanced and until they had arrived within convenient musket range of
the enemy. So the Grand Army retired to bed.
Next morning they were up and doing, hammering and tinkering at the new
stockade. In the midst of the work, however, there was a tremendous
commotion--the enemy was advancing. There could be no mistake about
it: you could hear their shouts and the banging of their war gongs
approaching nearer and nearer. The Brooke army, nothing daunted replied
with yells just as furious and defiant, and by way of refreshing their
courage, several charges of powder and shot were expended in the air.
The enemy approach within hail, and the excitement is grand. “We are
coming! we are coming!” shouted the rebels; “lay aside your muskets,
and come out and fight us with swords.”--“Come on,” replied the others;
“we are building a stockade and want to fight you.” Things having
arrived at this critical pass, there is no knowing what might have
been the result, when merciful nature, to avert the horrors of blood
and carnage, interposed with a heavy shower of rain, before which the
rebels retreated, followed by the derisive shouts of the Borneans, who
were under cover, and whose leaders immediately proceeded to offer a
fervent thanksgiving for the victory gained, the soldiers responding
with edifying earnestness, and then all retired to rest calmly as on
the preceding night.
Next morning, however, Sir J. Brooke, whose curiosity was long since
satisfied, and who began to grow tired of witnessing this novel mode of
warfare, encouraged the troops to make an advance, to proceed indeed
to within three hundred yards of the enemy’s stronghold, and there
to erect a new stockade, backing his urging with the promise to send
aboard for two six-pounder carronades with which to mount it. During
the progress of this work Sir J. Brooke took occasion to inquire of
the Dayak commander, Macota, if this was the way a battle was always
conducted in these parts. Macota was very eager to set our countryman
right on a point that so closely affected the honour of his nation. The
enemy, he declared, during his last campaign were much more courageous
than now. Stockade was opposed to stockade, and the fighting constant
and severe; and so ably had Macota generalled his troops, that during
two months he had not lost a single man, while _five_ of the enemy
were stretched upon the field.
By the time the fort was finished and the guns arrived, the Brooke army
had been reinforced, so that it numbered five hundred men of one sort
and another. While the guns were being fixed the enemy opened fire,
but were speedily checked, and in a quarter of an hour had to bewail
a breach in the walls of their fortress large enough to admit several
men together. “Seeing the effect,” says Rajah Brooke, “I proposed
to Macota to storm the place with one hundred and fifty Chinese and
Malays. The way from one fort to the other was protected. The enemy
dared not shew themselves, for the fire of the grape and canister, and
nothing could have been easier; but my proposition caused a commotion
as difficult to describe as forget. The Chinese consented, and Macota,
the commander-in-chief, was willing; but his inferiors were backward,
and there arose a scene which shewed me the full violence of Malay
passions, and their infuriated madness when once roused. Pangeran
Houseman (one of the leaders) urged with energy the advantage of the
proposal, and in the course of a speech lashed himself into a state of
fury; he jumped to his feet, and with demoniac gestures stamped round
and round, dancing a war dance after the most approved fashion. His
countenance grew livid, his eyes glared, his features inflamed, and
for my part, not being able to interpret the torrent of his oratory, I
thought the man possessed of a devil, and about to ‘run a muck.’ But
after a minute or two of this dance he resumed his seat, furious and
panting, but silent. In reply, Subtu urged some objections to my plan,
which was warmly supported by Illudeen, who apparently hurt Subtu’s
feelings; for the indolent, the placid Subtu leapt to his feet, seized
his spear, and rushed to the entrance of the stockade with his passions
desperately aroused. I never saw finer action than when, with spear
raised and pointing to the enemy’s fort, he challenged any one to rush
on with him. Houseman and Surrudeen (the bravest of the brave) like
madmen seized their swords to inflame the courage of the rest. It was a
scene of fiends: but in vain; for though they appeared ready enough to
quarrel and fight amongst themselves, there was no move to attack the
enemy. All was confusion; the demon of discord and madness was among
them, and I was glad to see them cool down, when the dissentients to
the assault proposed making a round to-night and attacking to-morrow.”
And so this precious game of “if you will I will,” and “you hit me
first,” was continued for many days,--more days indeed than the reader
would guess if he were left to his own judgment. The row between Subtu
and Illudeen took place on the 31st of October, and on the 18th of the
following January the enemy was routed and his forts destroyed.
One of the most favourite of Dayak war weapons is the “sumpitan,”
a long hollow reed, through which is propelled by the breath small
darts or arrows, chiefly formidable on account of the poison with
which their tips are covered. According to Mundy and other writers
on Bornean manners and customs, the arrows are contained in a bamboo
case hung at the side, and at the bottom of this quiver is the poison
of the upas. The arrow is a piece of wood sharp-pointed, and inserted
in a socket made of the pith of a tree, which fits the tube of the
blow-pipe. The natives carry a small calabash for these arrow heads,
and on going into action prepare a sufficient number, and fresh dip
the points in the poison, as its deadly influence does not continue
long. When they face an enemy the box at the side is open; and, whether
advancing or retreating, they fire the poisoned missiles with great
rapidity and precision: some hold four spare arrows between the fingers
of the hand which grasps the sumpitan, whilst others take their side
case.
In advancing, the sumpitan is carried at the mouth and elevated, and
they will discharge at least five arrows to one compared with a musket.
Beyond a distance of twenty yards they do not shoot with certainty,
from the lightness of the arrow, but on a calm day, the range may
be a hundred yards. The poison is considered deadly by the Kayans,
but the Malays do not agree in this belief. “My own impression is,”
says Captain Mundy, “that the consequences resulting from a wound
are greatly exaggerated, though if the poison be fresh death may
occasionally ensue; but, decidedly, when it has been exposed for any
time to the air it loses its virulence. My servant was wounded in the
foot by an arrow which had been kept about two months; blood flowed
from the puncture, which caused me considerable alarm; but sulphuric
acid being applied in conjunction with caustic directly afterwards, he
felt no bad effects whatever.”
All the tribes who use the sumpitan, from their peculiar mode of
fighting, and the dread of the weapon, are called Nata Hutan, or “Wood
Devils.” Besides the sumpitan they also wear the “ilang,” or sword,
which is carved at the angle in the rude shape of a horse’s head, and
ornamented with tufts of hair, red or black; the blades of these swords
are remarkable, one side being convex, the other concave. They are
usually very short, but of good metal and fine edge. These warriors
wear coats of deer hide, and caps of basket work, some fantastically
decorated; and a shield hung over their backs of stout wood, in
addition to the weapons already mentioned, forms their equipment for
service. It is really curious to witness their movements when the order
is given to go out to skirmish--one by one, with a quick pace, yet
steady and silent tread, they glide into the bushes or long grass,
gain the narrow paths, and gradually disappear in the thickest jungle.
The chief weapon used by the Amazonian Indians closely resembles the
Dayak sumpitan, and is called “pucuna.” Its manufacture and use is thus
graphically described by Captain Reid:--
“When the Amazonian Indian wishes to manufacture for himself a
_pucuna_ he goes out into the forest and searches for two tall
straight stems of the ‘pashiuba miri’ palm. These he requires of
such thickness that one can be contained within the other. Having
found what he wants, he cuts both down and carries them home to his
molocca. Neither of them is of such dimensions as to render this either
impossible or difficult. He now takes a long slender rod--already
prepared for the purpose--and with this pushes out the pith from both
stems, just as boys do when preparing their pop-guns from the stems
of the elder-tree. The rod thus used is obtained from another species
of _Iriartea_ palm, of which the wood is very hard and tough. A
little tuft of fern-root, fixed upon the end of the rod, is then drawn
backward and forward through the tubes, until both are cleared of any
pith which may have adhered to the interior; and both are polished by
this process to the smoothness of ivory. The palm of smaller diameter,
being scraped to a proper size, is now inserted into the tube of the
larger, the object being to correct any crookedness in either, should
there be such; and if this does not succeed, both are whipped to some
straight beam or post, and thus left till they become straight. One end
of the bore, from the nature of the tree, is always smaller than the
other; and to this end is fitted a mouthpiece of two peccary tusks to
concentrate the breath of the hunter when blowing into the tube. The
other end is the muzzle; and near this, on the top, a sight is placed,
usually a tooth of the ‘paca’ or some other rodent animal. This sight
is glued on with a gum which another tropic tree furnishes. Over the
outside, when desirous of giving the weapon an ornamental finish, the
maker winds spirally a shining creeper, and then the _pucuna_ is
ready for action.
“Sometimes only a single shank of palm is used, and instead of the pith
being pushed out, the stem is split into two equal parts throughout its
whole extent. The heart substance being then removed, the two pieces
are brought together, like the two divisions of a cedar-wood pencil,
and tightly bound with a sipo.
“The _pucuna_ is usually about an inch and a half in diameter at
the thickest end, and the bore about equal to that of a pistol of
ordinary calibre. In length, however, the weapon varies from eight to
twelve feet.
“This singular instrument is designed, not for propelling a bullet, but
an arrow; but as this arrow differs altogether from the common kind, it
also needs to be described.
“The blow-gun arrow is about fifteen or eighteen inches long, and
is made of a piece of split bamboo; but when the ‘patawa’ palm can
be found, this tree furnishes a still better material, in the long
spines that grow out from the sheathing bases of its leaves. These
are eighteen inches in length, of a black colour, flattish though
perfectly straight. Being cut to the proper length--which most of them
are without cutting--they are whittled at one end to a sharp point.
This point is dipped about three inches deep in the celebrated ‘curare’
poison; and just where the poison mark terminates, a notch is made, so
that the head will be easily broken off when the arrow is in the wound.
Near the other end a little soft down of silky cotton (the floss of the
_bombax ceiba_) is twisted around into a smooth mass of the shape
of a spinning-top, with its larger end towards the nearer extremity of
the arrow. The cotton is held in its place by being lightly whipped on
by the delicate thread or fibre of a _bromelia_, and the mass is
just big enough to fill the tube by gently pressing it inward.
“The arrow thus made is inserted, and whenever the game is within
reach the Indian places his mouth to the lower end or mouthpiece, and
with a strong ‘puff,’ which practice enables him to give, he sends
the little messenger upon its deadly errand. He can hit with unerring
aim at the distance of forty or fifty paces; but he prefers to shoot
in a direction nearly vertical, as in that way he can take the surest
aim. As his common game--birds and monkeys--are usually perched upon
the higher branches of tall trees, their situation just suits him.
Of course it is not the mere wound of the arrow that kills these
creatures, but the poison, which in two or three minutes after they
have been hit, will bring either bird or monkey to the ground. When
the latter is struck he would be certain to draw out the arrow; but
the notch, already mentioned, provides against this, as the slightest
wrench serves to break off the envenomed head.
“These arrows are dangerous things--even for the manufacturer of
them--to play with: they are therefore carried in a quiver, and with
great care--the quiver consisting either of a bamboo joint or a neat
wicker case.”
To return, however, to our savage friends the Borneans. Like almost all
savages under the sun, they have their war dances:--
“We had one day a dance of the Illanuns, and Gillolos; they might both
be called war dances, but are very different. The performer with the
Illanuns is decked out with a fine helmet (probably borrowed from our
early voyagers) ornamented with bird-of-paradise feathers. Two gold
belts crossed like our soldiers, over the breast, are bound at the
waist with a fantastical garment reaching half-way down the thigh,
and composed of various coloured silk and woollen threads one above
another. The sword or kempilan is decorated at the handle with a yard
or two of red cloth, and the long upright shield is covered with small
rings, which clash as the performer goes through his evolutions.
The dance itself consists of a variety of violent warlike gestures;
stamping, striking, advancing, retreating, turning, falling, yelling,
with here and there bold stops, and excellent as to _aplomb_,
which might have elicited the applause of the opera-house; but
generally speaking, the performance was outrageously fierce, and so
far natural as approaching to an actual combat; and in half an hour
the dancer, a fine young man, was so exhausted that he fell fainting
into the arms of his comrades. Several others succeeded, but not
equal to the first, and we had hardly a fair opportunity of judging
of the Maluku dance, from its short continuance; but it is of a more
gentle nature, advancing with the spear, stealthily casting it, then
retreating with the sword and shield. The Maluku shield, it should be
observed, is remarkably narrow, and is brandished somewhat in the same
way as the single-stick player uses his stick, or the Irishman his
shillalah, that is to say, it is held nearly in the centre, and whirled
every way round.”
The following extract from Sir J. Brooke’s Bornean Journal will serve
to initiate the curious reader in the peculiarly horrid custom of
“head-hunting,” as observed in this part of the world. Close to the
Rajah’s residence were located a party of Sigo Dayaks, who happily
discovered in good time an incursion of their deadly enemies the Singés
into their territory:--
“The Sigos taking the alarm, cut off their retreat and killed two of
the Singé Dayaks, and obtained altogether five heads, though they
lost two, and those belonging to their principal warriors. This news
reaching me, I hurried up to the hill and arrived just after part of
the war party had brought the heads. On our ascending the mountain we
found the five heads carefully watched about half a mile from the
town, in consequence of the non-arrival of some of the war party. They
had erected a temporary shed close to the place where these miserable
remnants of noisome mortality were deposited, and they were guarded by
about thirty young men in their finest dresses, composed principally
of scarlet jackets ornamented with shells, turbans of the native bark
cloth dyed bright yellow and spread on the head, and decked with an
occasional feather, flower, or twig of leaves. Nothing can exceed their
partiality for these trophies; and in retiring from the war path, the
man who has been so fortunate as to obtain a head, hangs it about his
neck, and instantly commences his return to his tribe. If he sleep on
the way, the precious burden, though decaying and offensive, is not
loosened, but rests in his lap, whilst his head (and nose) reclines on
his knees.
“On the following morning the heads were brought up to the village,
attended by a number of young men, all dressed in their best, and were
carried to Parembam’s house, amid the beating of gongs and the firing
of one or two guns. They were then disposed of in a conspicuous place
in the public hall of Parembam. The music sounded, and the men danced
the greater part of the day, and towards evening carried them away in
procession through all the campongs except three or four just above me.
The women in these processions crowd round the heads as they proceed
from house to house, and put sirih and betel-nut in the mouths of the
ghastly dead, and welcome them. After this they are carried back in the
same triumph, deposited in an airy place, and left to dry. During this
process, for seven, eight, and ten days, they are watched by the boys
of the age of six to ten years, and during this time they never stir
from the public hall: they are not permitted to put their foot out of
it whilst engaged in this sacred trust. Thus are the youths initiated.
“For a long time after the heads are hung up, the men nightly meet and
beat their gongs, and chant addresses to them, which were rendered
thus to me. ‘Your head is in our dwelling, but your spirit wanders to
your own country. Your head and your spirit are now ours; persuade,
therefore, your countrymen to be slain by us! Speak to the spirits of
your tribe; let them wander in the fields, that when we come again to
their country we may get more heads, and that we may bring the heads of
your brethren, and hang them by your head,’ etc. The tone of this chant
is loud and monotonous, and I am not able to say how long it is sung,
but certainly for a month after the arrival of the heads, as one party
here had had a head for that time, and were still exhorting it.
“These are their customs and modes of warfare, and I may conclude by
saying, that though their trophies are more disgusting, yet their wars
are neither so bloody, nor their cruelties so great, as those of the
North American Indian. They slay all they meet with of their enemies,
men, women, and children; but this is common to all wild tribes. They
have an implacable spirit of revenge as long as the war lasts, retort
evil for evil, and retaliate life for life: and as I have before
said, the heads are the trophies, as the scalps are to the red men.
But on the contrary, they never torture their enemies, nor do they
devour them, and peace can always be restored amongst them by a very
moderate payment. In short, there is nothing new in their feelings or
in their mode of showing them, no trait remarkable for cruelty, no
head hunting for the sake of head hunting. They act precisely on the
same impulses as other wild men: war arises from passion or interest,
peace from defeat or fear. As friends they are faithful, just, and
honest; as enemies, bloodthirsty and cunning; patient on the war path,
and enduring fatigue, hunger, and the want of sleep with cheerfulness
and resolution. As woodmen, they are remarkably acute, and on all
their excursions carry with them a number of ranjows, which, when
they retreat, they stick in behind them at intervals at a distance of
twenty, fifty, or a hundred yards, so that a hotly-pursuing enemy gets
checked, and many severely wounded. Their arms consist of a sword, an
iron-headed spear, a few wooden spears, a knife worn at the right side,
with a sirih pouch or small basket. Their provision is a particular
kind of sticky rice boiled in bamboos. When once they have struck their
enemies, or failed, they return without pausing to their homes.”
Among the Dayaks and the Samoans heads are the precious war trophies;
among the Indians of North America the scalp alone suffices; the
Tinguian of the Philippine Islands, with a refinement of barbarism far
excelling his brother savage, must have his enemy’s _brains_.
While La Gironiere was sojourning at Palan, one of the seventeen
villages of which Tinguia is composed, news arrived that a battle had
been fought and several renowned warriors captured. Therefore there was
to be a brain feast.
“Towards eleven o’clock the chiefs of the town, followed by all the
population, directed their steps towards the large shed at the end of
the village. There every one took his place on the ground, each party
headed by its chiefs, occupying a place marked out for it beforehand.
In the middle of the circle formed by the chiefs of the warriors were
large vessels full of _basi_, a beverage made with the fermented
juice of the sugar-cane, and four hideous heads of Guinans entirely
disfigured,--these were the trophies of the victory. When all the
assistants had taken their places, a champion of Laganguilan y Madalag,
took one of the heads and presented it to the chiefs of the town, who
showed it to all the assistants, making a long speech comprehending
many praises for the conquerors. This discourse being over, the warrior
took the head, divided it with strokes of his hatchet, and took out
the brains. During this operation so unpleasant to witness, another
champion got a second head and handed it to the chiefs; the same speech
was delivered, then he broke the skull to pieces in like manner and
took out the brains. The same was done with the four remaining skulls
of the subdued enemies. When the brains were taken out, the young girls
pounded them with their hands into the vases containing the liquor of
the fermented sugar-cane; they stirred the mixture round, and then
the vases were taken to the chiefs, who dipped in their small osier
goblets through the fissures of which the liquid part ran out, and
the solid part that remained at the bottom they drank with ecstatic
sensuality. I felt quite sick at this scene so entirely new to me.
After the chieftains’ turn came the turn of the champions. The vases
were presented to them and each one sipped with delight this frightful
drink, to the noise of wild songs. There was really something infernal
in this sacrifice to victory.
“We sat in a circle, and these vases were carried round. I well
understood that we were about undergoing a disgusting test. Alas! I had
not long to wait for it. The warriors planted themselves before me and
presented me with the _basi_ and the frightful cup. All eyes were
fixed upon me. The invitation was so direct that to refuse it would
perhaps be exposing myself to death. It is impossible to describe the
interior conflict that passed within me. I would rather have preferred
the carbine of a bandit five paces from my chest, or await, as I
had already done, the impetuous attack of the wild buffalo. I shall
never forget that awful moment; it struck me with terror and disgust;
however, I constrained myself, nothing betraying my emotion. I imitated
the savages, and dipping the osier goblet into the drink, I approached
it to my lips and passed it to the unfortunate Alila (Gironiere’s
servant and companion), who could not avoid this infernal beverage. The
sacrifice was complete, the libations were over, but not the songs.
The _basi_ is a very spirituous and inebriating liquor, and the
assistants who had partaken rather too freely of it sang louder to
the noise of the tom-tom and the gong, while the champions divided the
human skulls into small pieces destined to be sent as presents to all
their friends. The distribution was made during the sitting, after
which the chiefs declared the ceremony over. They then danced. The
savages divided themselves into two lines, and howling as if they were
furious madmen, or terribly provoked, they jumped about, laying their
right hand upon the shoulder of their partners and changing places
with them. These dances continued all day; at last night came on, each
inhabitant repaired with his family and some few guests to his abode,
and soon afterwards tranquillity was restored.”
In defending the system of warfare practised by the Dayaks, Rajah
Brooke specially instances the thirst for blood and general cruelty
evinced by the savage Indian warrior of North America. Like other
barbarians the North-American Indian has his European and American
champions--Catlin among the latter--who profess to see in this savage
nothing vile or mean or cruel, but, on the contrary, all that is brave,
generous, and hospitable. The said champions, however, overlook the
fact that bravery and generosity as exhibited amongst one’s friends are
but insignificant virtues as compared with what they are when displayed
towards an enemy; indeed, in the former case they may scarcely be
reckoned virtues at all, but merely social amenities, lacking which,
man ceases to be companionable. As enemies, how do North-American
savages treat each other? Let what has already been said on this
subject in these pages, as well as what here follows, furnish an answer
to the question.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XXII.
Wooing a war dream--Companions in arms--The squaw of
sacrifice--On the march--Bragging warriors--Deeds of Indian men
of war--Swallowing an Indian’s horse--The belle of the party--An
instance of Indian heroism--How to serve an enemy--Savage
Duelists--A story of a precious scalp--The Indian warrior’s
confidence in dreams--Concerning Indian canoes--A boat made
up with stitches--Women boat-builders--Samoan warfare--The
Samoans’ war tools and symbols--A narrow escape--“Perhaps upward
the face!”--A massacre of Christians--Treachery of the Pine
Islanders--The fate of “The Sisters”--The scoundrelly Norfolk
Island men--A little story told by Mr. Coulter--The useful
carronades--The “one unnecessary shot”--How it might have been.
Mr. Kohl informs us that, when a chief of the North-American Indians
is meditating a war expedition, it is of the first importance that
he should “dream” about it. He does not, however, choose to wait for
his dream in the ordinary manner, but seats himself for the express
purpose, concentrates his every thought on the subject, and seeks to
gain good dreams for it before he proceeds to carry his war project
into execution.
He keeps apart from his family, and, like a hermit, retires to a
solitary lodge built expressly for the purpose. There he sits whole
evenings on a mat, beating the drum and muttering gloomy magic
songs, which he will break off to sigh and lament. He has all sorts
of apparitions while lying in his bed; the spirits of his relatives
murdered by the enemy visit him, and incite him to revenge. Other
spirits come and show him the way into the enemy’s camp, promise him
victory, tell him at times accurately where and how he will meet the
foe and how many of them he will kill. If his drum and song are heard
frequently in the evenings, a friend will come to him, and sitting
down on the mat by his side will say: “What is the matter with thee,
Black Cloud? Why dreamest thou? What grief is oppressing thee?” The
Black Cloud then opens his heart, tells him how his father’s brother
was scalped three years back by their hereditary enemies, the Sioux,
his cousin last year, and so on, and how thoughts of his forefathers
has now come to him. They have often appeared to him in his dreams and
allowed him no rest with their entreaties for vengeance. He will tell
him, too, a portion of the auguries and signs he has received in his
dream about a brilliant victory he is destined to gain and of the ways
and means that will conduct him to it. Still only a portion, for he
generally keeps the main point to himself. It is his secret, just as
among us the plan of the campaign is the commander-in-chief’s secret.
The friend, after listening to all this, if the affair seems promising,
will take to the drum in his turn, and aid his friend with his dreams.
The latter, if placing full confidence in him, appoints him his
associate or adjutant, and both place themselves at the head of the
undertaking. They always consider it better that there should be two
leaders, in order that if the dreams of one have not strength enough
the other may help him out.
These two _chefs-de-guerre_ now sit together the whole winter
through, smoke countless pipes, beat the drum in turn, mutter magic
songs the whole night, consult over the plan of operations, and send
tobacco to their friends as an invitation to them to take part in the
campaign. The winter is the season of consultation, for war is rarely
carried on then, partly because the canoe could not be employed on the
frozen lakes, and partly because the snow would betray their trail and
the direction of their march too easily.
If the two are agreed on all points, if they have assembled a
sufficient number of recruits and allies, and have also settled the
time of the foray--for instance, arranged that the affair shall begin
when the leaves are of such a size, or when such a tree is in blossom,
and this time has at length arrived, they first arrange a universal war
dance with their relatives and friends, at which the women are present,
painted black like the men. The squaws appear at it with dishevelled
hair, and with the down of the wild duck strewn over their heads. A
similar war dance is also performed in the lodges of all the warriors
who intend to take part in the expedition.
If the undertaking and the band of braves be at all important, it
is usually accompanied by a maiden, whom they call “the squaw of
sacrifice.” She is ordinarily dressed in white: among the Sioux, for
instance, in a white tanned deer or buffalo robe, and a red cloth
is wrapped round her head. Among several prairie tribes, as the
Black-feet, this festally adorned sacrifice squaw leads a horse by
the bridle, which carries a large medicine-bag, and a gaily decorated
pipe. Among the Ojibbeways, who have no horses, and usually make their
expeditions by water, this maiden is seated in a separate canoe.
When all have taken their places in full war-paint, they begin their
melancholy death-song and push off.
If the expedition is really important--if the leader of the band is
very influential--he will have sent tobacco to other chiefs among
his friends; and if they accept it, and divide it among many of their
partisans, other war bands will have started simultaneously from the
villages, and come together at the place of assembly already arranged.
They naturally take with them as little as possible, and are mostly
half naked in order to march easily. They do not even burden themselves
with much food, for they starve and fast along the road, not through
any pressure of circumstances, but because this fasting is more or less
a religious war custom.
They also observe all sorts of things along the road, which are in part
most useful, precautionary measures, in part superstitious customs.
Thus, they will never sit down in the shade of a tree, or scratch their
heads, at least not with their fingers. The warriors, however, are
permitted to scratch themselves with a piece of wood or a comb.
The young men who go on the war trail for the first time, have, like
the women, a cloth or species of cap on the head, and usually walk with
drooping head, speak little, or not at all, and are not allowed to join
in the dead or war songs. Lastly, they are not permitted to suck the
marrow from the bone of any game that is caught and eaten during the
march. There are also numerous matters to be observed in stepping in
and out of the canoes on the war trail. Thus, the foot must not on any
condition be wetted.
The only things they carry with them, besides their arms and pipes, are
their medicine-bags. These they inspect before starting, as carefully
as our soldiers do their cartridge-boxes, and place in them all the
best and most powerful medicines, and all their relics, magic spells,
pieces of paper, etc., in order that the aid of all the guardian
spirits may be ensured them.
The same authority gives us a sample of Indian war dances and speeches:
“By the afternoon all were ready, and the grand pipe of peace, they
intended to hand to the great father, was properly adorned with red
feathers, blue drawings, strings of wampum, etc.
“It occurred to me that although it was after all but a ceremony, the
Indians regarded the matter very solemnly and earnestly. According to
traditional custom the pipe of peace passed from tent to tent and from
mouth to mouth among the warriors. When each had smoked, the procession
started and marched with drums beating, fluttering feather-flags and
flying-otter, fox, and skunk tails through the village, to the open
space before the old fort of the North West Company. Here they put up
a wooden post, and close to it their war flag, after which the dances,
speeches, and songs began.
“A circle of brown skinned dancers was formed, with the musicians and
singers in the centre. The musicians, a few young fellows, cowered
down on the ground, beat a drum, and shook a calabash, and some other
instruments, which were very primitive. One had only a board, which
he hammered with a big knife, while holding his hollow hand beneath
it as a species of sounding board. The principal singers were half a
dozen women wrapped up in dark cloaks, who uttered a monotonous and
melancholy chant, while keeping their eyes stedfastly fixed on the
ground. The singing resembled the sound of a storm growling in the
distance. To the music the warriors hopped round in a circle, shaking
the otter, fox, and beaver tails attached to their arms, feet, and
heads.
“At times, the singing and dancing were interrupted; adorned with
flying hair and skins, a warrior walked into the circle, raised his
tomahawk, and struck the post a smart blow, as a signal that he was
going to describe his hero deeds. Then he began to narrate in a loud
voice, and very fluently, some horrible story in which he had played
the chief part. He swung the tomahawk, and pointed to the scars and
wounds on his naked body in confirmation of his story, giving the post
a heavy blow now and then. Many had painted their scars a blood-red
colour, and their gesticulations were most striking when they described
the glorious moment of scalping. Although surrounded by many kind
interpreters, who translated all that was said at once into English or
French, I fear it would lead me too far were I to write down all that
was said. Here is a specimen, however:--
“Many speeches were begun in a humorous fashion. One little fellow
bounded into the circle, and after striking the post, went on, ‘My
friends, that I am little you can all see, and I require no witnesses
to that. But to believe that I, little as I am, once killed a giant of
a Sioux, you will need witnesses.’ And then he plucked two witnesses
out of the circle. ‘You and you were present;’ and then he told the
story just as it had occurred. Another with a long rattlesnake’s skin
round his head, and leaning on his lance, told his story objectively,
just as a picture would be described:
“‘Once we Ojibbeways set out against the Sioux. We were one hundred.
One of ours, a courageous man, a man of the right stamp, impatient
for distinction, separated from the others, and crept onward into the
enemy’s country. The man discovered a party of the foe, two men, two
women, and three children. He crept round them like a wolf, he crawled
up to them like a snake, he fell upon them like lightning, cut down the
two men and scalped them. The screaming women and children he seized by
the arm and threw them as prisoners to his friends who had hastened up
at his war yell; and this lightning, this snake, this wolf, this man,
my friends, that was I. I have spoken.’
[Illustration: North American Weapons.]
“In most of the stories told us, however, I could trace very little
that was heroic. Many of them, in fact, appeared a description of the
way in which a cunning wolf attacked and murdered a lamb.
“One of the fellows, with one eye painted white, the other coal-black,
was not ashamed to tell loudly, and with a beaming face, how he once
fell upon a poor solitary Sioux girl and scalped her. He gave us the
minutest details of this atrocity, and yet at the end of his harangue,
he was applauded, or at least behowled, like the other orators. All
the Indians stamped and uttered their war yell as a sign of applause,
by holding their hands to their mouths trumpet fashion. At the moment
the man appeared to me little less ferocious than a tiger, and yet when
I formed his acquaintance at a latter date, he talked most reasonably
and calmly like an honest farmer’s lad. Such are what are called the
contradictions in human nature.
“Very remarkable in all these harangues, was the unconcealed and vain
self-laudation each employed about himself. Every speaker considered
his deed the best and most useful for the whole nation. Each began by
saying that what his predecessors had told them was very fine, but a
trifle when compared with what he had to say about himself. It was his
intention to astonish them once for all. His totem was the first in
the whole land, and the greatest deeds had always been achieved by the
spotted weasels (or as the case may be) and so he, the younger weasel,
not wishing to be the inferior to his forefathers, had gone forth and
performed deeds the description of which would make their hair stand on
end,” etc.
Among other tribes of North-American warriors, the braves were armed
with small tomahawks, or iron hatchets, which they carried with the
powder-horn in the belt on the right side, while the long tobacco
pouch of antelope skin hung by the left side. Over their shoulders
were leather targets, bows and arrows, and some few had rifles--both
weapons were defended from damp in deer-skin cases--and quivers with
the inevitable bead-work, and the fringes which every savage seems to
love.
Speaking of an army of Indian warriors “shifting camp,” Burton says,
in his curious book “The City of the Saints”:--“Their nags were
lean and ungroomed; they treat them as cruelly as do the Somal; yet
nothing short of whiskey can persuade the Indian warrior to part with
a favourite steed. It is his all in all,--his means of livelihood,
his profession, his pride. He is an excellent judge of horse-flesh,
though ignoring the mule and ass; and if he offers an animal for which
he has once refused to trade, it is for the reason that an Oriental
takes to market an adult slave--it has become useless. Like the Arab,
he considers it dishonourable to sell a horse: he gives it to you,
expecting a large present, and if disappointed he goes away grumbling
that you have swallowed his property.
“Behind the warriors and braves followed the baggage of the village.
The lodge-poles in bundles of four or five had been lashed to pads or
packsaddles girthed tight to the ponies’ backs, the other ends being
allowed to trail along the ground like the shafts of a truck. The sign
easily denotes the course of travel. The wolf-like dogs were also
harnessed in the same way; more lupine than canine, they are ready
when hungry to attack man or mule; and sharp-nosed and prick-eared,
they not a little resemble the Indian pariah dog. Their equipments,
however, were of course on a diminutive scale. A little pad girthed
round the barrel with a breastplate to keep it in place, enabled them
to drag two short light lodge-poles tied together at the smaller
extremity. One carried only a hawk on its back; yet falconry has
never, I believe, been practised by the Indian. Behind the ponies
the poles were connected by cross sticks upon which were lashed the
lodge-covers, the buffalo robes, and other bulkier articles. Some had
strong frames of withes or willow basket-work, two branches being bent
into an oval, garnished below with a network of hide-thongs for a seat,
covered with a light wicker canopy, and opening like a cage only on
one side; a blanket or a buffalo robe defends the inmate from sun and
rain. These are the litters for the squaws when weary, the children
and the puppies, which are part of the family till used for beasts.
It might be supposed to be a rough conveyance; the elasticity of the
poles, however, alleviates much of that inconvenience. A very ancient
man, wrinkled as a last year’s walnut, and apparently crippled by old
wounds, was carried probably by his great-grandsons in a rude sedan.
The vehicle was composed of two pliable poles, about ten feet long,
separated by three cross-bars twenty inches or so apart. In this way
the Indians often bear the wounded back to their villages. Apparently
they have never thought of a horse litter, which might be made with
equal facility, and would certainly save work.
“Whilst the rich squaws rode, the poor followed their pack-horses on
foot, eyeing the more fortunate as the mercer’s wife regards what she
terms the carriage lady. The women’s dress not a little resembles
their lords’--the unaccustomed eye often hesitates between the sexes.
In the fair, however, the waistcoat is absent, the wide-sleeved skirt
extends below the knees, and the leggings are of somewhat different
cut; all wore coarse shawls, or white, blue, or scarlet cloth-blankets
around their bodies. Upon the upper platte, we afterwards saw them
dressed in cotton gowns after a semi-civilized fashion, and with bowie
knives by their sides. The grandmothers were fearful to look upon;
horrid excrescences of nature, teaching proud man a lesson of humility.
The middle aged matrons were homely bodies, broad and squat like the
African dame after she has become _mère de famille_; their hands
and feet are notably larger from work than those of the men, and the
burdens upon their back caused them to stoop painfully. The young
squaws--pity it is that all our household Indian words, papoose for
instance, tomahawk, wigwam, and powwow, should have been naturalised
out of the Abenaki and other harsh dialects of New England--deserved a
more euphonious appellation. The belle savage of the party had large
and languishing eyes and teeth that glittered, with sleek long black
hair like the ears of a Blenheim spaniel, justifying a natural instinct
to stroke or pat it, drawn straight over a low broad quadroon-like
brow. Her figure had none of the fragility which distinguishes the
higher race, who are apparently too delicate for human nature’s daily
food. Her ears and neck were laden with tinsel ornaments, brass wire
rings adorned her wrists and fine arms, a bead-work sack encircled her
waist, and scarlet leggings fringed and tasselled, ended in equally
costly mocassins. When addressed by the driver in some terms to me
unintelligible, she replied with a soft clear laugh--the principal
charm of the Indian, as of the smooth-throated African woman--at the
same time showing him the palm of her right hand as though it had been
a looking-glass. The gesture I afterwards learned simply conveys a
refusal. The maidens of the tribe, or those under six, were charming
little creatures with the wildest and most piquant expression, and the
prettiest doll-like features imaginable; the young coquettes already
conferred their smiles as if they had been of any earthly value. The
boys had black beady eyes like snakes, and the wide mouths of young
caymans. Their only dress when they were not in birthday suit was the
Indian laguti. None of the braves carried scalps, finger-bones, or
notches on the lance, which serve like certain marks on saw-handled
pistols further east, nor had any man lost a limb. They followed us for
many a mile, peering into the hinder part of our travelling wigwam, and
ejaculating “How, How,” the normal salutation.”
Here is an instance at once of Indian warrior heroism on the one side
and fiendish ferocity on the other that occurred at the late engagement
between a small war party of the Chippewas and a greatly superior
party of Sioux, near Cedar Island Lake. The Chippewas, who were
_en route_ for a scalping foray upon the Sioux villages on the
Minnesota, here fell into an ambuscade, and the first notice of danger
which saluted their ears was a discharge of fire-arms from a thicket.
Four of their number fell dead in their tracks. Another, named the War
Cloud, a leading brave, had a leg broken by a bullet. His comrades were
loth to leave him, and, whilst their assailants were reloading their
guns, attempted to carry him along with them to where they could gain
the shelter of a thicket a short distance to the rear. But he commanded
them to leave him, telling them that he would show his enemies how a
Chippewa could die.
[Illustration: Chippewa.]
At his request they seated him on a log, with his back leaning
against a tree. He then commenced painting his face and singing his
death-song. As his enemies approached he only sang a louder and a
livelier strain; and when several had gathered around him, flourishing
their scalping-knives, and screeching forth their demoniac yells of
exultation, not a look or gesture manifested that he was even aware of
their presence. At lengthy they seized him and tore his scalp from his
head. Still seated with his back against a large tree, they commenced
shooting their arrows into the trunk around his head, grazing his
ears, neck, etc., until they literally pinned him fast, without having
once touched a vital part. Yet our hero remained the same imperturable
stoic, continuing to chant his defiant strain, and although one of
the number flourished his reeking scalp before his eyes, still not a
single expression of his countenance could be observed to change. At
last one of the number approached him with a tomahawk, which, after a
few unheeded flourishes, he buried in the captive’s skull, who sank in
death, with the war song still upon his lips. He had, indeed, succeeded
well in teaching his enemies “how a Chippewa could die.”
The reader has already made the acquaintance of that renowned Mandan
chief Mahtotopa; here is another episode in that hero’s history:
A party of 150 Scheyenne warriors had invaded the territory of the
Mandans; Mahtotopa, the young but already famous warrior of whom we
have spoken, went in pursuit of them at the head of fifty of the
bravest of his tribe. At the end of two days he came up with them. The
Mandans, inferior in number, hesitated to engage in combat, when by a
sudden impulse, Mahtotopa planted his lance, ornamented with a piece
of red stuff, in the ground in token of defiance. The Scheyennes who
were approaching to attack the party were arrested by the sight of
this courageous act, and their chief advancing alone to meet the young
Mandan warrior enquired who he was who defied alone the enemy?
“It is Mahtotopa, second chief in command of the brave and valiant
Mandans.”
“I have often heard him spoken of,” replied the Scheyenne; “he is a
great warrior. Would he dare to advance and fight against me alone
while our warriors look on?”
“Is it a chief who speaks to Mahtotopa?”
“See the scalp which hangs from the bit of my horse,” answered the
Scheyenne; “see my lance ornamented with the fur of the ermine and the
feather of the eagle of war.”
“You have spoken enough,” said the Mandan.
The Scheyenne chief set off at full gallop and planted his lance by the
side of that of Mahtotopa. The warriors of the two tribes drew near and
formed a great circle. The two champions advanced into the middle of
these lists formed by human warriors. They were on horseback, decorated
with feathers and wearing their finest garments. They each fired a shot
without effect; Mahtotopa then showed his adversary his powder-flask,
which had been pierced by a ball, and threw it on the ground as well as
his gun, which had thus become useless. The Scheyenne chief in order to
fight with equal arms did the same, and for some moments they galloped
one round the other discharging arrows with incredible rapidity. The
horse of the Mandan rolled on the ground pierced by an arrow, and
when Mahtotopa arose to continue the fight his adversary sprang from
his horse and once more the combat became equal. Soon the warriors
were exhausted. Then the Scheyenne drew his knife and brandished it
in the air. “Yes,” answered Mahtotopa, who understood this unspoken
invitation. The two warriors disencumbered themselves of their quivers
and shields; but the Mandan had not his knife; he had forgotten it in
his cabin; this did not stop him; he parried the blows of his adversary
with the wood of his bow, which he wielded like a club. He soon
succeeded in forcing his enemy to relax his hold on his weapon; the
knife fell, the combatants threw themselves on each other and tried to
get possession of the weapon which lay at their feet; it was taken and
wrenched back again several times by both adversaries, and each time it
was dyed with the blood of one or the other. At length Mahtotopa seized
it a last time and plunged it to the hilt in the heart of the Scheyenne
chief, then drew it out, took off his adversary’s scalp and showed the
trophy of his victory to the spectators. Such a scalp as this would be
more precious in the eyes of Mahtotopa than any dozen of such bloody
trophies he might previously have possessed. Few Indian warriors of
the “old school” but who could point in the same fashion to one poor
scrap of skin and hair with special exultation, while with pomp and
pride they describe to the curious listener the peculiar circumstances
under which the trophy was obtained. Take the following little anecdote
related by a somewhat celebrated Ojibbeway “brave” as an example:
“This scalp I nailed separately because I took it under curious
circumstances and like to recall it to my memory. I went on the war
trail just ten years ago against the Sioux band of the chief Wabasha.
There were eighty of us Ojibbeways, and we went down the Chippeway
River in canoes. When we found ourselves close to the enemy we turned
into an arm of water which we thought was the main channel; but it was
only a bayou which lost itself in swamp and rushes, and on attempting
to push through all our canoes stuck in the mud. The Sioux fleet was
coming up to cut us off in our hole, and we left our canoes and went on
foot. The Sioux fired on us from the water and we replied from land;
but the distance was too great, and no one was wounded. One of the
boldest and bravest of the Sioux, however, pushed on far in advance in
order to cut us off. He came too near the bank and was shot by one of
our men and he fell back in his canoe which began drifting down the
stream. His body hung over the side of the boat into the water. I saw
this, and feeling desirous to have his scalp I leaped into the water
and swam after the canoe. There was plenty of risk, for the other Sioux
were now paddling up; besides, it was not at all certain the man was
really dead. I did not care though, but swam on, seized the canoe and
the man, and had his scalp with a couple of cuts. Ha, ha! I waved it
once to the Sioux, pushed the canoe with the half-dead quivering fellow
towards them, and soon joined my party again. We all escaped, and only
our enemies had cause to lament. He was their best warrior, and so I
nailed his scalp, the only one taken that time, here on my hatchet
which I carry about with me.”
The following tradition of a war exploit of the same tribe, recorded by
the Rev. P. Jones, will show the confidence they place in dreams:
“A canoe manned with warriors was once pursued by a number of others,
all filled with their enemies. They endeavoured to escape, paddling
with all their might, but the enemy still gained upon them; then the
old warriors began to call for the assistance of those things they had
dreamt of during their fast-days. One man’s munedoo was a sturgeon,
which being invoked, their speed was soon equal to that of this fish,
leaving the enemy far behind; but the sturgeon being short-winded was
soon tired, and the enemy again advanced rapidly upon them. The rest of
the warriors, with the exception of one young man who, from his mean
and ragged appearance, was considered a fool, called the assistance
of their gods, which for a time enabled them to keep in advance. At
length, having exhausted the strength of all their munedoos, they were
beginning to give themselves up for lost, the other canoes being now
so near as to turn to head them, when just at this critical moment the
foolish young man thought of his medicine-bag, which in their flight
he had taken off from his side and laid in the canoe. He called out,
‘Where is my medicine-bag?’ The warriors told him to be quiet; what did
he want with his medicine-bag at this perilous time? He still shouted,
‘Where is my medicine-bag?’ They again told him to paddle and not
trouble them about his medicine-bag. As he persisted in his cry, ‘Where
is my medicine-bag?’ one of the warriors seeing it by his side took it
up and threw it to him. He, putting his hand into it, pulled out an
old pouch made of the skin of a _saw-bill_, a species of duck.
This he held by the neck to the water. Immediately the canoe began to
glide swiftly at the usual speed of a _saw-bill_; and after being
propelled for a short time by this wonderful power, they looked back
and found they were far beyond the reach of the enemy, who had now
given up the chase. Surely this Indian deserved a _patent_ for his
wonderful propelling power, which would have superseded the use of the
jarring and thumping steam-boats, now the wonder and admiration of the
American Indian. The young man then took up his pouch, wrung the water
out of it, and replaced it in his bag; telling the Indians that he had
not worn his medicine-bag about his person for nothing,--that in his
fast he had dreamt of this fowl, and was told that in all dangers it
would deliver him, and that he should possess the speed and untiring
nature of the _saw-bill_ duck. The old warriors were astonished
at the power of the young man whom they had looked upon as almost an
idiot, and were taught by him a lesson, never to form a mean opinion of
any persons from their outward appearance.”
The canoe of the Indian has been several times mentioned in these
pages, and as it plays a very important part in the career of the
savage in question, in times of peace as well as of war, it may not
be amiss here to furnish some particulars as to its construction.
Of its antiquity there is very little doubt; for being of a simple
construction, and the materials for it at hand, we suppose that it
would occur to the simplest savage, that if it was necessary to go some
distance on the water, he must have something to float upon, and that
wood or the lightest part of it--bark--was just the thing that was
required. So that if it can exactly be computed how long it is since
the North American Indian first took up his abode in those vast regions
which he so long possessed undisturbed, and deduct a few years for him
to look about his new home, we shall have the exact age of the canoe;
at any rate, the discoverers of America found the canoe along with the
Indians, and the natives called them _canoas_, which were hollowed
out of trees. The way that the tribes belonging to the Algongian stock,
who are essentially fishermen and sailors, build their canoes is as
follows:--
The birch is the tree selected for the purpose, and the bark is that
part of it of which the skeleton of the canoe is built. The Indians
select the largest and smoothest trees; so that they can obtain large
pieces of bark and prevent too much sewing. The inner side of the
bark is scraped with knives, and it is then given over to the women
to sew. The men then get ready the framework of the boat, which is of
cedar. “They have usually a sort of model, or a frame of the figure
and size of a canoe, round which the branches or ribs are bent. In
the centre the arches are large, growing smaller towards either end.
These ribs are peeled wonderfully thin, because lightness and easy
carriage are the chief qualities of a canoe. Between the upper end of
the ribs or _rarangues_, as they are called, a thin cross-piece
is fastened, to keep them in a horizontal position. This is for the
purpose of giving strength to the sides.” These boats have no keel, but
the _rarangues_, and _lanes_, or cross-pieces, are tied to a
piece of wood at the top.
The Indians use neither nails nor screws in the manufacture of the
canoe; everything about it is either tied or sewn together. This,
however, does not seem to deteriorate its strength or utility. When
the framework is completed, the bark covering, previously alluded to,
and which is made by the women, is spread over it, and the edge turned
down over the “maître” and firmly bound to it. The interior of the
canoe is then lined with thin boards, laid across the ribs, which they
call _les lisses_. These protect the bottom from the feet of the
passenger, and injury from the sails. They are remarkably thin and
light, and not much stouter than the sides of a cigar-box. Of course
the canoes are not suited for the nailed boots of a European or the
transport of ironshod boxes, but only for the soft mocassined feet of
the Indians, and the still softer bundles of fur.
“All the wood-work in the canoe is derived from the cédre blanche,
for this wood is very elastic, does not split, has but light specific
gravity, and is easily cut with a knife. The material for the cords
and strings is also obtained from the same tree, though they also use
the bark taken from the root of the _epinetee blanche_, a species
of spruce. All this is prepared by the women, who are always busy in
twisting ‘watals,’ owing to the large quantities used. They can make
either twine or stout cords out of it, and for their fishing nets, the
ropes often reach a length of fifty yards. These cords last a long
time, and resist the influence of water, and they can be laid up for
two years without deteriorating. If damped, they become as supple as
leather.
“The canoe is sharp, front and back, and the ends stand up a little:
these ends are often gaily decorated in the large canoes. A small piece
of wood is inserted in either end to give it increased strength. This,
too, is often carved and painted into the shape of a queer-looking
manikin.
“After the canoe is completed, the material is left to dry. For this
purpose pieces of wood are inserted in every part to keep it well
extended, and it is then hung up in the air. Botching all the little
holes, seams, and stitches is the final process. For this purpose the
resin of the pine or fir is used, and is laid on in thick patches
wherever a hole would allow the water entrance. The weak parts of the
bark or the holes of branches are also covered with this resin.”
In the canoe building, as, indeed, in all labours, a great part of the
work falls to the women. They do all the sewing and tying, and often
are compelled to take part in the hammering and botching. When the
little craft is afloat, the squaws assist in the paddling; and very
often are more skilful in this respect than the men. Usually, however,
when a family is moving about, the man and wife paddle side by side.
In the primitive mode of sailing, one sits at the stern and one at the
bow, both paddling with short broad paddles. The one in the bow looks
out for shallow rocks and rapids, which might prove dangerous; he then
signals to the one in the stern, to whose care the propelling of the
boat is principally entrusted, who directs the boat accordingly. The
lightness of the canoe, and the extraordinary skill of the Indians
in guiding it, enables it to skim over the surface of the water with
marvellous rapidity. The most surprising part of the business is the
great load these canoes can carry. Mr. Kohl makes mention of one he
saw, which contained a family of twenty persons, with their goods and
chattels! They had come some hundred and fifty miles in their little
boat,--over cataracts and rapids; besides they had a quantity of deer
and bear skins with them, and several live dogs. The whole weight must
have exceeded a ton!
Throughout the whole of Polynesia, as in savage North America, the
native, wherever you find him, regards war as the first business of his
life, as the only means of earning fame and riches. Without doubt this
yearning for perpetual strife has now somewhat subsided, but within the
memory of the still young, the said yearning was at its highest. Samoa
furnishes an apt instance; and even within the last few years, when Mr.
Turner was there located as missionary, he found that the murder of a
chief, a disputed title, or a desire on the part of one, two, or more
of the districts to be considered stronger and of more importance than
the rest, were frequent causes of war. Hostilities were often prevented
by such acts as giving up the culprit, paying a heavy fine, or bowing
down in abject submission, not with ropes round their necks, but
carrying firewood and small stones used in baking a pig, or perhaps a
few bamboos. The firewood, stones, and leaves were equivalent to their
saying, “Here we are your pigs to be cooked if you please; and here are
the materials with which to do it.” Taking bamboos in the hand was as
if they said, “We have come, and here are the knives to cut us up.” A
piece of split bamboo was of old the usual knife in Samoa.
If, however, the chiefs of the district were determined to resist, they
prepared accordingly. The boundary which separated one district from
another was the usual battle field, hence the villages next to that
spot on either side were occupied at once by the troops. The women and
children, the sick and the aged, were cleared off to some fortified
place in the bush, or removed to some other district which was either
neutral or could be depended upon as an ally. Moveable property was
either buried or taken off with the women and children. The wives
of the chiefs and principal men, generally followed their husbands
wherever they might be encamped, to be ready to nurse them if sick
or wounded. A heroine would even follow close upon the heels of her
husband in actual conflict, carrying his club or some other part of his
armour; it was common for chiefs to take with them a present of fine
mats when they went to another district to solicit help in war, but
there was no standing army or regularly paid soldiers anywhere.
[Illustration: Polynesian Weapons.]
When the chiefs decided on war, every man and boy under their
jurisdiction old enough to handle a club, had to take his place as a
soldier, or risk the loss of his lands and property and banishment from
the place. In each district there was a certain village or cluster of
villages known as the advance troops. It was their province to take
the lead and in battle their loss was double the number of that of any
other village. Still they boasted of their right to lead, and would
on no account give it up to others, and talked in the current strain
of other parts of the world, about the glory of dying in battle. In a
time of peace the people of these villages had special marks of respect
shown to them, such as the largest share of food at public feasts,
flattery, etc. While war was going on the chiefs and heads of families
united in some central spot, and whatever they decided on, either for
attack or defence, the young men endeavoured implicitly to carry out.
Their weapons were of old, clubs, spears, and slings; subsequently,
as iron was introduced, they got hatchets, and with these they made
their most deadly weapon, viz., a sharp tomahawk with a handle the
length of a walking stick. After that again, they had the civilized
additions of swords, pistols, guns, and bayonets. Around the village
where the war party assembled, they threw a rough stockade, formed by
any kind of sticks or trees cut into eight feet lengths and put close
to each other upright, with their ends buried two feet in the ground.
The hostile parties might be each fortified in this way, not more
than a mile from each other, and now and then venture out to fight in
the intervening space, or to take each other by surprise at weak or
unguarded points. In their war canoes they had some distinguishing
badge of their district hoisted on a pole, a bird it might be, or a
dog, or a bunch of leaves. And for the bush-ranging land forces, they
had certain marks on the body by which they knew their own party, and
which served as a temporary watchword. One day the distinguishing mark
might be blackened cheeks, the next two strokes on the breast, the
next a white shell suspended from a stripe of white cloth round the
neck, and so on; before any formal fight they had a day of feasting,
reviewing, and merriment. In action they never stood in orderly ranks
to shoot at each other. According to their notions that would be the
height of folly. Their favourite tactics were rather of the surprise
and bush skirmishing order. Prisoners, if men, were generally killed;
if women, distributed among the conquerors. In the battle which was
fought in 1830, to avenge the death of Tamafainga, a fire was kindled,
and prisoners to the extent of four hundred, some say, were burned, but
probably it did not reach the half of that number.
Their heroes were the swift of foot, like Achilles or Asahel; men who
could dash forward towards a crowd, hurl a spear with deadly precision;
and stand for a while, tilting off with his club other spears as they
approached him within an inch of running him through. They were
ambitious also to signalize themselves by the number of heads they
could lay before the chief. No hero at the Grecian games rejoiced more
over his chaplet than did the Samoan glory in the distinction of having
cut off a man’s head. As he went along with it through the villages
on the way to the place where the chiefs were assembled, waiting the
hourly news of the battle, he danced and capered and shouted, calling
out every now and then the name of the village, and adding, “I am
so and so, I have got the head of such a one.” When he reached the
spot where the chiefs were met, he went through a few more evolutions
and then laid down the head before them. This, together with the
formal thanks of the chiefs before the multitude for his bravery and
successful fighting, was the very height of a young man’s ambition.
He made some giddy frolicsome turns on his heels and was off again to
try and get another victim. These heads were piled up in a heap in the
mapae or public assembly. The head of the most important chief was put
on the top, and as the tale of the battle was told they would say,
“There were so many heads surmounted by the head of so-and-so,” giving
the number and the name. After remaining for some hours piled up they
were either claimed by their relatives or buried on the spot.
A rare illustration of this ambition to get heads occurred about ten
years ago. In an unexpected attack upon a village one morning, a young
man fell stunned by a blow. Presently he recovered consciousness, felt
the weight of some one sitting on his shoulders and covering his neck,
and the first sounds he heard was a dispute going on between two as to
which of them had the right to cut off his head. He made a desperate
effort, jostled the fellow off his back, sprang to his feet, and with
his head all safe in his own possession, soon settled the matter by
leaving them both far behind him.
The headless bodies of the slain scattered about in the bush after
a battle, if known, were buried, if unknown left to the dogs. In
some cases the whole body was pulled along in savage triumph, and
laid before the chiefs. One day when Mr. Turner was in a war-fort,
endeavouring to mediate for peace, a dead body of one of the enemy was
dragged in, preceded by a fellow making all sorts of fiendish gestures,
with one of the legs in his teeth, cut off by the knee.
If the war became general, and involved several districts, they
formed themselves into a threefold division of highway, bush, and sea
fighters. The fleet might consist of three hundred men in thirty or
forty canoes. The bushrangers and the fleet were principally dreaded,
as there was no calculating where they were or when they might pounce
unawares upon some unguarded settlement. The fleet met apart from the
land forces and concocted their own schemes. They would have it all
arranged, for instance, and a dead secret, to be off after dark to
attack a particular village belonging to the enemy. At midnight they
land at an uninhabited place some miles from the settlement they intend
to attack. They take a circuitous course in the bush, surround the
village from behind, having previously arranged to let the canoes slip
on quietly and take up their position in the water in front of the
village. By break of day they rush into the houses of the unsuspecting
people before they have well waked up, chop off as many heads as they
can, rush with them to their canoes, and decamp before the young men
of the place have had time to muster or arm. Often they are scared by
the people who during the war keep a watch night and day at all the
principal openings in the reef; but now and then the plot succeeds
and there is fearful slaughter. In one of these early morning attacks
from the fleet the heads of thirteen were carried off. One of them was
that of a poor old man who was on his knees at his morning devotions,
when off went his head at a blow. In another house that same morning
there was a noble instance of maternal heroism in a woman who allowed
herself to be hacked from head to foot bending over her son to save his
life. It is considered cowardly to kill a woman, or they would have
dispatched her at once. It was the head of her little boy they wanted,
but they did not get it. The poor woman was in a dreadful state, but,
to the surprise of all, recovered.
To the king of Samoa was reserved the power of sparing life. When
led to the king’s presence the captive warriors usually prostrated
themselves before him, and exclaimed: _make paha e ora paha-i runa
te ars? i raro te aro_. “To die, perhaps to live, perhaps upward
the face!” If the king did not speak, or said “The face down,” it was
sentence of death, and some one in attendance either despatched the
poor captive in his presence or led him away to be slaughtered. But if
the king said, “Upward the face,” they were spared only to be slaves or
to be sacrificed when the priests should require human victims.
When the king, or any chief of high rank, was known to be humane, or
any of the vanquished had formerly been on terms of friendship with
him, avoiding carefully the warriors, an individual risking his life
on the conqueror’s clemency would lie in wait for him in his walks,
and prostrating himself in the path, supplicate his compassion, or
rush into his house and throw himself on the ground before him. Though
anyone might have killed him while on his way thither, none dared touch
him within the king’s enclosure without his orders. When the king did
not speak, or directed the fugitive to be carried from his presence,
which was very unusual, he was taken out and slain. Generally the
prince spoke to the individual who had thus thrown himself into his
power; and if he did but speak, or only recognise him, he was secure.
He might either join the retinue of the sovereign, or return to his
own house. No one would molest him, as he was under _maru_ shade
or the screening protection of the king. These individuals, influenced
by feelings of gratitude, generally attached themselves to the person
or interest of the prince by whom they had been saved, and frequently
proved through subsequent life the most faithful attendants on his
person and steady adherents to his cause.
The gentleman just mentioned furnishes us with an account of the
massacre of the teachers which some few years since took place at the
Isle of Pines. There were three of them. They were blamed for causing
sickness. Mantungu, the chief, ordered them away, and as Captain
Ebrill, of the brig “Star,” was there at the time and offered to take
them to Samoa, they left in his vessel. Captain Ebrill first went to
Sydney, came back, was on his way to Samoa with the teachers, but
touched at the Isle of Pines to procure some more sandal-wood. He
anchored at Uao, some little distance from the residence of the chief.
The natives went off to the vessel. “Where are Mantungu and his sons?”
said a person on board. “Dead,” replied the natives in a joke. “Dead,
dead; that is good,” said the same person; “let such chiefs be dead,
and let the common folk live, and help us cut sandal-wood.” For some
reason which we cannot ascertain, Captain Ebrill and his crew were
angry with the old chief, and as a further proof of it, when he sent a
present of food to the teachers, who he heard were in the vessel, it
was not allowed to be received on board. Those who took it had pieces
of wood thrown at them and two musket shots fired at them. None were
killed, but one man was wounded in the knee. “What can this mean,” said
Mantungu, “wishing me and my sons dead in our own land? and why commit
such outrages upon my people who went with a present?” Whether he had
any intentions previously to take the vessel we know not; but any one
who knows the old despot can imagine how such treatment would make his
savage heart flame with revenge. Next morning thirty select men were
off, determined to kill all on board. They took some sandal-wood with
them to sell; and as a further trick did not arm themselves with clubs
or axes, but with the adzes which they use in dressing off the bark and
sap from the wood. They reached the vessel. The sandal-wood pleased all
on board, was immediately bought, and the natives were allowed to go up
on deck to grind their adzes on pretence that they were going off for
more wood. One of the crew was turning the handle of the grindstone, a
native grinding an adze, and the captain close by. Seizing a favourable
moment the native swung his adze and hit the captain in the face
between the eyes,--this was instant death to Captain Ebrill, and the
signal for attack all over the vessel. In a few minutes seventeen of
the crew were killed--viz., ten white men, including the captain, two
Marquesans, two Mangarans, one Aitutakian, one New Zealander, and a
Karotongan teacher. The cook fought desperately for awhile with an
axe and killed one man, but was at length overpowered and fell. This
occurred on the afternoon of the 1st of November, 1842. A young man
named Henry, two Samoan teachers, and a native of the New Hebrides made
their escape below. Henry loaded muskets and fired up the companion,
but without effect. It only exasperated the natives on deck, who threw
down upon them billets of sandal-wood. The teachers then collected
their property, six red shirts, eight axes, etc., called up and offered
all for their lives, but there was no mercy. Night came on. The natives
divided; a party went on shore in the boat, and the rest remained on
deck to guard those below. In the morning the natives called down to
Henry and the Samoans to come up, take the vessel further in, and then
go on shore, as Mantungu had come and declared they were to live. The
poor fellows felt they were entirely in the hands of the natives, came
up, ran close in shore, and again dropped anchor. They were then taken
to the shore. A son of Mantungu, with a tomahawk in his right hand,
met Henry as he stepped out of the boat, held out his left hand with a
feigned grin of friendship to shake hands; but the moment he got hold
of Henry’s right hand, the villain up with his axe and laid the poor
fellow dead at his feet. Others were up and at the remaining three.
Lengolo, the New Hebrides native, and the Samoan Taniela, were killed
at once. Mantangu and a party of natives were sitting under the shade
of the cocoa-nuts looking on. Lasalo, the other Samoan teacher, escaped
streaming with blood, threw himself at the feet of the old chief and
begged for life. Mantungu was silent for a minute or two, but soon gave
the wink to a Lifu man. Lasalo was now dragged away to be killed, but
he sprang from the fellow as he lifted his axe and darted off to sea.
The savages were at his heels, he was hit repeatedly, but escaped to
the deep water, struck out and swam off to a little island. Four men
jumped into a canoe and after him; he climbed a pine tree and talked
for awhile with them; they assured him Mantungu had determined to spare
him, and at last he came down. It was treachery again. They sprang upon
him like tigers; but again he extricated himself, and rushed to the
canoe; there, however, at length the poor fellow was overpowered and
fell.
After the massacre the bodies were divided. There were people there
from Caledonia, Mare, and Lifu, and each had a share. Then followed the
plundering of the vessel; deck, cabins, and forecastle were stripped of
everything. They cut down the masts to get at the sails and rigging,
and then set fire to her without opening the hold. As the fire reached
the powder there was a terrific explosion, but no lives lost. She
burned to the water’s edge and then sank.
Another curious story is related of these people in connexion with
their warlike disposition. On one occasion they captured a European
ship called the “Sisters,” and having massacred the crew, proceeded to
rifle the vessel of everything portable. Some kegs of gunpowder came
under this category, and being unacquainted with its nature, after
conveying it ashore, they amused themselves by sprinkling pinches of it
in the fire to “make sparks.” The result may be easily imagined; the
whole bulk of powder became ignited and scattered the amazed savages
right and left; many were maimed and a few killed, and among the latter
was a chief of some renown. The calamity was of course attributed to
the evil spirits of the murdered crew of the “Sisters,” and the Samoans
vowed to take dire revenge on the first batch of white men who fell
into their clutches. They had not long to wait. A large boat with seven
men in her put in not long after near the same place. This was a party
of runaway convicts from Norfolk Island. Five of them were killed and
the boat broken to pieces. The other two had gone off to forage in the
bush, and happily met with old Jeni (the chief) and his sons, who were
travelling there that very day about some war affairs. The murderers
of the five who were in search of the other two found them with Jeni
and his sons and proposed to kill them. Jeni refused and took them home
with him. They lived for two months under the wing of the old chief and
our teachers, and were kindly treated. But the fellows were out-and-out
Norfolk Islanders. One night they got up and robbed old Jeni of four
muskets, ten hatchets, four felling axes, and a saw. They went to the
teachers’ house, took four shirts, two knives, and an axe, and off they
set in the teachers’ canoe to join some white men reported to be at
Lifu. At daylight the things were missed and the place in an uproar.
Suspicion fell on the teachers. Their canoe is away--they must have
helped the fellow to lift it into the water. “No,” said Tataio, “how
can that be? We are robbed too, and our canoe gone to boot. But I’ll
tell you they cannot be far away, let us be off after them: I go for
one, who will join me?” A party was made up in a twinkling, and off
they went, hard drive at their paddles, out to sea in the direction of
Lifu. Soon they sighted something rising now and then on the top of
the waves. Two men in it--just the fellows. A little further and they
were in sight of each other. The thieves loaded their muskets and fired
two or three shots. No one was hurt. Their pursuers paddle steadily on
and are determined to be at them. Then they threw the stolen property
into the sea towards them, but who could pick up sinking axes? All
were lost. The two scoundrels knew what they deserved, thought it was
a choice of deaths, and jumped into the sea to drown themselves. “Poor
fellows,” said Tataio, “they think we are going to kill them. Let us
save them if we can.” He got his hand into the mouth of one of them
when he had but almost sunk, and pulled him up. The other was also
secured and laid flat in the bottom of the canoe half dead. The sea was
running high, the outrigger broke, and all had to jump out except the
two vagabonds who were lying senseless in the bottom of the canoe. But
it was hard work to swim and drag the disabled canoe through a heavy
sea. “What are we doing?” said the natives to each other. “By and by
we shall be all dead. Why should we be drowned in trying to save these
fellows? It is their own doing. Let us tilt the canoe over, pitch
them out and save ourselves.” “No,” said Tataio; “see the current is
drifting us fast to that little island. Let us try it a little longer.”
They reached the little island, landed, and rested, and scolded the
two scoundrels as they recovered and were able to listen to what was
going on. Some natives of the island, when they heard the tale, would
have them killed, but the votes with Tataio carried it for their lives.
“Well then spare their lives, but we must punish them.” They stripped
them naked, besmeared them from head to foot with a mixture of mud
and ashes, and then said, “Now you must go about so.” Native like,
however, they repented next day, washed the fellows clean, and gave
them back their clothes. After resting a day or two the party returned
to Mare.
The Mare people were delighted to see the party return, but when they
heard the story, and knew that all the property was thrown away, they
could hardly keep their clubs off the vagabonds. But old Jeni united
with the teachers and forbade. “What good,” said he, “will it do to
kill them? It won’t bring back my property.” Here again they were
allowed to live, and were fed too by the people, as if nothing had
happened, until they had an opportunity of leaving in a vessel which
touched at the place some time after.
Justice demands some few words of explanation concerning the reputed
“wanton massacres” by the natives of these islands. Without doubt they
set but little value on human life, and are treacherous in the extreme;
naturally, they are suspicious and likely to regard the actions of men
so totally different in manner and habit from themselves, as are white
men, with constant uneasiness; added to this, it is an ascertained fact
that in numerous instances European and American ships trading to this
part of the world have not scrupled to cheat and ill-use the ignorant
savages with whom they had to deal, and though the aggressors have
succeeded in sailing off with impunity, such behaviour could not fail
to plant seeds of ill-feeling, the crop of which would certainly be
garnered for the next batch of “white cheats” who touched their shores.
The following little story of this South Sea traffic, related by
a traveller named Coulter (who relates it rather as a joke than a
disgrace) will illustrate what the above lines are meant to convey:
“There was some firewood collected on the beach which had yet to be got
off, as we were in actual want of it. The natives were offered some
trifling presents to bring it to the schooner, but acted so slowly that
the captain got out of patience and dispatched his boat with four men
and the interpreter to effect the desired object; he gave them every
caution not to mix with the natives, but work quick and get off the
wood at once, and if there should be any attempt to attack them on the
part of the natives, to run to the water’s edge and the guns of the
schooner would cover them.
“I may here remark, that it is a usual plan with almost all the
islanders in the Pacific, who are treacherously disposed, to obtain
first as much as they can by fair trade, and if the suspicions of the
captain, or any vessel trading with them, should be lulled so as to
throw him off his guard by this apparent honesty and safety, to take
advantage of such a state of things and either cut off a boat’s crew or
attempt to board and plunder the ship, if possible.
“Trainer, the mate, who knew these people well, had no confidence in
any of them; though he seemed to take matters easy enough he was well
prepared for any surprise that might be attempted, and he was doubly
particular in his means of defence, as the interpreter informed him
that the natives were laying plans to board the schooner, thinking as
she was small the capture of her would be an easy matter. Two boat’s
load of the firewood was gone off and the boats sent for the third
and last. The wood was about forty yards from the beach and had to be
carried down by the men to the boat. A number of canoes were rapidly
shoved into the water and filled with men. This was the critical time,
and we all kept ready and an anxious watch on the boat.
“In a few minutes the four men on shore were observed to run with all
their might down to the water’s edge followed by a crowd of armed
natives. They had scarcely time to get into the boat and push her off
from the beach when the natives were close on, throwing a number of
spears at them, one of which took effect on one of the men. However,
the remaining three got her off into deep water. The interpreter, who
could not get into the boat, stole into the water at another point
unperceived by the natives and swam off. They were all taken quickly on
board; but there was no time to hoist the boat up as the canoes filled
with armed men were fast approaching.
“The seaman who was wounded in the boat died in a few minutes after
reaching the deck--the spear had passed right through his chest. The
men, who were all enraged at the loss of an excellent man and an
esteemed messmate, were burning for revenge, and were waiting with
impatient eagerness for the orders to slap at them. Trainer was at
the gangway and his eye on the advancing fleet of canoes; I was with
him. We were well prepared. The short carronades were the most useful
articles on the present occasion and were loaded with grape. The crew
were also armed. ‘Well,’ said the captain, ‘I have been here several
times, and have always treated them fairly and kindly, and now, without
cause, they have killed one of our best men and want to take my vessel
and murder us all. They shall catch it.’ Thus spoke a really humane
man, but he was irritated beyond all patience by the treachery of the
natives and loss of his man. ‘Now, my lads, are you ready?’ ‘Ay, ay,
sir,’ ‘Remember, if we let these savages board us not a man will be
alive in ten minutes.’ ‘Never fear, sir; we’ll pay them.’ On the canoes
came; they separated into two divisions, one advancing to the bows the
other towards the stern.
“Trainer keenly eyed them, whilst he made frequent exclamations, such
as ‘Well, you want the schooner, I suppose,’ etc. The natives in the
canoes were yelling and screaming loudly enough and brandishing their
spears with as threatening an aspect as they could make, seemingly
with the intention of cowing us. They approached within twenty yards,
when the captain ordered the guns at the bow to be pointed fair for
the batch of canoes ahead, while he arranged for those approaching the
stern. ‘Are you ready, men, fore and aft?’ ‘Ay, ay, sir.’ ‘Let go,
then.’ The two carronades discharged their fatal showers of grape, and
before the smoke had rightly cleared away they were loaded and again
fired amongst the savages. ‘Load again, my lads,’ said the captain.
There was scarcely any wind, and the smoke which hung low on the water
was a few minutes in clearing away. The screaming of the wounded people
was appalling; some canoes were sunk or capsized and numbers of natives
were swimming towards the shore. Nevertheless, there were many of them
yet that kept their ground and had the reckless daring to make another
bold push for the vessel’s side. ‘Fire,’ said the captain again, and
another volley of grape flew amongst them. This discharge had not the
great effect of the former ones, as the canoes were closer and the
contents of the guns had not distance enough to scatter. The savages
seemed to comprehend this, and in another moment were clinging to the
schooner’s sides endeavouring to board; but the rapid use of muskets
and pistols ultimately drove them away in an indescribable confusion,
with, I am sorry to say, considerable loss.
“The whole affair was caused by the natural treachery of the natives.
The part we played was unavoidable; in fact, our lives were at stake,
and there was only one unnecessary shot fired after the final retreat
of the natives. The men who had charge of the bow gun loaded it again
unperceived by the captain, and before they could be stopped fired it
after the savages who were making for the shore. This parting shot
was, as they said, to revenge Tom Staples, the seaman who was speared.
There was no one on board the schooner hurt during the affray but the
carpenter, whose arm was broken by the blow of a heavy club wielded by
a huge savage who was endeavouring to board.”
To repeat Mr. Coulter’s words, “The whole affair was caused by the
natural treachery of the natives.” As the gentleman was on the spot he
of course should know all about it. Still one cannot help suspecting
that the captain’s “impatience” had not a little to do with the carnage
which ensued. It would be interesting to be informed what were the
orders of the impatient captain to the boat’s crew sent ashore to hurry
the unwilling natives. Why were they unwilling? Was the firewood piled
on the beach already paid for, or did that “really humane man,” the
American captain, expect the oft-deluded barbarians to trust to his
honour for payment when the cargo was fairly aboard. The first boatful
was allowed to depart--the second--then came the third and last.
“Where’s the price?” “Price be hanged, you precious lot of niggers!
guess the only price you’ll get for this yer freight will be pitched
at you from our big guns. Hands off the boat there, and let us shove
her off!” This of course is a fancy picture; but there is a possibility
that it is not very wide of the mark. If so, the niggers who, after
they had seen their comrades mangled and torn by the murderous grape
“made another bold push for the ship’s side,” showed themselves brave
men, and compels us to reflect with abhorence on the firers of that
“one unnecessary shot.”
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XXIII.
Figian “fustian”--Figian battle-field tactics--The
first rending of the root--Fighting implements of the
Figians--Five-bladed swords--Execution of Tahitian
Prisoners--The obdurate Cacahoo--Heroism of Nonfaho’s
widow--Figian ship-building--Surprising skill of savage
boat-builders--Ordinary sea-women--Superstitions of Figian
sailors--The warrior of New Zealand--The sacred wind
of Tu--Distribution of the locks of the slain--Cooking
the warriors’ hearts--Australian weapons--Throwing
the boomerang--The Australian spear--Thick and thin
heads--Remarkable mode of Duelling.
In Figi the disposition to quarrel and fight is no less rife than in
Samoa. A very trifling matter constitutes a _casus belli_, and
their forces are gathered by the _taga_, a kind of review. Of
these there is a series,--one at every place where the army stops on
its way to the scene of action. If any part of Figian warfare has
interest, it is this, and to the parties engaged it is doubtless
glorious. They defy an enemy that is far away, and boast of what they
will do on a day which has not yet come, and all this in the midst
of their friends. The boasting is distinct from, though associated
with, the _taga_, which means “ready” or “on the move,” namely,
for challenging. The challenging is called _bole-bole_, and the
ceremony, when complete, is as follows:--If the head of the party of
allies just arrived is a great chief, his approach is hailed with a
general shout. Taking the lead, he conducts his followers to a large
open space, where the chief to whose help he comes waits with his
men. Forthwith, shouts of respect are exchanged by the two companies.
Presently a man, who is supposed to represent the enemy, stands forth
and cries out, “Cut up! cut up! the temple receives;” intimating
probably that the enemy will certainly be cut up, cooked, and offered
to the gods. Then follow those who _bole_ or challenge. First
comes the leader, and then others, singly at the beginning, but
afterwards in companies of six, or ten, or twenty. It is impossible to
tell all that is said when many are speaking at once; but there is no
lack of bragging, if single challengers may he taken as specimens. One
man runs up to the chief, brandishes his club, and exclaims, “Sir, do
you know me? Your enemies soon will.” Another, darting forward, says,
“See this hatchet! how clean! To-morrow it will be bathed in blood!”
One cries out, “This is my club!--the club that never yet was false!”
The next, “This army moves to-morrow; then you shall eat dead men till
you are surfeited!” A man striking the ground violently with his club,
boasts, “I cause the earth to tremble; it is I who meet the enemy
to-morrow!” “See,” exclaims another, “I hold a musket and a battle-axe;
if the musket miss fire the hatchet will not!” A fine young man stepped
quietly towards a king, and, holding a pole used as an anchor for a
canoe, says, “See, sire, the anchor of Natewa (the name of the locality
threatened); I will do thus with it,” and he breaks the pole across his
knee. A man swinging a ponderous club says, “This club is a defence: a
shade from the heat of the sun and the cold of the rain.” Glancing at
the chief, he adds, “You may come under it.” A fiery youth runs up as
though breathless, crying out, “I long to be gone; I am impatient.” One
of the same kind says, “Ah! ah! these boasters are deceivers; I only am
a true man in the battle; you shall find me so.” These great swelling
words are listened to with mingled laughter and applause. Although the
speeches of the warriors are marked with great earnestness, there is
nothing of the horrifying grimace in which the New Zealander indulges
on similar occasions. The fighting men have their bodies covered with
black powder; some, however, confine this to the upper part only.
An athletic warrior, thus powdered, so as to make his skin wear a
velvet-like blackness, has a truly formidable appearance, his eyes and
teeth gleaming with very effective whiteness.
Figians, says Williams, make a show of war at the _taga_, do no
mischief, and incur no danger; and this is just what they like. The
challenging is their delight; beyond it their ambition does not reach,
and glory is without charms.
Notwithstanding the boasts of the braves, the chief will sometimes
playfully taunt them, intimating, that from their appearance he should
judge them to be better acquainted with spades than clubs, and fitter
to use the digging stick than the musket.
With taunting scorn the antagonist would reply much in the same strain,
sometimes mingling affected pity with his denunciations. When they had
finished their harangue, the _omoreaa_ club of insult or insulting
spear was raised and the onset commenced. Sometimes it was a single
combat fought in the space between two armies and in sight of both.
At other times several men engaged on both sides, when those not
engaged, though fully armed and equipped, kept their seat on the
ground. If a single combat, when one was disabled or slain, the victor
would challenge another, and seldom thought of retreating so long as
one remained. When a number were engaged and one fell, a warrior from
his own party rose and maintained the struggle; when either party
retreated, the ranks of the army to which it belonged, rushed forward
to sustain it; this brought the opposing army on, and from a single
combat or a skirmish, it became a general engagement. The conflict was
carried on with the most savage fury, such as barbarous warriors might
be expected to evince--who imagined the gods on whom their destinies
depended had actually entered into their weapons, giving precision and
force to their blows, direction to their missiles, and imparting to the
whole a supernatural fatality.
The din and clamour of the deadly fury were greatly augmented by the
efforts of the Rauti. These were the orators of battle. They were
usually men of commanding person and military prowess, arrayed only in
a girdle of the leaves of the ti-plant round their waist, sometimes
carrying a light spear in the left, but always a small bunch of green
ti-leaves in the right hand. In this bunch of leaves the principal
weapon, a small, sharp, serrated and barbed _airo fai_ (bone
of the sting-ray), was concealed, which they were reported to use
dexterously when in contact with the enemy. The principal object of
these Rautis was to animate the troops by recounting the deeds of their
forefathers, the fame of their tribe or island, and the interests
involved in the contest. In the discharge of their duties they were
indefatigable, and by night and day, went through the camp rousing the
ardour of the warriors. On the day of battle they marched with the
army to the onset, mingled in the fury, and hurried to and fro among
the combatants, cheering them with the recital of heroic deeds or
stimulating them to achievements of daring and valour.
Any attempt at translating their expressions would convey so inadequate
an idea of their original force as to destroy their effect. “Roll
onward like the billows,--break on them with the ocean’s foam and roar
when bursting on the reeds,--hang on them as the forked lightning
plays above the frothing surf,--give out the vigilance, give out the
strength, give out the anger, the anger of the devouring wild dog, till
their line is broken, till they flow back like the receding tide.”
These were the expressions sometimes used, and the recollection of
their spirit-stirring harangues is still vivid in the memory of many
who, when anything is forcibly urged upon them, often involuntarily
exclaim, _tini Rauti teia_--“this is equal to a Rauti.”
If the battle continued for several successive days, the labours of the
Rautis were so incessant by night through the camp, and by day amid the
ranks in the field, that they have been known to expire from exhaustion
and fatigue. The priests were not exempted from the battle; they bore
arms and marched with the warriors to the combat.
The combatants did not use much science in the action, nor scarcely aim
to parry their enemy’s weapons; they used no shield or target, and,
believing the gods directed and sped their weapons with more than human
force upon their assailants, they depended on strength more than art
for success. Their clubs were invariably aimed at the head, and often
with the lozenge-shaped weapon they would cleave the skulls of their
opponents. When the first warrior fell on either side a horrid shout of
exultation and of triumph was raised by the victors, which echoed along
the line, striking a panic through the ranks of their antagonists, it
being considered an intimation of the favour of the gods towards the
victorious parties. Around the body the struggle became dreadful, and
if the victors bore him away, he was despoiled of his ornaments, and
then seized by the priests or left to be offered to the gods at the
close of the battle.
The first man seized alive was offered in sacrifice, and called _te
mata-ahaetumu Taaroa_, the first rending of the root. The victim
was not taken to the temple, but laid alive upon a number of spears,
and thus borne on men’s shoulders along the ranks in the rear of the
army, the priest of Ora walking by the side, offering his prayer to the
god, and watching the writhings and involuntary agitation of the dying
man. If these agonies were deemed favourable, he pronounced victory as
certain. Such indications were considered most encouraging, as earnests
of the god’s cooperation.
They sometimes practised what they called _tiputa taata_. When
a man had slain his enemy, in order fully to satiate his revenge and
intimidate his foes, he sometimes beat the body flat, and then cut a
hole with a stone battle-axe through the back and stomach, and passed
his own head through the aperture, as he would through the hole of
his _tiputa_ or _poncho_; hence the name of this practice.
In this terrific manner, with head and arms of the slain hanging down
before and the legs behind, he marched to renew the conflict. A more
horrible act and exhibition it is not easy to conceive, yet there
once lived a man in Fare, named Tavara, who, according to his own
confession, and the declaration of his neighbours, was guilty of this
deed during one of their recent wars.
In times of war, all capable of bearing arms were called upon to join
the forces of the chieftain to whom they belonged; and the farmers,
who held their land partly by feudal tenure, were obliged to render
military service whenever their landlord required it. There were,
besides these, a number of men celebrated for their valour, strength,
or address in war, who were called _aito_, fighting-men or
warriors. This title was the result of achievements in battle; it was
highly respected, and proportionably sought by the courageous and
ambitious. It was not, like the chieftainship and other prevailing
distinctions, confined to any class, but open to all, and many from the
lower ranks have risen as warriors to a high station in the community.
[Illustration: Tonga Weapons.]
Originally their weapons were simple and formed of wood; they consisted
of the spear, which the natives called _patia_ or _tao_, made
with the wood of the cocoa-nut tree or of the _aito_, iron-wood
or casuarina. It was twelve or eighteen feet long, and about an inch
or an inch and a half in diameter at the middle of the lower end, but
tapering off to a point at the other. The spears of the inhabitants
of Rurutu and other of the Austral Islands are remarkable for their
great length and elegant shape, as well as for the high polish with
which they are finished. The _omore_ or club was another weapon
used by them; it was always made of the _aito_ or iron-wood, and
was principally of two kinds, either short and heavy like a bludgeon,
for the purpose of close combat, or long and furnished with a broad
lozenge-shaped blade. The Tahitians did not often carve or ornament
their weapons; but by the inhabitants of the Southern Islands they were
frequently very neatly though partially carved. The inhabitants of
the Marquesas carve their spears, and ornament them with human hair;
and the natives of the Harvey Islands, with the Friendly and Figian
islanders, construct their weapons with taste and carve them with
remarkable ingenuity.
The _pacho_ was a terrific sort of weapon, although it was
principally used at the _heva_ or seasons of mourning. It
resembled in some degree a club; but having the inner side armed with
large sharks’ teeth, it was more frequently drawn across the body,
where it acted like a saw, than used for striking a blow. Another
weapon of the same kind resembled a short sword, but instead of one
blade, it had three, four, or five. It was usually made of a forked
_aito_ branch; the central and exterior branches, after having
been pointed and polished, were armed along the outside with a thick
line of sharks’ teeth, very firmly fixed in the wood. This was only
used in close combat, and, when applied to the naked bodies of the
combatants, must have been a terrific weapon. The bowels or lower parts
of the body were attacked with it, not as a dagger is used, but drawn
across like a saw. Some of the fighting men wore a kind of armour of
network formed by small cords wound round the body and limbs so tight
as merely to allow of the unencumbered exercise of the legs and arms,
and not to impede the circulation of the blood. This kind of defence
was principally serviceable in guarding from the blows of a club, or
force of a stone, but was liable to be pierced by a spear. In general,
however, the dress of the Tahitian warriors must have been exceedingly
inconvenient. To make an imposing appearance, and defend their persons,
seem to have been the only ends at which they aimed, differing greatly
in this respect from the Hawaians, who seldom thought of guarding
themselves, but adopted a dress that would least impede their movements.
The Tahitians went to battle in their best clothes, and often had the
head not only guarded by an immense turban, but the body enveloped
in folds of cloth, until the covering was many inches in thickness,
extending from the body almost to the elbows, where the whole was
bound round the waist with a finely braided sash or girdle. On the
breast they wore a handsome military gorget ingeniously wrought with
mother-of-pearl shells, feathers, and dog’s hair, white and coloured.
The captives taken in war called _ivi_ or _titi_ were murdered on the
spot, or shortly afterwards, unless reserved for slaves to the victors.
The bodies of the slain were treated in the most savage manner. They
were pierced with their spears and at times the conduct of the victors
towards their lifeless bodies was inconceivably barbarous.
On the day following the battle the _bure taata_ was performed.
This consisted in collecting the bodies of the slain and offering
them to Oro as trophies of his prowess, and in acknowledgment of
their dependence upon his aid. Prayers were preferred, imploring a
continuance of his assistance.
The bodies were usually left exposed to the elements and to the hogs
or wild dogs that preyed upon them. The victors took away the lower
jaw-bones of the most distinguished among the slain as trophies, and
often some of the bones, converting them into tools for building canoes
with, or into fish hooks. Sometimes they piled the bodies in a heap,
and built the skulls into a kind of wall around the temple, but they
were commonly laid in rows near the shore, or in front of the camp,
their heads all in the same direction. Here the skulls were often so
battered with the clubs that no trace of the countenance or human head
remained.
As to the manner of disposing of prisoners towards whom the king, when
supplicated for forgiveness, preserves silence, the following brief
account of a warrior execution as related by Mariner may be offered:--
“About mid-day, or a little after, the large canoe, in which were the
prisoners lashed hand and foot, pushed out to sea under the command of
Lolo Hea Malohi, an adopted son of Finow. They had on board three old
small canoes, in a very leaky, rotten state, in which the prisoners
were destined to be put and thus to be left gradually to sink, leaving
the victims to reflect on their approaching dissolution, without having
it in their power to help themselves.
[Illustration: THE CONCLUSION OF THE TERRIBLE FARCE.]
“The distance they had to go was about two leagues, and the weather
being calm the canoe was obliged to be paddled most of the way. In the
meanwhile, some conversation passed between the prisoners, particularly
Nonfaho and Booboonoo. Nonfaho observed to Booboonoo, that it would
have been much better if they had never made a peace with Finow, and
to a certain degree, he upbraided Booboonoo with not having followed
his advice in this particular: to this the latter replied that he did
not at all regret the late peace with Finow, for being his relation,
he felt himself attached to his interests, and as to his own life, he
thought it of no value since the king did not think his services
worth having. Nonfaho stated that he had a presentiment of his fate
that very morning; for as he was going along the road from Feletoa
to Macave, he met a native woman of Hapai, and as he passed, he felt
a strong inclination, he knew not from what cause, to kill her, and
this bias of his mind was so powerful, that he could not help turning
back and effecting his purpose; at the same time he felt a secret
presentiment that he was going to die, and this murder that he had
committed appeared now to be a piece of vengeance on the Hapai people,
weak indeed in itself, yet better than no revenge at all. Nonfaho,
among other things lamented that his friend Booboonoo had not repaired
to the Figi Islands when peace was first made, and by that means have
preserved his life. As to his own safety, he said it was not a matter
of much consequence; he only lamented that he was not about to die in
an honourable way. Booboonoo expressed sentiments to the same purpose.
Cacahoo now and then joined in the conversation, remarking that he only
lamented his death inasmuch as no opportunity had been afforded him of
revenging himself upon his enemies by sacrificing a few of them.
There were eighteen prisoners on board, of whom the greater part,
before they arrived at the place where they were to be sunk, begged
that the manner of their death might be changed to the more expeditious
one of having their brains knocked out with a club, or their heads
cleaved with an axe: this was granted them, and the work of execution
was immediately begun. Having dispatched a number in this way, it was
proposed, for the sake of convenience, that the remainder who begged
to be thus favoured, should be taken to a neighbouring small island
to be executed; which being agreed on they disputed by the way who
should kill such a one and who another. Such was the conversation, not
of warriors--for knocking out brains was no new thing to them--but of
others not so well versed in the art of destruction, who were heartily
glad of this opportunity of exercising their skill without danger;
for, cowardlike, they did not dare to attempt it in a field of battle.
The victims being brought on shore, nine were dispatched at nearly the
same moment, which, with the three killed in the canoe, made twelve who
desired this form of death. The remaining six, being chiefs and staunch
warriors of superior bravery, scorned to beg any favour of their
enemies, and were accordingly taken out to sea, lashed in two rotten
canoes which they had on board, three in each, and left to reflect on
their fate, whilst their destroyers remained at a little distance to
see them sink. Booboonoo, whilst in this situation, said that he only
died unhappy on account of his infant son, who would be left friendless
and unprotected; but calling to a younger chief in the larger canoe,
of the name of Talo, begged, for the sake of their gods, that he would
befriend his child, and never see him want either clothes or food
suitable to the son of a chief: upon which Talo made a solemn promise
to take the most attentive care of him, and Booboonoo seemed quite
satisfied. Nonfaho lamented the sad disasters of that day, saying how
many great and brave men were dying an ignominious death, who some time
before were able to make the whole army of Finow tremble: he lamented,
moreover, that he had ever retreated from his enemies, and wished that
on such an occasion he had faced about, however inferior in strength,
and sold his life at a high price, instead of living a little longer to
die thus a shameful death: he earnestly requested them to remember him
in an affectionate manner to his wife. Cacahoo swore heartily at Finow
and all the chiefs of Hapai, cursing them in the most bitter manner,
and their fathers for begetting them, and heaping maledictions upon all
their generation. He went on in this manner, cursing and swearing at
his enemies, till the water came up to his mouth, and, even then, he
actually threw back his head for the opportunity of uttering another
curse, spluttering the water forth from his lips till it bereft him for
ever of the power of speech. They were about twenty minutes sinking,
after which the large canoe returned immediately to Vavaoo.
The widows of those who were executed on the beach in the morning and
of those who were dispatched at the small island in their way out to
sea, petitioned Finow to grant them leave to perform the usual rites
of burial in behalf of their deceased husbands, which the king readily
acceded to: and they accomplished the ceremony with every mark of
unfeigned sorrow and regret. When the last affectionate remembrances
of Nonfaho were made to his widow, she appeared greatly moved; for,
though she scarcely wept, her countenance betrayed marks of violent
inward agitation: she retired to her house, and arming herself with a
spear and a club, went about to seek for the other widows who had lost
their husbands in the same way, and urged them to take up arms, as she
had done, and go forth to revenge their husbands’ death, by destroying
the wives of Finow and his principal chiefs; finding, at length, that
none of the others were willing to follow her example, she was obliged
to give up altogether. It was suspected that Finow would have been
very angry on hearing her intention, but, on the contrary, he praised
it much, and approved of it as being not only a meritorious act of
bravery, but a convincing proof that her affection for her deceased
husband was great and genuine.
Four classes of canoes are found in Figi: the _velovelo_, the
_camakau_, the _tabilai_, and the _drua_. All these have
various modifications of outrigger (_cama_), and are distinguished
by peculiarities in the hulk. The velovelo, or more properly the
_takia_, is open throughout its length like a boat, and the spars
to which the cama is secured rest on the gunwale. The camakau, as
its name imports, has a solid spar for its cama: the hulk has a deck
over the middle third of its length, twice its own width, and raised
on a deep plank built edgeways on each gunwale. Between the edge of
this deck and the outrigger all is open. The projecting ends of the
canoe, which are lower than the main-deck or platform, as much as the
depth of the plank on which it is raised, are each covered with one
solid triangular piece of wood, hollowed underneath, and thickest at
the broad end next the centre deck, to which it thus forms a gradual
ascent. The two ridges, formed by the hollowing underneath on the sides
of the triangle, are united to the edge of the hulk, so as completely
to box it up. The rig of the camakau is the same as that of the double
canoe described presently; and from the small resistance this build
offers to the water, it is the “clipper” of Figi, and the vessel
described under the name of _pirogue_ in the Imperial Dictionary.
The tabilai is a link between the camakau and drua, and is made with
the outrigger of either. It is often of great length, several feet at
each end being solid wood, cut away something like the hull of a ship
stern-ward, the sternpost of the ship representing the cut-water of the
canoe, which, instead of being sharp, presents a square perpendicular
edge to the water. This is the same at both ends, and is distinctive of
the class.
The _drua_, or double canoe, differs from the rest in having
another smaller canoe for its outrigger, and the deck is laid across
both.
When not more than thirty or forty feet long, canoes are often cut
out of a single tree, and require comparatively little skill in their
construction. When, however, a first-class canoe is to be built, the
case is far otherwise, and its creditable completion is a cause of
great triumph.
A keel is laid in two or three pieces carefully scarfed together.
From this the sides are built up, without ribs, in a number of pieces
varying in length from three to twenty feet. The edge of each piece has
on the inside a flange; as the large pieces are worked in, openings of
very irregular form are left to be filled in, as suitable pieces may
be found. When it is recollected that the edges of the planks are by
no means straight, it will be seen that considerable skill is required
in securing neat joints; yet the native carpenters effect this with
surprising success. After the edges are fitted together, holes of about
three-eighths of an inch in diameter are bored a hand-breadth apart in
them, having an oblique direction inwards, so as to have their outlet
in the flange: the holes in the edge of the opposite board are made to
answer these exactly. A white pitch from the bread-fruit tree, prepared
with an extract from the cocoa-nut kernel, is spread uniformly on both
edges, and over this a strip of fine _masi_ is laid, which is
burnt through with a small fire-stick where it covers the holes. The
piece or _vono_ is now ready for fixing, which is done by what is
commonly but wrongly called “sewing;” the native word better describes
the process, and means, “to bind.” The vono being lifted to its place,
a well dressed but not large sinnet is passed through the hole in the
top flange, so as to come out through the lower one: the end is then
inserted in the sinnet further on, and the sinnet runs rapidly through
the hole, until eight or twelve loose turns are taken: the inserted end
is then sought and laid on the round projection formed by the united
flanges, and fastened there by drawing one turn of the sinnet tightly
over it; the other turns are then tightened, the last but one being
made a tie to the last. The spare sinnet is now cut off close, and
the operation repeated at the next hole. The bindings, already very
strong, have their power increased by fine wedges of hard wood, to the
number of six or seven, being driven in opposite directions under the
sinnet, whereby the greatest possible pressure is obtained. The ribs
seen in canoes are not used to bring the planks into shape, but are
the last things inserted, and are for securing the deep side-boards
described below, and uniting the deck more firmly with the body of
the canoe. The outside of the vono is now carefully adzed into form,
and the carpenter has often to look closely to find the joint. When
the body of the canoe is cleaned off and rubbed down with pumice
stone, the surface is beautifully smooth. Of course no signs of the
fastenings are seen outside. This process is not used in fixing the
deep planks which support the main deck, or the triangular coverings of
the two ends already described. These being on the top of the gunwale,
and above the water-mark, the sinnet is seen, at regular intervals,
passing, like a band, over a flat bead which runs the whole length of
the canoe, covering the joint and making a neat finish. Into the upper
edge of planks, two or three feet deep, fixed along the top of the
sides perpendicularly, the cross beams which join on the outrigger are
let and lashed down, and over these a deck of light wood is laid. The
scuttle holes for baling are left at each corner. The deck also has six
holes forward, and six aft, through which to work the sculling-oars,
used in light winds to help the sail, or when dead calm or foul wind
makes the sail useless. A small house or cuddy is built amid-ships,
on which boxes or bales are stowed, and on a platform over it persons
can sit or lie; a rack behind it receives guns, and spears, and clubs,
or baskets are hung upon it. Any aperture inside not filled with the
sinnet is tightly caulked with cocoa-nut husk, and such as are next the
water are flushed up with the white pitch or resin.
Women, as well as men, discharge the duties of “ordinary seamen.” When
ready for sea the mast, which is “stepped on deck in a chop,” stands
erect, except that it is hauled to bend towards the outrigger. It is
secured by fore and back stays, the latter taking the place of shrouds:
when the sail is hoisted the halyards also become back stays; these
ropes as long as the canoe is under sail may be called her standing
rigging, not being loosed in tacking. The halyards are bent on the
yard at less than a third of its length, at the upper end, and passed
over the top of the mast, which has generally a crescent form. The
great sail is allowed to swing a few feet from the deck till orders are
given to get it under weigh. The yard is now hoisted hard up to the
mast-head, but as the length of the yard from the halyards to the tack
is longer than the mast, the latter is slacked off so as to incline to
that end of the canoe to which the tack is fixed, thus forming with the
lower length of the yard a triangle, of which the line of deck is the
base.
The ends of the deck beams on the _cama_ side serve for belaying
pins, on which a turn of the halyards is taken, the loose ends being
passed round the “dog” or belaying pole. The steersman, holding a long
oar, stands nearly on a line with the tacks on the far edge of the main
deck; while in the opposite corner is the man who tends the sheet. The
sheet is bent on the boom about two-thirds, and by giving it a couple
of turns on a beam one man can hold it even in a breeze. Like the
felucca of the Mediterranean the helm is used at either end, and on
tacking is put up instead of down, that the outrigger may be kept to
windward: the wind being brought aft the tack is carried to the other
end, which is thus changed from stern to bow, the mast being slacked
back again to suit the change; the helmsman and sheet-holder change
places, and the canoe starts on a new tack.
A steer oar for a large canoe is twenty feet long, with an eight
feet blade, sixteen inches wide. Being made of heavy wood, the great
difficulty of handling it is eased by a rope, which is passed through
the top of the blade, and the other end of which is made fast to the
middle beam of the deck.
Figian canoe sailing, we are informed by the missionary Williams
(from whose interesting account the above description of Figian naval
architecture and canoe management is mainly taken), is not silent
work. The sail is hoisted and the canoe put about with merry shouts; a
brisk interchange of jest and raillery is kept up while sailing over
shoal reefs, and the heavier task of sculling is lightened by mutual
encouragement to exertion, and loud thanks to the scullers as each
set is relieved at intervals of five or ten minutes. A dead calm is
enlivened by playful invitations to the wind most wanted, the slightest
breath being greeted with cries of “Welcome! welcome on board!” If
there should be drums on board their clatter is added to the general
noise.
The announcement to the helmsman of each approaching wave, with the
order to _lavi_--keep her away--and the accompanying “one, two,
three, and another to come,” by which the measured advance of the waves
is counted, with passing comments on their good or ill demeanour, keep
all alive and in good humour.
Figian sailors, like all other sailors throughout the world, are very
superstitious. Certain parts of the ocean, through fear of the spirits
of the deep, they pass over in silence, with uncovered heads, and
careful that no fragment of wood or part of their dress shall fall into
the water. The common tropic bird is the shrine of one of their gods,
and the shark of another; and should the one fly over their heads, or
the other swim past, those who wear turbans would doff them, and all
utter some word of respect. A shark lying athwart their course is an
omen which fills them with fear. A basket of bitter oranges on board a
vessel is believed to diminish her speed. On one sort of canoe it is
“tapu” (sacrilege) to eat food in the hold; on another in the house on
deck; on another on the platform near the house. Canoes have been lost
altogether because the crew, instead of exerting themselves in a storm,
have quitted their posts to _soro_ to their gods, and throw yagona
and whales’ teeth to the waves to propitiate them.
Very different from the elaborate Figian vessel is the canoe of the
native of Torres Straits. This latter, which is often ninety feet in
length, is constructed out of a single tree, obtained from the mainland
of New Guinea. It is burnt out or hacked out, according to the New
Guinean’s convenience; it has a raised gunwale, and in the centre is a
platform. The stem and stern are closed, the head being shaped to the
rude resemblance of a shark or some other marine monster, and in the
stern is generally to be found a projecting pole from which is dangling
a bunch of emu feathers. They carry a mat sail set forward between two
poles hooked to the gunwale, bringing the heads of the poles to the
wind as required.
[Illustration: Torres Straits Canoe.]
To return, however, to the “war path.” No less superstitious than
the Figian is his savage brother the New Zealander, who, as we are
informed by Taylor and other trustworthy authorities, did not dare to
go to war before he had undergone a sort of confirmation at the hands
of the priest. Each priest, on the declaration of war, assembled his
own party, and went to a sacred water. At first they all sat down, but
after a time they stood up naked in the water, which they heaped up
against their bodies, and threw over their heads. After they had been
sprinkled by the priest, he said:
“This is the spirit, the spirit is present,
The spirit of this tapu!
The boy will be angry,
The boy will flame,
The boy will be brave,
The boy will possess thought.
Name this boy
That he may be angry, that he may flame,
To make the hail fall:
Dedicate him to fight for Tu;
Ward off the blow that he may fight for Tu.
The man of war jumps and wards off the blows.”
Here the ceremony terminated, and the assembly, as if inspired, jumped
up, and rushed to the fight, while the priest repeated the following
karakia, standing on some elevated spot, from which he could command a
view of the battle:
“The god of strength, let him be present;
Let not your breath fail you.”
After the battle was over the priest called those who survived, and
enquired of each if he had killed anyone, or taken any prisoners. All
who had been in battle before delivered up their weapons to him, who
deposited them in the house where they were kept. Those who had fought
for the first time were called and asked if they had killed anyone. If
the person addressed replied in the affirmative, the priest demanded
his _mere_--stone battle-axe--and broke it into pieces. This was
the invariable custom with young warriors when they had imbued their
hands in the blood of their enemies. The priest having afterwards
assembled them together, used the following words, which were called
the _Haha_:
“This is the wind, the wind is feeding;
The wind descends,
The wind is prosperous,
The many sacred things of Tu.
The wind descends,
The wind is prosperous,
The living wind of Tu.”
The natives regard the wind as an indication of the presence of their
god, if not the god himself. After this ceremony the youths were
considered as men, though they were narrowly watched for some time
by the priest, and they were liable to be put to death if they broke
any of the sacred rules of the tapu. They could not carry a load, cut
their own hair, or plait a woman’s. If one of them was discovered by
the priest doing any of these things, he assumed his authority, and
pronounced the sentence of death by saying “Go away, go away.” This
so affected the person to whom it was addressed, that it was quite
sufficient to kill him.
There was another ceremony performed after fighting, which was supposed
to confer a benefit on all who had been engaged in the battle, and
were successful in killing or making slaves. It was called _he
pureinga_, which means a taking off of that sacredness which had
been put upon them before the fight, or, in other words, the taking off
the tapu:
“There is the wind;
The wind rests;
The wind is feeding;
The wind which gathers--
O wind subside!
O living wind!
O sacred wind of Tu!
Loose the tapu,
The god of strength;
Let the ancient gods dismiss the tapu,
O ... o ... o ... the tapu is taken away!”
When they went to war, they were separated from their wives, and did
not again approach them until peace was proclaimed. Hence, during a
period of long-continued warfare, they remarked that their wives were
widows.
When a party attacking a pa had forced an entrance, they generally
killed all within it. At the time of the slaughter the victors pulled
off a lock of hair from each victim, and also from those they saved as
slaves, which they stuck in their girdles. When the carnage was over,
they assembled in ranks, generally three deep, each party being headed
by its own _tohunga_, to thank their gods, and also to propitiate
their favour for the future. When all the necessary arrangements were
made, they each gave the _tohunga_ a portion of the hair they had
collected, which he bound on two small twigs; these he raised above
his head, one in each hand, the people doing the same, except that
they used twigs without any hair. They remained in this posture whilst
the priest offered a prayer for the future welfare of the tribe. He
then cast the twigs with the hair bound to them from him, as did the
warriors with theirs, and all joined in a _puha_ or war song.
Then, standing quite naked, they clapped their hands together and
struck them upon their thighs in order to take off the tapu from their
hands which had been imbued in human blood. When they arrived within
their own pa, they marched slowly, and in order, towards the house
of the principal tohunga, who stood in his _waho tapu_ or sacred
grove ready to receive them. As soon as they were about one hundred
yards from him, he called out, “Whence comes the war party of Tu?”
Whereupon he was answered by the tohunga of the party. “The war party
of Tu comes from the search.” “From whence comes the war-party of Tu?”
“The war party of Tu comes from the stinking place.” “From whence comes
the war party of Tu?” “It comes from the south; it comes from the
north; it comes from the thicket where birds congregate; it comes from
the fortifications: it made speeches there; it heard news there.”
[Illustration: New Zealand Arms.]
When they got near the principal tohunga, the warriors gave the
remaining locks of hair to their own priests, who went forward and
presented them to the chief one: he offered them to the god of war,
with many prayers. They then performed the _tupeke_, or war
dance, and clapped their hands a second time. The slave of the tohunga
belonging to the war party then made three ovens, in which he cooked a
portion of the hearts of the principal warriors of the conquered party.
“When they were done, the chief tohunga took a portion, over which he
uttered a harakia, and then threw it towards his god as an offering.
Having eaten all the food of the three ovens, he took the tapu off
the warriors, and they were permitted to “tangi,” or cry with their
relations. The women came out armed, and if any of the attacking party
had been lost in the assault, they fell upon the slaves and killed as
many as they could. Among the Taupo tribes it was not lawful for women
and girls to eat human flesh, though this restriction does not appear
to have extended to other parts of the island.
[Illustration: Australian Weapons.]
As we are now as close to Australia as we are likely for some time
to be, we may as well take a voyage over and see what sort of man
of war our dirty little friend the Bushman is. He is not at a loss
for weapons, nor for skill to use them. They may be enumerated as
follows:--The spear, nine or ten feet long, rather thicker than
one’s finger, tapered to a point, hardened in the fire and sometimes
jagged. The wammera or throwing stick, shows considerable ingenuity
of invention; about two and a half feet long, it has a hook at one
end which fits a notch on the heel of the spear, in whose projection
it acts, much like a third joint of the arm, adding very greatly to
the force. A lance is thrown with ease and accuracy sixty, eighty,
and a hundred yards. The waddy is a heavy knobbed club about two feet
long, and is used for active service, foreign or domestic. It brains
the enemy in the battle, or strikes senseless the poor gin in cases
of disobedience or neglect. In the latter instance a broken arm is
considered a mild martial reproof.
[Illustration: Throwing the Boomerang.]
The stone tomahawk is employed in cutting opossums out of their holes
in trees, as well as to make notches in the bark, by inserting a toe
into which, the black can ascend the highest and largest gums in the
bush. One can hardly travel a mile in New South Wales without seeing
these marks, old or new. The quick eye of the native is guided to the
retreat of the opossum by the slight scratches of its claws on the
stem of the tree. The boomerang, the most curious and original of
Australian war implements, is, or was, familiar in England as a toy. It
is a paradox in missile power. There are two kinds of boomerang, that
which is thrown to a distance straight ahead, and that which returns
on its own axis to the thrower. “I saw,” says Mr. Mundy, “a native of
slight frame throw one of the former two hundred and ten yards and much
further when a _ricochet_ was permitted. With the latter he made
several casts truly surprising to witness. The weapon after skimming
breast high, nearly out of sight, suddenly rose high into the air,
and returning with amazing velocity towards its owner, buried itself
six inches deep in the turf, within a few yards of his feet. It is
a dangerous game for an inattentive spectator. An enemy or a quarry
ensconced behind a tree or bank safe from spear or even bullet, may
be taken in the rear and severely hurt or killed by the recoil of the
boomerang. The emu and kangaroo are stunned and disabled, not knowing
how to avoid its eccentric gyrations. Amongst a flight of wild ducks
just rising from the water, or a flock of pigeons on the ground, this
weapon commits great havoc. At close quarters in fight the boomerang,
being made of very hard wood with a sharp edge, becomes no bad
substitute for a cutlass.
The hieleman or shield, is a piece of wood about two and a half feet
long, tapering to the ends with a bevelled face not more than four
inches wide at the broadest part, behind which the left hand passes
through a hole perfectly guarded. With this narrow buckler the native
will parry any missile less swift than the bullet.
In throwing the spear after affixing the wammera, the owner poises it,
and gently shakes the weapon so as to give it a quivering motion which
it retains during its flight. Within fifty or sixty paces the kangaroo
must, I should conceive, have a poor chance of his life.
[Illustration: Hurling the Spear.]
The spear is immeasurably the most dangerous weapon of the Australian
savage. Many a white man has owed his death to the spear; many
thousands of sheep, cattle, and horses have fallen by it. Several
distinguished Englishmen have been severely wounded by spear casts;
among whom I may name Captain Bligh, the first governor of New South
Wales, Sir George Grey, and Captain Fitzgerald, the present governors
of New Zealand and Western Australia, and Captain Stokes, R.N., long
employed on the survey of the Australian coasts. The attack by the
blacks upon the Lieut.-Governor of Swan River, occurred so lately as
December 1848. In self-defence he was compelled to shoot his ferocious
assailants just too late to save himself, being seriously hurt by a
spear passing through his thigh.
Our artist, Mr. Harden S. Melville, while attached to the Australian
exploring expedition, in H.M.S. “Fly,” had a narrow escape from making
a disagreeably close acquaintance with one of these formidable barbed
war tools. The ship’s boat had put ashore at a spot where there was a
congregation of native huts, though not a solitary human inhabitant
could be distinguished. With a spirit, however, which evinced more
devotion to the cause of science than to the usages of polite
society, our friend must needs penetrate to the interior of one of
the kennel-like abodes, though to effect this purpose he had to crawl
on all fours. Whether he found anything to repay him for his pains
I don’t recollect; I only know that he had barely scrambled to the
perpendicular, with his back to the bush, when the seaman who was with
him, with laudable promptitude, called his attention to an interesting
object in the distance. It was a native--the owner of the house Mr.
Melville had so unceremoniously ransacked, no doubt--and there he stood
with his spear nicely adjusted to the wammera and all a-tremble for a
cast. The instant, however, that our artist (who I may tell the reader
is a perfect giant) turned his face instead of his back to the native,
the spear was lowered and the danger at an end.
[Illustration: Australian Duel.]
Lax as is the native Australian’s morality still he has his code of
honour and should one of its articles be infringed he will not be
content to lay wait for the aggressor and drive a spear through his
back, or strike him dead with his boomerang while he is safe concealed
and secure from observation; no, he must have “the satisfaction of a
gentleman,” he must call his man “out,” and compel him to be murdered
or commit a murder. So in this respect the bushman, “the meanest
specimen of humanity,” is as respectable an individual as many a noble
born and highly educated Englishman, who lived in the reign and basked
in the friendship of the “first gentleman in Europe.” He shows himself
even more respectable; for whereas gentlemen of a past generation
would meet and fire bullets or dash and stab at each other with naked
swords about ever so trifling a matter, as a dispute about the cut of
a coat or the character of a sweetheart, the bushman never appeals to
the honourable institution of duelling, except an enemy be guilty of
the heinous offence of denying that he has a _thick head_. “He
no good, his scull no thicker than an emu’s egg-shell.” If a bushman
brook such an insult as this he is for ever the scoff and jest of all
who know him; but the chances are that he will not brook the insult;
he will send a friend to the slanderer to bid him bring his stoutest
“waddy,” that it may be shivered on the thick head of the warrior he
had traduced.
The combatants meet and a select party of friends are invited to see
fair. The weapons are the familiar “waddys,” and the men stand opposite
each other with their heads bare. There is no tossing for position
or any other advantage; indeed there is no advantage to be gained
excepting who shall have first “whack,” and that is always allowed
to the challenger. The man who is to receive first whack, if he is a
person of experience, knows the hard and soft parts of his cranium
and takes care so to manœuvre that the former shall be presented to
the up-raised club. Down comes the weapon with a thud that makes
the recipient’s teeth chatter, but beyond that he has sustained no
inconvenience, and now he straightens his back and grins, for it is
his turn. His opponent lowers his head as he had done and a loud
hollow noise follows, which the man’s friends hail with delight, as it
indicates that though his skull may be dented it is not yet cracked.
And so the duel proceeds, whack for whack, until one mightier than
before, or on a “sore place,” stretches one of them on the grass.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XXIV.
Caffre warfare--Great cry and little carnage--A Caffre war
chant--War song of the renowned Cucutle--A Griqua Pitsho--An
African council of war--The chiefs speech--The chief accused
of apathy--A reproof to the kidney-eaters--Death before
dishonour--Archery in Eastern Africa--Fan bowmen--War weapons
of cannibal Fans--War knives and brain hatchets--The women
warriors of Dahomey--The king’s fingers--King Gezo likened
to a hen--Amazon parables--Pretty picture of an Abyssinian
warrior--Omen birds--A non-believer in English gunnery--The
sceptic convinced--A potent candle end--Savage metallurgy--The
king and the blacksmith--Le Vaillant turns bellows mender.
Turning to Southern Africa, we find that among the Caffres the trade
of war is conducted with a method and precision seldom found among
savages. The most common causes of warfare are, what is proper tribute
to the chief, grazing privileges, and territorial boundaries; no
body of men, however, ever fall upon another body of their inimical
countrymen without certain formalities are observed, with a view to
warn the enemy what he may shortly expect, and to prepare himself
accordingly. Bearing in their hands the tail either of a lion or
a panther, ambassadors are sent to enquire whether the other side
still persist in their obstinacy; if so, the tails are flourished
threateningly, which is equivalent to a declaration of war.
The declaration made, all the vassal chiefs with their dependants are
summoned to assemble. Everyone must implicitly obey this mandate,
and follow his leader; whoever does not, is in danger of having his
whole property confiscated. As soon as the army is collected at the
habitation of the king, a number of deer are killed, that the warriors
may be strengthened for the fight by eating abundantly of their flesh;
at the same time they dance, and deliver themselves up entirely to
rejoicing. The king presents the most distinguished and the most
valiant among the Caffres with plumes of feathers from the wings of
a sort of crane, and these they wear upon their heads as marks of
honour. These plumes are regarded as official badges, and those wearing
them are looked on as officers; and it is expected that every man so
distinguished will not only manœuvre his company, but, spear or club in
hand, head it and do battle with the leading warrior on the opposing
side. If a leader shirks his duty, he is condemned by the Caffre law to
an ignominious death. Among the followers, too, whoever forsakes his
leader is slain as soon as captured.
When the army moves, it takes with it as many deer as are deemed
necessary for its support; and when the stronghold is approached, the
“tail-bearers” are once more sent forward to give a last notice of
the intended attack, repeating the motives which have given occasion
to the war. If the enemy declares that at present he is not quite
prepared,--that he has not yet collected his fighting men; or that
it would be much more convenient if the other party would wait till
the blacksmiths had made a few more assagies and sharpened the old
ones,--the attacking party is content to squat down and kill and eat
their bullocks and smoke their pipes till the enemy notifies his
readiness to begin. A wide open place, without bushes and without
rocks, is chosen as the field of battle, to avoid all possibility of an
ambush, which is considered as wholly degrading.
The two armies, raising a loud war cry, approach in two lines till
they are within seventy or eighty paces of each other. They now begin
throwing their assagies, at the same time endeavouring to turn aside
those of the enemy. The king or commander-in-chief, whoever he may be,
remains always in the centre of the line, and takes an active part in
the fight. Some of the inferior commanders remain near him, the rest
remaining at the heads of their divisions. By degrees the two bands
approach nearer and nearer to each other, till at length they come hand
to hand, when the spears are thrown aside, reliance being placed on the
clubs to decide the fortunes of the day.
Should night surprise the combatants, hostilities are suspended, the
chiefs of either party meeting and endeavouring to bring about a
treaty of peace; but should this be found impracticable, the fight
commences again in the morning. If one of the armies takes to flight,
the commander alone is blamed: everything depends on his personal
bravery; and his falling back is the signal for the whole body to
do the same. A flying enemy is immediately pursued; and above all
things the conquerors seek to possess themselves of their women and
children and cattle. If the vanquished party agrees to submit, his
submission is immediately accepted, on condition that he acknowledges
his conqueror from that time forward as his sovereign, and solemnly
promises obedience to him. When this is done, the captured women and
children are sent back, as well as part of the cattle taken, it being
a household maxim among these people that “we must not let even our
enemies die with hunger.”
In these Caffre fights, however, the loss of life is never very
considerable; the assagie is the principal weapon, and with it the
Caffre is a not very certain marksman. To see the dancing and yelling,
and the air thick with spears, one would suspect the bloodiest carnage;
but it will often happen that after a few hours’ battle, in which say
two thousand are engaged, it is a great chance if more than about
twenty on each side are slain and about double that number wounded.
Caffre warfare, too, is merciful, as well from deliberation as from
ignorance; and one falling unarmed into the hands of the enemy is
seldom or never put to death; the women and children equally have
nothing to fear for their lives. For this reason, women are sometimes
employed as ambassadors, when there is danger that matters have been
pushed too far, and that a male negotiator may be put to death before
he has time to explain his errand.
“The Basutos and the Caffres,” says Mr. Cassalis, “are passionately
fond of a kind of war-dance, at which the women are only present to aid
by their songs and cries. A circle is formed by some hundreds of robust
men, having the head adorned with tufts and plumes, and a panther’s
skin thrown over the left shoulder. The signal is given, the war-song
commences, and the mass moves simultaneously as if it were but one
man. Every arm is in motion; every head turns at once; the feet of all
strike the ground in time with such force that the vibration is felt
for more than two hundred yards. Every muscle is in movement; every
feature distorted; the most gentle countenance assumes a ferocious and
savage expression. The more violent the contortions, the more beautiful
the dance is considered. This lasts for hours; the song continues as
loud and the frantic gestures lose none of their vigour. A strange
sound is heard during the short intervals when the voices are silent in
accordance with the measure; it is the panting of the dancers, their
breath escaping with violence, and sounding afar off like an unearthly
death rattle. This obstinate prolongation of so fatiguing an exercise
arises from the challenges made to each other by the young men, which
are even sent from one village to another. The question is, Who can
keep up the longest? The gain of an ox depends upon a few more leaps.
Dancers have been seen to fall down dead upon the spot; others receive
injuries which are difficult to cure. There is another war-dance which
is less fatiguing. In this they form themselves in a straight line,
and then run forward singing as if they were about to attack an enemy.
When they have reached a certain distance, they halt, some men leave
the ranks, fence from right to left, and then return to their comrades,
who receive them with great acclamations. As soon as the line is again
unbroken they return in the same manner to their starting point.
Besides war dances the savages of this region have war songs, of which
the two following will serve as samples:--
“Goloane is going to fight;
He departs with Letsie.
He runs to the enemy,
Him against whom they murmur,
Him whom they will never obey.
They insult his little red shield;
And yet it is the old shield
Of the ox of Tane.
What has not Mosheth just said?
Cease to defy Goloane the veteran.
However this may be, there are horses coming;
Goloane brings back from the battle
A grey horse and a red one;
These will return no more to their masters.
The ox without horns will not be restored.
To-day war has broken out
More fiercely than ever;
It is the war of Butsani and the Masetelis.
A servant of Mohato,
Goloane has hurled a piece of rock;
He has hit the warrior with the tawny shield.
Do you see the cowardly companions of this overthrown warrior
Standing motionless near the rock?
Why can their brother not go and take away
The plumes with which they have adorned their heads?
Goloane, thy praises are like the thick haze
Which precedes the rain:
Thy songs of triumph are heard in the mountains;
They go down to the valleys
Where the enemy knelt before
The cowardly warriors!... They pray!...
They beg that food may be given to them--
They will see who will give them any.
Give to our allies,
To the warriors of Makaba;
To those whom we never see come to attack us.
Goloane returns lame from the strife;
He returns, and his leg is streaming;
A torrent of dark blood
Escapes from the leg of the hero.
The companion of Rantsoafi
Seizes an heifer by the shoulder;
It is Goloane, the son of Makao,
Descendant of Molise.
Let no one utter any more insolence!
Ramakamane complains--
He groans--he says that his heifer
Has broken his white shoulder.
The companion of the brave
Goloane has contended with Empapang and Kabane.
The javelin is flung!
Goloane avoids it skilfully,
And the dart of Rabane
Is buried in the earth!”
Here is another in which a warrior having fought his country’s battles
thinks it not unbecoming to be his own trumpeter:
“I am Cucutle!
The warriors have passed singing,
The hymn of the battle has passed by me;
It has passed, despising my childhood,
And has stopped before the door of Bonkauku.
I am the black warrior.
My mother is Boseleso!
I will rush as a lion,
Like him that devours the virgins
Near the forests of Fubasekoa.
Mapatsa is with me--
Mapatsa, the son of Tele--
We set off singing the song of the Trot.
Ramakoala, my uncle, exclaims:
Cucutle, where shall we fight?
We will fight before the fires of Makoso.
We arrive....
The warriors of the enemy, ranged in a line,
Fling their javelins together;
They fatigue themselves in vain:
The father of Moatla rushes into their midst,
He wounds a man in the arm
Before the eyes of his mother,
Who sees him fall,
Ah! Where is the head of the son of Sebegoane?
It has rolled to the middle of his native town.
I entered victorious into his dwelling,
And purified myself in the midst of his sheepfold:
My eye is still surrounded with the clay of the victory.
The shield of Cucutle has been pierced;
Those of his enemies are intact,
For they are the shields of cowards.
I am the white thunder
Which growls after the rain!
Ready to return to my children,
I roar: I must have prey!
I see the flocks and herds escaping
Across the tufted grass of the plain;
I take them from the shepherd with the white and yellow shield.
Go up on the high rocks of Macate;
See the white cow run into the midst of the herd.
A Makose will no longer despise my club;
The grass grows in his deserted pens,
The wind sweeps the thatch
From his ruined huts;
The humming of the goats is the only noise that is heard
In his town, once so gay.
Tired, and dying with thirst, I went to the dwelling of Entele;
His wife was churning delicious milk,
The foam of which was white and frothy
Like the saliva of a little child.
I picked up a piece of a broken pot
To drink out of the vessel,
Which I soon left empty.
The white cow that I conquered
Has a black head;
Her breast is high and open--
It was the nurse of the son of Matayane--
I will go and offer it to my prince.
The name of my chief is Makao,
And Makao is Makoo:
I swear it by the striped ox
Of Mamasike!”
During Mr. Moffat’s missionary sojourn among the natives of Southern
Africa it frequently fell to his lot to become pleader and arbitrator
in most important public matters. Once, when among the Griquas, the
neighbouring tribe of Mantatees threatened war; and the fiery Griquas
were eager to accept the challenge. The English missionary, however,
was against the whole business, and did not hesitate so to express
himself at the war council.
Orders were sent off to the different towns and villages that a
_pitsho_, or parliament, be convened on the following day. As
subjects of great national interest were to be discussed, all were in
motion early. About 10 a.m. the whole body of armed men, amounting to
about one thousand, came to the outskirts of the town, and returned
again to the public fold, or place of assembly, some singing war-songs,
others engaged in mock fights, with all the fantastic gestures which
their wild imaginations could invent. The whole body took their seats
lining the fold, leaving an arena in the centre for the speakers.
[Illustration: African Arms.]
A few short extracts from some of the speeches will serve to show
the manner in which these meetings are conducted. Although the whole
exhibits a very grotesque scene, business is carried on with the most
perfect order. There is but little cheering, and still less hissing,
while every speaker fearlessly states his own sentiments. The audience
is seated on the ground, each man having before him his shield, to
which is attached a number of spears; a quiver containing poisoned
arrows is hung from the shoulder; and a battle-axe is held in the right
hand. Many were adorned with tiger skins and tails, and had plumes of
feathers waving on their heads. In the centre a sufficient space was
left for the privileged--those who had killed an enemy in battle--to
dance and sing, in which they exhibited the most violent and fantastic
gestures conceivable, which drew forth from the spectators the most
clamorous applause. When they retire to their seats the speaker
commences by commanding silence--“Be silent, ye Batlapis. Be silent,
ye Barolongs”--addressing each tribe distinctly, not excepting the
white people if any happen to be present, and to which each responds
with a groan. He then takes from his shield a spear, and points it in
the direction in which the enemy is advancing, imprecating a curse
upon them, and thus declaring war by repeatedly thrusting his spear
in that direction, as if plunging it into the enemy. This receives a
loud whistling sound of applause. He next directs his spear towards
the Bushman-country, south and south-west, imprecating also a curse
on those “ox-eaters,” as they are called. The king on this, as on all
similar occasions, introduced the business of the day by, “Ye sons of
Molehabangue”--viewing all the influential men present as the friends
or allies of his kingdom, which rose to more than its former eminence
under the reign of that monarch, his father--“the Mantatees are a
strong and victorious people; they have overwhelmed many nations and
they are approaching to destroy us. We have been apprised of their
manners, their deeds, their weapons, and their intentions. We cannot
stand against the Mantatees; we must now concert, conclude, and be
determined to stand; the case is a great one. You have seen the
interest the missionary has taken in your safety; if we exert ourselves
as he has done the Mantatees can come no farther. You see the white
people are our friends. You see Mr. Thompson, a chief man of the Cape,
has come to see us on horseback; he has not come to lurk behind our
houses as a spy, but comes openly, and with confidence; his intentions
are good, he is one on whom the light of day may shine, he is our
friend. I now wait to hear what the general opinion is. Let everyone
speak his mind, and then I shall speak again.” Mothibi manœuvred his
spear as at the commencement, and then pointing it towards heaven, the
audience shouted “Pula” (rain), on which he sat down amidst a din of
applause.
Between each speaker a part or verse of a war-song is sung, the same
antics are then performed, and again universal silence is commanded.
The second speaker, Moshume, said, “To-day we are called upon to oppose
an enemy, who is the enemy of all. Moffat has been near the camp of the
enemy; we all opposed his going; we are to-day all glad that he went;
he did not listen to us; he has warned us and the Griquas. What are we
now to do? If we flee, they will overtake us; if we fight, they will
conquer; they are as strong as a lion; they kill and eat; they leave
nothing. [Here an old man interrupted the speaker, begging him to roar
aloud that all might hear.] I know ye, Batlapis,” continued Moshume,
“that at home and in the face of women ye are men, but women in the
face of the enemy; ye are ready to run when you should stand; think and
prepare your hearts this day; be united in one; make your hearts hard.”
Incha, a Morolong, commenced his speech by recommending that the
Batlapis should wait till the Mantatees arrived and then attack them.
He had scarcely said this, when he was interrupted by Isite, a young
chief, who sprang up calling out, “No, no; who called upon you to speak
foolishness? Was there ever a king or chief of the Batlapis who said
you must stand up and speak? Do you intend to instruct the sons of
Molehabangue? Be silent. You say you know the men, and yet you wish
us to wait till they enter our town. The Mantatees are conquerors,
and if we flee we must lose all. Hear, and I will speak:--Let us
attack the enemy where they are, and not wait till they approach our
town; if we retreat there will be time for those in the rear to flee.
We may fight and flee, and at last conquer; this we cannot do if we
wait till they approach our town.” This speech was loudly cheered,
while Incha silently sat down. A chief considerably advanced in years
afterwards addressed the assembly. “Ye sons of Molehabangue! ye sons
of Molehabangue! ye have done well this day. You are now acting
wisely, first to deliberate, and then to proceed. The missionary has
discovered our danger, like the rising sun after a dark night; a man
sees the danger he was in when darkness shut his eyes. We must not act
like Bahuanas; we must act like Makovas (white people). Is that our
_pitsho_? No; it is the _pitsho_ of the missionary; therefore
we must speak and act like Makovas.” Taisho arose, and having commanded
silence, was received with reiterated applause, on which an old warrior
rushed furiously up to him, and holding forth his arm, called out,
“Behold the man who shall speak wisdom! Be silent, be instructed; a
man--a wise man--has stood up to speak.” Taisho informed the preceding
speaker that he was the man who charged his people with desertion in
time of war. “Ye cowards; ye vagabonds!” he exclaimed, “deny the charge
if you can. Shall I count up how often you have done so? Were I to
repeat the instances, you would decamp like a chastened dog, or with
shame place your head between your knees.” Addressing the assembly, he
said, “I do not rise to-day to make speeches; I shall wait till the
day of mustering. I beseech you to reflect on what is before you, and
let the subject sink deep into your hearts, that you may not turn your
backs in the day of battle.” Turning to the king, he said, “You are
too indifferent about the concerns of your people; you are rolled up in
apathy; you are now called upon to show that you are a king and a man.”
When several other speakers had delivered their sentiments, chiefly
exhorting to unanimity and courage, Mothibi resumed his central
position, and after the usual gesticulations commanded silence. Having
noticed some remarks of the preceding speakers, he added, “It is
evident that the best plan is to proceed against the enemy, that they
come no nearer; let not our towns be the seat of war; let not our
houses be the scenes of bloodshed and destruction. No; let the blood
of the enemy be spilt at a distance from our wives and children.”
Turning to the aged chief, he said: “I hear you, my father; your words
are true, they are good for the ear: it is good that we be instructed
by the Makovas. I wish those evil who will not obey; I wish that they
may be broken in pieces.” Then addressing the warriors: “There are
many of you who do not deserve to eat out of a bowl, but only out of a
broken pot; think on what has been said, and obey without muttering. I
command you, ye chiefs of the Batlapis, Batlaros, Bamaires, Barolongs,
and Bakotus, that you acquaint all your tribes of the proceedings of
this day; let none be ignorant. I say again, ye warriors, prepare for
the battle; let your shields be strong, your quivers full of arrows,
and your battle-axes as sharp as hunger. Be silent, ye kidney-eaters
(addressing the old men [among these people only the aged eat kidneys;
the young avoid them from superstitious motives]), ye who are of no
farther use but to hang about for kidneys when an ox is slaughtered.
If your oxen are taken where will you get any more?” Turning to the
women, he said: “Prevent not the warrior from going out to battle by
your cunning insinuations. No; rouse the warrior of glory, and he will
return with honourable scars, fresh marks of valour will cover his
thighs, and we shall then renew the war song and dance, and relate the
story of our conquest.” At the conclusion of this speech the air was
rent with acclamations, the whole assembly occasionally joining in the
dance, the women frequently taking the weapons from the hands of the
men and brandishing them in the most violent manner; people of all ages
using the most extravagant and frantic gestures for nearly two hours.
The warrior of Southern Africa would seem to be a man of different
mettle to the South-Sea Islander, whose bark is so much more formidable
than his bite. The instance about to be quoted in proof of this may,
in its singleness, seem not much; there is, however, about it a tone
that is significant of the magnanimity of a race, rather than of an
isolated case of barbarous heroism. The nature of this noble African’s
offence is not mentioned by the missionary who relates the story; but
that it was not monstrous, may be fairly assumed from the criminal’s
behaviour:--
“He was a man of rank, and wore on his head the usual badge of dignity.
He was brought to head-quarters. His arm bore no shield, nor his hand a
spear; he had been divested of these, which had been his glory. He was
brought into the presence of the king and his chief council, charged
with a crime for which it was in vain to expect pardon, even at the
hands of a more humane government. He bowed his fine elastic figure
and kneeled before the judge. The case was investigated silently,
which gave solemnity to the scene. Not a whisper was heard among the
listening audience, and the voices of the council were only audible
to each other and the nearest spectators. The prisoner, though on his
knees, had something dignified and noble in his mien. Not a muscle of
his countenance moved, but his bright black eyes indicated a feeling
of intense interest, which the moving balance between life and death
only could produce. The case required little investigation; the charges
were clearly substantiated, and the culprit pleaded ‘Guilty.’ But alas!
he knew it was at a bar where none ever heard the heart-reviving sound
of pardon, even for offences small compared with his. A pause ensued,
during which the silence of death pervaded the assembly. At length the
monarch spoke, and addressing the prisoner, said: ‘You are a dead man;
but I shall do to-day what I never did before; I spare your life for
the sake of my friend and father,’ pointing to the spot where I stood.
‘I know his spirit weeps at the shedding of blood; for his sake I spare
your life. He has travelled from a far country to see me, and he has
made my heart white; but he tells me that to take away life is an awful
thing, and never can be undone again. He has pleaded with me not to go
to war, nor destroy life. I wish him when he returns to his own home
again to return with a heart as white as he has made mine. I spare you
for his sake, for I love him, and he has saved the lives of my people.
But,’ continued the king, ‘you must no more associate with the nobles
of the land, nor enter the towns of the princes of the people, nor ever
again mingle in the dance of the mighty. Go to the poor of the field,
and let your companions be the inhabitants of the desert.’ The sentence
passed, the pardoned man was expected to bow in grateful adoration
to him whom he was wont to look upon and exalt in songs applicable
only to one to whom belongs universal sway and the destinies of man.
But no; holding his hands clasped on his bosom he replied: ‘O king,
afflict not my heart! I have merited thy displeasure; let me be slain
like a warrior; I cannot live with the poor.’ And, raising his hand to
the ring he wore on his brow, he continued, ‘How can I live among the
dogs of the king and disgrace these badges of honour which I won among
the spears and shields of the mighty? No, I cannot live. Let me die,
O Pezoolu!’ His request was granted, and his hands tied direct over
his head. How my exertions to save his life were vain. He disdained
the boon on the conditions offered, preferring death with honours he
had won at the point of his spear--honours which even the act that
condemned him did not tarnish--to exile and poverty among the children
of the desert. He was led forth, a man walking on each side. My eye
followed him till he reached the top of a precipice, over which he
was precipitated into the deep pool of the river beneath, where the
crocodiles, accustomed to such meals, were yawning to devour him ere he
could reach the bottom.”
Turning to Eastern Africa, we are somewhat surprised to find the native
“a good archere and a fayre.” “The cubit-high Armiger,” Mr. Burton
tells us, “begins as soon as he can walk with miniature weapons, a cane
bow and reed bird-bolts tipped with wood, to practise till perfect
at gourds and pumpkins; he considers himself a man when he can boast
of iron tips. The bow in East Africa is invariably what is called a
self-bow, that is to say, made of a single piece, and backed weapons
are unknown. It is uncommonly stiff. When straight it may measure five
feet from tip to tip. It is made with the same care as the spear from
a branch of the matta tree laboriously cut and scraped so as to taper
off towards the horns and smeared with oil or grease, otherwise it is
easily sprung, and it is sometimes adorned with plates of tin and zinc
with copper or brass wire and tips. The string is made of gut, the
tendons of a bullock’s neck or hock, and sometimes of tree fibre; it is
nearly double the bow in length, the extra portion being whipped for
strength as well as contingent use round the upper horn. In shooting,
the bow is grasped with the left hand; but the thumb is never extended
along the back, the string is drawn with the two bent forefingers,
though sometimes the shaft is held after the Asiatic fashion with the
thumb and index. The bow is pulled with a jerk and not let fly, as the
Europeans, with a long steady loose. The best bows are made by the
tribes near the Pufyi River.
[Illustration: The Universal Weapon.]
“The arrow is about two feet in length; the shaft is made of some
light wood and often the reed. Its fault is want of weight; to inflict
damage upon an antelope it must not be used beyond point-blank fifteen
to twenty paces, and a score will be shot into a bullock before it
falls. The musketeer, despising the arrow at a distance fears it in
close quarters, knowing that for the one shot the archer can discharge
a dozen. Fearing the action of the wind upon the light shafts, the
archer inserts into the cloven end three or four feathers. The pile or
iron head is curiously and cruelly barbed with long waving tails, the
neck is toothed and edged by denting the iron when hot with an axe, and
it is sometimes half sawed that it may break before extraction. The
East Africans also have ‘forkers’ or two-headed shafts and bird-bolts,
or blunt arrows tipped with some hard wood, used when the weapon is
likely to be lost. Before loosing an arrow the archer throws into the
air a pinch of dust, not to find out the wind, but for good luck, like
the Tartars of Tibet before discharging their guns. In battle the
heavy-armed man holds his spear and a sheaf of spare arrows in the
bow hand, whilst a quiver slung to the left side contains reserve
missiles; and a little axe stuck in the right side of the girdle is
ready when the rest fail. The ronga or quiver is a bark case neatly cut
and stained. It is of two forms, full length and provided with a cover
for poisoned, and half length for unpoisoned, arrows.”
[Illustration: A Savage Bowman.]
The Fans of Equatorial Africa have a great diversity of arms. “Among
the crowd to-day,” says M. Du Chaillu, writing in a Fan village in
which he was lodging, “I saw men armed with cross-bows, from which are
shot either iron-headed arrows or the little insignificant-looking, but
really most deadly poison-tipped arrows. These are only slender reeds,
a foot long, whose sharpened ends are dipped into a deadly vegetable
poison which these people know how to make. The arrows are so light
that they would blow away if simply laid in the grove of the bow. To
prevent this they use a kind of sticky gum, a lump of which is kept on
the under side of the bow, and with which a small spot in the grove is
slightly rubbed. The handle of the bow is ingeniously split, and by a
little peg, which acts as a trigger, the bow-string is disengaged, and
as the spring is very strong it sends the arrow to a great distance,
and, light as it is, with great force. But the merest puncture kills
inevitably. They are good marksmen with their bows, which require
great strength to bend. They have to sit on their haunches and apply
both feet to the middle of the bow, while they pull with all their
strength on the string to bend it back. The larger arrows have an iron
head something like the sharp barbs of a harpoon. These are used for
hunting wild beasts, and are about two feet long. But the more deadly
weapon is the little insignificant stick of bamboo, not more than
twelve inches long, and simply sharpened at one end. This is the famed
poison-arrow, a missile which bears death wherever it touches, if only
it pricks a pin’s point of blood. The poison is made of the juices of
a plant, which was not shown me. They dip the sharp ends of the arrows
several times in the sap, and let it get thoroughly dried into the
wood. It gives the point a red colour. The arrows are very carefully
kept in a little bag made neatly of the skin of some wild animal. They
are much dreaded among the tribes about here, as they can be thrown or
projected with such power as to take effect at a distance of fifteen
yards, and with such velocity that you cannot see them at all till they
are spent; this I have often proved myself. There is no cure for a
wound from one of these harmless-looking little sticks--death follows
in a very short time. Some of the Fans bore on their shoulders the
terrible war-axe, one blow of which quite suffices to split a human
skull. Some of these axes, as well as their spears and other iron-work,
were beautifully ornamented with scroll-work and wrought in graceful
lines and curves, which spoke well for their artisans.
[Illustration: Fan Weapons.]
“The war-knife which hangs by the side is a terrible weapon for a
hand-to-hand conflict, and, as they explained to me, is designed to
thrust through the enemy’s body: they are about three feet long. There
is another huge knife also worn by some of the men in the crowd before
me. This is over a foot long, by about eight inches broad, and is
used to cut down through the shoulders of an adversary. It must do
tremendous execution. Then there is a very singular pointed axe which
is thrown from a distance as American Indians use the tomahawk. When
thrown it strikes with the point down and inflicts a terrible wound.
They use it with great dexterity. The object aimed at with this axe
is the head. The point penetrates to the brain and kills the victim
immediately; and then the round edge of the axe is used to cut the head
off, which is borne off by the victor as a trophy.
“The spears, which are six or seven feet in length, are thrown by the
natives with great force and with an accuracy of aim which never ceased
to surprise me. They make the long slender rod fairly whistle through
the air. Most of them can throw a spear effectively to the distance of
from twenty to thirty yards.
“Most of the knives and axes were ingeniously sheathed in covers made
of snake-skins, or human skin taken from some victim in battle. Many
of these sheaths are ingeniously made, and are slung round the neck by
cords which permit the weapon to hang at the side out of the wearer’s
way. Though so warlike they have no armour; in fact, their working in
iron is as yet too rude for such a luxury. The only weapon of defence
is the huge shield of elephant’s hide; but this is even bullet-proof:
as it is very large, three and a half feet long by two and a half
broad, it suffices to cover the whole body.
“Besides their weapons many of the men wore a small knife, but rather
unwieldy, which served the various offices of a jack knife, a hatchet,
and a table-knife. But though rude in shape they used it with great
dexterity.”
Africa, South and East, having come in for their shares of notice, let
us turn to Western Africa and see how there is managed the terrible
game of war. Anything connected with bloodshed in this portion of the
globe at once suggests Dahomey. Very well, Dahomey let it be; let us,
with Mr. Forbes, attend a review of King Gezo’s “women” soldiers:
“At noon we attended the parade of the amazon army, ostensibly the
taking the oath of fidelity by those extraordinary troops, and a
most novel and exciting scene it proved. Under a canopy of umbrellas
on the south side of the Ahjahee market-place, surrounded by
ministers, carbooceers, dwarfs, hunchbacks, etc., all militaire, on a
skull-ornamented war-stool sat the king, in front sat the too-noo-noo,
whilst on the right, under a similar canopy, similarly attended, was a
female court, in front of which was the man-hae-pah. In different parts
of the field bivouacked the amazon regiments. As I arrived and took
my seat on the king’s right hand, one regiment was marching off, and a
herald called--
‘Ah Haussoo-lae-beh-Haussoo!’
Oh King of Kings!
A regiment of bushrangers now advanced. As a mark of distinction, each
amazon had three stripes of whitewash round each leg. As soon as they
arrived in front of the throne, they saluted the king, when one of the
officers stepped forward and swore in the name of the regiment, if they
went to war, to conquer or die. ‘Have we not conquered,’ exclaimed she,
‘all the province of Mahea? So will we always conquer or die.’ Then a
second officer stepped forward and said: ‘When the Attahpahans heard
we were advancing, they ran away. If we go to war, and any return not
conquerors, let them die. If I retreat, my life is at the king’s mercy.
Whatever the town to be attacked, we will conquer, or bury ourselves in
its ruins.’ As soon as this officer had thus sworn, a third came from
the ranks and said: ‘We are eighty, and of the right brigade, never yet
known to turn our backs to the enemy. If any one can find fault with
us, young or old, let us know it.’ A male officer standing near the
king was about to address this amazon, when he was told by a fetish
man, ‘that woman is fetish, you are not; you must not interfere with
her.’ After saluting the male and female courts, one of the amazons
said: ‘I have no promise to make. As I have behaved, and will behave,
so I am ready to be judged: let my actions prove me!’ Then another
added: ‘By the king’s offspring, I swear never to retreat!’ whilst
a third continued, ‘War is our great friend; without it there is no
cloth nor armlets: let us to war, and conquer or die!’ The speaking
was then taken up by a fourth, saying: ‘I am a wolf--the enemy of all
I meet, who are the king’s enemies--and if I do not conquer, let me
die.’ And a fifth, who added: ‘I am mother of Antonio (Da Souza). I
long to kill an elephant for him to show my regard; but the Attahpahans
must be exterminated first. One of the male soldiers sent us Guinea
pepper to excite us to war: such is an insult.’ A sixth amazon, having
first recited the names of all the countries and towns conquered by the
Dahomans, to Ee-ah-wae (the English mother, an amazon general), the
latter repeated them to two female heralds, who proclaimed them aloud.
When this recitation was concluded, the amazon said to the king: ‘If
we go to war, we cannot come back empty handed; if we fail to catch
elephants, let us be content with flies. The king only knows where the
war shall be.’ Ah-koh-yoh (colonel of amazons) then began her address:
‘Cloths,’ she said, ‘are made by fingers--we are the king’s fingers!’
Whilst Ah-koong-ah-dah (colonel of amazons) added: ‘Carriages cannot
be drawn without wheels--we are the wheels!’ And then both together
cried: ‘We have destroyed Attahpahan, let us go to Abeahkeutah, where
we will conquer or die.’ A dance of the whole regiment followed; and
then crawling on their hands and knees, suddenly with a yell they rose
and retired at a rapid pace. Another regiment followed, about 300
strong. Fetish women in advance carried the fetish images, which were
placed on the ground between the two courts. All kneeling, raised their
muskets and saluted, after which they were again joined by about 200,
in the dress of amazons, retainers of the late Cha-cha, raised in 1848,
who introduced themselves as young soldiers, anxious to witness the
glory of kings. The colonel then advanced, and said: ‘The Attahpahans
wanted courage to fight against Dahomey. Give us Abeahkeutah, and if
we do not conquer our heads are at your disposal. If the Abeahkeutahs
run into the water we will follow them; if into fire, we will follow
also.’ Another amazon added: ‘As sure as Abeahkeutah now stands, we
will destroy it.’ Whilst a third took up the theme: ‘Attahpahan is
destroyed! Give us Abeahkeutah: that is a strong place.’ Anrou entered
a room in which lay a corpse; he lifted the sheet, and was asked why?
‘Because (he answered) I am anxious to go where that man has gone. Let
us go there, or conquer Abeahkeutah.’ A fourth amazon concluded the
address thus: ‘Talk of Attahpahan--it is gone--not worth speaking of:
Abeahkeutah is worthy of my consideration: if ordered there, we will
bring back a good report. As grass is cut down to clear the road, so
will we cut off the Abeahkeutahs.’ The amazon standard-bearer next
came forward, and said: ‘These standards are in our charge; we swear
to protect them, or die.’ All then saluted and marched off at the
double-quick step. Another regiment of 160 advanced, and, sitting down,
saluted, their fetish gear being placed in front. Some women belonging
to Souza family, in military costume, joined them. An amazon of this
regiment then commenced the usual address, thus: ‘The king is like a
hen spreading out her wings to protect her young from the rain. We are
under the king’s protection: if we do not fight, let us die.’ (The king
having drank health with me, handed a tumbler of liquor to the Possoo.)
After which another of the amazons continued the speaking in these
words: ‘Possoo, if you head us in this war, may we die. Send us to
Abeahkeutah, and we will destroy it or die.’ One of the male courtiers
here said: ‘If you do not you will lose your name.’ On which the amazon
replied: ‘We are newly-born by the king: we have and will uphold him.’
And another added, with emphasis: ‘Where the king sends us, thence
comes a good report. I am the king’s daughter, under his protection:
he gave me to the late Da Souza: death seized him. I now belong to
Antonio. My name is Ah-gae-see; and all I want is to go to war upon
Abeahkeutah.’ Another amazon then stepped forward and asked: ‘What came
we here for? Not to show ourselves, but to ask the king for war. Give
us Abeahkeutah, and we will destroy it or die.’ Followed by another,
who said: ‘Fetish men never initiate the poor. Give us Abeahkeutah:
there is plenty. Attahpahan is destroyed and unworthy of our future
care.’ At this part Souza’s women advanced and sang:
‘The amazons are ready to die in war;
Now is the time to send them.’
All the female court then left their stools, and, heading the amazons,
advanced and saluted the king, and then retiring, resumed their
positions: whilst, from the midst of the amazon army, a little girl
of six years of age advanced and said: ‘The king spoke thrice when he
spoke of war: let the king speak once now: let it be on Abeahkeutah.’
Again all the amazons advanced, and shouting, called on Da Souza to
emulate his father. ‘As the porcupine shoots a quill a new one grows
in its place, so let matters be in the port of Whydah: let one ship
replace another.’ All again prostrated themselves and threw dirt on
their heads: while two amazon heralds recited the names of the king,
and added one from the Attahpahan war, the glah-glash, or Chimpanzee.
Again all rose, whilst an amazon chief makes the following speech:
‘As the blacksmith takes an iron bar and by fire changes its fashion,
so have we changed our nature. We are no longer women, we are men.
By fire, we will change Abeahkeutah. The king gives us cloth, but
without thread. If corn is put in the sun to dry and not looked after,
will not the goats eat it? If Abeahkeutah be left too long some other
nation will spoil it. A cask of rum cannot roll itself; a table in a
house becomes useful when anything is placed thereon: the Dahoman army
without the amazons are as both, unassisted. Spitting makes the belly
more comfortable, and the outstretched hand will be the receiving one:
so we ask you for war, that our bellies may have their desire and our
hands be filled.’ At the conclusion of this harangue the female court
again rose, and, heading the amazons, saluted the king, when, pointing
to the hearers, all sang in chorus:
‘Soh-jah-mee!’
May thunder and lightning kill us if we break our oaths
The king now left the tent, amid cries of ‘Kok-pah-sah-kree’ (a
peculiarly fierce eagle); whilst all fell prostrate. The king received
a handsome ebony club, and danced with it. Then the amazons rose,
and the king thus addressed them: ‘The hunter buys a dog, and having
trained him, he takes him out hunting without telling him the game he
expects to meet. When in the bush he sees a beast, and by his teaching
the dog pursues it. If the dog returns without the game, the huntsman
in his anger kills him, and leaves his carcass a prey to the wolves
and vultures. If I order you to clear the bush and you do not do it,
will I not punish you? If I tell my people to put their hands in the
fire, they must do it. When you go to war, if you are taken prisoners,
you will be sacrificed, and your bodies become food for wolves and
vultures.’ Having concluded his oration, the king again danced and
drank; then handed round rum in a large pewter basin to the amazon
officers. On his return to his tent all the amazons, in number about
2,400, marched off,--and thus ended the parade.”
Although the African warrior has already occupied rather more than his
fair share of our space, we must still find room for a description of
an Abyssinian chief as he was witnessed by our countryman Mr. Bruce.
His name was Guangoul, and he was chief of the eastern Galla. He
came one day, accompanied by about 500 foot and 40 horse, to pay his
respects to the king. He was a little, thin, cross-made man, of no
apparent strength or swiftness, so far as could be conjectured; his
legs and thighs being small for his body, and his head large. He was
of a yellow, sickly colour, neither black nor brown, had long hair
plaited and interwoven with the bowels of oxen, and so knotted and
twisted together as to render it impossible to distinguish the hair
from the bowels, which hung down in long strings, part before and
part behind, forming the most extraordinary ringlets ever seen. He
had, likewise, a wreath of ox bowels hung about his neck and several
rounds of the same about his middle which served as a girdle, under
which was a short cotton cloth dipped in butter, and all his body was
wet, and running down with the same. In his country, when he appears
in state, the beast he rides upon is a cow. He was then in full dress,
and mounted upon one not of the largest size, but which had monstrous
horns; and rode without saddle. He had short drawers, which did not
reach to the middle of his thighs; his knees, legs, feet, and all his
body, being bare. He had a shield of a single hide, warped by the heat
in several directions, and much in the shape of a large high-crowned
hat. He carried a short lance in his right hand, with an ill-made iron
head, and a shaft that seemed to be of thorn-tree, but altogether
without ornament, which is seldom the case with the arms of barbarians.
Whether it was necessary for poising himself on the sharp ridge of the
beast’s back, or whether it was meant for graceful riding, Mr. Bruce
could not determine, being quite unskilled in cowmanship; but this
barbarian leaned exceedingly backwards, pushing out his belly, and
holding his left arm and shield extended on one side, and his right
arm and lance in the same way on the other, like wings. The king was
seated on his ivory chair, almost in the middle of his tent. The day
was very hot, and an intolerable stench announced the approach of the
filthy chieftain to all in the tent, before they saw him. The king,
when he perceived him coming, was so struck with his whole figure and
appearance, that he was seized with an immoderate fit of laughter,
which he found it impossible to stifle. He therefore rose from his
chair, and ran as fast as he could into another apartment, behind the
throne. The savage alighted from his cow, at the door of the tent, with
all his tripes about him; and while the officers in attendance were
admiring him as a monster, seeing the king’s seat empty, he imagined
that it had been prepared for him, and down he sat upon the crimson
silk cushion, with the butter running from every part of his body. A
general cry of astonishment was raised by every person in the tent,
on which he started up; and before he had time to recollect himself,
they all fell upon him, and with pushes and blows drove this greasy
chieftain to the door of the tent, staring with wild amazement, not
knowing what was the matter. It is high treason and punishable with
immediate death, to sit down in the king’s chair; and Guangoul owed his
life to his ignorance alone. The king had beheld the scene through the
curtain; if he laughed heartily in the beginning, he laughed ten times
more at the catastrophe. The cushion was thrown away, and a yellow
India shawl spread on the ivory stool; and ever afterwards, when it was
placed, and the king not there, the stool was turned on its face upon
the carpet, to prevent similar accidents.”
Before starting on any war expedition, the Abyssinians, like the
ancient Romans, listen for the voice of certain birds, and according to
whether their notes are heard on the right hand or on the left, so do
they anticipate a prosperous or unfavourable journey. Many expeditions
for the purposes of war or hunting are postponed at the moment, when,
if undertaken, success seemed nearly certain, simply because a little
bird called from the left-hand side at starting. Similarly, many a wife
has been kept for several days anxiously expecting her husband because
the bird chose to perch on the right hand, the right hand omen being
propitious for setting out from home, and left for returning. The black
and white falcon, called here _gaddy-gaddy_, is considered a bird
of omen in some parts of Tigre. If this bird fly away at the approach
of travellers, the sign is unfavourable, while on the contrary, if it
remained perched and looking at them, they count upon a most prosperous
journey. “Hunters on the Mareb,” says a recent traveller, “follow much
the warning of a small bird as to the direction they should take, and I
have known parties turn back from pursuing the fresh trail of a herd of
buffaloes and take an opposite direction, merely because its chirp was
heard on the wrong side. Once a party of about thirty Barea having been
reported to be in the neighbourhood, a large force collected, perhaps
a hundred and fifty men; but after arriving in sight of the enemy, the
gallant army returned peaceably home, and considered such a course not
only justifiable, but right, because when halting to reconnoitre, the
omen had been heard on the side favourable to their adversaries. On
another occasion I had started on a hunting and foraging expedition,
with some fifteen tried and picked men. We had remained a fortnight
in the frontier woods, and had seen nothing of the Barea; one day,
however, a bird gave us an omen of success, and the night following we
discovered their fires on a hill, scarce a mile distant from where we
lay. Our party was in a moment on the _qui vive_, primings were
looked to, edges of knives felt, and rubbed on a stone, and each one
anticipated the glory he was to gain for himself in butchering a few
of the enemy. Some were even so much excited that they began to strut
about and count their deeds of valour in expectancy of what they would
have to do on their return home, and to use a Yankee expression the
whole felt themselves “half froze for hair,” or rather for the still
more cruel trophies which Abyssinians take from their slaughtered
enemies, But a night bird’s voice settled the whole business, and
instead of waiting as had been our intention for a few hours before
sunrise to strike the _coup_, we all sneaked off homeward like so
many whipped dogs, for the vain-glory of the warriors had oozed out of
their finger ends at this intimation of the beaked augur, that they
would be safest in the bosoms of their family circles. In advancing,
signs of the Barea were eagerly sought for; in retreating, so great was
the panic caused by the unwitting bird, that we kept the sharpest look
out lest they should come upon us unawares.”
During his sojourn in Abyssinia, the renowned traveller Bruce found
himself on one occasion the guest of a vain, bragging officer of the
king’s army, one Guebra Mascal. In Guebra’s estimation no one was so
good a fellow or marksman as himself, and when some one happened to
praise Mr. Bruce’s skill with the gun, Guebra Mascal greeted the remark
with an annoying and contemptuous laugh. Our traveller was angry, and
told him, that in his gun the end of a tallow-candle would do greater
execution than an iron ball in the best of Guebra Mascal’s, with all
his boasted skill. The Abyssinian called him a liar, and a Frank; and,
upon his rising, immediately gave him a kick with his foot. Mr. Bruce,
in a transport of rage, seized him by the throat, and threw him on the
ground. Guebra drew his knife; and attempting our traveller, gave him
a slight cut near the crown of his head. Hitherto Mr. Bruce had not
struck him; he now wrested the knife from him and struck him on the
face so violently with the handle, as to mark him with scars which
continued discernible even amid the deep pitting of the small-pox.
All was now confusion and uproar. An adventure of so serious a nature
overcame the effects of the wine (for there had been drinking) upon
our countryman. He wrapped himself in his cloak, returned home, and
went to bed. His friends were eager to revenge the insult which he had
received; and the first news he heard in the morning was that Guebra
Mascal was in irons at the house of the Ras. Mr. Bruce, though still
angry, was at a loss what measures to take. The Ras would probably hear
his complaints; but his adversary was formidable. Instead, therefore,
of demanding justice, Mr. Bruce excused and palliated the conduct of
Guebra Mascal, and obtained his liberty.
Mr. Bruce, however, was sensible that the cause of his quarrel with
Guebra Mascal was not immediately forgotten at court. The king, one
day, asked him whether he was not drunk himself, as well as his
opponent, when that quarrel arose. Mr. Bruce replied that he was
perfectly sober; for their entertainer’s red wine was finished, and he
never willingly drank hydromel. His Majesty, with a degree of keenness,
returned: “Did you then soberly say to Guebra Mascal, that an end of
a tallow-candle in a gun in your hand would do more execution than an
iron bullet in his?” “Certainly, sir, I said so.” “And why?” “Because
it was truth.” “With a tallow-candle you can kill a man or a horse?”
“Pardon me, sir; your Majesty is now in place of my sovereign; it would
be great presumption in me to argue with you, or urge a conversation
against an opinion in which you are already fixed.” The king’s kindness
and curiosity, and Mr. Bruce’s desire to vindicate himself, carried
matters at length so far, that an experiment with a tallow-candle was
proposed. Three courtiers brought each a shield; Mr. Bruce charged
his gun with a piece of tallow-candle, and pierced through three at
once, to the astonishment, and even the confusion, of the Abyssinian
monarch and his courtiers. A sycamore table was next aimed at, and as
easily perforated as the shields. These feats the simple Abyssinians
attributed to the power of magic; but they made a strong impression on
the mind of the monarch in favour of our traveller.
Before we quit the subject of Savage Warfare, it may not be out of
place to say a word or two concerning the manufacture of savage war
tools. Turning back these pages we may find that, as a man of battle,
our brother the barbarian, despite his profound ignorance, is by no
means a bungling craftsman. His business is to knock his enemy on
the head--to knock his life out, in fact; and this operation may
be performed as neatly with the iron-wood _meré_ of the New
Zealander, or the _waddi_ of the Australian Aborigine, as by a
leaden pellet from the mouth of the modern Minié or Whitworth--at least
if not as neatly, quite as effectively. The savage has no notion of
refinement in killing; give him a revolver, perfected with the very
latest improvements, and explain to him how that it will send a man to
death with as fine a hole in his carcass that the grim extinguisher of
life himself shall be almost puzzled to discover his title to the slain
one, and he--the savage--will reject it; it is a “witch thing,” and he
would rather let such alone. At the same time, if you will make him the
present, untrammelled by conditions, he will accept it; as by thrusting
a tough stick up one of the barrels the revolver may be converted into
a handy club, with which a man may kill his enemy in such a way that
half a glance will show the manner of his death.
The club, then, is the universal weapon among the utterly savage;
it is a weapon which may be procured without trouble; a round stone
lashed to the end of a stick, the thigh-bone of a buffalo,--anything
in fact of a handy length and with a heavy knob to it will suffice. As
soon, however, as the savage advances a step--as soon as he learns the
nature of iron and what sort of thing a sharp-edged chopper is--his
blunt-headed club ceases to give him satisfaction. It is much more
satisfying to slash an enemy than to simply bruise him--to poke and
stab him full of red holes than to thump him--therefore there follows
an immediate demand for sharp spikes and edged knives, and at least one
member of every family sets up as a blacksmith.
[Illustration: Papuan Blacksmiths.]
But to be a blacksmith in ever so rude and humble a way, certain
tools are absolutely necessary; the ambitious one must have a fire, a
hammer, an anvil, and last, though most important of all, a pair of
bellows. A fire he has; for a hammer his old stone-headed club does
service; a handy bit of rock serves as an anvil; it is the bellows
which is the toughest obstacle; and there can be little doubt that many
a grand notion of blacksmithery has been nipped in the bud because of
the projector’s inability to find anything animate or inanimate of
so accommodating a nature as to hold and husband for his convenience
so slippery a thing as the wind. Wonderful are the devices resorted
to, all however more or less tedious and imperfect; of all sorts and
sizes, from the bottle-like bag which the blacksmith holds under his
arm, extracting therefrom a feeble blast as a Highlander manufactures
bag-pipe music, to the elaborate machine in vogue in certain parts of
Polynesia. Take that used by the Papuans as an example. Here we find
two hollow pillars of wood fixed close together and furnished within a
foot of the ground with a connecting pipe terminating in a nozzle. The
interior of the pillars are perfectly smooth and furnished each with a
“sucker” consisting of a sort of mop of finely-shredded bark; squatting
on the top of these pillars the bellows-blower takes the mop-handles in
hand and works them up and down, causing a tolerably strong and regular
blast to emit from the nozzle.
It is related by the missionary Ellis, that King Pomare entering one
day the shed where an European blacksmith was employed, after gazing
a few minutes at the work, was so transported at what he saw that
he caught up the smith in his arms and, unmindful of the dirt and
perspiration inseparable from his occupation, most cordially embraced
him, and saluted him according to the custom of the country by touching
noses.
Le Vaillant, while travelling in Southern Africa, on one occasion saw
a number of Caffres collected at the bottom of a rocky eminence, round
a huge fire, and drawing from it a pretty large bar of iron red-hot.
Having placed it on the anvil they began to beat it with stones
exceedingly hard and of a shape which rendered them easy to be managed
by the hand. They seemed to perform their work with much dexterity.
But what appeared most extraordinary was their bellows, which was
composed of a sheepskin properly stripped off and well sewed. Those
parts that covered the four feet had been cut off, and placed in the
orifice of the neck was the mouth of a gun-barrel around which the skin
was drawn together and carefully fastened. The person who used this
instrument, holding the pipe to the fire with one hand, pushed forwards
and drew back the extremity of the skin with the other, and though
this fatiguing method did not always give sufficient intensity to the
fire to heat the iron, yet these poor Cyclops, acquainted with no
other means, were never discouraged. Le Vaillant had great difficulty
to make them comprehend how much superior the bellows of European
forges were to their invention, and being persuaded that the little
they might catch of his explanation would be of no real advantage to
them, resolved to add example to precept and to operate himself in
their presence. Having dispatched one of his people to the camp with
orders to bring the bottoms of two boxes, a piece of a summer kross,
a hoop, a few small nails, a hammer, a saw, and some other tools, as
soon as he returned our traveller formed in a very rude manner a pair
of bellows about as powerful as those generally used in kitchens. Two
pieces of hoop placed in the inside served to keep the skin always at
an equal distance, and a hole made in the under part gave a readier
admittance to the air, a simple method of which they had no conception,
and for want of which they were obliged to waste a great deal of time
in filling their sheepskin. Le Vaillant had no iron pipe; but as he
only meant to make a model he fixed to the extremity a toothpick
case after sawing off one of its ends. He then placed the instrument
on the ground near the fire, and having fixed a forked stick in the
ground, laid across it a kind of lever, which was fastened to a bit
of packthread proceeding from the bellows, and to which was fixed a
piece of lead weighing seven or eight pounds. The Caffres with great
attention beheld all these operations, and evinced the utmost anxiety
to discover what would be the result; but they could not restrain their
acclamations when they saw our traveller by a few easy motions and with
one hand give their fire the greatest activity by the velocity with
which he made his machine draw in and again force out the air. Putting
some pieces of iron into the fire he made them in a few minutes red-hot
which they undoubtedly could not have done in half an hour. This
specimen of his skill raised their astonishment to the highest pitch:
they were almost convulsed and thrown into a delirium. They danced and
capered around the bellows, each tried them in turn, and they clapped
their hands the better to testify their joy. They begged him to make
them a present of this wonderful machine and seemed to wait for his
answer with impatience, not imagining that he would readily give up so
valuable a piece of furniture. To their extreme satisfaction he granted
their request, and they undoubtedly yet preserve a remembrance of that
stranger who first supplied them with the most essential instrument of
metallurgy.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
PART X
INCIDENTS OF PERSONAL PERIL AND DISCOMFORT
OF TRAVELLERS AND EXPLORERS.
CHAPTER XXV.
A night’s lodging at Brass--Delightful bedfellows--Sleeping out
on the Gambia--“Voices of the Night”--Lodging “up a tree”--Half
a cigar for supper--The “leafy couch” abandoned--The bright side
of the picture--Dr. Livingstone no washerwoman--An alarming
“camping out” incident--The terrible tsetse--The camp in the
wilderness--The privileges and perquisites of a Pagazi--No
finery worn on the road--Recreation on the march--Daily life
of an Eastern African--His sports and pastimes--Approaching a
cannibal shore.
It may be safely asserted that, as a rule, the inhabitants of all
civilized countries “who live at home at ease” have but a very
inadequate notion of the pains and penalties endured by those explorers
and adventurers whose pleasure or business it is to undertake
pilgrimages more or less perilous, and on whom the said easyliving
folk are dependent for all their knowledge of the ways and means
of peoples barbarous and remote. Nor is it very surprising that it
should be so. First of all comes in the traveller’s delicacy and
disinclination to parade his personal affairs (which for by far the
greater part mean his discomforts and dangers and sicknesses) in a
narrative exclusively concerning other people and things, only in as
far as he is associated with them in a manner too intimate for his
presence to be ignored. Nor will the selfish book-buyer tolerate the
adoption of any other course; it is the mysteries revealed, and not
the medium revealing them, that he takes an interest in, and in most
cases cares as little for the personal sensations of traveller Brown
or Robinson as that the leather casing of his telescope is incommoded
by the heat while he is making solar observations. Even in the case
of the humane reader, there is danger that the interest excited by a
book of wonders, savage or otherwise, will shut the author from his
consideration from the time of scanning the title-page to the perusal
of the last line. With this view of the matter before us some small
measure of justice may be effected and the reader at the same time be
edified by a select few instances of personal adventure and mishap that
have occurred to sundry of the brave men whose records have assisted
the compilation of this work. Let Mr. Hutchinson speak first as to the
delights of a night’s lodging in Brass, a Western African town, as the
reader will recollect, of unenviable celebrity:
“King Keya meets us in the street and offers an invitation to his
country house to spend the night there; as evening is approaching we
accept his hospitality and forthwith proceed to the royal suburban
residence.
“If I were not alive now, and conscious of writing this in the cabin
of H.M.S. V----, I could not believe that I ever should have been
fortunate enough to enjoy such an uninterrupted continuation of
delights as those experienced during that night’s stay in the royal
abode at Brass.
“My bedroom was about twelve feet by four, with holes in the bamboo
roof about eight feet high that let the rain and rats come in, and
holes in the floor, probably to allow both to make their exit. There
was neither stool, chair, nor table, nor any article of furniture
except the bed. This was made of two empty gun chests, covered with a
native country mat, and having no pillow save a log of wood. The creek
by which we voyaged up was within five yards of the door, and when the
tide was low bull frogs, crocodiles, and mud fish could gambol about in
their native parterre in the remorseless swamp, on which a human being
trying to walk would certainly be swallowed up. The odour from this
place at the time of our visit was indescribable, and the sensation
that it brought to my olfactory nerves was far from being like that of
the south wind breathing o’er a bed of violets, stealing, and giving
odour.
“As soon as I had seated myself on the bed (?), with a cigar in my
mouth (for to sleep with all those accessories would have been a vain
attempt), and had blown out my palm-oil lamp, down came the mosquitoes
in showers, followed by some rats, which descended after them without
waiting for an invitation. A few of the latter fell near to where I was
sitting, and I made a furious tilt at them with a stick I had placed
near me. This of course alarmed them and made them beat a retreat for
some time. But as if in mockery of my chivalry within doors, outside
the bull frogs commenced croaking in dozens, communicating as agreeable
a sensation by their music as a rasping of a file over a rusty saw. I
lay down and tried to sleep, but it was no use. In a few moments the
rats were again gambolling on the roof. A slight shuffling movement
which I heard on the floor made me fearful that at any minute I might
be rendered conscious of something slimy in contact with my hand or
face, probably a mud fish (or jump fish, as it is called by Kroomen),
a kind of amphibious reptile that appears like a cross-breed between a
conger-eel and a chameleon. How stupid I was to have blown out my light.
“What noise is that? Female voices outside. Who in the name of goodness
are they, passing and repassing in the king’s harem--ever gabbling,
gabbling, gabbling! This amusement going on during the whole livelong
night with the companionship of the rats, musquitoes, and bull-frogs
put a thousand strange notions into my head. Can they be going to
the creek-side to sacrifice, perhaps infants? Are they on their way
to undergo the process of laving in that sweet stream? If the former
be their purpose, they must be out-Heroding Herod; if the latter, a
Turkish bath with shampooing of curry comb would seem very appropriate
for the majority of the ladies whom I saw to-day in the streets, and
whose bodies were daubed over with a greasy cosmetic of red (styled in
the Nimbe language Umbia), which gives the anointed the semblance of a
highly tinged red Indian. But down they go and back they come, never
tiring, never relenting, never showing compassion, till morning dawned,
when I opened the door cautiously, and looked out.
“Some were standing in the mud, others were lifting fish and nets
out of canoes. They were the king’s fisherwomen. Following their
professional pursuits during the night, they had kept me in this
condition of restless curiosity. Talk of Billingsgate indeed! I looked
at them and there they were, wet, muddy, and slimy, like so many ebony
mermaids, but still prattling and talking, their tongues clattering as
if these organs were so many untirable steam engines.
“There was no use in giving them a bit of my mind, for I did not
understand a word of their language, and they did not comprehend mine.
It may be useless to record that I did not go down on my knees in the
mud to pray for them. I was unheroic enough to imagine that a wiser
thing than that, as far as my own comfort was concerned, would be to
quit the Nimbe country as soon as I could: so my boys having got into
the boat, I gave his sable majesty a more fervent than friendly shake
of the hand, and turned my back on his territory with feelings in which
I cannot say there were any sentiments of regret.”
Another night’s lodging, this time on the banks of the river Gambia.
If any good Catholic wishes to perform an act of penance, second only
to the tortures of purgatory, let him take a voyage to the Gambia, and
let him sleep at Bathurst, if only for one night, at a certain season
of the year. The traveller, on extinguishing his candle and stretching
his wearied limbs, hears a distant roaring, which apparently proceeds
from the ceiling of his chamber, and he, wondering what this may be,
composes himself for slumber. Next he distinguishes a perpetual dull
thump, thump, totally antagonistic to rest, sounding from all parts of
the town far and near, and marvelling yet more what this may portend,
concludes--if speculative--that the natives are celebrating some
barbarous orgie, and that the noise is the music of the tom-tom. But
while thus reasoning, the roaring approaches nearer and nearer, till it
is as audible and like a thousand fairy fiddles playing excruciatingly
out of tune. But the problem soon is solved. The note of a little
shrill trumpet penetrates the inmost recesses of the ear; a sting
is felt, the trumpeter performs now at one ear, now at the other,
then adds a sting on the eye, which organ is damaged by the victim’s
frantic attempts to crush the foe. He now finds that he is assailed
by mosquitoes, and becomes so irritated by the constant buzzing and
biting of his unseen foes darting now here, now there, within the
mosquito curtain,--he seizes his pillow, flings it at the spot whence
the sound last proceeded, but the missile, breaking the mosquito
curtain, admits a bloodthirsty cloud, which, “smelling the blood of an
Englishman,” settles on him, whizzing, buzzing, and biting, causing the
unfortunate to suffer tortures worse than those with which Tantalus
was afflicted. Sleep is near, but continually eludes his grasp, and as
a last resource, stifling hot as it is, he covers himself from head
to foot with the sheet. Woe if he leaves an inch of flesh exposed!
Again he endeavours to sleep, but the infernal mysterious pounding,
together with the horrid yells of the enemy, effectually preclude that
desirable consummation, and, swearing lustily, he resigns himself with
a groan to hold a nocturnal vigil, congratulating himself at least he
has been enabled to out-manœuvre the ravenous foe. But his gratulations
are premature, for soon he experiences sharp pricking sensations all
over his body; the heat of the protecting sheet is insufferable,
the agony is intense; he kicks off the sheet, the mosquitoes settle
on him, again he seizes his pillow, and, until he sinks exhausted,
frantically swings it round his head in the hope of overwhelming
some of his unseen assailants. Wearily he rises, lights his candle,
examines his limbs, and discovers minute black spots, each one itching
mortally, and which are only sand flies. He also examines his bed,
and, behold! it is full of ants, and probably cockroaches, several of
which unpleasant animals he discovers scudding away on all sides. The
only defence available is to light a cigar and envelope himself in a
cloud of smoke, and when the fumes of the tobacco has driven away the
hostile forces, and the mysterious thumping has ceased, about twelve
o’clock the unfortunate traveller, unable to keep his eyes open any
longer, falls into an uneasy sleep, unconscious of the hungry flock
fastening on his prostrate form. He reposes for a space of two hours,
at the expiration of which time the thumping recommencing, he awakes,
and as it continues until daylight, when it is mingled with a continual
hooting, like that of an owl, and a species of unearthly chanting and
the tropical emulative crowing of a thousand cocks, he remains awake.
The traveller now looks out of his window, and discovers that the
diabolical pounding arises from the court-yard, where he beholds most
of the female inhabitants (having children fastened on behind after the
gipsy fashion) standing over wooden mortars energetically pulverizing
something with pestles six feet in length. These dames are engaged in
the manufacture of “hous,” the only edible substance to be procured in
this inhospitable region, and which demands in preparation such a vast
deal of labour, that the women are employed day and night, relieving
one another by turns, and resting only between twelve at night and two
in the morning. Other noises proceed from the marabouts in the mosques,
calling the faithful to prayers, and the dismal chanting from blind
men, of which there is a remarkable number, who go from yard to yard
singing prayers and receiving the alms on which they subsist.
Here is another variety of night’s lodging, preferable to the
preceding, perhaps, but still one which cannot be for a moment compared
with the comforts of a vulgar flock bed or even a straw palliasse.
Mr. Bakie, the celebrated traveller and explorer, is this time the
victim:--“I managed to start our kruboys with the baggage by half-past
one, and then, as only one horse was brought, Mr. Guthrie, as the
oldest of the party, was mounted, while Dr. Hutchinson and I agreed to
walk on, in the hopes of others being brought after us. “When, however,
we had got about a mile on our way, seeing no signs of the steeds,
Dr. Hutchinson declared that he would return and inquire about them,
while I resolved to proceed, telling him that he might overtake me.
Having got to the bottom of the hill, and finding the road, as before,
very wet, I pulled off my shoes and stockings and went barefooted,
that being by far the easiest mode of progression along a path of this
description. In this way I had walked alone for seven or eight miles,
when I lost almost all trace of the path. Having ascertained by my
compass the position of the river, I endeavoured to work my way in
that direction, but soon got more entangled than ever. I climbed up
several trees to look around, but could not discover a single guiding
mark. I was completely in the bush, the grass and brushwood being so
long, thick, and close, that every step I took was a severe exertion.
It was now past sunset and getting rapidly dark, and as it was only too
evident that I had lost my way without any chance of bettering myself,
the next question came to be, how I should pass the night. The most
comfortable and the safest spot seemed to be up a tree, so I tried one,
and got as high as I could, but did not much relish my quarters. All
the others near me were too small; but I recollected having observed
some time before a tall baobab, which I determined again to search
after. I took a good mark, so that, if unsuccessful in my cruise, I
still might have something to fall back upon; and starting with a good
run to clear the grass, was fortunate enough in a few minutes to get
a glimpse of the wished-for harbour of refuge. Luckily for me it had
a double trunk, with a distance between of about two feet, so, tying
my shoes together and casting them over my shoulder, I placed my back
against the one trunk and my feet against the other, and so managed to
climb until I got hold of a branch, by which I swung myself further
up, and finally got into a spot about twelve or fifteen feet from the
ground. Here I placed myself on a branch about a foot in diameter,
projecting at nearly right angles, and by leaning against the main
trunk and stretching out my legs before me, I found I had a tolerably
comfortable seat, whence I might peer into the surrounding obscure.
The night, fortunately, was not very dark, the stars gleamed overhead,
while vivid flashes of lightning over the neighbouring hills enabled
me from time to time to cast a momentary glance around me. I got on
my shoes and stockings as a protection against insects, then passed a
piece of cord loosely round the branch, so that I could pass my arm
through it and steady myself, and finally made preparations for repose
by kicking two places in the bark of the tree for my heels to rest
in. About eight o’clock I distinctly heard in the distance the hum
of human voices, and shouted to try and attract attention, but to no
avail; believing, however, that there were some huts near, I marked the
direction by a large tree. Feeling rather tired, I lay down on my face
along the branch, throwing my handkerchief over my head, and passing
each of my hands into the opposite sleeve, to prevent them from being
bitten, I was soon in a state of oblivion. I must have slept upwards of
four hours, when I awoke rather stiff, from my constrained position,
and had to try a change of attitude. To pass the time I lit a cigar,
and as I had but one, I only smoked half of it, carefully putting
back the remainder to serve for my breakfast. A dew was now falling,
crickets and frogs innumerable were celebrating nocturnal orgies; huge
mosquitoes, making a noise as loud as bees, were assaulting me on all
sides, and some large birds were roosting in the tree over my head. I
tried in vain to dose away the hours, but I had had my usual allowance
of sleep, and not being a bigoted partizan of the drowsy god, now that
I really required his aid, he refused to attend to my invocations. I
watched with most painful interest the rising and setting of various
constellations, and was at length delighted with the appearance of
Venus, showing that morning was now not far off. A fresh novelty
next presented itself, in the form of sundry denizens of the forest,
crowding to pay homage to their visitor. Howls of various degrees of
intensity continually reached my ears, some resembling more the high
notes of the hyæna with occasional variations, and others, very close
to me, being unquestionably in the deep bass of the leopard. I once
fancied that I saw a figure moving not far from me, but could not be
positive. As light began to suffuse itself over the eastern sky, my
nocturnal companions gradually retired, until at last I was left alone,
yet not solitary, for that I could not be as long as the incessant
buzzing in my ears told me that my Lilliputian winged antagonists
were yet unwearied in their attacks, and still unsatiated with blood.
At length as gray dawn was being supplanted by brighter daylight, I
ventured to descend from my roosting place, where I had spent, not
altogether without comfort, upwards of eleven hours. My first endeavour
was to find a footpath, and after a little search, I stumbled over a
little track, which, however, as it led in a wrong direction, I had
to abandon. A more prolonged investigation discovered another, very
narrow, and almost hidden by long grass, which after the heavy rain,
was lying right over it. To prevent my again straying, I was obliged to
bend forward and walk, almost creep, along a kind of tunnel, pulling up
a few stalks and letting them fall, as a guide in case I should have to
return. Though in my elevated quarters the dew had been slight, on the
ground it had been very heavy, and in a few minutes I was completely
drenched. When I emerged at the other extremity of this path, which was
about half-a-mile long, and was again enabled to look round, I saw a
little curling smoke, towards which I immediately made and found a few
huts. Some Aborigines appeared, and, after their surprise had subsided,
I managed to explain by means of a few broken Hausa words, that I had
lost my way, had spent the night in a tree, and now wished to get to
Wuza. They pointed out the way to me, but as it was not very evident to
my European senses, I induced one to come with me as a guide, and we
accordingly trudged along through mud and water by a route, which, to
any but a thorough-bred native, would have been impossible to keep to.
After walking, or rather wading in this manner for two or three miles,
we fell in with my black servant and a couple of men armed to the
teeth, going in search of me. They could hardly believe me, especially
when I told them how I had passed the night, for they had already
consigned me to the jaws of the wild beasts which abound in this
neighbourhood. I accordingly dismissed my guide, a happy man, with my
pocket handkerchief, which was all I had to give him, and continued my
walk to Wuza, at which I arrived about nine o’clock, after a morning’s
jaunt of nine or ten miles. The natives who were three in number, were
astonished at my appearance and my story, and were no less surprised
when they saw me devouring, with great gusto, my breakfast, which the
steward had very considerately provided for me, and which was the first
food I had tasted for twenty hours.”
It may be worth while to enquire how that renowned sojourner among the
most savage people on the face of the earth, Dr. Livingstone, spends
one of his many thousand nights in barbarous company. The worthy doctor
thus responds:
“As soon as we land some of the men cut a little grass for my bed,
while my servant Mashauana plants the poles of the little tent. These
are used by day for carrying burdens, for the Barotse fashion is
exactly like that of the natives of India, only the burden is fastened
near the ends of the pole, and not suspended by long cords. The bed
is made and boxes ranged on each side of it, and then the tent is
pitched over all. Four or five feet in front of my tent, is placed the
principal or “kotla” fire, the wood for which must be collected by the
man who occupies the post of herald, and takes as his perquisite the
heads of all the oxen slaughtered and of all the game too. Each person
knows the station he is to occupy, both in eating and sleeping, as long
as the journey lasts. But Mashauana my head boatman makes his bed at
the door of the tent as soon as I retire. The rest, divided into small
companies according to their tribes, make sheds all round the fire,
leaving a horse-shoe shaped space in front sufficient for the cattle to
stand in. The fire gives confidence to the oxen, so the men are always
careful to keep them in sight of it; the sheds are formed by planting
two stout forked poles in an inclined direction, and placing another
over these in a horizontal position. A number of branches are then
stuck in the ground in the direction to which the poles are inclined,
the twigs drawn down to the horizontal pole and tied with strips of
bark. Long grass is then laid over the branches in sufficient quantity
to draw off the rain, and we have sheds open to the fire in front
but secure from beasts behind. In less than an hour we were usually
all under cover. We never lacked abundance of grass during the whole
journey. It is a picturesque sight at night when the clear bright moon
of these climates glances on the sleeping forms around, to look out
upon the attitudes of profound repose both men and beasts assume. There
being no danger from wild animals in such a night the fires are allowed
almost to go out, and as there is no fear of hungry dogs coming over
sleepers and devouring the food, or quietly eating up the poor fellows’
blankets, which at best were but greasy skins, which sometimes happened
in the villages, the picture was one of perfect peace.
“The cooking is usually done in the natives’ own style, and as they
carefully wash the dishes, pots, and the hands before handling food,
it is by no means despicable. Sometimes alterations are made at my
suggestion, and they believe that they can cook in thorough white man’s
fashion. The cook always comes in for something left in the pot, so all
are eager to obtain the office.
“I taught several of them to wash my shirts, and they did it well,
though their teacher had never been taught that work himself. Frequent
changes of linen and sunning of my blanket kept me more comfortable
than might have been anticipated, and I feel certain that the lessons
of cleanliness rigidly instilled by my mother in childhood, helped to
maintain that respect which these people entertain for European ways.
It is questionable if a descent to barbarous ways ever elevates a man
in the eyes of savages.”
[Illustration: The Two Dogs or None.]
The explorer’s greatest care, however, while camping out in the forest
at night--his fires, his watchmen, and his watch-dogs--will not
invariably secure him from danger, if there happen to be wild animals
in the neighbourhood; leopards especially, insignificant in size as
compared with the lion and the tiger,--there are few things so daring
that a hungry leopard will not attempt them. As instanced elsewhere
(_see_ “Wild Sports of the World”), he will not scruple to enter
a house and drag off a sleeping man; he has no fear of one dog, or even
of two. The scene depicted on the preceding page is illustrative of a
fact, and happened to a well-known Indian hunter. The labours of the
day were at an end and all made snug and right in “camp.” So little
apprehension did there exist of an attack by savage beasts, that the
hounds set to keep guard were coupled together with a short length of
chain. In the night, however, a tremendous uproar suddenly broke in
on the stillness, and it was speedily discovered that a leopard had
surprised the canine guard and pounced on one with the intention of
carrying him off; even when the daring brute discovered that he must
take both dogs, or none, he was nothing daunted, but hauled the pair of
them along and was so discovered and shot.
There must not be omitted from the catalogue of evils likely to accrue
to the African traveller--at least he of Southern Africa--the terrible
tsetse fly, which in a single hour may devastate the explorer’s
necessary cattle and leave him utterly helpless.
This insect, “Glossina morsitans” of the naturalist, is not much larger
than the common house fly, and is nearly of the same brown colour as
the honeybee. The after part of the body has three or four yellow bars
across it. It is remarkably alert and evades dexterously all attempts
to capture it with the hand at common temperatures.
In the cool of the mornings and evenings it is less agile. Its peculiar
buzz when once heard can never be forgotten by the traveller whose
means of locomotion are domestic animals, for its bite is death to the
ox, horse, and dog. In one of Dr. Livingstone’s journeys, though the
traveller watched the animals carefully and believed that not a score
of flies were ever upon them, they destroyed forty-three fine oxen. A
most remarkable feature is the perfect harmlessness of their bite in
man and wild animals, and even calves, so long as they continue to suck
the cows, though it is no protection to the dog to feed him on milk.
The poison does not seem to be injected by a sting, or by ova placed
beneath the skin, for when the insect is allowed to feed freely on
the hand it inserts the middle prong of the three portions into which
the proboscis is divided somewhat deeply into the true skin. It then
draws the prong out a little way and it assumes a crimson colour as
the mandibles come into brisk operation. The previously shrunken belly
swells out, and if left undisturbed the fly quietly departs when it
is full. A slight itching irritation follows the bite. In the ox the
immediate effects are no greater than in man, but a few days afterwards
the eye and nose begin to run, and a swelling appears under the jaw and
sometimes at the navel, and although the poor creature continues to
graze, emaciation commences accompanied with a peculiar flaccidity of
the muscles. This proceeds unchecked until perhaps months afterwards,
purging comes on, and the victim dies in a state of extreme exhaustion.
The animals which are in good condition often perish soon after the
bite is inflicted, with staggering and blindness as if the brain were
affected. Sudden changes of temperature produced by falls of rain seem
to hasten the progress of the complaint, but in general the wasting
goes on for months.
When the carcase is opened the cellular tissue beneath the skin
is found injected with air, as if a quantity of soap bubbles were
scattered over it. The blood is small in quantity, and scarcely stains
the hands in dissection. The fat is of a greenish yellow colour and of
an oily consistence. All the muscles are flabby and the heart is often
so soft that the fingers may be made to meet through it. The lungs
and liver partake of the disease. The stomach and bowels are pale and
empty, and the gall bladder is distended with bile. These symptoms seem
to indicate poison in the blood, the germ of which enters when the
proboscis is inserted.
The mule, ass, and goat enjoy the same immunity from the tsetse as man.
Many large tribes on the Zambesi can keep no domestic animals except
the goat in consequence of the scourge existing in their country.
Human beings are frequently bitten yet suffer no harm, and zebras,
buffaloes, pigs, pallahs, and other antelopes feed quietly in the very
habitat of the fly. There is not so much difference in the natures of
the horse and zebra, the buffalo and ox, the sheep and antelope, as to
afford any satisfactory explanation of the phenomenon. Is not man as
much a domestic animal as a dog? The disgust which the tsetse shows
for animal excreta is turned to account by some of the doctors. They
mix droppings of animals, human milk, and some medicines together, and
smear the animals that are about to pass through an infested district.
This though a preventive at the time is not a permanent protection.
Inoculation does not insure immunity, as animals which have been
slightly bitten in one year may perish by a greater number of bites in
the next. It is probable that with an increase of guns the game will
perish as has happened in the south, and tsetse deprived of food may
become extinct simultaneously with the larger animals. The ravages
it commits are sometimes enormous. Sebituane once lost nearly the
entire cattle of his tribe, amounting to many hundreds, by unwittingly
intruding upon the haunts of this murderous insect.
Every day, and all day long, has the traveller to contend with the
ignorance and obstinacy and superstitions of the heathen he finds
himself among--oftentimes alone--on whom he is dependent not only for
the success of his enterprise, but, alas! for his very life. They
will work when and as easily as they choose, and should they rebel
against his just remonstrance and desert, he is a doomed man. Even
when the explorer has plenty of money and companions and influence,
his journeyings are not invariably through paths of roses, as may be
gathered from the following account of a day’s march in Eastern Africa,
by Burton:
“About 5 a.m. the camp is fairly roused, and a little low chatting
becomes audible. This is a critical moment. The porters have promised
overnight to start early and make a long wholesome march. But,
‘uncertain, coy and hard to please,’ they change their minds, like
the fair sex; the cold morning makes them unlike the men of the warm
evening, and perhaps one of them has fever. Moreover, in every caravan
there is some lazy, loud-lunged, contradictory, and unmanageable
fellow, whose sole delight is to give trouble. If no march be in
prospect they sit obstinately before the fire, warming their hands and
feet, inhaling the smoke with averted heads, and casting quizzical
looks at their fuming and fidgety employer. If all be unanimous, it is
vain to tempt them, even soft sawder is but ‘throwing comfits to cows.’
We return to our tent. If, however, there be a division, a little
active stimulating will cause a march. Then a louder conversation
leads to cries of ‘Collect,’ ‘pack,’ ‘set out,’ ‘a journey, a journey
to-day,’ and some peculiarly African boasts, ‘I am an ass,’ ‘a camel,’
accompanied by a roar of bawling voices, drumming, whistling, piping,
and the braying of horns. The sons of Ramji come in a body to throw our
tents and to receive small burthens, which, if possible, they shirk;
sometimes Kidogo does me the honour to inquire the programme of the
day. The porters, however, hug the fire till driven from it, when they
unstack the loads piled before our tents, and pour out of the camp
or village. My companion and I, when well enough to ride, mount our
asses led by the gun-bearers, who carry all necessaries for offence
and defence; when unfit for exercise we are borne in hammocks slung to
long poles and carried by two men at a time. The Baloch tending their
slaves, hasten off in a straggling body, thinking only of escaping an
hour’s sun. The jemadar, however, is ordered to bring up the rear, with
Said-bin-Salim, who is cold and surly, abusive, and ready with his
rattan. Four or five packs have been left upon the ground by deserters
or shirkers who have started empty handed, consequently our Arab either
double loads more willing men or persuades the sons of Ramji to carry a
small parcel each, or that failing, he hires from some near village a
few porters by the day. This, however, is not easy; the beads have been
carried off, and the most tempting promises without prepayment have no
effect upon the African mind.
“When all is ready the guide rises and shoulders his load, which is
never one of the lightest. He deliberately raises his furled flag--a
plain blood red, the sign of a caravan from Zanzibar--much tattered
by the thorns, and is followed by a privileged Pagazi tom-toming upon
a kettle-drum much resembling a European hour-glass. This dignitary
is robed in the splendour of scarlet broadcloth, a narrow piece about
six feet long with a central aperture for the neck, and with streamers
dangling before and behind; he also wears some wonderful head-dress,
the spoils of a white and black monkey on the barred skin of a wild cat
crowning the head, bound round the throat, hanging over the shoulders,
and capped with a tall cup-shaped bunch of owl’s feathers or the
glorious plumes of the crested crane. His insignia of office are the
kipungo or fly-flapper, the tail of some beast, which he affixes to
his person as if it were a natural growth, the kome, or hooked iron
spit, decorated with a central sausage of parti-coloured beads, and a
variety of oily little gourds containing snuff, simples, and medicine
for the road, strapped round his waist. He leads the caravan, and the
better to secure the obedience of his followers he has paid them in a
sheep or a goat the value of what he will recover by fees and rations:
the head of every animal slaughtered in camp and the presents at the
end of the journey are exclusively his. A man guilty of preceding the
Pagazi is liable to fine, and an arrow is extracted from his quiver
to substantiate his identity at the end of the march. Pouring out of
the kraal in a disorderly mob, the porters stack their goods at some
tree distant but a few hundred yards, and allow the late and lazy and
the invalids to join the main body. Generally at this conjuncture the
huts are fired by neglect or mischievousness. The khambi, especially
in winter, burns like tinder, and the next caravan will find a heap
of hot ashes and a few charred sticks still standing. Yet by way of
contrast, the Pagazi will often take the trouble to denote by the usual
signposts to those following them that water is at hand; here and there
a little facetiousness appears in these directions, a mouth is cut in
the tree trunk to admit a bit of wood simulating a pipe, with other
representations still more waggish.
“After the preliminary halt, the caravan forming into the order of
march, winds like a monstrous land serpent over hill, dale, and plain.
The kirangozi is followed by an Indian file; those nearest to him are
heavily laden with ivory. When the weight of the tusk is inordinate
it is tied to a pole and is carried palanquin fashion by two men.
The ivory carriers are succeeded by the bearers of cloth and beads,
each man poising on either shoulder, and sometimes raising upon the
head for rest, packs that resemble huge bolsters, six feet long by
two in diameter, cradled in sticks which generally have a forked
projection for facility in stacking and reshouldering the load. The
sturdiest fellows are usually the lightest loaded in Eastern Africa;
as elsewhere, the weakest go to the wall. The maximum of burden may
be two farasilah, or seventy pounds avoirdupois. Behind the cloth
bearers straggles a long line of porters and slaves laden with the
lighter stuff--rhinoceros teeth, hides, salt, tobacco, brass wire, iron
hoes, boxes and bags, beds and tents, pots and water gourds, mats, and
private stores. With the Pagazi, but in separate parties, march the
armed slaves, who are never seen to quit their muskets; the women and
the little toddling children, who rarely fail to carry something, be
it only of a pound weight; and the asses neatly laden with saddle-bags
of giraffe and buffalo hide. A Mganga also universally accompanies the
caravan, not disdaining to act as a common porter. The rear is brought
up by the master, or the masters, of the caravan, who often remain far
behind for the convenience of walking and to prevent desertion.
“All the caravan is habited in its worst attire; the East African
derides those who wear upon a journey the cloth which should be
reserved for display at home. If rain fall they will doff the single
goat-skin hung round their sooty limbs and, folding it up, place it
between the shoulders and the load. When grain is served out for a long
march, each porter bears his posho or rations fastened like a large
‘bustle’ to the small of his back. Upon this again he sometimes binds,
with its legs projecting outwards, the three-legged stool, which he
deems necessary to preserve him from the danger of sitting upon the
damp ground. As may be imagined, the barbarians have more ornament than
dress. Some wear a strip of zebra’s mane bound round the head with
the bristly parti-coloured hair standing out like a saint’s gloria,
others prefer a long bit of stiffened ox-tail rising like a unicorn’s
horn at least a foot above the forehead. Other ornaments are the skins
of monkeys and ocelots, roleaus and fillets of white, blue, or scarlet
cloth, and huge bunches of ostrich, crane, and jay’s feathers crowning
the heads like the tufts of certain fowls. Their arms are decorated
with massive ivory bracelets, heavy bangles of brass and copper, and
thin circlets of the same metal, beads in strings and bands adorn their
necks, and small iron bells strapped below the knee or round the ancle
by the more aristocratic. All carry some weapon; the heaviest armed
have a bow and a bark quiver full of arrows, two or three long spears
and assegais, and a little battle-axe, borne on the shoulder.
“The normal recreations of a march are whistling, singing, shouting,
hooting, horning, drumming, imitating the cries of birds and beasts,
repeating words which are never used except on journeys. There is
gabble enough and abundant squabbling; in fact, perpetual noise, which
the ear, however, soon learns to distinguish for the hubbub of a halt.
The uproar redoubles near a village where the flag is unfurled and
where the line lags to display itself. All give vent to loud shouts:
‘Hopa, hopa! go on, go on--Mgogolo! a stoppage--food, food--don’t
be tired--the kraal is here--home is near--hasten, Kirangozi--oh!
we see our mothers--we go to eat.’ On the road it is considered
prudent, as well as pleasurable, to be as loud as possible, in order
to impress upon plunderers an exaggerated idea of the caravan’s
strength; for equally good reasons silence is recommended in the kraal.
When threatened with attack, and no ready escape suggests itself,
the porters ground their loads and prepare for action. It is only
self-interest that makes them brave. I have seen a small cow trotting
up with tail erect break a line of 150 men carrying goods not their
own. If a hapless hare or antelope cross the path, every man casts
his pack, brandishes his spear, and starts in pursuit; the animal,
never running straight, is soon killed and torn limb from limb, each
hunter devouring his morsel raw. When two parties meet, that commanded
by an Arab claims the road. If both are Wanyamwezi, violent quarrels
ensue; fatal weapons, which are too ready at hand, are turned to more
harmless purposes, the bow and spear being used as whip and cudgel.
These affrays are not rancorous till blood is shed. Few tribes are less
friendly for so trifling an affair as a broken head; even a slight
cut, or a shallow stab, is little thought of; but if returned with
interest great loss of life may arise from the slenderest cause. When
friendly caravans meet, the two Kirangozis sidle up with a stage pace,
a stride and a stand, and with sidelong looks prance till arrived
within distance, then suddenly and simultaneously ducking, like boys
‘give a back,’ they come to loggerheads and exchange a butt violently
as fighting rams. Their example is followed by all with a crush which
might be mistaken for the beginning of a faction; but it ends, if there
be no bad blood, in shouts of laughter. The weaker body, however, must
yield precedence and offer a small present as blackmail.”
After all, however, there is some reason in the African’s objection to
be hurried on a march, or to exert himself overmuch in the interests of
a traveller, whose private affairs are nothing to him and whom, when
discharged, he will in all probability never see again. He does not
particularly wish to see him, as he is perfectly comfortable at home.
According to the last quoted authority he rises with the dawn from
his couch of cow’s-hide. The hut is cool and comfortable during the
day; but the barred door, impeding ventilation at night, causes it to
be close and disagreeable. The hour before sunrise being the coldest
time, he usually kindles a fire and addresses himself to his constant
companion the pipe. When the sun becomes sufficiently powerful, he
removes the reed-screen from the entrance and issues forth to bask in
the morning beams. The villages are populous, and the houses touching
one another enable the occupants, when squatting outside and fronting
the central square, to chat and chatter without moving. About 7 a.m.,
when the dew has partially disappeared from the grass, the elder boys
drive the flocks and herds to pasture, with loud shouts and sounding
applications of the quarter staff. They return only when the sun is
sinking behind the western horizon. At 8 p.m. those who have provisions
at home enter the hut to refection with ugali or holcus-porridge, those
who have not join a friend. Pombe, when procurable, is drunk from the
earliest dawn.
After breaking his fast, the African repairs, pipe in hand, to the
Iwanza, the village public previously described. Here in the society
of his own sex he will spend the greater part of the day talking and
laughing, smoking, or torpid with sleep. Occasionally he sits down to
play. As with barbarians generally, gambling in him is a passion. The
normal game is our “heads and tails,” the implement, a flat stone, a
rough circle of tin, or the bottom of a broken pot. The more civilised
have learned the “bas” of the coast, a kind of “tables” with counters
and cups hollowed in a solid plank. Many of the Wanyamwezi have been
compelled by this indulgence to sell themselves into slavery after
playing through their property; they even stake their aged mothers
against the equivalent of an old lady in these lands,--a cow or a
pair of goats. As may be imagined, squabbles are perpetual, they
are almost always, however, settled amongst fellow-villagers with
bloodless weapons. Others, instead of gambling, seek some employment
which, working the hands and leaving the rest of the body and the
mind at ease, is ever a favourite with the Asiatic and the African;
they whittle wood, pierce and wire their pipe sticks--an art in which
all are adepts,--shave one another’s heads, pluck out their beards,
eyebrows, and eyelashes, and prepare and polish their weapons.
“At about one p.m., the African, unless otherwise employed, returns
to his hut to eat the most substantial and the last meal of the day,
which has been cooked by his women. Eminently gregarious, however, he
often prefers the Iwanza as a dining room, where his male children,
relatives, and friends meet during the most important hour of the
twenty-four. With the savage and the barbarian food is the all and
all of life, food is his thought by day, food is his dream by night.
The civilized European who never knows hunger nor thirst without the
instant means of gratifying every whim of appetite, can hardly conceive
the extent to which his wild brother’s soul is swayed by stomach; he
can scarcely comprehend the state of mental absorption in which the
ravenous human animal broods over the carcase of an old goat, the
delight which he takes in superintending every part of the cooking
process, and the jealous eye with which he regards all who live better
than himself. After eating, the East African invariably indulges in a
long fit of torpidity from which he awakes to pass the afternoon as
he did the forenoon, chatting, playing, smoking, and chewing sweet
earth. Towards sunset all issue forth to enjoy the coolness; the men
sit outside the Iwanza, whilst the women and the girls, after fetching
water for household wants from the well, collecting in a group upon
their little stools, indulge in the pleasures of gossiping and the
pipe. This hour, in the more favoured parts of the country, is replete
with enjoyment. As the hours of darkness draw nigh, the village
doors are carefully closed, and after milking his cows, each peasant
retires to his hut, or passes his time squatting round the fire with
his friends in the Iwanza. He has not yet learned the art of making
a wick, and of filling a bit of pottery with oil. When a light is
wanted he ignites a stick of the oleaginous msásá-tree--a yellow, hard,
close-grained, and elastic wood with few knots, much used in making
spears, bows, and walking staves--which burns for a quarter of an hour
with a brilliant flame. He repairs to his hard couch before midnight
and snores with a single sleep till dawn. For thorough enjoyment, night
must be spent in insensibility, as the day is in inebriety, and though
an early riser he avoids the ‘early to bed’ in order that he may be
able to slumber through half the day.
“Such is the African’s idle day, and thus every summer is spent. As
the wintry rains draw nigh, the necessity of daily bread suggests
itself. The peasants then leave their huts about six or seven a.m.,
often without provision which now becomes scarce, and labour till
noon or two p.m., when they return home, and find food prepared by
the wife or the slave girl. During the afternoon they return to work,
and sometimes, when the rains are near, they are aided by the women.
Towards sunset all wend homeward in a body, laden with their implements
of cultivation, and singing a kind of ‘dulce domum’ in a simple and
pleasing recitative.”
Let us conclude this brief sketch of the perils and inconveniences
that menace the explorer of savage shores by presenting the reader
with a picture of the approach of one of the ships bearing some of the
earliest English visitants to the cannibal shores of the Southern Seas:
“Notwithstanding,” says Mr. Ellis, “all our endeavours to induce the
natives to approach the ship, they continued for a long time at some
distance viewing us with apparent surprise and suspicion. At length
one of the canoes, containing two men and a boy, ventured alongside.
Perceiving a lobster lying among a number of spears at the bottom of
the canoe, I intimated by signs my wish to have it, and the chief
readily handed it up. I gave him in return two or three middle-size
fish-hooks, which, after examining rather curiously, he gave to the
boy, who having no pocket to put them in, or any article of dress to
which they might be attached, instantly deposited them in his mouth,
and continued to hold with both hands the rope hanging from the ship.
“The principal person in the canoe appeared willing to come on board.
I pointed to the rope he was grasping and put out my hand to assist
him up the ship’s side. He involuntarily laid hold of it, but could
scarcely have felt my grasp when he instantly drew back his hand and
raising it to his nostrils smelt at it most significantly as if to
ascertain with what kind of being he had come in contact. After a few
moments’ pause he climbed over the ship’s side, and as soon as he had
reached the deck our captain led him to a chair on the quarter-deck,
and pointing to the seat signified his wish that he should be seated.
The chief, however, having viewed it for some time, pushed it aside
and sat down on the deck. Our captain had been desirous to have the
chief aboard that he might ascertain from him whether the island
produced sandal-wood, as he was bound to the Marquesas in search of
that article. A piece was therefore procured and shown him, with the
qualities of which he appeared familiar, for after smelling it and
calling it by some name he pointed to the shore.
“While we had been thus engaged, many of the canoes had approached the
ship, and when we turned round a number of the natives appeared on
deck, and others were climbing over the bulwarks. They were certainly
the most savage-looking natives I had ever seen; and these barbarians
were as unceremonious as their appearance was uninviting. A gigantic,
fierce-looking fellow seized a youth as he was standing by the gangway
and endeavoured to lift him over the deck, but the lad struggling
escaped from his grasp. He then seized our cabin-boy, but the sailors
coming to his assistance and the native finding that he could not
disengage him from their hold, pulled his woollen shirt over his head
and was about to leap into the sea when he was arrested by the sailors.
We had a large ship-dog chained to his kennel on the deck, and although
this animal was not only fearless but savage, yet the appearance of the
natives seemed to terrify him. One of them caught the dog in his arms
and was proceeding over the ship’s side with him, but perceiving him
fastened to his kennel by the chain he was obliged to relinquish his
prize, evidently much disappointed. He then seized the kennel with the
dog in it, when, finding it nailed to the deck, he ceased his attempts
to remove it and gazed round the ship in search of some object which
he could secure. We had brought from Port Jackson two young kittens;
one of these now came up from the cabin, but she no sooner made her
appearance on the deck, than a native, springing like a tiger on its
prey, caught up the unconscious animal and instantly leaped over the
ship’s side into the sea. Hastening to the side of the deck I looked
over the bulwarks and beheld him swimming rapidly towards a canoe
which lay about fifty yards from the ship. As soon as he had reached
this canoe, holding the cat with both hands, he exhibited it to his
companions with evident exultation.
“Orders were given to clear the ship. A general scuffle ensued between
the islanders and the seamen, in which many of the former were driven
headlong into the sea, where they seemed as much at home as on solid
ground; while others clambered over the vessel’s sides into their
canoes. In the midst of the confusion and the retreating of the natives
the dog, which had hitherto slunk into his kennel, recovered his usual
boldness and not only increased the consternation by his barking,
but severely tore the leg of one of the fugitives who was hastening
out of the ship near the spot where he was chained. The decks were
now cleared; but as many of the people still hung about the shrouds
and chains the sailors drew the long knives with which, when among
the islands, they were furnished, and by menacing gestures, without
wounding any, succeeded in detaching them altogether from the ship.
Some of them seemed quite unconscious of the keenness of the knife, and
I believe had their hands deeply cut by snatching at the blades.”
[Illustration: Boatmen of Rockingham Bay.]
[Illustration: The True Word expounded to a Potentate of Western
Africa.]
PART XI.
RELIGIOUS RITES AND SUPERSTITIONS.
CHAPTER XXVI.
The mysterious “still small voice”--Samoan mythology--The
man who pushed the Heavens up--The child of the Sun--A
Figian version of the “Flood”--The Paradise of the
Figian--Lying Ghosts--Singular case of abduction--The
disobedient Naiogabui--All fair in love and war--The fate
of poor Rokoua--The Samoan hades--Miscellaneous gods of the
Samoans--A god for every village--The cup of truth--Mourning
the destruction of a god’s image--The most fashionable god
in Polynesia--Families marked for human sacrifice--“Tapu”
or “tabu”--Its antiquity and wide-spread influence--Muzzled
pigs and blindfolded chickens--Ceremony of releasing the
porkers--Tremendous feast of baked pig--The tapu in New
Zealand--A terrible tinder box--The sacred pole and the
missionaries--The chief’s backbone--The Pakeka and the iron
pot--One of the best uses of tapu--Its general advantages
and disadvantages--Tapu among the Samoans--Witchcraft in New
Zealand--Visit of a European to a “retired” witch--The religion
of the Dayak--“Tapa,” “Tenahi,” “Iang,” and “Jirong”--Warriors’
ghosts--Religious rites and superstitions of the Sea Dayaks--The
great god Singallong Burong--Belief in dreams among the Sea
Dayaks--Story of the stone bull--Of the painted dog.
Religion, as signifying reverence of God and a belief in future rewards
and punishments, may be said to have no existence among people who
are absolutely savage. Belief in life hereafter is incompatible with
non-belief in the existence of the soul, and difficult indeed would it
be to show a thorough barbarian who did not repudiate that grand and
awful trust. He is too much afraid of the mysterious thing to confess
to being its custodian. Undoubtedly he is quite conscious of a power
within him immensely superior to that which gives motion to his arms
and legs, and invites him to eat when he is hungry. He “has ears and
hears,” and “the still small voice” that speaks all languages and fits
its admonitions to the meanest understanding bears the savage no less
than the citizen company all the day long, noting all his acts and
whispering its approvals and its censures of them; and when the savage
reclines at night on his mat of rushes, the still small voice is still
vigilant, and reveals for his secret contemplation such vivid pictures
of the day’s misdoing, that his hands ache with so fervently clasping
his wooden greegree, and he is rocked to sleep and horrid dreams with
trembling and quaking fear.
But the savage, while he acknowledges the mysterious influence,
has not the least notion as to its origin. To his hazy mind the
word “incomprehensible” is synonymous with “evil,” and the most
incomprehensible thing to him, and consequently the most evil, is
death. With us it is anxiety as to hereafter that makes death terrible;
with the savage death is detestable only as a gravedigger, a malicious
spirit who snatches him away from the world--where his children and
his wives are, and where tobacco grows, and palm-trees yield good
wine,--who snatches him away from all these good things and every
other, and shuts him in the dark damp earth to decay like a rotten
branch.
Death therefore is, in his eyes, the king of evil, and all minor
evils agents of the king, and working with but one aim though with
seeming indirectness. This it is that makes the savage a miserable
wretch--despite nature’s great bounty in supplying him with food
without reaping or sowing, and so “tempering the wind” that the shelter
of the boughs makes him a house that is warm enough, and the leaves of
the trees such raiment as he requires. Through his constant suspicion
he is like a man with a hundred jars of honey, of the same pattern and
filled the same, but one--he knows not which--is poisoned. Taste he
must or perish of hunger, but taste he may and perish of poison; and
so, quaking all the time, he picks a little and a little, suspecting
this jar because it is so very sweet, and that because it has a
twang of acid, and so goes on diminishing his ninety-nine chances of
appeasing his hunger and living, to level odds, that he will escape
both hunger and poison and die of fright. Death is the savage’s
poisoned honey-pot. He may meet it in the wind, in the rain; it may
even (why not? he has known such cases) come to him in a sunray. It
may meet him in the forest where he hunts for his daily bread! That
bird that just now flitted by so suddenly and with such a curious cry
may be an emissary of the king of evil, and now hastening to tell the
king that there is he--the victim--all alone and unprotected in the
forest, easy prey for the king if he comes at once! No more hunting for
that day though half-a-dozen empty bellies be the consequence; away
with spear and blow-gun, and welcome charms and fetiches to be counted
and kissed and caressed all the way home--aye, and for a long time
afterwards, for that very bird may still be perched a-top of the hut,
peeping in at a chink, and only waiting for the victim to close his
eyes to summon the grim king once more. In his tribulation he confides
the secret of his uneasiness to his wife, who with affectionate zeal
runs for the gree-gree-man, who, on hearing the case, shakes his head
so ominously, that though even the very leopard-skin that hangs before
the doorway be the price demanded for it, the most powerful charm the
gree-gree-man has to dispose of must be obtained.
It is only, however, to the perfect savage--the Fan and Ougbi of
Central Africa, the Andamaner of Polynesia, and some others--that the
above remarks apply. If we take belief in the soul and its immortality
as the test, we shall find the number of absolute barbarians somewhat
less than at first sight appears; indeed, the mythological traditions
of many savage people, wrapped as they invariably are in absurdity,
will frequently exhibit in the main such close resemblance to certain
portions of our Scripture history as to fill us with surprise and
wonder. Take, for instance, the following examples occurring in Samoa,
furnished by the Rev. George Turner:
“The earliest traditions of the Samoans describe a time when the
heavens alone were inhabited and the earth covered over with water.
Tangaloa, the great Polynesian Jupiter, then sent down his daughter
in the form of a bird called the Turi (a snipe), to search for a
resting-place. After flying about for a long time she found a rock
partially above the surface of the water. (This looks like the Mosaic
account of the deluge; but the story goes on the origin of the human
race.) Turi went up and told her father that she had found but one spot
on which she could rest. Tangaloa sent her down again to visit the
place. She went to and fro repeatedly, and, every time she went up,
reported that the dry surface was extending on all sides. He then sent
her down with some earth, and a creeping plant, as all was barren rock.
She continued to visit the earth and return to the skies. Next visit,
the plant was spreading. Next time it was withered and decomposing.
Next visit it swarmed with worms. And the next time had become men
and women! A strange account of man’s origin. But how affectingly it
reminds one of his end: ‘They shall lie down alike in the dust, and the
worms shall cover them.’
“They have no consecutive tales of these early times; but we give the
disjointed fragments as we find them. They say that of old the heavens
fell down, and that people had to crawl about like the lower animals.
After a time, the arrow-root and another similar plant pushed up the
heavens. The place where these plants grew is still pointed out, and
called the Te’engga-langi, or heaven-pushing place. But the heads
of the people continued to knock on the skies. One day, a woman was
passing along who had been drawing water. A man came up to her and
said that he would push up the heavens, if she would give him some
water to drink. ‘Push them up first,’ she replied. He pushed them
up. ‘Will that do?’ said he. ‘No, a little further.’ He sent them up
higher still, and then she handed him her cocoa-nut-shell water bottle.
Another account says, that a person named Tütü pushed up the heavens;
and the hollow places in a rock, nearly six feet long, are pointed out
as his footprints. They tell about a man called Losi, who went up on a
visit to the heavens. He found land and sea there, people, houses, and
plantations. The people were kind to him and supplied him with plenty
of food. This was the first time he had seen or tasted taro. He sought
for some in the plantations and brought it down to the earth; and hence
they say the origin of taro. They do not say how he got up and down.
When the taro tree fell, they say its trunk and branches extended a
distance of nearly sixty miles. In this and the following tale we are
reminded of Jacob’s ladder.
“Two young men, named Punifanga and Tafalin, determined one afternoon
to pay a visit to the moon. Punifanga said he knew a tree by which they
could go up. Tafalin was afraid it might not reach high enough, and
said he would try another plan. Punifanga went to his tree, but Tafalin
kindled a fire, and heaped on cocoa-nut shells and other fuel so as to
raise a great smoke. The smoke rose in a dense straight column, like a
cocoa-nut tree towering away into the heavens. Tafalin then jumped on
to the column of smoke, and went up and reached the moon long before
Punifanga. One wishes to know what they did next, but here the tale
abruptly ends, with the chagrin of Punifanga when he got up and saw
Tafalin there before him, sitting laughing at him for having been so
long on the way.
“In another story we are told, that the man came down one evening and
picked up a woman, called Sina, and her child. It was during a time
of famine. She was working in the evening twilight, beating out some
bark with which to make native cloth. The moon was just rising, and
it reminded her of great bread-fruit. Looking up to it she said, ‘Why
cannot you come down and let my child have a bit of you?’ The moon was
indignant at the idea of being eaten, came forthwith, and took up her
child, board, mallet, and all. The popular superstition of ‘the man in
the moon, who gathered sticks on the Sabbath-day,’ is not yet forgotten
in England, and in Samoa, of the woman in the moon. ‘Yonder is Sina,’
they say, ‘and her child, and mallet and board.’
“We have a fragment or two, also, about the sun. A woman called
Manquamanqui became pregnant by looking at the rising sun. Her son
grew, and was named ‘Child of the Sun.’ At his marriage he asked his
mother for a dowry. She sent him to his father the Sun, to beg from
him, and told him how to go. Following her directions, he went one
morning, with a long vine from the bush, which is the convenient
substitute for a rope, climbed a tree, threw his rope, with a noose
at the end of it, and caught the Sun. He made his message known and
(Pandora like) got a present for his bride. The Sun first asked him
what was his choice, blessings or calamities? He chose, of course,
the former, and came down with his store of blessings done up in a
basket. There is another tale about this Samoan Phaeton, similar to
what is related of the Hawaiian Mani. They say that he and his mother
were annoyed at the rapidity of the sun’s course in those days--that
it rose, reached the meridian, and set ‘before they could get their
mats dried.’ He determined to make it go slower. He climbed a tree
one morning early, and with a rope and noose all ready, watched for
the appearance of the sun. Just as it emerged from the horizon, he
threw, and caught it; the sun struggled to get clear, but in vain. Then
fearing lest it should be strangled, it called out in distress, ‘Oh!
have mercy on me, and spare my life. What do you want?’ ‘We wish you
to go slower, we can get no work done.’ ‘Very well,’ replied the Sun;
‘let me go, and for the future I will walk slowly, and never go quick
again.’ He let go the rope, and ever since the sun has gone slowly,
and given us longer days. Ludicrous and puerile as this is, one cannot
help seeing in it the wreck of that sublime description in the book of
Joshua, of the day when that man of God stood in the sight of Israel,
and said: ‘Sun, stand thou still upon Gibeon; and thou, Moon, in the
valley of Ajalon. And the Sun stood still, and the Moon stayed until
the people had avenged themselves upon their enemies.’
“There are but few tales in Samoa in which we can trace the deluge;
nor are these circumstantial as those which obtain in some other parts
of the Pacific. It is the universal belief, however, ‘that of old, the
fish swam where the land now is;’ and tradition now adds, when the
waters abated, many of the fish of the sea were left on the land, and
afterwards were changed into stones. Hence, they say, there are stones
in abundance in the bush and among the mountains which were once sharks
and other inhabitants of the deep.”
The Figians, islanders of the same group, have an advantage over the
Samoans in this last mythological matter of the deluge. They have
at least half-a-dozen versions of the great flood, of which the two
following, furnished by Ellis and Williams, will serve:
“They speak of a deluge which, according to some of their accounts, was
partial, but in others is stated to have been universal. The cause of
the great flood was the killing of Turukana--a favourite bird belonging
to Udengei--by two mischievous lads, the grandsons of the god. These,
instead of apologizing for their offence, added insolent language to
the outrage, and fortifying, with the assistance of their friends, the
town in which they lived, defied Udengei to do his worst. It is said,
that although it took the angry god three months to collect his forces,
he was unable to subdue the rebels, and, disbanding his army, resolved
on more efficient revenge. At his command the dark clouds gathered
and burst, pouring streams on the devoted earth. Towns, hills, and
mountains were successively submerged; but the rebels, secure in the
superior height of their own dwelling-place, looked on without concern.
But when at last the terrible surges invaded their fortress, they
cried for direction to a god, who, according to various accounts, sent
them a shaddock punt, or two canoes, or taught them to build a canoe
themselves. However, all agree the remnant of the human race was saved:
the number was eighty.”
So says Mr. Williams. Now for a literal translation, furnished by Mr.
Osmond to Mr. Ellis:
“Destroyed was Otaheite by the sea; no man, nor dog, nor fowl remained.
The groves of trees and the stones were carried away by the wind.
They were destroyed, and the deep was over the land. But these two
persons, the husband and the wife (when it came in), he took up his
young pig, she took up her young chickens; he took up the young dog,
and she the young kitten. They were going forth, and looking at Orofena
(the highest hill in the island), the husband said, ‘Up both of us to
yonder mountain high.’ The wife replied, ‘No, let us not go thither.’
The husband said, ‘It is a high rock and will not be reached by the
sea;’ but the wife replied, ‘Reached it will be by the sea yonder:
let us ascend Opitohito, round as a breast; it will not be reached
by the sea.’ They two arrived there. Orofena was overwhelmed by the
waves: Opitohito alone remained and was their abode. There they
watched ten nights; the sea ebbed, and they saw the two little heads
of the mountains in their elevation. When the waters retired, the land
remained without produce, without man, and the fish were putrid in the
holes of the rocks. The earth remained, but the shrubs were destroyed.
They descended and gazed with astonishment: there were no houses,
nor cocoa-nuts, nor palm-trees, nor bread-fruit, nor grass; all was
destroyed by the sea. They two dwelt together; and the woman brought
forth two children, a son and a daughter. In those days covered was the
land with food; and from two persons the earth was repeopled.”
The Figian believes in a future state of perpetual bliss, but not that
the soul, as soon as it leaves the body, is absolved of all care.
Indeed, according to popular belief, the journey of the soul from earth
to heaven is a very formidable business.
“On the road to Nai Thombothombo, and about five miles from it, is a
solitary hill of hard reddish clay spotted with black boulders, having
on its right a pretty grove, and on the left cheerless hills. Its name
is Takiveleyaiva. When near this spot the disembodied spirit throws the
whale’s tooth, which is placed in the hand of the corpse at burial,
at a spiritual pandanus; having succeeded in hitting this, he ascends
the hill and there waits until joined by the spirits of his strangled
wife or wives. Should he miss the mark he is still supposed to remain
in this solitary resting-place, bemoaning the want of affection on the
part of his wife and friends, who are depriving him of his expected
companions. And this is the lone spirit’s lament: ‘How is this? For a
long time I planted food for my wife, and 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?’
“Blessed at last with the company of his wife or wives, who bear his
train, or sad because of their absence, the husband advances towards
Nai Thombothombo, and, club in hand, boards the canoe which carries
spirits to meet their examiner. Notice of his approach is given by a
paroquet which cries once, twice, and so on, according to the number
of spirits in the canoe, announcing a great number by chattering. The
highway to Mbulu lies through Nambanggatai, which, it seems, is at once
a real and unreal town, the visible part being occupied by ordinary
mortals, while in the unseen portion dwells the family who hold inquest
on departed spirits. Thus the cry of the bird answers a twofold
purpose, warning the people to set open the doors that the spirit may
have a free course, and preventing the ghostly inquisitors from being
taken by surprise. The houses in the town are built with reference to
a peculiarity in the locomotion of spirits, who are supposed at this
stage to pass straight forward: hence all the doorways are opposite to
each other, so that the shade may pass through without interruption.
The inhabitants speak in low tones, and if separated by a little
distance communicate their thoughts by signs.
“Bygone generations had to meet Samu or Ravuyalo; but as he died in
1847 by a curious misfortune, his duties now devolve upon his sons,
who, having been long in partnership with their illustrious father,
are quite competent to carry on his office. As it is probable that the
elder son will shortly receive the paternal title, or an equivalent,
we will speak of him as Samuyalo the Killer of Souls. On hearing the
paroquet, Samu and his brothers hide themselves in some spiritual
mangrove bushes just beyond the town and alongside of the path in which
they stick a reed as a prohibition to the spirit to pass that way.
Should the comer be courageous, he raises his club in defiance of the
_tabu_ and those who place it there, whereupon Samu appears to
give him battle, first asking, ‘Who are you, and whence do you come?’
As many carry their inveterate habit of lying into another world,
they make themselves out to be of vast importance, and to such Samu
gives the lie and fells them to the ground. Should the ghost conquer
in the combat, he passes on to the judgment seat of Ndengei; he is
disqualified for appearing there and is doomed to wander among the
mountains. If he be killed in the encounter, he is cooked and eaten by
Samu and his brethren.
“Some traditions put the examination questions into the mouth of Samu,
and judge the spirit at this stage; but the greater number refer the
inquisition to Ndengei.
“Those who escape the club of the soul-destroyer walk on to
Naindelinde, one of the highest peaks of the Kauvandra mountains.
Here the path of the Mbulu ends abruptly at the brink of a precipice,
the base of which is said to be washed by a deep lake. Beyond this
precipice projects a large steer-oar, which one tradition puts in the
charge of Ndengei himself, but another more consistently in the keeping
of an old man and his son, who act under the direction of the god.
These accost the coming spirit thus: ‘Under what circumstances do you
come to us? How did you conduct yourself in the other world?’ If the
ghost should be one of rank, he answers: ‘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.’ To this the reply is, ‘Good, good. Take
a seat on the broad part of this oar, and refresh yourself in the cool
breeze.’ No sooner is he seated than they lift the handle of the oar,
which lies inland, and he is thus thrown down headlong into the deep
waters below, through which he passes to Murimuria. Such as have gained
the special favour of Ndengei are warned not to go out on the oar, but
to sit near those who hold it, and after a short repose are sent back
to the place whence they came to be deified.”
The gods of the Figians would, however, seem to cling with considerable
tenacity to the weaknesses that distinguish the most ordinary mortals.
They quarrel, they fight, and worse still, descend to act the part
of lady-stealers, and this even when the booty is the daughter of
a neighbouring god. The last “pretty scandal” of this character is
related by Mr. Seeman in his recently published work on Figi:
“Once upon a time there dwelt at Rewa a powerful god, whose name was
Ravovonicakaugawa, and along with him his friend the god of the winds,
from Wairna. Ravovonicakaugawa was leading a solitary life, and had
long been thinking of taking a wife to himself. At last his mind seemed
to be made up. ‘Put mast and sail into the canoe,’ he said, ‘and let
us take some women from Rokoua, the god of Naicobocobo.’ ‘When do
you think of starting?’ inquired his friends. ‘I shall go in broad
daylight,’ was the reply; ‘or do you think I am a coward to choose
the night for my work?’ All things being ready, the two friends set
sail and anchored towards sunset off Naicobocobo. There they waited,
contrary to Figian customs, one, two, three days without any friendly
communication from the shore reaching them, for Rokoua, probably
guessing their intention, had strictly forbidden his people to take
any food to the canoe. Rokoua’s repugnance, however, was not shared
by his household. His daughter, the lovely Naiogabui, who diffused so
sweet and powerful a perfume, that if the wind blew from the east the
perfume could be perceived in the west, and if it blew from the west it
could be perceived in the east, in consequence of which, and on account
of her great personal beauty, all the young men fell in love with
her--Naiogabui ordered one of her female slaves to cook a yam and take
it to the foreign canoe, and at the same time inform its owner that she
would be with him at the first opportunity. To give a further proof of
her affection she ordered all the women in Naicobocobo to have a day’s
fishing. This order having been promptly executed, and the fish cooked,
Naiogabui herself swam off with it during the night and presented it to
the Rewa god.
“Ravovonicakaugawa was charmed with the princess and ready to start
with her at once. She, however, begged him to wait another night to
enable Naimilamila, one of Rokoua’s young wives, to accompany them.
Naimilamila was a native of Naicobocobo, and, against her will,
united to Rokoua, who had no affection whatever for her, and kept her
exclusively to scratch his head or play with his locks--hence her name.
Dissatisfied with her sad lot, she had concocted with her stepdaughter
a plan for escape, and was making active preparations to carry it
into execution. On the night agreed upon, Naimilamila was true to her
engagement. ‘Who are you?’ asked the god as she stepped on the deck.
‘I am Rokoua’s wife,’ she rejoined. ‘Get your canoe under weigh; my
lord may follow closely on my heels; and Naiogabui will be with us
immediately.’ Almost directly afterwards a splash in the water was
heard. ‘There she comes,’ cried Naimilamila, ‘make sail;’ and instantly
the canoe, with Ravovonicakaugawa, his friend, and the two women,
departed for Rewa.
“Next morning, when Rokoua discovered the elopement, he determined
to pursue the fugitives, and for that purpose embarked in the
‘Vatateilali,’ a canoe deriving its name from his large drum, the sound
of which was so powerful that it could he heard all over Figi. His
club and spear were put on board, both of which were of such gigantic
dimensions and weight that it took ten men to lift either of them.
Rokoua soon reached Nukuilailai, where he took the spear out, and
making a kind of bridge of it walked over it on shore. Taking spear and
club in his hand, he musingly walked along. ‘It will never do to be at
once discovered,’ he said to himself. ‘I must disguise myself. But what
shape shall I assume? that of a hog or a dog? As a hog I should not be
allowed to come near the door; and as a dog I should have to pick the
bones thrown outside. Neither will answer my purpose; I shall therefore
assume the shape of a woman.’ Continuing his walk along the beach he
met an old woman carrying a basket of taro and puddings ready cooked,
and without letting her be at all aware of it, he exchanged figures
with her. He then enquired whither she was going, and being informed
to the house of the god of Rewa, he took the basket from her, and
leaving club and spear on the beach, proceeded to his destination. His
disguise was so complete that even his own daughter did not recognize
him. ‘Who is that?’ she asked as he was about to enter. ‘It is I,’
replied Rokoua in a feigned voice; ‘I have come from Monisa with food.’
‘Come in, old lady,’ said Naiogabui, ‘and sit down.’ Rokoua accordingly
entered and took care to sit like a Figian woman would do, so that his
disguise might not be discovered. ‘Are you going back to-night?’ he
was asked. ‘No,’ the disguised god replied, ‘there is no occasion for
that.’ Finding it very close in the house, Rokoua proposed a walk and
a bath, to which both Naiogabui and Naimilamila agreed. When getting
the women to that spot of the beach where club and spear had been
left, he threw off his disguise and exclaimed, ‘You little knew who I
was; I am Rokoua, your lord and master;’ and at the same time taking
hold of their hands, he dragged the runaways to the canoe and departed
homewards.
“When the Rewa god found his women gone he again started for
Naicobocobo, where, as he wore no disguise, he was instantly
recognised, his canoe taken and dragged on shore by Rokoua’s men,
while he himself and his faithful friend, who again accompanied him,
were seized and made pig drivers. They were kept in this degrading
position a long time until a great festival took place in Vanua Levu
which Rokoua and his party attended. Arrived at the destination
the Rewa god and his friends were left in charge of the two canoes
that had carried the party thither, whilst all the others went on
shore to enjoy themselves; but as both friends were liked by all the
women they were kept amply supplied with food and other good things
during the festival. Nevertheless Ravovonicakaugawa was very much
cast down, and taking a kava root he offered it as a sacrifice, and
despairingly exclaimed, ‘Have none of the mighty gods of Rewa pity on
my misfortune?’ His friend’s body became instantly possessed by a
god, and began to tremble violently. ‘What do you want?’ asked the god
within. ‘A gale to frighten my oppressors out of their wits.’ ‘It shall
be granted,’ replied the god, and departed.
“The festival being over, Rokoua’s party embarked for Naicobocobo;
but it had hardly set sail when a strong northerly gale sprung up,
which nearly destroyed the canoes and terribly frightened those on
board. Still they reached Naicobocobo, where the Rewa god prayed for
an easterly wind to carry him home. All Rokoua’s men having landed and
left the women behind to carry the goods and luggage on shore, the
desired wind sprang up, and the two canoes, with sails set, started
for Rewa, where they safely arrived, and the goats and other property
were landed and distributed as presents among the people. But Rokoua
was not to be beaten thus. Although his two canoes had been taken there
was still the one taken from Ravovonicakaugawa on his second visit to
Naicobocobo: that was launched without delay and the fugitives pursued.
Arriving at Nukuilailai, Rokoua laid his spear on the deck of the canoe
and walked on shore, as he had done on a previous occasion. Landed, he
dropped his heavy club, thereby causing so loud a noise that it woke
all the people in Viti Levu. This noise did not escape the quick ear
of Naimilamila. ‘Be on your guard,’ she said to her new lord; ‘Rokoua
is coming; I heard his club fall; he can assume any shape he pleases,
be a dog, or a pig, or a woman; he can command even solid rocks to
split open and admit him; so be on your guard.’ Rokoua, meanwhile, met
a young girl from Nadoo on the road, carrying shrimps, landcrabs, and
taro to the house of the god of Rewa, and without hesitation he assumed
her shape, and she took his without being herself aware of it. Arriving
with his basket at his destination, Naiogabui asked, ‘Who is there?’
To which Rokoua replied, ‘It is me; I am from Nadoo, bringing food for
your husband.’ The supposed messenger was asked into the house, and
sitting down he imprudently assumed a position not proper to Figian
women; this and the shape of his limbs was noticed by Naiogabui, who
whispered the discovery made into her husband’s ear. Ravovonicakaugawa
stole out of the house, assembled his people, recalled to their minds
the indignities heaped upon him by Rokoua, and having worked them up
to a high pitch of excitement, he informed them that the offender
was now in their power. All rushed to arms, and entering the house
they demanded the young girl from Nadoo. ‘There she sits,’ replied
Naiogabui, pointing to her father; and no sooner had the words been
spoken than a heavy blow with a club felled Rokoua to the ground. A
general onset followed in which the head of the victim was beaten to
atoms. This was the end of Rokoua.”
According to the evidence of Turner and other reliable Polynesian
travellers, the entrance to the Hades of the Samoans was supposed to be
a circular basin among the rocks at the west end of Savaii. Savaii is
the most westerly island of the group. When a person was near death,
it was thought that the house was surrounded by a host of spirits, all
waiting to take the soul away to their subterranean home at the place
referred to; if at night the people of the family were afraid to go out
of doors, lest they should be snatched away by some of these invisible
powers. As soon as the spirit left the body, it was supposed to go in
company with this band of spirits direct to the west end of Savaii. If
it was a person residing on one of the more easterly islands of the
group--on Upolu, for example--they travelled on by land to the west
end of the island, not to a Charon, but to a great stone called “the
stone to leap from.” It was thought that the spirits here leaped into
the sea, swam to the island of Monono, crossed the land to the west
point of that island, again leaped from another stone there, swam to
Savaii, crossed fifty miles of country there again, and, at length,
reached the Hafa, or entrance to their imaginary world of spirits.
There was a cocoa-nut tree near this spot, and it was supposed that if
the spirit happened to come in contact with the tree it returned, and
the person who seemed to be dead revived and recovered. If, however,
the spirit did not strike against the tree, it went down the Hafa at
once. At this place, on Savaii, there are two circular basins, not many
feet deep, still pointed out as the place where the spirits went down.
One, which is the larger of the two, was supposed to be for chiefs,
the other for common people. These lower regions were reported to have
a heaven, an earth, and a sea, and people with real bodies, planting,
fishing, cooking, and otherwise employed, just as in the present life.
At night their bodies were supposed to change their form, and become
like a confused collection of sparks of fire. In this state, and during
the hours of darkness, they were said to ascend and revisit their
former places of abode, retiring at early dawn, either to the bush or
back to the lower regions. It was supposed these spirits had power to
return and cause disease and death in other members of the family.
Hence all were anxious as a person drew near the close of life to part
on good terms with him, feeling assured that, if he died with angry
feelings towards any one, he would certainly return and bring some
calamity upon that very person, or some one closely allied to him.
This was considered a frequent source of disease and death, viz., the
spirit of a departed member of the family returning, and taking up his
abode in the head, or chest, or stomach of the party, and so causing
sickness and death. The spirits of the departed were also supposed
to come and talk through a certain member of the family, prophesying
various events, or giving directions as to certain family affairs. If
a man died suddenly, it was thought that he was eaten by the spirits
that took him. His soul was said to go to the common residence of the
departed; only it was thought that such persons had not the power of
speech, and could only, in reply to a question, beat their breasts.
The chiefs were supposed to have a separate place allotted them, and
to have plenty of the best food and other indulgences. Saveasuileo was
the great king, or Pluto, of these subterranean regions, and to him
all yielded the profoundest homage. He was supposed to have the head
of a man, and the upper part of his body reclining in a great house
in company with the spirits of departed chiefs. The extremity of his
body was said to stretch away into the sea, in the shape of an eel or
serpent. He ruled the destinies of war, and other affairs. His great
house or temple was supported, not by pillars of wood or stone, but by
columns of living men.
[Illustration: Samoan Idol Worship.]
At his birth every Samoan was supposed to be taken under the care of
some tutelary or protecting god, or aitu, as it was called. The help
of perhaps half a dozen different gods was invoked in succession on
the occasion; but the one who happened to be addressed just as the
child was born, was marked, and declared to be the child’s god for
life. The gods were supposed to appear in some visible incarnation, and
the particular thing in which his god was in the habit of appearing
was to the Samoan an object of veneration. It was in fact his idol,
and he was careful never to injure it or treat it with contempt. One,
for instance, saw his god in the eel, another in the shark, another
in the turtle, another in the dog, another in the owl, another in the
lizard, and so on throughout all the fish of the sea, and birds, and
four-footed beasts, and creeping things. In some of the shell fish
even gods were supposed to be present. A man would eat freely of what
was regarded as the incarnation of the god of another man, but the
incarnation of his own particular god he would consider it death to
injure or to eat. The god was supposed to avenge the insult by taking
up his abode in that person’s body, and causing to generate there the
very thing which he had eaten, until it produced death. This class of
genii, or tutelary deities, they call aitu-fule, or god of the house.
The father of the family was the high priest, and usually offered a
short prayer at the evening meal, that they might all be kept from
sickness, war, and death. Occasionally, too, he would direct that they
have a family feast in honour of their household gods; and on these
occasions a cup of their intoxicating ava-draught was poured out as a
drink-offering. They did this in their family house, where they all
assembled, supposing that their gods had a spiritual presence there, as
well as in the material objects to which we have referred. Often it was
supposed that the god came among them, and spoke through the father or
some other member of the family, telling them what to do in order to
remove a present evil, or avert a threatened one. Sometimes it would be
that the family should get a canoe built, and keep it sacred to the
god. They might travel in it and use it themselves, but it was death
to sell or part with a canoe which had been built specially for the
god. Another class of Samoan deities may be called gods of the town or
village. Every village had its god, and every one born in that village
was regarded as the property of that god. “I have got a child for so
and so,” a woman would say on the birth of her child, and name the
village god. There was a small house or temple also consecrated to the
deity of the place. Where there was no formal temple, the great house
of the village where the chiefs were in the habit of assembling was the
temple for the time being, as occasion required.
In their temples they had generally something for the eye to rest upon
with superstitious veneration. In one might be seen a conch shell
suspended from the roof in a basket made of sinnet network, and this
the god was supposed to blow when he wished the people to rise to war.
In another, two stones were kept. In another, something resembling
the head of a man, with white streamers flying, was raised on a pole
at the door of the temple, on the usual day of worship. In another, a
cocoa-nut shell drinking cup was suspended from the roof, and before it
prayers were addressed and offerings presented. This cup was also used
in oaths. If they wished to find out a thief, the suspected parties
were assembled before the chiefs, the cup sent for, and each would
approach, 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. The priests in some cases were the chiefs
of the place; but in general some one in a particular family claimed
the privilege, 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 or not the people might go to war. The offerings
were principally cooked food. The first cup was in honour of the god.
It was either poured out on the ground or waved towards the heavens.
The chiefs all drank a portion out of the same cup, according to rank;
and after that, the food brought as an offering was divided and eaten,
“there before the Lord.” This feast was annual, and frequently about
the month of May. In some places it passed off quietly, in others it
was associated with games, sham fights, night dances, etc., and lasted
for days. In time of war special feasts were ordered by the priests. Of
the offerings on war occasions, women and children were forbidden to
partake, as it was not their province to go to battle. They supposed it
would bring sickness and death on the party eating who did not go to
the war, and hence were careful to bury or throw into the sea whatever
food was over after the festival. In some places the feasts, in honour
of the god, were regulated by the appearance in the settlement of the
bird which was thought to be the incarnation of the god. Whenever the
bird was seen, the priest would say that the god had come, and fixed
upon a day for this entertainment. The village gods, like those of the
household, had all some particular incarnation; one was supposed to
appear as a bat, another as a heron, another as an owl. If a man found
a dead owl by the roadside, and if that happened to be the incarnation
of his village god, he would sit down and weep over it, and beat his
forehead with stones till the blood flowed. This was thought pleasing
to the deity. Then the bird would be wrapped up, and buried with care
and ceremony, as if it were a human body. This, however, was not the
death of the god. He was supposed to be yet alive and incarnate in all
the owls in existence. The flight of these birds was observed in the
time of war. If the bird flew before them it was a signal to go on;
but if it crossed the path, it was a bad omen, and a sign to retreat.
Others saw their village god in the rainbow, others saw him in the
shooting star; and in time of war the position of a rainbow and the
direction of a shooting star were always ominous.
Throughout Polynesia the ordinary medium of communicating or extending
supernatural powers was the red feather of a small bird found in many
of the islands and the beautiful long tail-feathers of the tropic or
man-of-war-bird. For these feathers the gods were supposed to have a
strong predilection: they were the most valuable offerings that could
be presented to them; the power or influence of the god was imparted,
and through them transferred to the objects to which they might be
attached. Among the numerous ceremonies observed, the _palatua_
was one of the most conspicuous. On these occasions the gods were all
brought out of the temple, the sacred coverings removed, scented oils
were applied to the images, and they were exposed to the sun. At these
seasons the parties who wished their emblems of deity to be impregnated
with the essence of the gods, repaired to the ceremony with a number of
red feathers which they delivered to the officiating priest.
[Illustration: Polynesian Idol.]
The wooden idols being generally hollow, the feathers were deposited
in the inside of the image, which was filled with them. Many idols,
however, were solid pieces of wood bound or covered with finely braided
cinnet of the fibres of the cocoa-nut husk; to these the feathers were
attached on the outside by small fibrous bands. In return for the
feathers thus united to the god, the parties received two or three of
the same kind, which had been deposited on a former festival in the
inside of a wooden or inner fold of a cinnet idol. These feathers were
thought to possess all the properties of the images to which they had
been attached, and a supernatural influence was supposed to be infused
into them. They were carefully wound round with very fine cinnet, the
extremities alone remaining visible. When this was done, the new made
gods were placed before the larger images, from which they had been
taken, and, lest their detachment should induce the god to withhold
his power, the priest addresses a prayer to the principal deities,
requesting them to abide in the red feathers before them. At the close
of his _ubu_, or invocation, he declared that they were dwelt in
or inhabited (by the god), and delivered them to the parties who had
brought the red feathers. The feathers taken home were deposited in
small bamboo canes, excepting when addressed in prayer. If prosperity
attended their owner, it was attributed to their influence, and they
were usually honoured with an image, into which they were enwrought,
and subsequently perhaps an altar and a rude temple were erected for
them. In the event, however, of their being attached to an image,
this must be taken to the large temple, that the supreme idols might
sanction the transfer of their influence.
Animals, fruits, etc., were not the only articles presented to the
idols: the most affecting part of their sacrificing was the frequent
immolation of human victims. These sacrifices, in the technical
language of the priests, were called _fish_. They were offered
in seasons of war, at great national festivals, during the illness
of their rulers, and on the erection of their temples. Travellers
have been informed by the inhabitants of the town of Maeva, that the
foundation of some of the buildings for the abode of their gods was
actually laid in human sacrifices, that every pillar supporting the
roof of one of the sacred houses at Maeva was planted upon the body of
a man who had been offered as a victim to the sanguinary deity about to
be deposited there. The unhappy wretches selected, were either captives
taken in war or individuals who had rendered themselves obnoxious to
the chiefs or the priests. When they were wanted, a stone was, at the
request of the priest, sent by the king to the chief of the district
from which the victims were required. If the stone was received, it
was an indication of an intention to comply with the requisition. It
is a singular fact that the cruelty of the practice extended, not only
to individuals, but to families and districts. When an individual has
been taken as a sacrifice, the family to which he belonged was regarded
as _tabu_, or devoted; and when another was required, it was more
frequently taken from that family than any other; and a district from
which sacrifices had been taken was in the same way considered as
devoted, and hence, when it was known that any ceremonies were near on
which human sacrifices were usually offered, the members of _tabu_
families or others who had reason to fear they were selected, fled
to the mountains and hid themselves in the dens and caverns till the
ceremony was over.
In general the victim was unconscious of his doom until suddenly struck
down by a blow from a club or a stone, sometimes from the hand of
the very chief on whom he was depending as a guest for the rights of
hospitality. He was usually murdered on the spot, his body placed in a
long basket of cocoa-nut leaves, and carried to the temple. Here it was
offered, not by consuming it with fire, but by placing it before the
idol. The priest in dedicating it, took out one of the eyes, placed it
on a plantain leaf, and handed it to the king, who raised it to his
mouth as if desirous to eat it, but passed it to one of the priests
or attendants stationed near him for the purpose of receiving it. At
intervals, during the prayers, some of the hair was plucked off and
placed before the god, and when the ceremony was over, the body was
wrapped in the basket of cocoa-nut leaves, and frequently deposited on
the branches of an adjacent tree. After remaining a considerable time
it was taken down, and the bones buried beneath the rude pavement of
the marae or temple. These horrid rites were not unfrequent, and the
number offered at their great festivals was truly appalling.
The most remarkable institution prevailing among the inhabitants
of the islands of the southern seas is that known as tabu or tapu.
Although it could only be imposed by a priest, and a religious motive
was invariably assigned for its imposition, there can be little doubt
that its chief use was civil; and though, as in all state engines,
the component parts of which are multitudinous and of as diverse a
character as selfish interest can make them, abuse and depravity will
appear, still there can be no question that in its working the tabu is
an institution not to be hastily thrown aside or abolished. To quote
the words of Ellis, “the tabu forms an important and essential part
of a cruel system of idolatry, and is one of the strongest means of
its support.” This may be so far true, but at the same time, inasmuch
as it affects the proper government, the tranquillity, the very daily
bread of an idolatrous country, it is a thing to meet with tender
consideration, unless, indeed, because a nation is idolatrous, it is
to be straight stirred to rebellion, and driven to famine and death.
It is fair to regard tabu, not as a purely religious institution, but
as a political institution, propped and upheld by the most influential
men in the country, the priests, who, in their turn, are backed by the
_kiaimoku_ (island keepers), a kind of police officers, who are
appointed by the king, and empowered to carry out the commands of the
priest, though the lives of offenders be blotted out at the same time.
Thus blended, does “Church and State” form a quickset hedge, pleasant
to the sight,--for the profusion of the “rewards” to come, promised by
the holy men to the faithful, cover it as it were with green leaves,
hidden among which are the thorns--the spears of the king’s servants,
not insolently thrust out, but modestly retiring and challenging a
brush with no man; altogether, however, it is a hedge that no savage
may break, and which, for heaven knows how many hundreds of years,
myriads of savages have been content to regard harmlessly, passing
their lives in the shadow of it.
In most of the Polynesian dialects the usual meaning of the word tabu
is _sacred_. “It does not, however,” says Ellis, “imply any moral
quality, but expresses a connection with the gods or a separation from
ordinary purposes and exclusive appropriation to persons or things
considered sacred.” Those chiefs who trace their genealogy to the
gods are called _arii tabu_ chiefs, sacred from their supposed
connection with the gods. It is a distinct word from _rahui_, to
prohibit, and is opposed to the word, _noa_, which means general
or common. Hence the system which prohibited the females from eating
with the men, and from eating, except on special occasions, any part of
animals ever offered in sacrifice to the gods, while it allowed the men
to partake of them, was called the _ai tabu_, eating sacred.
This appears to be the legitimate meaning of the word tabu, though the
natives when talking with foreigners use it more extensively, and apply
it to everything prohibited or improper. This, however, is only to
accommodate the latter, as they use kaukau (a word of Chinese origin)
instead of the native word for eat, and _picaninny_ for small,
supposing they are better understood.
The antiquity of tabu was equal to the other branches of that
superstition, of which it formed so component a part, and its
application was both general and particular, occasional and permanent.
Speaking of the custom as observed in Figi, Mr. Williams says, “It
is the secret of power and the strength of despotic rule. It affects
things both great and small. Here it is seen tending a brood of
chickens, and there it directs the energies of a kingdom. Its influence
is wondrously diffused. Coasts, lands, rivers, and seas; animals,
fruits, fish, and vegetables; houses, beds, pots, cups, and dishes;
canoes, and with all that belong to them, with their management, dress,
ornaments, and arms; things to eat, and things to drink; the members
of the body, manners and customs; language, names, temper, and even
the gods also; all come under the influence of the _tabu_. It
is put into operation by religious, political, or selfish motives,
and idleness lounges for months beneath its sanction. Many are thus
forbidden to raise their hands or extend their arms in any useful
employment for a long time. In this district it is _tabu_ to build
canoes; on that island it is _tabu_ to erect good houses. The
custom is much in favour with chiefs, who adjust it so that it sits
easily on themselves, while they use it to gain influence over those
who are nearly their equals: by it they supply many of their wants, and
command at will all who are beneath them. In imposing a tabu, a chief
need only be checked by a care that he is countenanced by ancient
precedents. Persons of small importance borrow the shade of the system,
and endeavour by its aid to place their yam beds and plantain plots
within a sacred prohibition.”
Ellis continues in the same tone of banter. “The tabu seasons were
either common or strict. During a common tabu the men were only
required to abstain from their usual avocations and attend at the
temple, when the prayers were offered every morning and evening; but
during the season of strict tabu, every fire and light on the island
must be extinguished, no canoe must be launched on the water, no
person must bathe; and except those whose attendance was required at
the temple, no individual must be seen out of doors; no dog must bark,
no pig must grunt, no cock must crow, or the tabu would be broken and
fail to accomplish the object designed. On these occasions they tied
up the mouths of the dogs and pigs, and put the fowls under a calabash
or fastened a piece of cloth over their eyes. All the common people
prostrated themselves with their faces touching the ground before
the sacred chiefs when they walked out, particularly during tabu;
and neither the king nor the priests were allowed to touch anything;
even their food was put into their mouths by another person. The tabu
was imposed either by proclamation, when the crier or herald of the
priests went round, generally in the evening, requiring every light
to be extinguished, the path by the sea to be left for the king, the
paths inland to be left for the gods, etc. The people, however, were
generally prepared, having had previous warning, though this was not
always the case. Sometimes it was laid on by fixing certain marks,
called _unu unu_, the purport of which was well understood, on
things tabued. When the fish of a certain part are tabued, a small pole
is fixed in the rocks on the coast in the centre of the place, to which
is tied a bunch of bamboo leaves on a piece of white cloth. A cocoa-nut
leaf is tied to the stem of the tree when the fruit is tabued. The hogs
which were tabued, having been devoted to the gods, had a piece of
cinnet woven through a perforation in one of their ears. The females
in particular must have felt the degrading and humiliating effects of
the tabu in its full force. From its birth the child, if a female, was
not allowed a particle of food that had been kept in the father’s dish
or cooked at his fire; and the little boy, after being weaned, was fed
with his father’s food, and as soon as he was able sat down to meals
with his father, while his mother was not only obliged to take her
meals in the outhouse, but was interdicted from tasting the kind of
which he ate.”
At the time when Mariner was traversing Polynesia and became a guest
of King Finow’s, he happened to witness the ceremony of removing a
tapu, which for certain reasons had been laid on hogs. The places
appropriated for this ceremony were two marleys and the grave of
Tooitonga. For distinction’s sake, we shall call the first marley
Tooitonga’s, and the second Finow’s. Tooitonga’s marley is near
Finow’s residence, and on this were erected four columns of yams in
the following manner:--Four poles about eighteen feet long were fixed
upright in the ground, to the depth of a few feet, at about four feet
distance from each other, in a quadrangular form, the spaces between
them all the way to the top being crossed by smaller poles about six
inches distant from each other, and lashed on by the bark of the
_fow_ (species of the Hibiscus), the interior of this erection
being filled up as they went with yams; and afterwards other upright
poles were lashed on to the top, with cross pieces in like manner,
still piling up the yams; then a third set of poles, etc., till the
column of yams was about fifty or sixty feet high, when on the top of
all was placed a cold baked pig. Four such columns were erected, one
at each corner of the marley, the day before the ceremony, and three
or four hundred hogs were killed and about half baked. The following
day the hogs were carried to the king’s marley, about a quarter of
a mile off, and placed upon the ground before the house, as well as
four or five wooden cars or sledges full of yams, each holding about
five hundred. While this was doing, the people assembling from all
quarters, those who were already arrived sat themselves down round the
king’s marley. Occasionally some of them got up to amuse themselves,
and the rest of the company, by wrestling with one another. The king
and his chiefs, all dressed in plaited gnatoo, were already seated
in the house, viewing what was going forward. The company being at
length all arrived, and having seated themselves, the king gave notice
that the ceremony was to begin. The young chiefs and warriors, and
those who prided themselves in their strength, then got up singly and
endeavoured in turns to carry off the largest hog. When one failed,
another tried, then a third, and so on till every one that chose had
made a trial of his strength. To carry one of the largest hogs is not
a thing easy to be done, on account of its greasiness as well as its
weight, but it affords a considerable share of diversion to see a man
embracing a large fat, baked hog, and endeavouring to raise it on his
shoulder. As the hog was found too heavy for one man’s strength, it
was carried away by two, whilst a third followed with its liver. They
were deposited on the ground near Tooitonga’s marley, where the men
waited till the other hogs were brought. In the mean time the trial was
going on with the second hog, which being found also too heavy for one
man, was carried away by two in like manner, and so on with the third,
fourth, etc., the largest being carried away first and the least last.
The second, third, fourth, etc., afforded more sport than the first, as
being a nearer counterbalance with a man’s strength. Sometimes he had
got it nearly upon his shoulder, when his greasy burden slipped through
his arms, and his endeavour to save it brought him down after it. It
is an honour to attempt these things, and even the king sometimes put
his hand to it. The small hogs and pigs afforded no diversion, as they
were easily lifted and carried away, each by one man, and deposited,
not at the outside of Tooitonga’s marley along with the largest hogs,
but carried at once into it, where the cars of yams were also dragged,
one at a time. When everything was thus cleared from the king’s marley,
the company got up and proceeded to the other marley, where they again
seated themselves, whilst Tooitonga presided, and the king and his
chiefs, out of respect, sat on the outside of the ring among the great
body of the people. The large hogs which had been deposited in the
neighbourhood of the marley were now to be brought in each by one man,
and as it had been found that one man’s strength was not sufficient to
raise any of them upon his shoulders, two others were allowed to lift
the hog and place it upon his shoulders for him, and then he tottered
in with his load, followed by another man with the liver; and in this
manner all the hogs and their livers were carried in and deposited in
two or three rows before Tooitonga. Their number was then counted by
the head cooks of Tooitonga and Finow, and announced aloud to Tooitonga
by his own head cook; the number of cars and piles of yams was also
announced at the same time.
This being done, about twenty of the largest hogs were carried to
Tooitonga’s burying-place, nearly a hundred yards distant; those which
were too heavy for one man to lift being put upon his shoulders by
two others, etc., as before, and deposited near the grave; one car
of yams was also taken and left in like manner. This portion of pork
and yam being disposed of, the remainder was shared in the following
manner: one column of yams was allotted to the king, to be removed
in the afternoon, and to be disposed of as he pleased (he always
shares it among his chiefs and fighting men); another column was
allotted to Veachi and two or three other chiefs; the third was given
to the gods (the priests always take care of this portion); and the
fourth Tooitonga claimed for his own share. As to the cars of yams,
they were never inquired after. Tooitonga generally takes care of
them, and appropriates them to his own use and that of his numerous
household, not that he has any legal right to them beyond custom and
silent consent. The hogs were disposed of in like manner; the greatest
quantity to the greatest chiefs, who share them out to the chiefs
immediately below them in rank, and these again to their dependants,
till every man in the island gets at least a mouthful of pork and
yam. The ceremony now concluded with dancing, wrestling, etc.; after
which every person present having secured his portion retired to his
home to share it with his family. From this moment the _tabu_, or
prohibition upon hogs, fowls, and cocoa-nuts, was null and void.
In New Zealand, although the principle of the institution of tapu
is much the same as in other islands of the Polynesian group, its
application differs in so many and such essential particulars as to
make it worth while to devote a few pages, chiefly supplied from
Taylor, Thompson, and other New Zealand missionaries and travellers of
distinction.
During the time of tapu a man could not be touched by any one, or even
put his own hand to his head himself; but he was either fed by another
who was appointed for the purpose, or took up his food with his mouth
from a small stage, with his hands behind him, or by a fern stalk, and
thus conveyed it to his mouth. In drinking, the water was poured in a
very expert manner from a calabash into his mouth, or on his hands when
he needed it for washing, so that he should not touch the vessel, which
otherwise could not have been used again for ordinary purposes. Places
were tapued for certain periods--rivers until the fishing was ended,
cultivation until the planting or reaping was completed, districts
until either the hunting of the rat or catching of birds was done,
woods until the fruit of the kie-kie was gathered.
A person became tapu by touching a dead body or by being very ill; in
this respect it appears to bear a very close resemblance to the Mosaic
law relating to uncleanness.
The garments of an ariki, or high chief, were tapu, as well as
everything relating to him; they could not be worn by any one else lest
they should kill him. “An old chief in my company,” says Mr. Williams,
“threw away a very good mat because it was too heavy to carry; he cast
it down a precipice. When I inquired why he did not leave it suspended
on a tree, that any future traveller wanting a garment might take it,
he gravely told me that it was the fear of its being worn by another
which had caused him to throw it where he did, for if it were worn by
another his tapu would kill the person. In the same way the tinder-box
of a great chief killed several persons who were so unfortunate as to
find it, and light their pipes from it without knowing it belonged to
so sacred an owner; they actually died from fright. If the blood of a
high chief flows (though it be a single drop) on anything, it renders
that tapu. A party of natives came to see Te Hewhew, the great chief
of Taupo, in a fine large new canoe. Te Hewhew got into it to go a
short distance; in doing so he struck a splinter into his foot, the
blood flowed from the wound into the canoe, which at once tapued it to
him. The owner immediately jumped out and dragged it on shore opposite
the chief’s house, and there left it. A gentleman entering my house,
struck his head against the beam and made the blood flow; the natives
present said that in former times the house would have belonged to that
individual. To draw blood, even from a scratch, was a very serious
matter, and often was attended with fatal consequence.”
A chief’s house was tapu; no person could eat therein, or even light
his pipe from the fire, and until a certain service had been gone
through, even a woman could not enter. The chief being sacred had his
food to himself, generally in his verandah, or apart from the rest. No
chief could carry food, lest it should occasion his death by destroying
his tapu, or lest a slave should eat of it, and so cause him to die.
A chief would not pass under a stage or wata (a food store). The head
of the chief was the most sacred part; if he only touched it with his
fingers, he was obliged immediately to apply them to his nose, and
snuff up the sanctity which they had acquired by the touch, and thus
restore it to the part from whence it was taken. For the same reason
a chief could not blow the fire with his mouth, for the breath being
sacred communicated his sanctity with the fire, and a brand might be
taken from it by a slave, or a man of another tribe, or the fire might
be used for other purposes, such as cooking, and so cause his death.
The chief power, however, of this institution was principally seen in
its effects on the multitude.
In former times, life in a great measure depended upon the produce of
their cultivations; therefore it was of the utmost importance that
their kumara and taro should be planted at the proper season, and that
every other occupation should be laid aside until that necessary work
was accomplished. All, therefore, who were thus employed were made
tapu, so that they could not leave the place, or undertake any other
work, until that was finished. So also in fishing and hunting; and
this applied not only to those thus employed, but to others. The kumara
grounds were tapu; no strange natives could approach them. Even the
people of the place, if not engaged in the work, were obliged to stand
at a distance from the ground thus rendered sacred by solemn karikia.
Doubtless this was a wise precaution to avoid interruptions, and to
keep them from stealing. No one but the priest could pass in front of
the party engaged in gathering in the kumara; those who presumed to do
so would be either killed or stripped for their temerity. The woods
in which they hunted the rat were tapu until the sport was over, and
so were the rivers; no canoe could pass by till the rabue (generally
a pole with an old garment tied to it) was taken down. In the early
days of the mission, this was a great annoyance; the members of the
mission were often unable to communicate with each other until the
dreaded pole was removed; but at last they determined to observe the
tapu no longer: the boat was manned, and they rowed along in defiance
of the sacred prohibition. They had not gone far, however, before
they were pursued, the boat was taken ashore, and all the articles
in it were seized, amongst which were some bottles of medicine and
pots of preserves. These were immediately eaten, and great wrath and
indignation expressed; but by preserving a firm deportment, the natives
were conquered; the medicine perhaps had its share in obtaining the
victory, as they found they could not meddle with the Europeans with
impunity. They held a meeting, and it was then resolved that, for the
future, as Europeans were a foreign race and subject to a different
religion, the tapu should not apply to them; and afterwards, as their
converts increased, the permission was enlarged to take them in as well.
Those who were tapued for any work could not mix again in society until
it was taken off, or they were _waka noa_, that is, made common or
deprived of the sanctity with which they had been invested. This was
done by the priest, who repeated a long karakia and performed certain
rites over them.
If any one wished to preserve his crop, his house, his garments, or
anything else, he made it tapu: a tree which had been selected in
the forest for a canoe, a patch of flax or raupo in a swamp which an
individual might wish to appropriate to himself, and which he could
not then do, he rendered tapu by tying a band round the former, with
a little grass in it, or by sticking up a pole in the swamp with a
similar bunch attached. If a person had been taken prisoner in war, and
a feeling of pity arose in the breast of one of his captors, though it
may have been the general determination to put him to death, the desire
of the merciful individual would prevail, by throwing his garment over
him; he who then touched the prisoner with a hostile intention, touched
also his preserver. An instance of this kind occurred during the late
war at Wanganui. One of the inhabitants was captured by the hostile
natives; he was on the point of being put to death, when an old chief
rushed forward and threw his blanket over him. The man was spared, and
afterwards was treated with great kindness, as though he were one of
the tribe.
Formerly every woman was _noa_, or common, and could select as
many companions as she liked, without being thought guilty of any
impropriety, until given away by her friends to some one as her future
master; she then became tapu to him, and was liable to be put to death
if found unfaithful. The power of the tapu, however, mainly depended
on the influence of the individual who imposed it. If it were put on
by a great chief, it would not be broken; but a powerful man often
broke through the tapu of an inferior. A chief would frequently lay it
on a road or river, so that no one could go by either, unless he felt
himself strong enough to set the other at defiance.
The duration of the tapu was arbitrary, and depended on the will of the
person who imposed it, also the extent to which it applied. Sometimes
it was limited to a particular object, at other times it embraced many;
some persons and places were always tapu, as an ariki or tohunga and
their houses, so much so that even their very owners could not eat in
them, therefore all their meals were taken in the open air. The males
could not eat with their wives, nor their wives with the male children,
lest their tapu or sanctity should kill them. If a chief took a fancy
for anything belonging to another who was inferior, he made it tapu for
himself by calling it his backbone, and thus put as it were his broad
arrow upon it. A chief anxious to obtain a fine large canoe belonging
to an inferior who had offended him, merely called it by his own name,
and then his people went and took it.
If a chief wished to hinder any one from going to a particular place or
by a particular road, he made it tapu. During the disturbances between
the Government and the natives, they tapued the sea coast, and would
not permit any Europeans to travel that way, and so compelled some of
the highest functionaries to retrace their steps.
Some years ago a German missionary located himself at Motu Karamu,
a pa up the Mokan: the greater part of the natives there, with their
head chief, Te Kuri, were members of the Church of Rome, but his
head wife, however, became his warm patron. When the priest arrived
there on his way down the river, he scolded Te Kuri for suffering an
heretical missionary to become located in his district, and applied
many opprobrious epithets to the intruder. This very much incensed the
chief’s lady. She said her teacher should not be abused, and therefore,
next morning, when his reverence was preparing to continue his journey,
she made the river tapu, and to his annoyance there was not a canoe
to be found which dare break it. After storming for some time, he was
obliged to return by the way he came, the lady saying it would teach
him to use better language another time, and not insult her minister.
To render a place tapu, a chief tied one of his old garments to a
pole, and stuck it up on the spot he intended to be sacred. This he
either called by his own name, saying it was some part of his body, as
Te Hewhew made the mountain Tongariro sacred by speaking of it as his
backbone, or he gave it the name of one of his tupuna, or ancestors;
then all descended from that individual were bound to see the tapu
maintained, and the further back the ancestors went the greater number
of persons were interested in keeping up the tapu, as the credit and
influence of the family was at stake, and all were bound to avenge any
wanton infringement of it.
Another kind of tapu was that which was acquired by accidental
circumstances, thus: An iron pot which was used for cooking purposes
was lent to a Pakeka; he very innocently placed it under the eaves of
his house to catch water in; the rain coming from a sacred dwelling
rendered the utensil so likewise. It was afterwards removed by a person
to cook with, without her knowing what had been done. When she was told
it was sacred, as it had caught the water from the roof, she exclaimed,
“We shall die before night.” They went, however, to the tohunga, who
made it noa again by uttering the tupeke over it.
Sickness also made the persons tapu. All diseases were supposed to be
occasioned by atuas, or spirits, ngarara or lizards entering into the
body of the afflicted; these therefore rendered the person sacred. The
sick were removed from their own houses, and had sheds built for them
in the bush at a considerable distance from the pa, where they lived
apart. If any remained in their houses and died there, the dwelling
became tapu, was painted over with red ochre, and could not again be
used, which often put a tribe to great inconvenience, as some houses
were the abode of perhaps thirty or forty different people.
The wife of a chief falling ill, the missionaries took her into their
hospital, where she laid for several days. At last her husband came and
carried her away, saying, he was afraid of her dying there, lest the
house should be made tapu, and thus hinder the missionaries from using
it again.
During the war, Maketu, a principal chief of the hostile natives, was
shot in the house belonging to a settler, which he was then plundering;
from that time it became tapu, and no heathen would enter it for years.
The resting-places of great chiefs on a journey became tapu; if they
were in the forest, the spots were cleared and surrounded with a fence
of basket work, and names were given to them. This custom particularly
applied to remarkable rocks or trees, to which karakia was made, and
a little bundle of rushes was thrown as an offering to the spirit who
was supposed to reside there, and the sacred object was smeared over
with red ochre. A similar custom prevailed when corpses were carried to
their final places of interment. The friends of the dead either carved
an image, which they frequently clothed with their best garments, or
tied some of the clothes of the dead to a neighbouring tree or to a
pole; or else they painted some adjacent rock or stone with red ochre,
to which they gave the name of the dead, and whenever they passed by
addressed it as though their friend were alive and present, using the
most endearing expressions, and casting some fresh garments on the
figure as a token of their love. These were a kind of memorial similar
to the painted windows in churches.
An inferior kind of tapu exists, which any one may use. A person who
finds a piece of drift timber secures it for himself by tying something
round it or giving it a chop with his axe. In a similar way he can
appropriate to his own use whatever is naturally common to all. A
person may thus stop up a road through his ground, and often leaves
his property in exposed places with merely this simple sign to show it
is private and generally it is allowed to remain untouched, however
many may pass that way; so with a simple bit of flax, the door of a
man’s house, containing all his valuables, is left, or his food store;
they are thus rendered inviolable, and no one will meddle with them.
The owner of a wood abounding with kie-kie, a much prized fruit, is
accustomed to set up a pole to preserve it until the fruit be fully
ripe; when it is thought to be sufficiently so, he sends a young man to
see if the report be favourable. The rahue is then pulled down; this
removes the tapu, and the entire population go to trample the wood. All
have liberty to gather the fruit, but it is customary to present some
of the finest to the chief owner.
“When,” says a missionary, “Te Hewhew and nearly sixty of his tribe
were overwhelmed by a landslip, in the village of Te Rapa, where they
resided, the spot was for a long time kept strictly tapu, and no one
was allowed to set foot on it. I was determined to make the effort,
and as several who were Christians had lost their lives in the general
destruction, I told the natives I should go and read the burial service
over them. Viewing me as a tohunga (or priest), they did not dare to
offer any opposition. I went on the sacred spot, under which the entire
population of a village lay entombed, and there I read the burial
service, the neighbouring natives standing on the verge of the ruins
and on the surrounding heights.”
It is evident therefore that the tapu arises from the will of the
chief; that by it he laid a ban upon whatever he felt disposed. It
was a great power which could at all times be exercised for his own
advantage, and the maintenance of his power, frequently making some
trifling circumstance the reason for putting the whole community to
great inconvenience, rendering a road to the pa, perhaps the most
direct and frequented, or a grove, or a fountain, or anything else
tapu by his arbitrary will. Without the tapu he was only a common
man, and this is what long deterred many high chiefs from embracing
Christianity, lest they should lose this main support of their power.
Few but ariki, or great tohungas, claimed the power of the tapu;
inferior ones indeed occasionally used it, but the observance of it
was chiefly confined to his own retainers, and was often violated with
impunity, or by giving a small payment. But he who presumed to violate
the tapu of an ariki, did it at the risk of his life and property.
The tapu in many instances was beneficial, considering the state of
society, the absence of law, and the fierce character of the people; it
formed no bad substitute for a dictatorial form of government, and made
the nearest approach to an organised state of society, or rather it
may be regarded as the last remaining trace of a more civilised polity
possessed by their remote ancestors. In it we discern somewhat of the
ancient dignity and power of the high chief, or ariki, and a remnant
of the sovereign authority they once possessed, with the remarkable
union of the kingly and sacerdotal character in their persons. It
rendered them a distinct race, more nearly allied to gods than men,
their persons, garments, houses, and everything belonging to them being
so sacred, that to touch or meddle with them was alone sufficient to
occasion death.
Their gods being no more than deceased chiefs, they 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, and had swallowed their eyes and drank their blood,
was supposed, to have added the spirits of his victims to his own,
and thus increased the power of his spirit. 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, and it
did succeed in doing so. During bygone ages it has had a wide-spread
sway, and exercised a fearful power over benighted races of men; until
the “stone cut without hands” smote this mighty image of cruelty on its
feet, caused it to fall, and, like the chaff of the summer’s thrashing
floor, the wind of God’s word has swept it away.
Among the Samoans tangible shapes are given to the mysterious things.
There is the snake-tapu, the shark-tapu, the thunder-tapu, and
very many others. If I am a Samoan, therefore, and have yams, or
chickens, or plantains to preserve, I _make_ a tapu according
to my fancy--if thunder, I make a small mat and tack to it streamers
of coloured cloth; if a shark, I plait cocoa-leaves to as close a
resemblance to the terrible fish as my ingenuity is capable--and hang
it to a tree where my chickens roost, or where my plantains grow.
Nobody misunderstands my meaning. There is my shark-tapu, and sure
as ever you pilfer the goods that lie in the shadow of it, the very
next time you go out to fish a shark will devour you. There is my
thunder-tapu; despise its protective influence, and before you reach
home with your plunder the lightning will overtake you and strike you
dead. No one can remove a tapu but he who imposes it.
To this extent there can be no doubt that the tapu is a wholesome
institution--indeed, only such a one could at all control the savage or
bring him to distinguish between “mine and thine.” This, however, is
but the simplest form of tapu. It is where at the caprice of a brutal
chief or king, or an ignorant and malicious priest, the tapu is applied
to individuals or communities, that its pernicious influence is at once
evident. During the time that an individual is tapu, he is not allowed
to touch anything, or even himself, but is fed by another, or takes
food from off a stage with his mouth. When he drinks, the vessel is
placed at his lips and tilted as he gulps; and if the tapu is lasting
and the banned wretch grows dirty, nobody must wash him, and he must
not wash himself--water is dashed over him, and where the water falls
the ground is tapu, and no one dare tread on it. Whatever he touches,
whatever he wears is immediately destroyed, for fear that by merely
handling it death in some horrible shape should be the result.
The institution, although still acknowledged among the Polynesians, is
not carried the length it was in former times. A century ago certain
men were supposed to be born tapu, and so to remain through their
entire lives. Such individuals must have had a wearisome time of it.
No one dare sit in their company, or eat with them, or talk with them.
When such a one walked abroad, people slunk tremblingly to the wall, or
took to their heels and run, for fear the merest hem of their garments
might come in contact with the dress of the sacred one, and the awful
strength of the tapu might kill them. The vessels in which the born
tapu’s food was cooked and served, were never used but once. A man who
lit his pipe at such a tapu’s fire would be regarded as one certainly
doomed to death, or, if he did not die, as one possessed of a devil,
and only fit to be clubbed or strangled; nay, if a born tapu but blew
into a fire, it was straightway a tapu fire, and any one but the tapu
himself partaking of food cooked thereat would surely die.
In common with all other savage countries, New Zealand recognises
witchcraft as indispensable, and places the most perfect reliance on
witch trials and verdicts.
A gentleman who resided several years amongst the natives, had once
an opportunity of seeing this pretended power exercised. He was in
company with two young natives, one an heathen chief of some rank, who
expressed his firm belief, not only in the existence of their gods, but
likewise in their willingness to appear to their own relatives when
asked to do so. He was told by the European that he could not believe
such to be possible; but if he actually saw one of their gods, then
he should cease to doubt their existence. The young chief immediately
offered to give the proof demanded; he invited the unbelieving European
to accompany him to an old lady who formerly had exercised this power.
It was in the evening when the conversation took place: they went
directly to her abode. She was then living in a little cultivation at
some distance from the village. They found her sitting in a long shed
by the side of the fire.
After some general conversation, the young chief made her acquainted
with the object of their visit, telling her that their companion, the
European, did not believe in the existence of native gods, or that they
could hold intercourse with men, and therefore he wished her to show
him that such was really the case, by giving him an actual proof. For
some time she hesitated, stating that she had given up such things and
had become a praying woman; at last, however, after much entreaty, she
consented, and bid one of the party take away some of the brands from
the fire and throw them outside, as “the gods did not like too much
light.” This was accordingly done. The old woman sat crouched down by
the fire with her head concealed in her blanket, swaying her body to
and fro. The young chief laid himself full length on the ground with
his face downwards; he began by calling on the different gods by name
who were considered to be his relatives, addressing them as though
present; his being the eldest son of the eldest branch of his family
was supposed to confer this privilege upon him. At first they appeared
to pay no attention to their relative; he thereupon spoke to them in a
louder tone, but still without success; at last he called to them in
an angry tone, telling them if they did not speak, the European would
go away and disbelieve in their existence. The old woman sat still
and appeared to take no notice of anything. The European kept his eye
steadily fixed upon her and went and sat by her side; suddenly he heard
a scratching as of a rat running up the wall and along the roof of the
house, until the sound seemed to come from the spot exactly over their
heads; he thought it was done by some accomplice outside, but he was
not aware of any one being there besides the party in the house; he
detected no movement of the old woman beyond that of rocking her body
to and fro. Then he heard a low whistle, and could distinguish the
enquiry, “what did they want with him?” The Maori gods always speak
in a whistling tone. The young chief replied, that they wanted him to
come and show himself to the European. He said he should kill him if
he came. The chief insisted that he should render himself visible;
the god held back, but the chief would not allow his divine relative
to escape; at last he consented to assume the form of a spider, and
alight on his head. The European said if he descended straight on his
head he would believe he was actually present; but if he only saw a
spider on his side or legs he should not be satisfied. The old woman
then got up and went to the other side of the hut, and fumbled about
in the thatch of the house as though she was searching for a spider to
act the god; but her search was vain, she only found a little beetle
which consumes the raupo. She then came and sat by his side; but he
narrowly watched her. The chief reproached the god for not descending
at once upon his head. The god replied, it was from an unwillingness to
injure the European. He demanded a blanket for having spoken to him,
and said he had seen him before in the Bay of Islands; which was false,
as he had never been there; but he at once assented to see whether the
god might not tell some further lies, when he found that the first was
agreed to. The make-believe god then imitated the Naga-puhi dialect and
said he had seen such and such chiefs with him and several other things
equally untrue, again repeating his request for a present; but though
urged to render himself visible, he obstinately refused, to the great
mortification of the chief, who still believed he actually heard a god
speak, when the interview terminated.
The religion of the savage Land Dayaks of Borneo, says Mr. St. John,
consists solely of a number of superstitious observances; they are
given up to the fear of ghosts, and in the propitiation of these by
small offerings and certain ceremonies, consist the principal part
of their worship. Nevertheless, they seem to have a firm, though not
particularly clear, belief in the existence of one Supreme Being above
all and over all. This supreme being is among the Land Dayaks, called
“Tapa;” among the Silakan and Saras, “Tewata;” and among the Sibuyans,
“Batara.”
In common with many other barbarous tribes, their religious system
relates principally to this life. They are like the rest of mankind,
continually liable to physical evils, poverty, misfortune, and
sickness, and these they try to avert from themselves by the practice
of ancient customs which are supposed to be effectual for the purpose.
This system may be classed as follows:--
The killing of pigs and fowls, the flesh of which is eaten, small
portions being set aside with rice for the spiritual powers; and from
the blood being mixed with spittle, turmeric, and cocoa-nut water,
a filthy mess is concocted and called physic, with which the people
attending the feast are anointed on the head and face. Dancing by the
elders and the priestesses round a kind of bamboo altar, erected on
these occasions either in the long room or on the exterior platform
of one of the houses round which the offerings are placed, always
accompanied by the beating of all the gongs and drums of the tribe by
the young lads, and singing, or rather chanting, by the priestesses.
The “Parneli” or tabu of an apartment, house, or village for one, two,
four, eight, and even sixteen days, during which, in the case of a
village, no stranger can enter it; in the case of a house, no one
beside the family residing therein; and in the case of an apartment, no
one out of the family.
The Dayaks acknowledge four chief spirits: “Tapa,” who created men
and women, and preserves them in life; “Tenahi,” who made the earth
and, except the human race, all things therein, and still causes it to
flourish; “Iang,” or “Iing,” who first instructed the Dayaks in the
mysteries of their religion, and who superintends its performance;
“Jirong,” who looks after the propagation of the human species, and
causes them to die of sickness or accident. They believe that when Tapa
first made the world, he created Iang, then the spirits “Triee” and
“Komang,” and then man. That man and the spirits were at first equal
and fought on fair terms, but that on one woeful occasion the spirits
got the better of man, and rubbed charcoal in his eyes, which rendered
him unable any longer to see his spirit foes, except in the case of
some gifted persons, as the priests, and so placed him at their mercy.
With respect to a future state, the common Dayak belief is, that when
a man dies, he becomes a spirit and lives in the jungle, or (this Mr.
Chalmers heard from one of the body-burning tribes) that as the smoke
of the funeral pyre of a good man rises, the soul ascends with it to
the sky, and that the smoke from the pyre of a wicked man descends, and
his soul with it is borne to the earth, and through it to the regions
below. Another version is, that when a man dies a natural death, his
soul, on leaving the body, becomes a spirit, and haunts the place of
burial or burning. When a spirit dies--for spirits too, it would seem,
are subject unto death--it enters the hole of Hades, and coming out
thence again becomes a “Bejawi.” In course of time the Bejawi dies, and
lives once more as a “Begutur;” but when a Begutur dies, the spiritual
essence of which it consists enters the trunks of trees, and may be
seen there damp and blood-like in appearance, and has a personal and
sentient existence no longer.
The Land Dayaks point to the highest mountains in sight as the
abode of their departed friends. The spirits they divide into two
classes--“Umot,” spirits by nature, and “Mino,” ghosts of departed
men. The former are said to live amid the forests that cap the hills.
They delight in war and bloodshed, and always come down to be present
at the Dayak “head-feast.” They are described as of a fierce and wild
appearance, and covered with hair like an ourang-outang. The Umot
spirits are divided into classes. There is the “Umot Sisi,” a harmless
kind of spirit which follows the Dayak to look for the fragments of
food which have fallen through the open flooring of their houses, and
who is heard at night munching away below; “Umot Perubak,” who causes
scarcity among the Dayaks by coming invisibly and eating the rice
from the pot at meal time; and “Umot Perusong,” who comes slily and
devours the rice which is stored within a receptacle made of the bark
of some gigantic tree, and is in the form of a vat. It is kept in the
garrets of the houses, and a large one will contain a hundred and fifty
bushels, and the family live in constant fear that these voracious
spirits will visit their store and entirely consume it.
[Illustration: Spectre of Headless Dog and Dayak.]
“Mino Buau” are the ghosts of those who have been killed in war. These
are very vicious and inimical to the living; they live in the jungle,
and have the power of assuming the form of headless beasts and men. A
Quop Dayak once met with one. He was walking through the jungle and
saw what he thought was a squirrel sitting on the large roots of a
tree which overhung a small stream. He had a spear in his hand. This
he threw at the squirrel, and thought he had struck it: he ran towards
the spot where it had apparently fallen, when, to his horror, it faced
him, rose up, and was transformed into a dog. The dog walked on a few
paces, and then turning into a human shape, sat down on the trunk of
a tree--head there was none. The spectre body was parti-coloured, and
at the top drawn up to a point. The Dayak was smitten with great fear
and away he rushed home and fell into a violent fever; the priest was
called, and he pronounced that the patient’s soul had been summoned
away from its corporeal abiding-place by the spirit, so he went to seek
it, armed with his magic charms. Midway between the village and the
place where the Buau had appeared, the fugitive soul was overtaken, and
induced to pause, and, having been captured by the priest, was brought
back to its body and poked into its place through an invisible hole in
the head. The next day the fever was gone.
To propitiate the superior spirits the Dayaks shut themselves in their
houses a certain number of days, and by that, among other means, hope
to avert sickness, to cure a favorite child, or to restore their own
health. They also have recourse to it when the cry of the gazelle is
heard behind them, or when their omen-birds utter unfavorable warnings.
They likewise place themselves under this interdict at the planting
of rice, at harvest-home, and upon many other occasions. During this
time they appear to remain in their houses in order to eat, drink,
and sleep; but their eating must be moderate, and often consists of
nothing but rice and salt. These interdicts are of different durations
and importance. Sometimes, as at the harvest-home, the whole tribe is
compelled to observe it, and then no one must leave the village; at
other times it only extends to a family or a single individual. It is
also considered important that no stranger should break the tabu by
entering the village, the house, or apartment placed under interdict.
If any one should do so intentionally, he is liable to a fine. People
under interdict may not bathe, touch fire, or employ themselves about
their ordinary avocations. The religion of the Dayak prohibits the
eating of the flesh of horned animals, as cattle and goats, and many
tribes extend the prohibition to wild deer. In some tribes none but the
elders and the women and children may partake of eggs; in others, they,
and no one else, may dine off venison: the young men and the warriors
abstaining from it lest it should render them timid as the animal that
supplies the last-mentioned meat. It is also strictly commanded to all
those intending to engage in a pig hunt to abstain from meddling with
oil; but whether for any more important reason than that the game may
not slip through their fingers is not exactly known.
A singular custom of a religious character prevails among certain Dayak
tribes, and which is known as making brothers. The offer to become the
“brother” of one of these savages was made, and what is more accepted,
to the gentleman who furnishes the foregoing account of the Dayak
religion, as well as the following:
“Singauding sent on board to request me to become his brother by
going through the sacred custom of imbibing each other’s blood. I say
imbibing, because it is either mixed with water and drunk, or else it
is placed within a native cigar and drawn in with the smoke. I agreed
to do so, and the following day was fixed for the ceremony. It is
called Berbiang by the Kayans; Bersabibah by the Borneans. I landed
with our party of Malays, and after a preliminary talk to give time for
the population to assemble, the affair commenced. We sat in the broad
verandah of a long house, surrounded by hundreds of men, women, and
children, all looking eagerly at the white stranger who was about to
enter their tribe. Stripping my left arm, Kum Lia took a small piece
of wood, shaped like a knife-blade, and slightly piercing the skin
brought blood to the surface; this he carefully scraped off; then one
of my Malays drew blood in the same way from Singauding; and a small
cigarette being produced, the blood on the wooden blades was spread on
the tobacco. A chief then arose, and walking to an open place, looked
forth upon the river and invoked their god and all the spirits of good
and evil to be witness of this tie of brotherhood. The cigarette was
then lighted and each of us took several puffs, and the ceremony was
concluded. I was glad to find that they had chosen the form of inhaling
the blood in smoke, as to have swallowed even a drop would have been
unpleasant, though the disgust would only arise from the imagination.
They sometimes vary the custom, though the variation may be confined to
the Kiniahs who live farther up the river, and are intermarried with
the Kayans. There a pig is brought and placed between the two who are
to be joined in brotherhood. A chief offers an invocation to the gods,
and marks with a lighted brand the pig’s shoulder. The beast is then
killed, and after an exchange of jackets, a sword is thrust into the
wound and the two are marked with the blood of the pig.”
[Illustration: Making Brothers.]
This curious ceremony of “making brothers” is not confined to Borneo;
it is practised in Western and Eastern Africa. In the latter region
the ceremony is invested with much importance, especially when the
individuals concerned are two chiefs who have long been at variance.
Squatting before each other in the presence of the chiefs and elders
with their implements of war on their laps, and having each in his
hands a sharp knife and a small cup, the would-be brothers make a
slight gash in each other’s breast and, catching the blood in the cup,
drink it to their eternal friendship, the oldest man of the tribe
standing over them to witness the reconciliation and waving his sword
over them.
The Sea Dayaks, whose customs differ widely in many respects from
those of the Land Dayaks, have a clear idea of one omnipotent being who
created and now rules over the world. They call him Batara. Beneath him
are many good and innumerable bad spirits, and the fear of the latter
causes them to make greater and more frequent offerings to them than to
the good spirits. The awe with which many of them are named has induced
a few, among others Mr. Chambers, to imagine that their religion is
a species of polytheism. But this, according to Mr. St. John’s way
of thinking, is a mistake; and Mr. Johnson and Mr. Gomez, who have
much knowledge of the Sea Dayaks, agree with the gentleman formerly
mentioned.
The Sea Dayaks pay homage to evil spirits of various kinds, who reside
in the jungles, in the mountains, and in the earth; all sicknesses,
misfortunes, or death, proceed from them; while to Batara is attributed
every blessing. When they make offerings, however, both are propitiated
and, as usual, the wicked ones have the larger share. The priests offer
a long prayer and supplicate them to depart from the afflicted house
or from the sick man. Of the seven platesful of food, four are given
to the evil spirits and cast forth or exposed in the forest, while the
others are offered to the good spirits, who are implored to protect
and bless them. The food offered to the latter is not considered to be
interdicted, but may be, and always is eaten.
The Lingga Dayaks, besides Batara, have various good spirits--as
Stampandei, who superintends the propagation of mankind; Pulang Ganah,
who inhabits the earth and gives fertility to it, and to him are
addressed the offerings at the feasts given whilst preparing the rice
for cultivation: Singallong Burong, the god of war, excites their
utmost reverence, and to him are offered the Head feasts. On these
occasions he comes down and hovers in the form of a kite over the
house, and guns are fired and gongs beaten in his honour. His brave
followers married to his daughters appear in the form of his omen
birds. No wonder he is honoured; he gives success in war and delights
in their acquisitions of the heads of their enemies. Nattiang inhabits
the summits of the hills and is one of their demigods. The Linggas tell
many stories of his exploits. The most famous was his expedition to the
skies to recover his wife who had been caught in a noose and hoisted up
there by an old enemy of his. To dream of him is to receive the gift of
bravery.
When the small-pox was committing dreadful havoc among the Sakarangs
the villagers would not allow themselves to be innoculated; they ran
into the jungle in every direction, caring for no one but themselves,
leaving their houses empty and dwelling far away in the most silent
spots in parties of two and three and sheltered only by a few leaves.
When these calamities come upon them they utterly lose all command
over themselves and become as timid as children. When the fugitives
become short of provisions a few of the old men who have already had
the complaint creep back to the houses at night and take a supply of
rice. In the daytime they do not dare to stir or speak above a whisper
for fear the spirits should see or hear them. They do not call the
small-pox by its name, but are in the habit of saying, “Has he left
you?” at other times they call it jungle-leaves or fruit; at other
places the Datu or chief.
Their priests frequently use the names of invisible spirits, and are
supposed to be able to interpret their language as well as to hold
communion with them; and in ordinary times they pretend to work the
cure of the sick by means of incantations, and after blinding the
patient’s eyes pretend, by the aid of the spirits, to draw the bones
of fish or fowl out of their flesh. When the Dayaks are questioned as
to their belief in these easily-exposed deceits, they say, No; but the
custom has descended to them from their ancestors, and they still pay
their priests heavy sums to perform the ancient rites.
They believe in a future state--considering that the Simaūgat or
spiritual part of man lives for ever; that they awake shortly after
death in the Sabayan or future abode, and that there they find those of
their relatives and friends who have departed before them. Some tribes
divide their Sabayan into seven distinct stories which are occupied by
the souls of the departed according to their rank and position in life.
The really wicked occupy the lowest, but whether happy or miserable
they acknowledge ignorance.
The Kayans of Baram have some singular ideas concerning a future state.
The name of their god is Totadungan and he reigns over all; they
say he has a wife but no children, and beneath him are many gods of
inferior power. They believe in a future state with separate places for
the souls of the good and the bad, and that both heaven and hell are
divided into many distinct residences--that those who die from wounds,
or sickness, or drowning, go to separate places. If a woman dies before
her husband they hold that she goes to heaven and marries again; but
that if when her earthly husband dies he goes to heaven the celestial
match is broken off and the old husband claims his partner.
Among both Land and Sea Dayaks dreams are regarded as actual
occurrences. They think that in sleep the soul sometimes remains in the
body and sometimes leaves it and travels far away, and that both when
in and out of the body it sees and hears and talks and altogether has
a presence given it which when the body is in a natural state it does
not enjoy. Fainting fits or a state of coma are thought to be caused
by the departure of the soul on some expedition of its own. Elders and
priestesses often assert that in their dreams they have visited the
mansion of the blessed and seen the Creator dwelling in a house like
that of a Malay, the interior of which was adorned with guns and gongs
and jars innumerable, Himself being clothed like a Dayak.
A dream of sickness to any member of a family always ensures a
ceremony; and no one presumes to enter the priesthood, or to learn
the art of a blacksmith, without being or pretending to be warned in
a dream that he should undertake to learn it. A man has been known to
give one of his two children to another who has no children because he
dreamed that unless he did so the child would die.
In dreams also, “Tapa” and the spirits bestow gifts on men in the shape
of magic stones, which being washed in cocoa milk the water forms one
of the ingredients in the mass of blood and tumeric which is considered
sacred and is used to anoint the people at the harvest-feasts. They are
ordinary black pebbles, and there is nothing in their appearance to
give a notion of their magic power and value.
On the banks of one of the rivers Mr. St. John discovered the effigy
of a bull cut in a sort of stone said to be unknown in the country;
its legs and part of its head had been knocked off. Its history is as
follows:--Many years ago on being discovered in the jungle the Malays
and Dayaks removed it to the banks of the river preparatory to its
being conveyed to the town, but before it could be put into a prahu
they say a tremendous storm of thunder and lightning, wind and rain,
arose, which lasted thirty days. Fearing that the bull was angry at
being disturbed in his forest home they left him in the mud, and there
Sir James Brooke found it and had it removed to his own house. Several
of the Dayak tribes sent deputations to him to express their fears of
the evil consequences that would be sure to ensue--everything would go
wrong, storms would arise, their crops would be blighted, and famine
would desolate the land. Humouring their prejudices, he answered that
they were mistaken, that the bull on the contrary would be pleased to
be removed from the dirty place in which the Malays had left him, and
that now he was kept dry and comfortable there would be no show of his
anger. This reply satisfied them. Occasionally the Dayaks would come
and wash the stone bull, taking away the precious water to fertilize
their fields.
Amongst some of the Bornean aborigines there is a superstition that
they must not laugh at a dog or a snake crossing their path. Should
they do so they would become stones. These Dayaks always refer with
respect and awe to some rocks scattered over the summit of a hill in
Sadong, saying that they were originally men. The place was a very
likely one to be haunted--a noble old forest but seldom visited. Many
years ago they say a great chief gave a feast there, in the midst of
which his lovely daughter came in; she was a spoilt child who did
nothing but annoy the guests. They at first tried to get rid of her by
mixing dirt with her food: finding she still teazed them, they gave her
poison. Her father in his anger went back to his house, shaved his dog
and painted him with alternate streaks of black and white. Then giving
him some intoxicating drink he carried him in his arms into the midst
of the assembly and set him on the ground. The dog began to caper about
in the most ludicrous manner which set them all off laughing, the host
as well as the guests, and they were immediately turned into stone.
With one giant stride of our any-number-of-league boots we step from
Borneo into North America and among the many semi-savage tribes that
there reside. As a rule the North-American savage believes in one
Supreme Being whom he knows as the Great Spirit, and whose abode is
Paradise, or the “happy hunting ground.” This Supreme Being, however,
they regard as much too exalted to trouble himself about the petty
businesses of the world, and therefore governs by deputy. There are,
according to Indian belief, numerous subordinate deities, the business
of each of whom it is to govern and control the earth, the forests and
the game there abounding, the winds, the air, and the water, together
with its finny denizens. Besides those--at least in the case of the
Ojibbeway, who may fairly be taken as the type of the North-American
Indian--they have a host of evil spirits or munedoos, or manitou,
headed by one arch Matchi-munedoo, and who, it is to be feared on
account of their predilection for mischief, occupy a greater portion of
the Indian’s time and attention in the way of propitiation and friendly
peace-offering, than ever is devoted to Kitchi-manitou, the Great
Spirit to whom, if the Indian’s religion is worth a straw, it should be
sufficient to obey to render one self-defiant of Matchi-munedoo and all
his works.
As might be expected the Indian language is rich in mythological lore,
and is often found to be a curious tangle of what we acknowledge
as Biblical truth, and nonsense, remarkable chiefly for its quaint
grotesqueness. Take the following narrative of the Deluge:
“Before the general deluge there lived two enormous creatures, each
possessed of vast power. One was an animal with a great horn on his
head; the other was a huge toad. The latter had the whole management
of the waters, keeping them secure in its own body, and emitting only
a certain quantity for the watering of the earth. Between these two
creatures there arose a quarrel, which terminated in a fight. The toad
in vain tried to swallow its antagonist, but the latter rushed upon
it, and with his horn pierced a hole in its side, out of which the
water gushed in floods, and soon overflowed the face of the earth. At
this time Nanahbozhoo was living on the earth, and observing the water
rising higher and higher, he fled to the loftiest mountain for refuge.
Perceiving that even this retreat would be soon inundated, he selected
a large cedar tree which he purposed to ascend, should the waters come
up to him. Before they reached him he caught a number of animals and
fowls, and put them into his bosom. At length the water covered the
mountain. Nanahbozhoo then ascended the cedar tree, and as he went up
he plucked its branches and stuck them in the belt which girdled his
waist. When he reached the top of the tree he sang, and beat the tune
with his arrow upon his bow, and as he sang the tree grew and kept pace
with the water for a long time. At length he abandoned the idea of
remaining any longer on the tree, and took the branches he had plucked,
and with them constructed a raft, on which he placed himself with the
animals and fowls. On this raft he floated about for a long time, till
all the mountains were covered, and all the beasts of the earth and
fowls of the air, except those he had with him, perished.
“At length Nanahbozhoo thought of forming a new world, but how to
accomplish it without any materials he knew not, till the idea occurred
to him that if he could only obtain a little of the earth, which was
then under water, he might succeed in making a new world out of the
old one. He accordingly employed the different animals he had with him
that were accustomed to diving. First, he sent the loon, a water fowl
of the penguin species, down into the water in order to bring up some
of the old earth; but it was not able to reach the bottom, and after
remaining in the water some time, came up dead. Nanahbozhoo then took
it, blew upon it, and it came to life again. He next sent the otter,
which also failing to reach the bottom, came up dead, and was restored
to life in the same manner as the loon. He then tried the skill of
the heaver, but without success. Having failed with all these diving
animals, he last of all took the musk-rat; on account of the distance
it had to go to reach the bottom, it was gone a long time, and came up
dead. On taking it up, Nanahbozhoo found, to his great joy, that it had
reached the earth, and had retained some of the soil in each of its
paws and mouth. He then blew upon it, and brought it to life again, at
the same time pronouncing many blessings on it, saying, that as long
as the world he was about to make should endure, the musk-rat should
never become extinct. This prediction of Nanahbozhoo is still spoken of
by the Indians when referring to the rapid increase of the musk-rat.
Nanahbozhoo then took the earth which he found in the musk-rat’s paws
and mouth, and having rubbed it with his hands to fine dust, he placed
it on the waters and blew upon it; then it began to grow larger and
larger, until it was beyond the reach of his eye. In order to ascertain
the size of the world, and the progress of its growth and expansion,
he sent a wolf to run to the end of it, measuring its extent by the
time consumed in his journey. The first journey he performed in one
day, the second took him five days, the third ten, the fourth a month,
then a year, five years, and so on, until the world was so large that
Nanahbozhoo sent a young wolf that could just run, which died of old
age before he could accomplish the journey. Nanahbozhoo then said the
world was large enough, and commanded it to cease from growing. After
this Nanahbozhoo took a journey to view the new world he had made, and
as he travelled he created various tribes of Indians, and placed them
in different parts of the earth; he then gave them various religions,
customs, and manners.
“This Nanahbozhoo now sits at the North Pole, overlooking all the
transactions and affairs of the people he has placed on the earth. The
Northern tribes say that Nanahbozhoo always sleeps during the winter;
but, previous to his falling asleep, fills his great pipe, and smokes
for several days, and that it is the smoke arising from the mouth and
pipe of Nanahbozhoo which produces what is called ‘Indian summer.’”
They have, however, legends that relate to times anterior to the flood,
even to the beginning of Time itself and the days of Adam and Eve. Mr.
Kohl, of “Lake Superior” celebrity, contributes the following:
“On Torch Lake it is said, that Kitchi-Manitou (the Good Spirit) first
made the coast of our lake. He strewed the sand and formed a fine flat
dry beach or road round the lake. He found that it was splendid walking
upon it, and often wandered along the beach. One day he saw something
lying on the white sand. He picked it up. It was a very little root.
He wondered whether it would grow if planted in the ground, and made
the trial. He planted it close to the edge of the water in the sand,
and when he came again, the next day, a thick and large reed-bed had
grown out of it through which the wind rustled. This pleased him, and
he sought for and collected more little roots and other seeds from the
sand and spread them around so that they soon covered the rocks and
land with grass and fine forests, in which the birds and other animals
came to live. Every day he added something new to the creation, and did
not forget to place fish and other creatures in the water.
“One day when Kitchi-Manitou was again walking along the sand, he saw
something moving in the reeds, and noticed a being coming out of the
water entirely covered with silver-glistening scales like a fish, but
otherwise formed like a man. Kitchi-Manitou was curious to see on
what the being lived and whether it ate herbs, especially as he saw
it constantly stooping and plucking herbs which it swallowed. The man
could not speak, but at times when he stooped he sighed and groaned.
“The sight moved Kitchi-Manitou with compassion in the highest degree,
and as a good thought occurred to him, he immediately stepped into his
canoe and paddled across to the island, which still lies in the centre
of the lake. Here he set to work providing the man the company of a
squaw. He formed her nearly like what he had seen the man to be, and
also covered her body with silver-glistening scales. Then he breathed
life into her, and carried her across in his canoe to the other bank
of the lake, telling her that if she wandered busily along the lake
and looked about her, she would perhaps find something to please her.
For days the squaw wandered about one shore of the lake, while the man
was seeking herbs for food on the other. One day the latter went a
little further, and, to his great surprise, saw footsteps in the sand
much like those he himself made. At once he gave up seeking herbs and
followed these footsteps, as he hoped there were other beings like
himself on the lake. The squaw during her long search had left so many
footsteps that the man at first feared they might belong to a number
of Indians, and they might perhaps be hostile. Hence he crept along
carefully in the bush, but always kept an eye on the trail in the sand.
“At last he found the being he sought sitting on a log near the shore.
Through great fatigue she had fallen asleep. He looked around to the
right and left but she was quite alone. At length he ventured to come
out of the bushes; he approached her with uncertain and hesitating
steps; he seized her and she opened her eyes.
“‘Who art thou?’ he said, for he could now suddenly speak, ‘Who art
thou, what is thy name, and whither dost thou come?’
“‘My name is Mami,’ she replied, ‘and Kitchi-Manitou brought me here
from that island, and told me I should find something here I liked. I
think that thou art the promised one.’
“‘On what dost thou live?’ the man asked the woman.
“‘Up to this time I have eaten nothing, for I was looking for thee. But
now I feel very hungry; hast thou anything to eat?’
“Straightway the man ran into the bushes, and collected some roots and
herbs he had found good to eat, and brought them to the squaw, who
greedily devoured them.
“The sight of this moved Kitchi-Manitou, who had watched the whole
scene from his lodge. He immediately came over in his canoe, and
invited the couple to his island. Here they found a handsome large
house prepared for them, and a splendid garden round it. In the
house were glass windows, and in the rooms tables and chairs and
beds and conveniences of every description. In the garden grew every
possible sort of useful and nourishing fruits, potatoes, strawberries,
apple-trees, cherry and plum trees; and close by were large fine fields
planted with Indian corn and beans.
“They ate and lived there for days and years in pleasure and happiness;
and Kitchi-Manitou often came to them and conversed with them. ‘One
thing,’ he said, ‘I must warn you against. Come hither; see, this
tree in the middle of the garden is not good. I did not plant it, but
Matchi-Manitou planted it. In a short time this tree will blossom and
bear fruits which look very fine and taste very sweet; but do not eat
of them, for if ye do so ye will die.’ They paid attention to this, and
kept the command a long time, even when the tree had blossomed and the
fruit had set. One day, however, when Mami went walking in the garden,
she heard a very friendly and sweet voice say to her, ‘Mami, Mami, why
dost thou not eat of this beautiful fruit? it tastes splendidly.’ She
saw no one, but she was certain the voice did not come either from
Kitchi-Manitou or her husband. She was afraid and went into the house.
The next day though, she again went into the garden, and was rather
curious whether the same pleasant voice would speak to her again. She
had hardly approached the forbidden tree, when the voice was heard once
more, ‘Mami, Mami, why dost thou not taste this splendid fruit? it will
make thy heart glad.’ And with these words a young handsome Indian came
out of the bushes, plucked a fruit, and placed it in her hand. ‘Thou
canst make famous preserves of it for thy household,’ the friendly
Indian added.
“The fruit smelled pleasantly, and Mami licked it a little. At length
she swallowed it entirely, and felt as if drunk. When her husband came
to her soon after she persuaded him also to eat of it; he did so, and
also felt as if drunk. But this had scarce happened ere the silver
scales with which their bodies had been covered, fell off; only twenty
of these scales remained on, but they had lost their brilliancy,--ten
on the fingers and ten on the toes. They saw themselves to be quite
uncovered, and began to be ashamed, and withdrew timidly into the
bushes of the garden.
“The young Indian had disappeared, but the angry Kitchi-Manitou soon
came to them, and said ‘It is done; ye have eaten of Matchi-Manitou’s
fruit, and must now die. Hence it is necessary that I should marry you,
lest the whole human race might die out with you. Ye must perish, but
shall live on in your children and children’s children.’ Kitchi-Manitou
banished them also from the happy isle, which immediately grew wild,
and bore them in his canoe to the shores of the lake. But he had mercy
on them still. He gave the man a bow and arrow, and told him he would
find animals which were called deer. These he was to shoot, and Mami
would get ready the meat for him, and make mocassins and clothing of
the hide.
“When they reached the other shore, Mami’s husband tried first of all
this bow and the arrows. He shot into the sand, and the arrows went
three inches deep into the ground.
“Mami’s husband then went for the first time to hunt, and saw in the
reeds on the lake an animal moving, which he recognised for a deer,
as Kitchi-Manitou had described it to him. He shot his arrow, and the
animal straightway leaped from the water on shore, sank on its knees,
and died. He ran up and drew his arrow from the wound, examined it,
found that it was quite uninjured, and placed it again in his quiver,
as he thought he could use it again. When he brought the deer to his
squaw, she cut it into pieces, washed it, and laid the hide aside for
shoes and clothing; but soon saw that they, as Indians, could not
possibly eat the meat raw, as the barbarous Eskimos in the north do:
she must cook it, and for that purpose have fire.
“This demand embarrassed the man for a moment, as he had never yet seen
any meat boiling or roasting before the fire. But he soon knew how to
help himself. He took two different descriptions of wood, rubbed them
against each other, and soon made a bright fire for his squaw. The
squaw in the meanwhile had prepared a piece of wood as a spit, placed
a lump of meat on it, and held it in the fire. They both tasted it,
and found it excellent. ‘As this is so good, the rest will be famous,’
she said, and cut it all up and put it in the kettle, and then they
ate nearly all the deer that same evening. This gave Mami’s husband
strength and courage, and he went out hunting again the next morning,
and shot a deer; and so he did every day, while his squaw built a lodge
for him, and sewed clothes and mocassins.
“One day when he went a-hunting again, the man found a book lying under
a tree. He stopped and looked at it. The book began speaking to him,
and told him what he was to do, and what to leave undone. It gave him a
whole series of orders and prohibitions. He found this curious, and did
not much like it; but he took it home to his squaw.
“‘I found this book under a tree,’ he said to her, ‘which tells me
to do all sorts of things, and forbids me doing others; I find this
hard, and I will carry it back to where I found it.’ And this he did
too, although his squaw begged him to keep it. ‘No,’ he said, ‘it is
too thick; how could I drag it about with me in my medicine bag?’ And
he laid the book again, the next day, under the tree, where he had
taken it up; and so soon as he laid it down, it disappeared. The earth
swallowed it up.
“Instead of it, however, another book appeared in the grass. That was
easy and light, and only written on a couple of pieces of birch bark.
It also spoke to him in the clear and pure Ojibbeway language; forbade
him nothing, and ordered him nothing; and only taught him the use and
advantages of the plants in the forest and on the prairie. This pleased
him much, and he put the book at once in his hunting bag, and went into
the forest, and collected all the plants, roots, flowers, and herbs
which it pointed out to him.
“Quite loaded with herbs of fifty different sorts, he returned to his
squaw Mami. He sorted them out, and found they were all medicine,
good in every accident of life. As he had in this way become a great
medicine man, as well as a mighty hunter, he wanted but little more to
satisfy his earthly wants. The children his wife bore him he brought up
as good hunters; taught them the use of the bow; explained to them the
medicine book; and told them, shortly before his and Mami’s death, the
history of their creation and their former mode of life on the Torch
Lake island with Kitchi-Manitou, who now, after so much suffering and
sorrow, was graciously pleased to receive them again.”
The following story was communicated to Mr. Jones, a native minister,
by an Ojibbeway Indian named _Netahgawineneh_, and will serve
to illustrate the source whence they derive their ideas of a future
state:--
“In the Indian country far west an Indian once fell into a trance,
and when he came to life again, he gave the following account of his
journey to the world of spirits.
“I started, said he, my soul or spirit in company with a number of
Indians who were travelling to the same spirit land. We directed our
footsteps towards the sun-setting. On our journey we passed through a
beautiful country, and on each side of our trail saw strawberries as
large as a man’s head. We ate some of them, and found them very sweet;
but one of our party who kept loitering behind, came up to us and
demanded, ‘Why were we eating a ball of fire?’ We tried to persuade
him to the contrary, but the foolish fellow would not listen to our
words, and so went on his way hungry. We travelled on until we came to
a dark, swollen and rapid river, over which was laid a log vibrating
in a constant wavering motion. On this log we ventured to cross, and
having arrived at the further end of it, we found that it did not reach
the shore; this obliged us to spring with all our might to the land. As
soon as we had done this, we perceived that the supposed log on which
we had crossed was a large serpent, waving and playing with his huge
body over the river. The foolish man behind was tossed about until he
fell off, but he at length succeeded in swimming to shore. No sooner
was he on land than a fierce and famished pack of wolves fell on him
and began to tear him to pieces, and we saw him no more. We journeyed
on, and by and by came within sight of the town of spirits. As soon
as we made our appearance there was a great shout heard, and all our
relatives ran to meet us and to welcome us to their happy country. My
mother made a feast for me, and prepared everything that was pleasant
to eat and to look upon; here we saw all our forefathers; and game and
corn in abundance; all were happy and contented.
“After staying a short time, the Great Spirit of the place told me
that I must go back to the country I had left, as the time had not yet
arrived for me to dwell there. I accordingly made ready to return; and
as I was leaving, my mother reproached me by all manner of foolish
names for wishing to leave so lovely and beautiful a place. I took my
departure, and soon found myself in the body and in the world I had
left.”
The allegorical traditions of the North American Indians regarding the
introduction into the world of the art of medicine and of religious
mysteries are still more extravagant than their theogony. We will cite
from Dominech the principal among them, to give an idea of all the
others of the same kind.
“A great Manitou of heaven came once on earth and married a woman,
who died, after giving birth to four children. The first was called
Manabozho, and was the protector and friend of men; the second
Chibiabos, took care of the dead and ruled over the empire of shadows,
that is to say, of souls; the third, called Onabasso, fled towards the
north as soon as he saw the day, and was metamorphosed into a white
rabbit without ceasing to be a Manitou; the last of the four brothers
was called Chokanipok, that is to say, the man of the fire-stone.
“When Manabozho grew up, he declared war against Chokanipok, whom he
accused of being the cause of their mother’s death. The struggle was
long and terrible. The surface of the earth still preserves traces of
the battles which were fought between them. Chokanipok was conquered
by his brother, his entrails were taken out, and changed into vines,
and the fragments of his body became fire-stones, which were scattered
all over the globe, and supplied man with the principle of fire.
Manabozho it was who taught the Red Indians the mode of manufacturing
axe blades, arrow points, traps, nets, how to turn stones and bones
to use to capture wild animals, fish, and birds. He was very much
attached to Chibiabos, with whom he lived in the desert, where they
conferred together for the good of humanity. The material power and
the extraordinary intelligence of these two superior beings excited
the jealousy of the Manitous, who lived in the air, on earth, and
in the water. This jealousy gave rise to a conspiracy against the
life of Chibiabos. Manabozho warned him to be on his guard against
the machinations of the Manitous, and never to quit him. But one day
Chibiabos ventured alone during the winter on one of the great frozen
lakes; when he arrived in the middle of the lake the Manitous broke
the ice, and Chibiabos sank to the bottom of the water, where his body
remained buried.
“Manabozho wandered for a long time on the banks of the lake, calling
his beloved brother; his voice trembling with fear and hope, was
heard from afar. When he had no longer any doubt of the misfortune
which had befallen him, his fury knew no bounds; he declared war
against the wicked Manitous, killed a great number of them, and his
rage no less than his despair spread consternation through the whole
desert. After the first moments devoted to revenge, he painted his
face black, covered his head with a veil of the same colour, then sat
down on the shore of the lake and mourned the deceased for six years,
making the neighbouring echoes incessantly ring with the cherished
name of Chibiabos. The Manitous deeply moved by his profound grief,
assembled to consult on the means they should take to console the
unhappy mourner. The oldest and wisest of them all, who had not been
concerned in the death of Chibiabos, took the task of reconciliation
on himself. Aided by the other spirits, he built a sacred lodge near
that of Manabozho, and prepared a great feast. He procured the best
tobacco imaginable, and put it in a beautiful calumet; then placing
himself at the head of the Manitous, who walked in procession, each
carrying under his arm a bag made of the skins of various animals,
and filled with precious medicine, he went to invite Manabozho to the
festival. Manabozho uncovered his head, washed his face, and followed
the Manitous to the sacred lodge. On his entrance he was offered a
drink composed of the most exquisite medicines, a rite initiatory to
propitiation. Manabozho drank it in a single draught, and immediately
felt the grief and sadness lifted from his soul. The Manitous then
began their dances and songs, which were succeeded by several
ceremonies and by feats of address and magic, performed with the
intention of restoring serenity of mind to the unconsolable protector
and friend of the human race. It was thus the mysteries of the dance
and of medicine were introduced on the earth.
“The Manitous then united all their powers to recall Chibiabos to life,
which they did without difficulty. He was, however, forbidden to enter
the sacred lodge; but receiving a flaming brand, he was sent to preside
over the empire of the dead. Manabozho, quite consoled, ate, drank,
danced, and smoked the sacred pipe, went away to the Great Spirit, and
returned to earth to instruct men in the useful arts, in the mysteries
of dancing and medicine, and in the curative properties of plants. It
is he who causes the medicinal plants to grow which cure sickness and
wounds; it is he who killed all the monsters with which the desert was
peopled. He placed spirits at the four cardinal points to protect the
human race: that of the north sends snow and ice to facilitate the
chase in winter; that of the south causes the maize to grow, as well
as all kinds of fruit and tobacco; that of the west gives rain; and
that of the east brings light, by commanding the sun to move round the
globe. Thunder is the voice of these four spirits, to whom tobacco is
offered in thanksgiving for the various blessings which they confer on
the inhabitants of the earth.”
Among the more ignorant tribes of North American Indians the god of
thunder is believed to be the eagle. The Rev. Peter Jones asserts this
to be the belief of the Ojibbeways. When a thunderbolt strikes a tree
or the ground, they fancy that the thunder has shot his fiery arrow at
a serpent and caught it away in the twinkling of an eye. Some Indians
affirm that they have seen the serpent taken up by the thunder into
the clouds. They believe that the thunder has its abode on the top of
a high mountain in the west, where it lays its eggs and hatches its
young, like an eagle, and whence it takes its flight into different
parts of the earth in search of serpents.
The following is a story related by an Indian who is said to have
ventured, at the risk of his life, to visit the abode of the thunders:
“After fasting, and offering my devotions to the thunder, I with much
difficulty ascended the mountain, the top of which reached to the
clouds. To my great astonishment, as I looked I saw the thunder’s
nest, where a brood of young thunders had been hatched and reared. I
saw all sorts of curious bones of serpents, on the flesh of which the
old thunders had been feeding their young; and the bark of the young
cedar trees peeled and stripped, on which the young thunders had been
trying their skill in shooting their arrows before going abroad to hunt
serpents.”
Another thunder tradition says: “That a party of Indians were once
travelling on an extensive plain, when they came upon two young
thunders lying in their nest in their downy feathers, the old thunders
being absent at the time. Some of the party took their arrows, and with
the point touched the eyes of the young thunders. The moment they did
so their arrows were shivered to pieces, as if a young thunder arrow
had struck them. One of the party, more wise than his companions,
entreated them not to meddle with them, warning them that if they did
they would pay dearly for their folly. The foolish young men would not
listen, but continued to teaze and finally killed them. As soon as
they had done this a black cloud appeared, advancing towards them with
great fury. Presently the thunder began to roar and send forth volumes
of its fiery indignation. It was too evident that the old thunders
were enraged on account of the destruction of their young--soon, with
a tremendous crash, the arrows of the mighty thunder-god fell on the
foolish men and destroyed them, but the wise and good Indian escaped
unhurt.”
In proof of the American Indian’s suspicious nature, especially as
regards matters connected with a religion differing from his own, Dr.
Franklin furnishes the following little story:--
“Conrad Weiser, the Indian interpreter, who had gone to Ouondago with
a message from Government, demanded hospitality of one of his old
friends, the famous Canastatego, one of the chiefs of the six nations.
Happy to meet after a long separation, the two friends were joyous and
chatty. Conrad was soon seated on furs spread on the ground, with a
meal of boiled vegetables, venison, and rum and water before him. After
dinner Canastatego asked how the years since they had parted had passed
with his friend, whence he came, where going, and what the aim of his
journey. When all these questions were answered, the old Indian said,
‘Conrad, you have lived a great deal among white people, and know their
customs. I have myself been several times to Albany, and have observed
that once every seven days they shut up their shops and assemble in
a large house; tell me wherefore, and what they do there?’--‘They
assemble to hear and learn good things,’ replied Conrad.--‘I have no
doubt,’ said the Indian, ‘that they have told you that; but I do not
much believe in their words, and I will tell you why. Some time ago I
went to Albany to sell furs and to buy blankets, powder, and knives.
You know I am in the habit of dealing with Hans Hanson, but on that day
I had a mind to try another merchant, but first went to Hans Hanson and
asked what he would give for beaver skins. He answered that he could
not pay a higher price than four shillings a pound. “But,” added he,
“I cannot talk of such affairs to-day; it is the day of our meeting
to hear _good things_, and I am going to the assembly.” I then
reflected that as there was no possibility of my transacting business
on that day, I too might as well go to the great house and hear good
things.
“‘There was a man in black who seemed in a great passion while speaking
to the people. I did not understand what he said, but perceiving that
he looked a good deal at me, I thought that perhaps he was angry at
seeing me in the house. I therefore hastened to leave it, and went and
seated myself outside on the ground against the wall, and began to
smoke till the end of the ceremony. I fancied that the man in black had
spoken about beavers, and I suspected that that was the motive of the
meeting, so that as the crowd was coming out, I stopped my merchant,
and said to him, “Well, Hans Hanson, I hope you will give me more than
four shillings a pound.”--“No,” answered he, “I can only give you three
shillings and a half.”
“‘I then spoke to other merchants, but all were unanimous in the price.
This proved clearly that I was right in my suspicions, and that the
pretended intention of meeting to hear good things was only given out
to mislead opinions, and that the real aim of the meeting was to come
to an understanding to cheat the Indians as to the price of their
goods. Reflect, Conrad, and you will see that I have guessed the truth;
for if white people meet so often to hear good things, they would have
finished by knowing some long since, but on that head they are still
very ignorant. You know our ways when white men travel over our lands
and enter our colonies: we treat them as I treat you; when wet we dry
them, we warm them when they are cold, we give them food and drink,
and spread our best furs for them to repose on, asking for nothing
in return. But if I go to a white man and ask for eat and drink, he
answers me, “Begone, Indian dog!” You thus see that they have as yet
learned very few _good things_, which we know, because our mothers
taught them to us when we were little children, and that the subject of
all these assemblies is to cheat us in the price of our beavers.’”
Here is a strange story of North American Indian “second sight” and not
the less remarkable as it is recorded by a highly respectable Wesleyan
Missionary who had it from a Government Indian Agent in Upper Canada.
“In the year 1804, wintering with the Winebagos on the Rock river, I
had occasion to send three of my men to another wintering house, for
some flour which I had left there in the fall on my way up the river.
The distance being about one and a half day’s journey from where I
lived, they were expected to return in about three days. On the sixth
day after their absence I was about sending in quest of them, when
some Indians, arriving from the spot, said that they had seen nothing
of them. I could now use no means to ascertain where they were: the
plains were extensive, the paths numerous, and the tracks they had made
were the next moment covered by the drift snow. Patience was my only
resource; and at length I gave them up for lost.
“On the fourteenth night after their departure, as several Indians
were smoking their pipes, and telling stories of their war parties,
huntings, etc., an old fellow, who was a daily visitor, came in. My
interpreter, a Canadian named Felix, pressed me, as he had frequently
done before, to employ this conjuror, as he could inform me about the
men in question. The dread of being laughed at had hitherto prevented
my acceding to his importunities; but now, excited by curiosity, I gave
the old man a quarter-pound of tobacco and two yards of ribbon, telling
him that if he gave me a true account of the missing ones, I would,
when I ascertained the fact, give him a bottle of rum. The night was
exceedingly dark and the house situated on a point of land in a thick
wood. The old fellow withdrew, and the other Indians retired to their
lodges.
“A few minutes after, I heard Wahwun (an egg) begin a lamentable song,
his voice increasing to such a degree that I really thought he would
have injured himself. The whole forest appeared to be in agitation, as
if the trees were knocking against each other; then all would be silent
for a few seconds; again the old fellow would scream and yell, as if he
were in great distress. A chill seized me, and my hair stood on end;
the interpreter and I stared at each other without power to express our
feelings. After remaining in this situation a few minutes the noise
ceased, and we distinctly heard the old chap singing a lively air. We
expected him in, but he did not come. After waiting some time, and all
appearing tranquil in the woods, we went to bed. The next morning I
sent for my friend Wahwun to inform me of his jaunt to see the men.
“‘I went,’ said he, ‘to smoke the pipe with your men last night, and
found them cooking some elk meat, which they got from an Ottawa Indian.
On leaving this place they took the wrong road on the top of the hill;
they travelled hard on, and did not know for two days that they were
lost. When they discovered their situation they were much alarmed, and,
having nothing more to eat, were afraid they would starve to death.
They walked on without knowing which way they were going until the
seventh day, when they were met near the Illinois river by the Ottawa
before named, who was out hunting. He took them to his lodge, fed them
well, and wanted to detain them some days until they had recovered
their strength; but they would not stay. He then gave them some elk
meat for their journey home, and sent his son to put them into the
right road. They will go to Lagothenes for the flour you sent them,
and will be at home in three days.’ I then asked him what kind of place
they were encamped in when he was there? He said, ‘they had made a
shelter by the side of a large oak tree that had been torn up by the
roots, and which had fallen with the head towards the rising sun.’
“All this I noted down, and from the circumstantial manner in which he
related every particular, though he could not possibly have had any
personal communication with or from them by any other Indians, I began
to hope my men were safe, and that I should again see them. On the
appointed day the interpreter and myself watched most anxiously, but
without effect. We got our suppers, gave up all hopes, and heartily
abused Wahwun for deceiving us. Just as we were preparing for bed,
to my great joy the men rapped at the door, and in they came with
the flour on their backs. My first business was to enquire of their
travels. They told me the whole exactly as the old Indian had before
stated, not omitting the tree or any other occurrence; and I could have
no doubt but that the old fellow had got his information from some evil
or familiar spirit.”
As has already been mentioned in this book, belief in dreams is very
intimately associated with North-American Indian religious belief; and
when an Indian dreams anything that seems to him important, he does not
fail to enter in his birch bark “note book” the most salient points
of it. Being, as a rule, however, incapable of giving his thoughts a
tangible appearance by the ordinary caligraphic process, he draws the
pictures just as he sees them in his vision. From the birch bark of a
brave, by name the “Little Wasp,” Mr. Kohl copied the picture which
appears on the next page: and this is the explanation of it:--
“The dreamer lying on his bed of moss and grass is dreaming the dream
of a true hunter, and there are the heads of the birds and beasts which
his guardian spirit promises that he shall not chase in vain. The man
wearing the hat is a Frenchman, which the Little Wasp also dreams about.
“The Indians picture themselves without a hat because they usually have
no other head gear than their matted hair, or, at most, a cloth wound
turban-wise round the head. The hat, however, appears to them such a
material part of a European--as much a part of their heads as the horse
to the Centaur--that a hat in a picture-writing always indicates a
European.
“It was not at all stupid of Little Wasp to dream of a Frenchman,
for of what use would a sky full of animals prove to him unless he
had a good honest French traiteur to whom he could sell the skins
and receive in exchange fine European wares? The vault of the sky is
represented by several semi-circular lines in the same way as it is
usually drawn on their gravestones. On some occasions I saw the strata
or lines variously coloured--blue, red, and yellow, like the hues of
the rainbow. Perhaps, too, they may wish to represent that phenomenon
as well. But that the whole is intended for the sky is proved by the
fact that the ordinary colour is a plain blue or grey. The bird soaring
in the heavens was meant for the kimou which so often appears in the
dreams of these warlike hunters.
“When I asked the dreamer what he meant by the strokes and figures at
the foot of the drawing, he said: ‘It is a notice that I fasted nine
days on account of this dream. The nine strokes indicate the number
nine, and a small figure of the sun over them means days.’
“His own self he indicated by the human figure. It has no head but an
enormous heart in the centre of the breast.
“Though the head is frequently missing, the heart is never omitted in
Indian figures, because they have as a general rule, more heart than
brains, more courage than sense. ‘I purposely made the heart rather
large,’ the author of the picture remarked, ‘in order to show that I
had so much courage as to endure a nine days’ fast.’ He omitted the
head, probably because he felt that sense was but little mixed up with
such nonsensical fasting.
“‘But why hast thou painted the sun once more, and with so much care
over it?’ asked I. ‘Because,’ replied he, ‘the very next morning after
my fast was at an end, the sun rose with extraordinary splendour, which
I shall never forget, for a fine sunrise after a dream is the best sign
that it will come to pass.’”
The superstitions, in fact, of all Indians, are singularly wild,
poetic, and primitive. Catlin, in his “Descriptive Catalogue,” gives
some strange and interesting particulars. He says, for instance, the
Sioux have a superstitious belief that they will conquer their enemy if
they go through the following ceremony:--A dog’s liver and heart are
taken raw and bleeding and placed upon a sort of platform, and, being
cut into slips, each man dances upon it, bites off and swallows a piece
of it, in the certain belief that he has thus swallowed a piece of the
heart of his enemy whom he has slain in battle. Again, it is supposed
that he most is in the favour of the Great Spirit who can throw most
arrows from an Indian bow before the first cast reaches the ground,
and Catlin says: “So eager are the Indians for this supremacy that I
have known men who could get eight arrows in the air, all moving at
the same time.” Another superstition takes the shape of a belief in
dancing compelling a flock of buffaloes to turn upon the path of the
dancers. This superstitious gyration is only resorted to when a tribe
is absolutely starving, and it is accompanied by a song to the Great
Spirit, imploring Him to help them, promising, at the same time, a
burnt sacrifice, or, as they themselves generally put it, that the
Great Spirit shall have the best of the meat cooked for himself.
A far more charming use of the superstitious, or rather religious,
dances is that of the warriors upon their return from battle, when, if
they can exhibit scalps, they are justified in dancing and wailing in
front of the wigwams of the widows of their companions who have been
killed. If the widow is one of a man of any importance in the tribe,
especially if he has been a medicine man, they cast presents upon the
ground for the use of the widowed woman.
Another strange superstition is the green corn dance--the sacrifice of
the first kettle to the Great Spirit. Four medicine men, whose bodies
are painted with white clay, dance around the kettle until the corn is
well boiled, and they then burn it to cinders as an offering to the
Great Spirit. The fire is then destroyed, and _new_ fire created
by rubbing two sticks together, with which the corn for their own feast
is cooked.
Again, there is a snow-shoe dance, performed at the first fall of snow,
and which is as solemn a rite as any in the Indian faith.
Another strange superstition is that by which an Indian becomes a
_medicine_ or _mystery_ man. Splints of wood are thrust through his
flesh and by these he hangs from a pole, and gazes, medicine bag in
hand, at the sun, from its rising to its setting. This voluntary
torture entitles him to great respect for the remainder of his life as
a medicine or mystery man--in another word, an astrologer. The history
of Indian superstition has yet to be written.
The North American is no less adept at picture “talking” than at
picture writing. Burton, while sojourning among the Prairie Indians,
devoted considerable attention to this art as practised among them.
He describes it as a system of signs, some conventional, others
instinctive or imitative, which enables tribes who have no acquaintance
with each other’s customs and tongues to hold limited but sufficient
communication, An interpreter who knows all the signs, which, however,
are so numerous and complicated that to acquire them is the labour
of years, is preferred by the whites even to a good speaker. The
sign system doubtless arose from the necessity of a communicating
medium between races speaking many different dialects and debarred by
circumstances from social intercourse.
The first lesson is to distinguish the signs of the different tribes,
and it will be observed that the French voyageurs and traders have
often named the Indian nations from their totemic or masonic gestures.
The Pawnees imitate a wolf’s ears with the two forefingers--the
right hand is always understood unless otherwise specified--extended
together, upright, on the left side of the head.
The Araphos, or Dirty Noses, rub the right side of that organ with the
forefingers; some call this bad tribe the Smellers, and make their sign
to consist of seizing the nose with the thumb and forefinger.
The Comanches imitate by the waving of the hand or forefinger the
forward crawling motion of a snake.
The Cheyennes, Piakanoves, or Cut Wrists, draw the lower edge of the
hand across the left arm, as if gashing it with a knife.
The Sioux, by drawing the lower edge of the hand across the throat; it
is a gesture not unknown to us, but forms a truly ominous salutation,
considering those by whom it is practised; hence the Sioux are called
by the Yutas Hand-cutters.
The Hapsaroke, by imitating the flapping of the bird’s wings with the
two hands, palms downwards, brought close to the shoulders.
The Kiowas, or Prairie-men, make the signs of the prairie, and of
drinking water.
The Yutas, they who live on mountains, have a complicated sign which
denotes “living in mountains.”
The Black-feet, called by the Yutas Paike or Goers, pass the right
hand, bent spoon-fashion, from the heel to the little toe of the right
foot.
The following are a few preliminaries indispensable to the prairie
traveller:
_Halt!_ Raise the hand, with the palm in front, and push it
backward and forward several times, a gesture well known in the East.
_I don’t know you._ Move the raised hand, with the palm in front,
slowly to the right and left.
_I am angry._ Close the fist, place it against the forehead, and
turn it to and fro in that position.
_Are you friendly?_ Raise both hands, grasped as if in the act of
shaking hands, or lock the two forefingers together, while the hands
are raised.
_See._ Strike out the two forefingers forward from the eyes.
_Smell._ Touch the nose-tip. A bad smell is expressed by the same
sign, ejaculating at the same time, “pooh,” and making the sign of bad.
_Taste._ Touch the tongue-tip.
_Eat._ Imitate the actions of conveying food with the fingers to
the mouth.
_Drink._ Scoop up with the hand imaginary water into the mouth.
_Smoke._ With the crooked index describe a pipe in the air,
beginning at the lips, then wave the open hand from the mouth to
imitate curls of smoke.
_Speak._ Extend the open hand from the chin.
_Fight._ Make a motion with both fists to and fro like a pugilist
of the eighteenth century who preferred a high guard.
_Kill._ Smite the sinister palm earthwards, with the dexter fist
sharply, the sign of going down, or strike out with the dexter fist
towards the ground, meaning to “shut down,” or pass the dexter index
under the left forefinger, meaning to “go under.”
Some of the symbols of relationship are highly appropriate and not
ungraceful or unpicturesque. Man is denoted by a sign which will not
admit of description; woman by passing the hand down both sides of the
head, as if smoothing or stroking the long hair. For a child, a bit
of the index held between the antagonised thumb and medius is shown.
The same sign expresses both parents, with additional explanations. To
say, for instance, _my mother_, you would first pantomime “I,” or,
which is the same thing, _my_, then _woman_, and finally, the
symbol of parentage. _My grandmother_ would be conveyed in the
same way, adding to the end, clasped hands, closed eyes, and like an
old woman’s bent back. The sign for brother and sister is perhaps the
prettiest; the two first finger-tips are put into the mouth, denoting
that they fed from the same breast. For the wife--squaw is now becoming
a word of reproach amongst the Indians--the dexter forefinger is passed
between the extended thumb and index of the left.
Of course there is a sign for every weapon. The knife--scalp or
other--is shown by cutting the sinister palm with the dexter ferient
downward and towards oneself: if the cuts be made upward with the
palm downwards, meat is understood. The tomahawk, hatchet, or axe,
is denoted by chopping the left hand with the right; the sword by
the motion of drawing it: the bow by the movement of bending it,
and a spear or lance by an imitation of darting it. For the gun the
dexter thumb or fingers are flashed or scattered, _i.e._ thrown
outwards and upwards, to denote fire. The same movement made lower down
expresses a pistol. The arrow is expressed by knocking it upon an
imaginary bow, and by snapping with the index and medius. The shield
is shown by pointing with the index over the left shoulder where it is
slung ready to be brought over the breast when required.
The pantomime, as may be seen, is capable of expressing detailed
narratives. For instance, supposing an Indian would tell the following
tale:--“Early this morning I mounted my horse, rode off at a gallop,
traversed a ravine, then over a mountain to a plain where there was no
water, sighted bisons, followed them, killed three of them, skinned
them, packed the flesh upon my pony, remounted, and returned home,”--he
would symbolize it thus:
Touches nose--“I.”
Opens out the palms of his hand--“this morning.”
Points to east--“early.”
Places two dexter forefingers astraddle over sinister index--“mounted
my horse.”
Moves both hands upwards and rocking-horse fashion towards the
left--“galloped.”
Passes the dexter hand right through thumb and forefinger of the
sinister, which are widely extended--“traversed a ravine.”
Closes the finger-tips high over the head and waves both palms
outwards--“over a mountain to a plain.”
Scoops up with the hand imaginary water into the mouth, and waves the
hand from the face to denote no--“where there was no water.”
Touches eye--“sighted.”
Raises the forefingers crooked inwards on both sides of the
head--“bison.”
Smites the sinister palm downwards with the dexter first--“killed.”
Shows three fingers--“three of them.”
Scrapes the left palm with the edge of the right hand--“skinned them.”
Places the dexter on the sinister palm and then the dexter palm on the
sinister dorsum--“packed the flesh upon my pony.”
Straddles the two forefingers on the index of the left--“remounted.”
Finally, beckons towards self--“returned home.”
“While on the subject of savage modes of correspondence, it may not
be out of place to quote an amusing incident furnished by the Western
African traveller Hutchinson. There was, it seems, a newspaper
established in the region in question for the benefit of the civilized
inhabitants, and an old native lady having a grievance, “writes to
the editor.” Let us give her epistle, and afterwards Mr. Hutchinson’s
explanation of it:
“_To Daddy Nah, Tampin Office._
“HA DADDY,--Do yah nah beg you tell dem people for me
make dem Sally own pussin know--Do yah. Berrah well. Ah lib nah
Pademba Road--one buoy lib dah ober side lakah dem two docta lib
overside you Tampin office. Berrah well. Dah buoy head big too
much--he say nah Militie Ban--he got one long long ting--so so
brass someting lib da dah go flip flap dem call am key. Berry
well. Had dah buoy kin blow she--ah na marnin, oh na sun time,
oh na evenin, oh nah middle night oh--all same--no make pussin
sleep. Not ebry bit dat more lib dah One Boney buoy lib overside
nah he like blow bugle. When dem two woh woh buoy blow dem ting
de nize too much to much. When white man blow dat ting and
pussin sleep he kin tap wah make dem buoy carn do so. Dem buoy
kin blow ebry day, eben Sunday dem kin blow. When ah yerry dem
blow Sunday ah wish dah bugle kin blow dem head bone inside. Do
nah beg you yah tell all dem people bout dah ting, wah dem to
buoy dah blow. Tell am Amstrang Boboh hab feber bad. Tell am
Titty carn sleep nah night. Dah nize go kill me two picken oh.
Plabba done--Good by, Daddy.
“CRASHEY JANE.”
“For the information of those not accustomed to the Anglo-African
style of writing or speaking, I deem a commentary necessary in order
to make this epistle intelligible. The whole gist of Crashey Jane’s
complaint is against two black boys who are torturing her morning,
noon, and night--Sunday as well as every day in the week--by blowing
into some ‘long, long brass ting,’ as well as a bugle. Though there
might appear to some unbelievers a doubt as to the possibility of the
boys furnishing wind for such a lengthened performance, still the
complaint is not more extravagant than those made by many scribbling
grievance-mongers amongst ourselves about the organ nuisance.
“The appellative Daddy is used by the Africans as expressive of their
respect as well as confidence. ‘To Daddy in the stamping (_alias_
printing) office,’ which is the literal rendering of the foregoing
address, contains a much more respectful appeal than ‘To the Editor’
would convey, and the words ‘Berrah well’ at the end of the first
sentence are ludicrously expressive of the writer’s having opened the
subject of complaint to her own satisfaction and of being prepared to
go on with what follows without any dread of failure.
“The epithet ‘woh-woh’ applied to the censured boys means to entitle
them very bad; and I understand this term, which is general over
the coast, is derived from the belief that those persons to whom
it is applied have a capacity to bring double woe on all who have
dealings with them. ‘Amstrang Boboh,’ who has the fever bad, is
Robert Armstrong, the stipendiary magistrate of Sierra Leone, and
the inversion of his name in this manner is as expressive of negro
classicality as was the title of Jupiter Tonans to the dwellers on
Mount Olympus.”
It is probable that to his passion for “picture making” Mr. Catlin is
indebted for his great success among North-American children of the
wilderness. A glance through the two big volumes published by that
gentleman shows at once that he could have little time either for
eating, drinking, or sleeping; his pencil was all in all to him. No
one would suppose it by the specimens Mr. Catlin has presented to the
public, but we have his word for it, that some of the likenesses he
painted of the chiefs were marvels of perfection--so much so, indeed,
that he was almost tomahawked as a witch in consequence. He says:
“I had trouble brewing from another source; one of the _medicines_
commenced howling and haranguing around my domicile amongst the throng
that was outside, proclaiming that all who were inside and being
painted were fools and would soon die, and very naturally affecting
thereby my popularity. I, however, sent for him, and called him in
the next morning when I was alone, having only the interpreter with
me, telling him that I had had my eye upon him for several days and
had been so well pleased with his looks that I had taken great pains
to find out his history, which had been explained by all as one of a
most extraordinary kind, and his character and standing in his tribe
as worthy of my particular notice; and that I had several days since
resolved, that as soon as I had practised my hand long enough upon the
others to get the stiffness out of it (after paddling my canoe so far
as I had) and make it to work easily and succesfully, I would begin
on his portrait, which I was then prepared to commence on that day,
and that I felt as if I could do him justice. He shook me by the hand,
giving me the Doctor’s grip, and beckoned me to sit down, which I did,
and we smoked a pipe together. After this was over he told me that
he had no inimical feelings towards me, although he had been telling
the chiefs that they were all fools and all would die who had their
portraits painted; that although he had set the old women and children
all crying, and even made some of the young warriors tremble, yet he
had no unfriendly feelings towards me, nor any fear or dread of my art.
‘I know you are a good man (said he), I know you will do no harm to any
one; your medicine is great, and you are a great medicine-man. I would
like to see myself very well, and so would all of the chiefs; but they
have all been many days in this medicine-house, and they all know me
well, and they have not asked me to come in and be _made alive_
with paints. My friend, I am glad that my people have told you who I
am; my heart is glad; I will go to my wigwam and eat, and in a little
while I will come and you may go to work.’ Another pipe was lit and
smoked, and he got up and went off. I prepared my canvass and palette,
and whistled away the time until twelve o’clock, before he made his
appearance, having employed the whole forepart of the day at his
toilette, arranging his dress and ornamenting his body for his picture.
“At that hour then, bedaubed and streaked with paints of various
colours, with bear’s-grease and charcoal, with medicine-pipes in his
hands, and foxes’ tails attached to his heels, entered Mah-to-he-bah
(the old bear) with a train of his profession, who seated themselves
around him, and also a number of boys whom it was requested should
remain with him, and whom I supposed it possible might have been his
pupils whom he was instructing in the mysteries of his art. He took
his position in the middle of the room, waving his evil calumets in
each hand and singing the medicine song which he sings over his dying
patient, looking me full in the face until I completed his picture at
full length. His vanity has been completely gratified in the operation;
he lies for hours together day after day in my room in front of his
picture gazing intently upon it, lights my pipe for me while I am
painting, shakes hands with me a dozen times each day, and talks of me
and enlarges upon my medicine virtues and my talents wherever he goes,
so that this new difficulty is now removed, and instead of preaching
against me he is one of my strongest and most enthusiastic friends and
aids in the country.
“Perhaps nothing ever more completely astonished these people than the
operations of my brush. The art of portrait painting was a subject
entirely new to them and of course unthought of, and my appearance here
has commenced a new era in the arcana of _medicine_ or mystery.
Soon after arriving here I commenced and finished the portraits of
the two principal chiefs. This was done without having awakened the
curiosity of the villagers, as they had heard nothing of what was going
on, and even the chiefs themselves seemed to be ignorant of my designs
until the pictures were completed. No one else was admitted into my
lodge during the operation, and when finished it was exceedingly
amusing to see them mutually recognizing each other’s likeness and
assuring each other of the striking resemblance which they bore to the
originals. Both of these pressed their hand over their mouths awhile in
dead silence (a custom amongst most tribes when anything surprises them
very much); looking attentively upon the portraits and myself and upon
the palette and colours with which these unaccountable effects had been
produced.
“Then they walked up to me in the most gentle manner, taking me in
turn by the hand with a firm grip, and, with head and eyes inclined
downwards, in a tone of a little above a whisper, pronounced the words
_te-ho-pe-nee Wash-ee_, and walked off.
“Readers, at that moment I was christened with a new and a great name,
one by which I am now familiarly hailed and talked of in this village,
and no doubt will be as long as traditions last in this strange
community.
“That moment conferred an honour on me which you, as yet, do not
understand. I took the degree (not of Doctor of Law, nor Bachelor
of Arts) of Master of Arts--of mysteries, of magic, and of hocus
pocus. I was recognized in that short sentence as a great _medicine
white man_, and since that time have been regularly installed
_medicine_, or mystery,--which is the most honourable degree that
could be conferred upon me here, and I now hold a place amongst the
most eminent and envied personages, the doctors and conjurati of this
titled community.
“Te-ho-pe-nee Wash-ee--pronounced ‘tup’penny’--is the name I now go by,
and it will prove to me no doubt of more value than gold, for I have
been called upon and feasted by the doctors, who are all mystery-men,
and it has been an easy and successful passport already to many
strange and mysterious places, and has put me in possession of a vast
deal of curious and interesting information which I am sure I never
should have otherwise learned. I am daily growing in the estimation
of the medicine-men and the chiefs, and by assuming all the gravity
and circumspection due from so high a dignity (and even considerably
more), and endeavouring to perform now and then some art or trick that
is unfathomable, I am in hopes of supporting my standing until the
great annual ceremony commences, on which occasion I may possibly be
allowed a seat in the _medicine_ lodge by the doctors, who are the
sole conductors of this great source and fountain of all priestcraft
and conjuration in this country. After I had finished the portraits of
the two chiefs and they had returned to their wigwams and deliberately
seated themselves by their respective firesides and silently smoked a
pipe or two (according to an universal custom), they gradually began
to tell what had taken place; and at length crowds of gaping listeners,
with mouths wide open, thronged their lodges, and a throng of women
and girls were about my house, and through every crack and crevice I
could see their glistening eyes which were piercing my hut in a hundred
places, from a natural and restless propensity--a curiosity to see what
was going on within. An hour or more passed in this way and the soft
and silken throng continually increased until some hundreds of them
were clung and piled about my wigwam like a swarm of bees hanging on
the front and sides of their hive. During this time not a man made his
appearance about the premises; after awhile, however, they could be
seen folded in their robes gradually sidling up towards the lodge with
a silly look upon their faces, which confessed at once that curiosity
was leading them reluctantly where their pride checked and forbade
them to go. The rush soon after became general, and the chiefs and
medicine-men took possession of my room, placing soldiers (braves,
with spears in their hands) at the door, admitting no one but such as
were allowed by the chiefs to come in. The likenesses were instantly
recognized, and many of the gaping multitude commenced yelping; some
were stamping off in the jarring dance, others were singing, and others
again were crying; hundreds covered their mouth with their hands and
were mute; others, indignant, drove their spears frightfully into the
ground, and some threw a reddened arrow at the sun and went home to
their wigwams.
“The pictures seen, the next curiosity was to see the man who made
them, and I was called forth. Readers, if you have any imagination,
save me the trouble of painting this scene. I stepped forth and was
instantly hemmed in in the throng. Women were gazing, and warriors
and braves were offering me their hands, whilst little boys and girls
by dozens were struggling through the crowd to touch me with the ends
of their fingers, and while I was engaged from the waist upwards
in fending off the throng and shaking hands my legs were assailed
(not unlike the nibbling of little fish when I have been standing in
deep water) by children who were creeping between the legs of the
bystanders for the curiosity or honour of touching me with the end
of their finger. The eager curiosity and expression of astonishment
with which they gazed upon me plainly showed that they looked upon
me as some strange and unaccountable being. They pronounced me the
greatest _medicine-man_ in the world, for they said I had made
a _living being_; they said they could see their chief alive in
two places--those that I had made were a little alive; they could see
their eyes move, could see them smile and laugh; they could certainly
speak if they should try, and they must therefore have some life in
them.
“The squaws generally agreed that they had discovered life enough in
them to render my _medicine_ too great for the Mandans, saying
that such an operation could not be performed without taking away from
the original something of his existence, which I put in the picture,
and they could see it move, see it stir.
“This curtailing of the natural existence for the purpose of
instilling life into the secondary one they decided to be an useless
and destructive operation, and one which was calculated to do great
mischief in their happy community, and they commenced a mournful and
doleful chant against me, crying and weeping bitterly through the
village, proclaiming me a most dangerous man, one who could make living
persons by looking at them, and at the same time could, as a matter of
course, destroy life in the same way, if I chose; that my medicine was
dangerous to their lives and that I must leave the village immediately;
that bad luck would happen to those whom I painted, and that when they
died they would never sleep quiet in their graves.
“In this way the women and some old quack medicine-men together
had succeeded in raising an opposition against me, and the reasons
they assigned were so plausible and so exactly suited for their
superstitious feelings, that they completely succeeded in exciting
fears and a general panic in the minds of a number of chiefs who had
agreed to sit for their portraits, and my operations were of course
for several days completely at a stand. A grave council was held on
the subject from day to day, and there seemed great difficulty in
deciding what was to be done with me and the dangerous art which I was
practising and which had far exceeded their original expectations. I
finally got admitted to their sacred conclave and assured them that I
was but a man like themselves, that my art had no _medicine_ or
mystery about it, but could be learned by any of them, if they would
practice it as long as I had; that my intentions towards them were of
the most friendly kind, and that in the country where I lived brave
men never allowed their squaws to frighten them with their foolish
whims and stories. They all immediately arose, shook me by the hand,
and dressed themselves for their pictures. After this there was no
further difficulty about sitting, all were ready to be painted; the
squaws were silent, and my painting-room was a continual resort for the
chiefs and braves and medicine-men, where they waited with impatience
for the completion of each one’s picture, that they could decide as
to the likeness as it came from under the brush, that they could laugh
and yell and sing a new song, and smoke a fresh pipe to the health and
success of him who had just been safely delivered from the hands and
the mystic operation of the _white medicine_.”
The Mandans celebrate the anniversary of the feast of the deluge with
great pomp. During the first four days of this religious ceremony
they perform the buffalo dances four times the first day, eight the
second, twelve the third, and sixteen the fourth day, around the great
canoe placed in the centre of the village. This canoe represents the
ark which saved the human race from the flood, and the total-number
of the dances executed is forty, in commemoration of the forty nights
during which the rain did not cease to fall upon the earth. The dancers
chosen for this occasion are eight in number and divided into four
pairs corresponding to the four cardinal points. They are naked and
painted various colours; round their ankles they wear tufts of buffalo
hair; a skin of the same animal with the head and horns is thrown over
their shoulders; the head serves as a mask to the dancers. In one of
their hands they hold a racket, in the other a lance, or rather a long
inoffensive stick. On their shoulders is bound a bundle of branches. In
dancing they stoop down towards the ground and imitate the movements
and the bellowing of buffaloes.
Alternating with these pairs is a single dancer, also naked and
painted, and wearing no other garments than a beautiful girdle and a
head-dress of eagles’ feathers mingled with the fur of the ermine.
These four dancers also carry each a racket and a stick in their hands;
in dancing they turn their backs to the great canoe. Two of them are
painted black with white spots all over their bodies to represent the
sky and stars. The two others are painted red to represent the day,
with white marks to signify the spirits chased away by the first rays
of the sun. None but these twelve individuals dance in this ceremony
of solemnity. During the dance the master of the ceremonies stands by
the great canoe and smokes in honour of each of the cardinal points.
Four old men also approach the great canoe, and during the whole dance,
which continues a quarter of an hour, the actors sing and make all
the noise possible with their instruments, but always preserving the
measure.
Besides the dancers and musicians there are other actors who represent
symbolical characters and have a peculiar dress during this festival.
Near the great canoe are two men dressed like bears who growl
continually and try to interrupt the actors. In order to appease them
women continually bring them plates of food, which two other Indians
disguised as eagles often seize and carry off into the prairie. The
bears are then chased by troops of children, naked and painted like
fawns and representing antelopes, which eagerly devour the food that
is served. This is an allegory, signifying that in the end Providence
always causes the innocent to triumph over the wicked.
All at once on the fourth day the women begin to weep and lament, the
children cry out, the dogs bark, the men are overwhelmed with profound
despair. This is the cause: A naked man painted of a brilliant black
like the plumage of a raven and marked with white lines, having a
bear’s tusk painted at each side of his mouth, and holding a long wand
in his hand, appears on the prairie running in a zigzag direction,
but still advancing rapidly towards the village and uttering the most
terrific cries. Arriving at the place where the dance is performing he
strikes right and left at men, women, and children, and dogs, who fly
in all directions to avoid the blows of this singular being, who is a
symbol of the evil spirit.
The master of the ceremonies on perceiving the disorder quits his post
near the great canoe and goes toward the enemy with his medicine-pipe,
and the evil spirit, charmed by the magic calumet, becomes as gentle as
a child and as ashamed as a fox caught stealing a fowl. At this sudden
change the terror of the crowd changes to laughter, and the women cease
to tremble at the evil spirit and take to pelting him with mud; he is
overtaken and deprived of his wand and is glad to take to his heels and
escape from the village as quickly as he can.
It is to be hoped that the North-American Indian when communicating
with Kitchi-Manitou does not forget to pray to be cured of his
intolerable vice of covetousness. He can let nothing odd or valuable
pass him without yearning for it, or so says every traveller whose lot
it has been to sojourn among Red men. So says Mr. Murray, and quotes a
rather ludicrous case in support of the assertion:
“While I was sitting near my packs of goods, like an Israelite in
Monmouth Street, an elderly chief approached and signified his wish
to trade. Our squaws placed some meat before him, after which I gave
him the pipe, and in the meantime had desired my servant to search my
saddle bags, and to add to the heap of saleable articles everything
of every kind beyond what was absolutely necessary for my covering
on my return. A spare shirt, a handkerchief, and a waistcoat were
thus drafted, and among other things was a kind of elastic flannel
waistcoat made for wearing next to the skin and to be drawn over the
head as it was without buttons or any opening in front. It was too
small for me and altogether so tight and uncomfortable, although
elastic, that I determined to part with it.
[Illustration: The Covetous Pawnee.]
“To this last article my new customer took a great fancy and he made me
describe to him the method of putting it on and the warmth and comfort
of it when on. Be it remembered that he was a very large corpulent man,
probably weighing sixteen stone. I knew him to be very good-natured,
as I had hunted once with his son and on returning to the lodge the
father had feasted me, chatted by signs, and taught me some of the
most extraordinary Indian methods of communication. He said he should
like to try on the jacket, and as he threw the buffalo robe off his
huge shoulders I could scarcely keep my gravity when I compared their
dimensions with the garment into which we were about to attempt their
introduction. At last by dint of great industry and care, we contrived
to get him into it. In the body it was a foot too short, and fitted him
so close that every thread was stretched to the uttermost; the sleeves
reached a very little way above his elbow. However, he looked upon his
arms and person with great complacency and elicited many smiles from
the squaws at the drollery of his attire; but as the weather was very
hot he soon began to find himself too warm and confined, and he wished
to take it off again. He moved his arms, he pulled his sleeves, he
twisted and turned himself in every direction, but in vain. The old man
exerted himself till the drops of perspiration fell from his forehead,
but had I not been there he must either have made some person cut it up
or have sat in it till this minute.
“For some time I enjoyed this scene with malicious and demure gravity,
and then I showed him that he must try and pull it off over his
head. A lad who stood by then drew it till it enveloped his nose,
eyes, mouth, and ears; his arms were raised above his head, and for
some minutes he remained in that melancholy plight, blinded, choked,
and smothered, with his hands rendered useless for the time. He
rolled about, sneezing, sputtering, and struggling, until all around
him were convulsed with laughter and our squaws shrieked in their
ungovernable mirth in a manner that I had never before witnessed. At
length I slit a piece of the edge and released the old fellow from his
straight-waistcoat confinement; he turned it round often in his hands
and made a kind of comic-grave address to it, of which I could only
gather a few words: I believe the import of them was that it would be
‘a good creature’ in the ice-month of the village. I was so pleased
with his good humour that I gave it to him to warm his squaw in the
‘ice-month.’”
As this will probably be the last occasion of discussing in this volume
the physical and moral characteristics of the North American Indian,
it may not be out of place here to give a brief descriptive sketch of
the chief tribes with an account of their strength and power in bygone
times and their present condition. The names of Murray, Dominech,
Catlin, etc., afford sufficient guarantee of the accuracy of the
information here supplied.
The Ojibbeway nation occupies a large amount of territory, partly
within the United States, and partly within British America. They
are the largest community of savages in North America: the entire
population, in 1842, amounted to thirty thousand. That part of the
tribe occupying territory within the United States inhabit all the
northern part of Michigan, the whole northern portion of Wisconsin
Territory, all the south shore of Lake Superior, for eight hundred
miles, the upper part of the Mississippi, and Sandy, Leech, and
Red Lakes. Those of the nation living within the British dominions
occupy all Western Canada, the north of Lake Huron, the north of Lake
Superior, the north of Lake Winnibeg, and the north of Red River Lake,
about one hundred miles. The whole extent of territory occupied by
this single nation, extends one thousand nine hundred miles east and
west, and from two to three hundred miles north and south. There are
about five thousand in British America, and twenty-five thousand in the
United States. Of their past history nothing is known, except what may
be gathered from their traditions. All the chiefs and elder men of the
tribe agree that they originally migrated from the west. A great number
of their traditions are doubtless unworthy of credence, but a few that
relate to the foundation of the world, the subsequent disobedience of
the people,--which, the Ojibbeways say, was brought about by climbing
of a vine that connected the world of spirits with the human race,
which was strictly forbidden the mortals below, and how they were
punished by the introduction of disease and death, which before they
knew not;--all this and much more of the same nature, is a subject of
more than ordinary interest to the contemplative mind.
Their first intercourse with Europeans was in 1609, when they, as
well as many of the other tribes belonging to the Algonquin stock,
met Champlain, the adventurous French trader. They were described
by him as the most polished in manners of the northern tribes; but
depended for subsistence entirely on the chase, disdaining altogether
the more effeminate occupation of the cultivation of the soil. From
that time they eagerly sought and very soon obtained the friendship of
the French. The more so that their ancient and inveterate foes, the
Iroquois, were extremely jealous of the intrusive white men. With the
help of the French they gained many bloody and decisive battles over
the Iroquois, and considerably extended their territories. The history
of the nation from this time is not very interesting. From the ravages
of war and disease the tribe, as may be perceived from a comparison
with many others, has escaped with more than ordinary success; partly
owing to the simplicity and general intelligence of the tribe in
guarding against these evils.
Their religion is very simple, the fundamental points of which are
nearly the same as all the North American Indians. They believe in
one Ruler or Great Spirit--He-sha-mon-e-doo, “Benevolent Spirit,” or
He-ehe-mon-edoo, ”“Great Spirit.” This spirit is over the universe at
the same time, but under different names, as the “God of man,” the
“God of fish,” and many others. It is supposed by many travellers that
sun-worship was a part of their mythology, from the extreme respect
which they were observed to pay to that luminary. But we find the
reason of this supposed homage is, that the Indian regards the sun as
the wigwam of the Great Spirit, and is naturally an object of great
veneration. In this particular, perhaps, they are not greater idolaters
than civilized people, who have every advantage that art and nature
can bestow. The Indian, because the sun doesn’t shine to-day, won’t
transfer his adoration to the moon to-morrow; and in this respect at
least is superior to many a wise and educated “pale face.”
In addition to the good spirit they have a bad spirit, whom, however,
they believe to be inferior to the good spirit. He is supposed to have
the power of inflicting all manner of evils, and, moreover, to take
a delight in doing so. This spirit was sent to them as a punishment
for their original disobediences. They have, besides these, spirits
innumerable. In their idea every little flower of the field, every
beast of the land, and every fish in the water, possesses one.
PAWNEES.--This tribe, which is scattered between Kansas and
Nebraska, was at one time very numerous and powerful, but at the
present time numbers no more than about ten thousand. They have an
established reputation for daring, cunning, and dishonesty. In the
year 1832 small-pox made its appearance among the Pawnees, and in the
course of a few months destroyed fully half their numbers. They shave
the head, all but the scalp lock. They cultivate a little Indian corn,
but are passionately fond of hunting and adventure. The use of the
Indian corn is confined to the women and old men. The warriors feed
on the game they kill on the great prairies, or on animals they steal
from those who cross their territory. The Pawnees are divided into four
bands, with each a chief. Above these four chiefs is a single one, whom
the whole nation obey. This tribe has four villages, situated near the
Nebraska. It is allied with the neighbouring tribe of the Omahas and
Ottoes. It was till recently the custom of these people to torture
their prisoners, but it is now discontinued, owing to the fact of a
squaw of the hostile tribe being snatched from the stake by a white
man. The circumstance was regarded as a direct interposition of the
Great Spirit, and as an expression of his will that torture should he
discontinued. They do not appear to possess any historical traditions,
but on certain other subjects preserve some curious legends. The “sign”
of the Pawnees is the two forefingers held at the sides of the head in
imitation of a wolf’s ears.
THE DELAWARES.--This ancient people, once the most renowned
and powerful among American Indians, has of late years so dwindled
that were the entire nation to be gathered, it would scarcely count
one thousand souls. They are now settled in the Valley of the Canadian
river, and their pursuits are almost strictly agricultural. According
to their traditions, several centuries ago they inhabited the western
part of the American continent, but afterwards emigrated in a body to
the banks of the Mississippi, where they met the Iroquois, who, like
themselves, had abandoned the far west and settled near the same river.
In a short time, however, the new comers and the previous holders
of the land, the Allegavis, ceased to be on friendly terms, and the
combined Delawares and Iroquois declared war against them to settle the
question. The combined forces were victorious, and divided the land
of the Allegavis between them. After living peaceably for two hundred
years, another migration was resolved upon, and, according to some
accounts, the whole of both nations, and according to others, but part
of them, settled on the shores of the four great rivers, the Delaware,
the Hudson, the Susquehanna, and the Potomac. Up to this time the
Delawares remained, as they had ever been, superior to the Iroquois,
and by-and-by the latter grew jealous of their powerful neighbours, and
by way of thinning their numbers sought to breed a deadly feud between
the Delawares and certain other near-living tribes, amongst which were
the warlike Cherokees. This was an easy matter. The arms of every tribe
are more or less peculiar and may be safely sworn to by any other.
Stealing a Delaware axe, an Iroquois lay wait for a Cherokee, and
having brained him with the weapon laid it by the side of the scalpless
body. The bait took, and speedily the Delawares and the Cherokees were
plunged into deadly strife.
[Illustration: An Iroquois Warrior.]
The Iroquois, however, were not destined to escape scot free for their
diabolical trick. The Delawares discovered it, and swore in council to
exterminate their malicious neighbours. But the latter were much too
wise to attempt a single-handed struggle with their justly incensed
foes, so soliciting the attention of the other tribes they set out
their grievances in so artful a manner that the others resolved to
help them, and there was straightway formed against the unoffending
Delawares a confederation called the Six Nations. “This,” says the
Abbé Dominech, “was about the end of the fifteenth and beginning of
the sixteenth century, and from this period dates the commencement of
the most bloody battles the New World has witnessed. The Delawares
were generally victorious. It was during this war that the French
landed in Canada, and the Iroquois not wishing them to settle in the
country took arms against them; but finding themselves thus placed
between two fires, and despairing of subduing the Delawares by force
of arms, they had recourse to a stratagem in order to make peace with
the latter, and induce them to join the war against the French. Their
plan was to destroy the Delawares’ fame for military bravery, and to
make them (to use an Indian expression) into old women. To make the
plan of the Iroquois understood, we must mention that most of the wars
between these tribes are brought to an end only by the intervention of
the women. They adjure the warriors by all they hold dear to take pity
on their poor wives and on the children who weep for their fathers,
to lay aside their arms and to smoke the calumet of peace with their
enemies. These discourses rarely fail in their effect and the women
place themselves in an advantageous position as peace-makers. The
Iroquois persuaded the Delawares that it would be no disgrace to
become “women,” but that on the contrary, it would be an honour to a
nation so powerful, and which could not be suspected of deficiency in
courage or strength, to be the means of bringing about a general peace
and of preserving the Indian race from further extermination. These
representations determined the Delawares to become “women” by asking
for peace. So they came to be contemptuously known by other tribes as
“Iroquois Squaws,” and losing heart, from that time grew more few.
SHAWNEES.--The ancient “hunting grounds” of this important
tribe were Pennsylvania and New Jersey; but they are now found in
the Valley of the Canadian. “Some authors are of opinion,” says the
author of “The Deserts of North America,” “that these Indians come
from Eastern Florida, because there is in that country a river called
Su-wa-nee, whence the word Shawanas, which is also used to design
the Shawnees, might be derived. It is certain, however, that they
were known on the coast of the Atlantic, near Delaware and Chesapeak,
subsequent to the historical era: that is to say, after the arrival of
the Anglo-Saxons in the land. The Shawnees, as well as the Aborigines
of whom they formed part, held a tradition of their transatlantic
origin. It is but a few years ago that they ceased to offer animal
sacrifices to render thanks to the Great Spirit for their happy
arrival in America. The Shawnees and their neighbours the Delawares
were alternately friends and enemies. They frequently made war on each
other, and retreated to the west in consequence of the invasion of the
whites. The present Shawnees are as much civilized as the Chactas; they
are perhaps less rudely attired; with the exception of rings, earrings,
and brooches of their own manufacturing, they care little for the
ornaments by which other Indians set so much store. Their features are
peculiar; their nose has a Grecian cut not devoid of beauty; their hair
is short to the neck and parted in the front; the men wear moustaches;
the women are rather good looking, and notwithstanding the dark colour
of their complexion their cheeks show signs of robust health. Some of
the most renowned of American chiefs are found among the Shawnees. The
present actual population is 1,500.”
And now, having so long endured the trying climate of North
America, let us turn to a warmer country--to one of the warmest and
quaintest--to Abyssinia. Not the least quaint of its features is the
fact that there are more churches there than in any other country;
and, though it is very mountainous, and consequently the view much
obstructed, it is very seldom you see less than five or six; and,
if you are on a commanding ground, five times that number. Every
Abyssinian that dies thinks he has atoned for all his wickedness, if
he leaves a fund to build a church, or has built one in his lifetime.
The king builds many. Wherever a victory is gained, there a church is
erected in the very field--and that before the bodies of the slain
are buried. Formerly this was only the case when the enemy was Pagan
or Infidel; now the same is observable when the victories are over
Christians. The situation of a church is always chosen near running
water, for the convenience of their purifications and ablutions, in
which they strictly observe the Levitical law. They are always placed
on the top of some beautiful round hill, which is surrounded entirely
with rows of the oxycedrus, or Virgin cedar, which grows here in great
beauty and perfection, and is called Arz. Nothing adds so much to the
beauty of the country as these churches, and the plantations about
them. In the middle of this plantation of cedars is interspersed, at
proper distances, a number of those beautiful trees called Cuffo, which
grow very high, and are all extremely picturesque.
The churches are all round, with thatched roofs; their summits are
perfect cones; the outside is surrounded by a number of wooden
pillars, which are nothing else than the trunks of the cedar-tree,
and are placed to support the edifice, about eight feet of the roof
projecting beyond the wall of the church, which forms an agreeable
walk or colonnade around it in hot weather or in rain. The inside of
the church is in several divisions, according as is prescribed by the
law of Moses. The first is a circle somewhat wider than the inner one;
here the congregation sit and pray. Within this is a square, and that
square is divided by a veil or curtain, in which is another very small
division answering to the holy of holies. This is so narrow, that none
but the priests can go into it. You are barefooted, whenever you enter
the church, and, if barefooted, you may go through every part of it,
if you have any such curiosity, provided you are pure, that is, have
not had connexion with woman for twenty-four hours before, or touched
carrion or dead bodies (a curious assemblage of ideas), for in that
case you are not to go within the precincts, or outer circumference, of
the church, but stand and say your prayers at an awful distance among
the cedars.
Every person, of both sexes, under Jewish disqualifications, is
obliged to observe this distance; and this is always a place belonging
to the church, where, except in Lent, you see the greatest part of
the congregation; but this is left to your own conscience; and, if
there was either great inconvenience in the one situation, or great
satisfaction in the other, the case would be otherwise.
On your first entering the church, you put off your shoes: but you must
leave a servant there with them, or else they will be stolen, if good
for anything, by the priests and monks, before you come out of the
church. At entering you kiss the threshold and the two door-posts, go
in and say what prayer you please; that finished you come out again,
and your duty is over. The churches are full of pictures, painted
on parchment, and nailed upon the walls a little less slovenly than
you see paltry prints in beggarly country ale-houses. There has been
always a sort of painting known among the scribes, a daubing much
inferior to the worst of our sign-painters. Sometimes, for a particular
church, they get a number of pictures of saints, on skins of parchment,
ready finished from Cairo, in a style very little superior to these
performances of their own. They are placed like a frieze, and hung
in the upper part of the wall. St. George is generally there with
his dragon, and St. Demetrius fighting a lion. There is no choice in
their saints; they are both of the Old and New Testament, and those
that might be dispensed with from both. There is St. Pontius Pilate
and his wife; there is St. Balaam and his ass; Samson and his jawbone;
and so of the rest. But the thing that surprised Mr. Bruce most was a
kind of square miniature upon the head-piece or mitre of the priest,
administering the sacrament at Adowa, representing Pharaoh on a white
horse plunging in the Red Sea, with many guns and pistols swimming upon
the surface of it around him.
Nothing embossed, or in relief, ever appears in any of their churches;
all this would be reckoned idolatry, so much so that they do not wear a
cross, as has been represented, on the top of the ball of the sendick
or standard, because it casts a shade; but there is no doubt that
pictures have been used in their churches from the very earliest ages
of Christianity.
The primate or patriarch of the Abyssinian Church is styled Abuna. The
first of these prelates mentioned in history is Tecla Haimanout, who
distinguished himself by the restoration of the royal family, and the
regulations which he made both in church and state. A wise ordinance
was then enacted that the Abyssinians should not have it in their
power to raise one of their own countrymen to the dignity of Abuna. As
this dignitary of the church very seldom understands the language of
the country, he has no share in the government. His chief employment
is in ordinations, which ceremony is thus performed:--A number of men
and children present themselves at a distance, and there stand from
humility, not daring to approach him. He then asks who these are, and
they tell him that they wish to be deacons. On this he makes two or
three signs with a small cross in his hand, and blows with his mouth
twice or thrice upon them, saying, “Let them be deacons.” Mr. Bruce
once saw the whole army of Begemder, when just returned from shedding
the blood of 10,000 men, made deacons by the Abuna, who stood about a
quarter of a mile distant from them.
The Abyssinians neither eat nor drink with strangers, though they have
no reason for this; and it is now a mere prejudice, because the old
occasion for this regulation is lost. They break, or purify, however,
every vessel a stranger of any kind shall have eaten or drunk out of.
The custom, then, is copied from the Egyptians; and they have preserved
it, though the Egyptian reason does no longer hold.
The Egyptians made no account of the mother what her state was; if the
father was free, the child followed the condition of the father. This
is strictly so in Abyssinia. The king’s child by a negro-slave, bought
with money, or taken in war, is as near in succeeding to the crown as
any one of twenty children that he has older than that one, and born of
the noblest women of the country.
In Abyssinia, once every year they baptize all grown people, or adults.
Mr. Bruce here relates what he himself saw on the spot, and what is
nothing more than the celebration of our Saviour’s baptism:--“The
small river, running between the town of Adowa and the church, had
been dammed up for several days; the stream was scanty, so that it
scarcely overflowed. It was in places three feet deep, in some perhaps
four, or little more. Three large tents were pitched the morning
before the feast of the Epiphany; one on the north for the priests to
repose in during the intervals of the service, and, besides this, one
to communicate in: on the south there was a third tent for the monks
and priests of another church to rest themselves in their turn. About
twelve o’clock at night the monks and priests met together, and began
their prayers and psalms at the water-side, one party relieving each
other. At dawn of day, the governor, Welleta Michael, came thither,
with some soldiers, to raise men for Ras Michael, then on his march
against Waragna Fasil, and sat down on a small hill by the water-side,
the troops all skirmishing on foot and on horseback around them.
“As soon as the sun began to appear, three large crosses of wood
were carried by three priests dressed in their sacerdotal vestments,
and who, coming to the side of the river, dipped the cross into the
water, and all this time the firing, skirmishing, and praying, went
on together. The priests with their crosses returned, one of their
number before them carrying something less than an English quart of
water in a silver cup or chalice; when they were about fifty yards from
Welleta Michael, that general stood up, and the priest took as much
water as he could hold in his hands, and sprinkled it upon his head
holding the cup at the same time to Welleta Michael’s mouth to taste;
after which the priest received it back again, saying at the same
time, “Gzier y’barak,” which is simply, “May God bless you.” Each of
the three crosses was then brought forward to Welleta Michael, and he
kissed them. The ceremony of sprinkling the water was then repeated to
all the great men in the tent, all cleanly dressed as in gala. Some of
them, not contented with aspersion, received it in the palms of their
hands joined, and drank it there; more water was brought for those that
had not partaken of the first; and after the whole of the governor’s
company was sprinkled, the crosses returned to the river, their bearers
singing _hallelujahs_, and the skirmishing and firing continuing.”
Mr. Bruce observed, that, a very little time after the governor had
been sprinkled, two horses and two mules, belonging to Ras Michael and
Ozoro Esther, came and were washed. Afterwards the soldiers went in and
bathed their horses and guns; those who had wounds bathed them also.
Heaps of platters and pots, that had been used by Mahometans or Jews,
were brought thither likewise to be purified; and thus the whole ended.
The men in Egypt neither bought nor sold; the same is the case in
Abyssinia to this day. It is infamy for a man to go to market to buy
any thing. He cannot carry water or bake bread; but he must wash the
clothes belonging to both sexes; and, in this function, the women
cannot help him. In Abyssinia the men carried their burdens on their
heads, the women on their shoulders: and this difference, we are told,
obtained in Egypt. It is plain that this buying in the public market by
women must have ended whenever jealousy or sequestration of that sex
began. For this reason it ended early in Egypt; but, for the opposite
reason, it subsists in Abyssinia to this day. It was a sort of impiety
in Egypt to eat a calf; and the reason was plain, they worshipped the
cow. In Abyssinia, to this day, no man eats veal, although every one
very willingly eats beef. The Egyptian reason no longer subsists, as in
the former case, but the prejudice remains, though they have forgotten
their reason.
The Abyssinians eat no wild or water-fowl, not even the goose, which
was a great delicacy in Egypt. The reason of this is, that, upon their
conversion to Judaism, they were forced to relinquish their ancient
municipal customs, as far as they were contrary to the Mosaical law,
and the animals in their country not corresponding in form, kind, or
name with those mentioned in the Septuagint, or original Hebrew, it
has followed that there are many of each class that know not whether
they are clean or not, and a wonderful confusion and uncertainty has
followed through ignorance or mistake, being unwilling to violate the
law in any one instance, though not understanding it.
Among the Gallas of Abyssinia, the Kalijas (magicians) and the Lubas
(priests) reign supreme. It is the business of the latter to determine
whether any impending war will be successful, and for this purpose
the entrails of a goat are consulted. With his long hair streaming
wildly, a bright copper circlet decorating his brow, and with a
sonorous bell, which he beats to enjoin the silence and attention of
the assembled multitude, he plunges his naked arm into the bowels of
the freshly-slaughtered animal, and withdrawing part of the intestines,
according to their colour declares the prospects of the savage army.
In such matters, however, the Kalijas never interferes. His business
is to cast out from sick men the evil spirits that torment them.
There are eighty-eight evil spirits, say the Kalijas, divided into
two bands of forty-three each and ruled and directed by a chief. The
Kalijas is untiring in his efforts to hunt out this formidable army
of eighty-eight. He goes about with a bell in one hand and a whip in
the other, and with a festoon of dried goat’s entrails about his neck.
Sent for by a patient he rubs him well with grease, smokes him with
aromatic herbs, cries out at the top of his voice, rings his bell
with a deafening din, and then lays into the sick person with the
whipthong. If all these powerful remedies fail to drive out the Sao or
evil spirit, why, the Kalijas resignedly takes his fee and goes away,
leaving the victory to the doughty soldier of the eighty six.
In debating on the ills the Abyssinian is heir to the Bouda and Zar
must not be forgotten, since they occupy a most prominent place in the
catalogue of evils which torture the brown-skinned children of the
sun. Of the two the _Bouda_, or sorcerer, as the word signifies,
is the most dreaded. His powers in the black art are reported to be of
a most varied character. At one time he will enslave the objects of
his malice, at another he will subject them to nameless tortures, and
not unfrequently his vengeance will even compass their death. Like the
genii and egrets of the Arabian Nights the Bouda invariably selects
those possessed of youth and talent, beauty and wit, on whom to work
his evil deeds.
A variety of charms have been invented to counteract the Bouda’s
power, but the most potent are the amulets written by the pious
_deleteras_ and worn round the neck. The dread of the sorcerer
has introduced a whole tribe of exorcists who pretend both to be able
to conjure the evil spirit and also to detect his whereabout; and
these are accordingly held in great awe by the people. Their traffic
resembles that of the highwayman; with this difference only--that the
one in bold and unblushing language calls on his victim to stand and
deliver, the other stealthily creeps into the midst of a troop of
soldiers, or amongst a convivial party of friends, and pronounces the
mystical word _Bouda_. The uncouth appearance and sepulchral voice
of the exorcist everywhere produce the deepest sensation, and young
and old, men and women, gladly part with some article to get rid of
his hated and feared presence. If, as sometimes happens, one or two
less superstitious individuals object to these wicked exactions, the
exorcist has a right to compel every one present to smell an abominable
concoction of foul herbs and decayed bones which he carries in his
pouch; those who unflinchingly inhale the offensive scent are declared
innocent, but those who have not such strong olfactory nerves are
declared _Boudas_ and shunned as allies of the evil one.
“During the rainy season,” says Mr. Stern, the most recent of
Abyssinian travellers, “when the weather, like the mind, is cheerless
and dull, the _Boudas_, as if in mockery of the universal gloom,
celebrate their saturnalia. In our small settlement at _Gaffat_
the monotony of our existence was constantly diversified by a Bouda
scene. Towards the close of August, when every tree and shrub began to
sprout and blossom, the disease degenerated into a regular epidemic;
and in the course of an evening two, three, and not unfrequently every
hut occupied by the natives would ring with that familiar household
cry. A heavy thunderstorm by some mysterious process seemed invariably
to predispose the people to the Bouda’s torturing influence.
“I remember one day about the end of August we had a most tremendous
tempest: it commenced a little after mid-day and lasted till nearly
five o’clock. During its continuance the air was completely darkened,
except when the lightning’s blaze flashed athwart the sky and relieved
for a few seconds the almost midnight gloom. No human voice could be
heard amidst the thunder’s deafening crash and the torrent’s impetuous
rage.
“The noise and tumult of the striving elements had scarcely subsided
when one of the servants, a stout, robust, and masculine woman, began
to exhibit the Bouda symptoms. She had been complaining the whole
noon of langour, faintness, and utter incapacity for all physical
exertion. About sunset her lethargy increased, and she gradually sank
into a state of apparent unconsciousness. Her fellow servants who were
familiar with the cause of her complaint at once pronounced her to be
possessed. To outwit the conjuror I thought it advisable to try the
effect of strong liquid ammonia on the nerves of the evil one. The
place being dark, faggots were ignited; and in their bright flickering
light we beheld a mass of dark figures squatted on the wet floor around
a rigid and apparently dead woman. I instantly applied my bottle to
her nose; but although the potent smell made all near raise a cry
of terror, it produced no more effect on the passive and insensible
patient than if it had been clear water.
“The owner of Gaffat, an amateur exorcist, almost by instinct, as if
anticipating something wrong in that part of his dominion occupied by
the Franks, made his appearance in the very nick of time, and no sooner
had the bloated and hideous fellow hobbled into the hut, than the
possessed woman, as if struck by a magnetic wire, burst into loud fits
of laughter and the paroxysms of a maniac.
“Half-a-dozen stalwart fellows caught hold of her, but frenzy imparted
vigour to her frame which even the united strength of these athletics
was barely sufficient to keep under control. She tried to bite, kick,
and tear every one within reach; and when she found herself foiled in
all these mischievous attempts she convulsively grasped the unpaved wet
floor and, in imitation of the hyæna, gave forth the most discordant
sounds. Manacled and shackled with leather thongs, she was now partly
dragged, and partly carried, to an open grassy spot; and there in
the presence of a considerable number of people the conjuror, in a
business-like manner, began his exorcising art.
[Illustration: A Woman under the Influence of Bouda.]
“The poor sufferer, as if conscious of the dreaded old man’s presence
struggled frantically to escape his performance; but the latter
disregarding her entreaties and lamentations, her fits of unnatural
gaiety and bursts of thrilling anguish, with one hand laid an amulet
on her heaving bosom, whilst with the other he made her smell a rag in
which the root of a strong-scented plant, a bone of a hyæna, and some
other abominable unguents, were bound up. The mad rage of the possessed
woman being instantly hushed by this operation, the conjuror addressed
himself to the _Bouda_, and in language unfit for polite ears,
requested him to give him his name. The _Bouda_, speaking through
the medium of the possessed, replied:
“‘Hailu Miriam.’
“‘Where do you reside?’
“‘In Damot.’
“‘What is the name of your father and confessor?’
“‘My father’s name is _Negouseye_, and my _Abadre’s_, _Oubie_.’
“‘Why did you come to this district?’
“‘I took possession of this person on the plain of Wadela, where I met
her on the road from _Magdala_.’
“‘How many persons have you already killed?
“‘Six.’
“‘I command thee, in the name of the blessed Trinity, the twelve
apostles, and the three hundred and eighteen bishops at the council of
Nicæa, to leave this woman and never more to molest her.’
“The Bouda did not feel disposed to obey the conjuror; but on being
threatened with a repast of glowing coals, he became docile, and in a
sulky voice promised to obey the request.
“Still anxious, however, to delay his exit, he demanded something to
eat; and to my utter disgust his taste was as coarse as the torments
inflicted on the young woman were ungallant. Filth and dirt of the
most revolting description, together with an admixture of water, were
the choice delicacies he selected for his supper. This strange fare,
which the most niggardly hospitality could not refuse, several persons
hastened to prepare; and when all was ready, and the earthen dish had
been hidden in the centre of a leafy shrub, the conjuror called to
the Bouda, ‘As thy father did, so do thou.’ These words had scarcely
escaped the lips of the exorcist when the possessed person leapt up
and, crawling on all fours, sought the dainty repast, which she lapped
up with a sickening avidity and greediness. She now laid hold of a
stone which three strong men could scarcely lift, and raising it aloft
in the air, whirled it round her head, and then fell senseless to the
ground. In half an hour she recovered, but was quite unconscious of
what had transpired.
“Next in importance to the _Bouda_ is the _Zar_. This malady
is exclusively confined to unmarried women, and has the peculiar
feature, that during the violence of the paroxysm it prompts the
patient to imitate the sharp discordant growl of the leopard. I
recollect that the first time I saw a case of this description it gave
me a shock that made my blood run cold. The sufferer was a handsome,
gay and lively girl of fifteen. In the morning she was engaged, as
usual, with her work, when a quarrel ensued between her and the other
domestics. The fierce dispute, though of a trifling character, roused
the passions of the fiery Ethiopian to such a pitch that it brought on
an hysterical affection. Her companions cried out, ‘She is possessed;’
and certainly her ghastly smile, nervous tremor, wild stare, and
unnatural howl, justified the notion. To expel the Zar, a conjuror, as
in the Bouda complaint, was formerly considered indispensable; but,
by dint of perseverance, the medical faculty of the country, to their
infinite satisfaction, have at length made the discovery that a sound
application of the whip is quite as potent an antidote against this
evil as the necromancer’s spell.”
Turning from Abyssinia to Dahomey we find, as might be expected from
all that one hears of that most sanguinary spot on earth, that religion
is at a very low ebb. Leopards and snakes are the chief gods worshipped
by the Dahomans, and surely the mantle of these deities must have
descended to their worshippers, who possess all the cunning of the
one and the bloodthirstiness of the other. Besides these, the Dahoman
worships thunder and lightning, and sundry meaningless wooden images.
The sacrifices are various. If of a bullock it is thus performed: the
priests and priestesses (the highest of the land, for the Dahoman
proverb has it that the poor are never priests) assemble within a ring
in a public square, a band of discordant music attends, and, after
arranging the emblems of their religion and the articles carried in
religious processions, such as banners, spears, tripods, and vessels
holding bones, skulls, congealed blood, and other barbarous trophies,
they dance, sing, and drink until sufficiently excited. The animals are
next produced and decapitated by the male priests with large chopper
knives. The altars are washed with the blood caught in basins; the rest
is taken round by the priests and priestesses, who strike the lintel
and two side posts of all the houses of the devotees with the blood
that is in the basin. The turkey buzzards swarm in the neighbourhood,
and with the familiarity of their nature gorge on the mangled carcass
as it is cut in pieces. The meat is next cooked and distributed among
the priests, portions being set aside to feed the spirits of the
departed and the fetishes. After the sacrifice the priesthood again
commence dancing, singing, and drinking, men, women, and children
grovelling in the dirt, every now and then receiving the touch and
blessing of these enthusiasts. Among the priesthood are members of the
royal family, wives and children. The mysteries are secret, and the
revelation of them is punished with death. Although different fetishes
are as common as the changes of language in Central Africa, there is
a perfect understanding between all fetish people. The priests of the
worship of the leopard, the snake, and the shark, are initiated into
the same obscure forms. Private sacrifices of fowls, ducks, and even
goats, are very common, and performed in a similar manner: the heads
are taken off by the priests, and the altars washed with the blood, and
the lintels and sides of the door posts are sprinkled; the body of the
animal or bird is eaten or exposed for the sacred turkey buzzards to
devour. The temples are extremely numerous, each having one altar of
clay. There is no worship within these temples, but small offerings are
daily given by devotees and removed by the priests.
Sickness is prevalent among the blacks, small-pox and fever being
unattended, except by bad practitioners in medicine. And here let me
remark that, after teachers of the Gospel and promoters of education,
there is no study that would so well ensure a good reception in Africa
as that of medicine. The doctor is always welcome, and, as in most
barbarous countries, all white men were supposed to be doctors. If an
African sickens, he makes a sacrifice first, a small one of some palm
oil food. Dozens of plates of this mixture are to be seen outside the
town, and the turkey buzzards horribly gorged, scarcely able to fly
from them. If the gods are not propitiated, owls, ducks, goats, and
bullocks are sacrificed; and if the invalid be a man of rank, he prays
the king to permit him to sacrifice one or more slaves, paying a fee
for each. Should he recover, he in his grateful joy liberates one or
more slaves, bullocks, goats, fowls, etc., giving them for ever, to the
fetish, and henceforward they are fed by the fetish-men. But should he
die, he invites with his last breath his principal wives to join him
in the next world, and according to his rank, his majesty permits a
portion of his slaves to be sacrificed on the tomb.
Should any one by design or accident--the former is scarcely
likely--hurt either a leopard or snake fetish, he is a ruined man. But
a very few years ago a cruel and lingering death was the penalty; but
Dahoman princes of modern times are more tender-hearted than their
predecessors, and are content with visiting the culprit with a thorough
scorching. Mr. Duncan instances such a case:
[Illustration: Punishment for Killing Fetish Snakes.]
“May 1st.--Punishment was inflicted for accidentally killing two fetish
snakes, while clearing some rubbish in the French fort. This is one of
the most absurd as well as savage customs I ever witnessed or heard of.
Still it is not so bad as it was in the reign of the preceding King of
Dahomey, when the law declared the head of the unfortunate individual
forfeited for killing one of these reptiles, even by accident. The
present king has reduced the capital punishment to that about to be
described. On this occasion three individuals were sentenced as guilty
of the murder of the fetish snakes. A small house is thereupon made for
each individual, composed of dry faggots for walls, and it is thatched
with dry grass. The fetish-men then assemble, and fully describe the
enormity of the crime committed. Each individual is then smeared over,
or rather has a quantity of palm-oil and yeast poured over him,
and then a bushel basket is placed on each of their heads. In this
basket are placed small calabashes, filled to the brim, so that the
slightest motion of the body spills both the oil and the yeast, which
runs through the bottom of the basket on to the head. Each individual
carries a dog and a kid, as well as two fowls, all fastened together,
across his shoulders. The culprits were then marched slowly round
their newly-prepared houses, the fetish-men haranguing them all the
time. Each individual is then brought to the door of his house, which
is not more than four feet high. He is then freed from his burthen,
and compelled to crawl into his house on his belly, for the door is
only eighteen inches high. He is then shut into this small space with
the dog, kid, and two fowls. The house is then fired, and the poor
wretch is allowed to make his escape through the flames to the nearest
running water. During his journey there he is pelted with sticks and
clods by the assembled mob; but if the culprit has any friends, they
generally contrive to get nearest to him during his race to the water,
and assist him, as well as hinder the mob in their endeavours to injure
him. When they reach the water they plunge themselves headlong into it,
and are then considered to be cleansed of all the sin or crime of the
snake-murder. After the lapse of thirteen days, “custom” or holiday is
held here for the deceased snakes.
“The superstitions of the Bonny People are very extraordinary. Whatever
animal or other thing they consider sacred they term a “jewjew,” and
most common and apparently the principal of these jewjews is the
guana, a reptile which in their country obtains a very large size.
Several which I saw exceeded three feet and a half in length, and in
their appearance were particularly disgusting, being of an unvaried
dirty tawny hue. Those which live in the towns are very tame, and
several as I passed through the narrow alleys approached and amused
themselves in licking the blacking from my shoes. The masses of filth
scraped and deposited in corners appeared to be their favourite
haunts when no pools were near. There they were observed watching the
flies carousing and darting at them their long slender tongues with
extraordinary quickness and dexterity. For these, as well as snakes,
which are likewise jewjews, small spaces are enclosed and diminutive
huts erected in various parts near the sea and in the interior of the
country. To kill either is considered by the natives as a capital
offence and punished with death; yet towards whites so offending they
do not resort to such a severe measure, but merely content themselves
by strongly censuring them for their profane conduct. When, however, a
very flagrant instance occurs, and the white man is not individually
known by those of the natives witnessing the act, it is likely that
in the first transport of their anger he may be made to atone for his
offence with his life; for though the whites themselves are termed
jewjews, this, in all probability, is merely a nominal title confered
as a compliment.”
The king of Bonny, though often invited, will never venture on board
a man-of-war, but sometimes visits the merchant vessels, proceeding
from the shore in a war canoe in great form, but as he approaches he
always keeps aloof till the compliment of a heavy salute is paid him.
He then goes close to the ship’s side and breaks a new-laid hen’s egg
against it, after which he ascends the deck fully persuaded that by the
performance of this ceremony he has fortified himself against any act
of treachery. For other reasons, or perhaps none that he can explain,
he likewise takes with him a number of feathers and his father’s arm
bone, which, on sitting down to dinner, he places on the table beside
his plate. He also has at the same time a young chicken dangling by one
leg (the other being cut off) from his neck.
The bar of the river Bonny has sometimes proved fatal to vessels
resorting thither, and being therefore injurious to the trade of the
place, the inhabitants, considering it as an evil deity, endeavour
to conciliate its good will by sacrificing at times a human victim
upon it. The last ceremony of this sort took place not a very long
time before our arrival. The handsomest and finest lad that could be
procured was chosen for the purpose, and for several months before the
period fixed for the close of his existence he was lodged with the
king, who on account of his mild demeanour and pleasing qualities soon
entertained a great affection for him, yet, swayed by superstitious
fanaticism, he made no attempt to save him, but on the contrary
regarded the fate to which the unfortunate lad was destined as the
greatest honour that could be conferred upon him. From the time that he
was chosen to propitiate by his death the forbearance of the bar he was
considered as a sacred person; whatever he touched, even while casually
passing along, was thenceforth his, and therefore when he appeared
abroad the inhabitants fled before him to save the apparel which they
had on or any articles which at the time they might be carrying.
Unconscious, as it was affirmed, of the fate intended for him, he
was conveyed in a large canoe to the bar and there persuaded to jump
overboard to bathe, while those who took him out immediately turned
their backs upon him and paddled away with the utmost haste, heedless
of the cries of the wretched victim, at whom, pursuant to their stern
superstition, not even a look was allowed to be cast back.
In Abo, says Mr. Bakie, every man and every woman of any consequence
keeps as “dju-dju,” or jewjew, the lower jaw of a pig, or, until they
can procure this, a piece of wood fashioned like one. This is preserved
in their huts, and produced only when worshipped or when sacrifices
are made to it, which are at certain times, at intervals of from ten
days to three weeks. The particular days are determined by the dju-dju,
with palm wine and touching it with a kola-nut; they speak to it and
ask it to be good and propitious towards them. It is named _Agba_,
meaning pig, or _Agba-Ezhi_, pig’s jaw; but when as dju-dju, it is
also termed _Ofum_, or “my image.” People also select particular
trees near their huts, or if there are none in the neighbourhood, they
transplant one; these they worship, and call _Tuhukum_, or “my
God.” They hang on these, bits of white baff (calico) as signs of a
dju-dju tree, and as offerings to the deity. No one ever touches these,
and if they rot off they are replaced. Little wooden images are also
used, and are styled _Ofo Tuhuku_, “talk and pray.” When a man is
suspected of falsehood, one of these is placed in his right hand, and
he is made to swear by it, and if he does so falsely, it is believed
that some evil will speedily befall him. Sacrifices, principally of
fowls, are made to these latter as to the former. At Abo one large
tree is held as dju-dju for the whole district; it is covered with
offerings, and there is an annual festival in honour of it, when
sacrifices of fowls, sheep, goats, and bullocks are made. When a man
goes to Aro to consult Tshuku he is received by some of the priests
outside of the town, near a small stream. Here he makes an offering;
after which a fowl is killed, and if it appears unpropitious, a
quantity of a red dye, probably camwood, is spilt into the water, which
the priest tells the people is blood, and on this the votary is hurried
off by the priests and is seen no more, it being given out that Tshuku
has been displeased, and has taken him. The result of this preliminary
ceremony is determined in general by the amount of the present given
to the priests; and those who are reported to have been carried off by
Tshuku are usually sold as slaves. Formerly they were commonly sent
by canoes to Old Kalabar, and disposed of there. One of Mr. Bakie’e
informants met upwards of twenty such unfortunates in Cuba, and another
had also fallen in with several at Sierra Leone. If, however, the omen
be pronounced to be favourable, the pilgrim is permitted to draw
near to the shrine, and after various rites have been gone through,
the question, whatever it may be, is propounded of course through the
priests, and by them also the reply is given. A yellow powder is given
to the devotee, who rubs it round his eyes. Little wooden images are
also issued as tokens of a person having actually consulted the sacred
oracle, and these are known as _Ofo Tshuku_, and are afterwards
kept as dju-dju. A person who has been at Aro, after returning to his
home is reckoned dju-dju, or sacred, for seven days, during which
period he must stay in his house, and people dread to approach him.
The shrine of _Tshuku_ is said to be situated nearly in the
centre of the town, and the inhabitants of Aro are often styled _Omo
Tshuku_, or “God’s children.”
_Mondzo_ is a bad or evil spirit in this country. The worst of
evil spirits is named Kamallo, possibly equivalent with Satan. His
name is frequently bestowed on children, and in some parts of Igbo,
especially in Isuama, Kamallo is worshipped. No images are made, but
a hut is set apart in which are kept bones, pieces of iron, etc., as
sacred. Persons make enquiries of this spirit, if they wish to commit
any wicked action, such as murder, when they bring presents of cowries
and cloth to propitiate this evil being and render him favourable
to their designs. If the individual intended as the victim suspects
anything, or gets a hint of his adversary’s proceedings, he also comes
to worship, bringing with him, if possible, more valuable offerings to
try to avert the impending danger, and this is called _Erise nao_,
or “I cut on both sides.” In Isuama, if a man is sick, the doctor often
tells the friends to consult an evil spirit called _Igwikalla_,
and he is also worshipped by persons wishing to injure others. His
supposed abode is generally in a bush, which has been well cleared all
round; but occasionally huts are dedicated to him, and priests execute
his decrees.
Among savages who have no conception of the existence of a Supreme
Being must be enumerated the “Sambos,” a race of Indians residing on
the shores of the Mosquito River. The only person who is dreaded as
a priestess, or “medicine-woman,” is the _Sukia_. This woman
possesses more power than the king or chiefs. Her orders, even though
of the most brutal and inhuman kind (as often they are), are never
disputed nor neglected. When Mr. Bard visited the Sambos he saw a
Sukia, whom he describes as a person hideous and disgusting in the
extreme. “Her hair was long and matted, and her shrivelled skin
appeared to adhere like that of a mummy to her bones; for she was
emaciated to the last degree. The nails of her fingers were long and
black, and caused her hands to look like the claws of some unclean
bird. Her eyes were bloodshot, but bright and intense, and were
constantly fixed upon me, like those of some wild beast of prey.” These
women, before they assume the office, wander away into the forest and
live for a considerable time, without arms or clothing of any kind as
a defence against the wild beasts and still wilder elements of the
tropics. It is during their residence in the woods that they become
initiated into the mysteries of nature, and doubtless obtain their
antidotes for serpent charming and other wonderful performances for
which they are so famous, such as standing in the midst of flames
uninjured. The author of “Waikna” gives a very interesting and amusing
account of one of these ceremonies as witnessed by him. “The Sukia made
her appearance alone, carrying a long thick wand of bamboo, and with no
dress except the _ule tourno_. She was only inferior to her sister
of Sandy Bay in ugliness, and stalked into the house like a spectre,
without uttering a word. He cut off a piece of calico and handed it
to her as her recompense. She received it in perfect silence, walked
into the yard, and folded it carefully on the ground. Meanwhile a fire
had been kindled of pine splints and branches, which was now blazing
high. Without any hesitation the Sukia walked up to it and stepped in
its very centre. The flames darted their forked tongues as high as
her waist; the coals beneath and around her naked feet blackened, and
seemed to expire; while the _tourno_ which she wore about her
loins cracked and shivered with the heat. There she stood, immovable
and apparently as insensible as a statue of iron, until the blaze
subsided, when she commenced to walk around the smouldering embers,
muttering rapidly to herself in an unintelligible manner. Suddenly
she stopped, and placing her foot on the bamboo staff, broke it in
the middle, shaking out, from the section in her hand, a full-grown
_tamagesa_ snake, which on the instant coiled itself up, flattened
its head, and darted out its tongue, in an attitude of defiance and
attack. The Sukia extended her hand, and it fastened on her wrist with
the quickness of light, where it hung dangling and writhing its body
in knots and coils, while she resumed her mumbling march around the
embers. After awhile, and with the same abruptness which had marked all
her previous movements, she shook off the serpent, crushed its head in
the ground with her heel, and taking up the cloth which had been given
to her, stalked away, without having exchanged a word with any one
present.”
Perhaps the secret of it lies in the non-existence of the sting, which
may be extracted, as is frequently done by the Arab serpent-charmer.
Anyhow, such powers are greatly dreaded by the simple and superstitious
savage, who regard the Sukia as a supernatural person.
The Tinguians of the Phillipine Islands are in an almost equally
benighted condition. They have no veneration for the stars; they
neither adore the sun, nor moon, nor the constellations; they believe
in the existence of a soul, and pretend that after death it quits the
body, and remains in the family of the defunct.
As to the god that they adore, it varies and changes form according
to chance and circumstances. And here is the reason: “When a Tinguian
chief has found in the country a rock, or a trunk of a tree, of a
strange shape--I mean to say, representing tolerably well either a
dog, cow, or buffalo--he informs the inhabitants of the village of his
discovery, and the rock, or trunk of a tree, is immediately considered
as a divinity--that is to say, as something superior to man. Then all
the Indians repair to the appointed spot, carrying with them provisions
and live hogs. When they have reached their destination they raise a
straw roof above the new idol, to cover it, and make a sacrifice by
roasting hogs; then, at the sound of instruments, they eat, drink, and
dance until they have no provisions left. When all is eaten and drank,
they set fire to the thatched roof, and the idol is forgotten, until
the chief, having discovered another one, commands a new ceremony.”
It has been already noticed in these pages, that the Malagaseys are
utterly without religion. Their future state is a matter that never
troubles them; indeed, they have no thought or hope beyond the grave,
and are content to rely on that absurd thing “sikidy” for happiness on
this side of it. Thanks, however, to Mr. Robert Drury (whom the reader
will recollect as the player of a neat trick on a certain Malagasey
Umossee), we are informed that a century or so back there prevailed in
this gloomy region a sort of religious rite known as the “Ceremony of
the Bull,” and which was performed as follows:
The infant son of a great man called Dean Mevarrow was to be presented
to the “lords of the four quarters of the earth,” and like many
other savage rite began and ended with an enormous consumption of
intoxicating liquor. In this case the prime beverage is called
_toak_, and, according to Mr. Drury, “these people are great
admirers of toak, and some of the vulgar sort are as errant as sots
and as lazy as any in England; for they will sell their Guinea corn,
carravances--nay, their very spades and shovels--and live upon what
the woods afford them. Their very lamber (a sort of petticoat) must
go for toak, and they will go about with any makeshift to cover their
nakedness.”
Now for the ceremony. “The toak was made for some weeks beforehand
by boiling the honey and combs together as we in England make mead.
They filled a great number of tubs, some as large as a butt and some
smaller; a shed being built for that purpose, which was thatched over,
to place them in. On the day appointed, messengers were despatched
all round the country to invite the relations and friends. Several
days before the actual celebration of the ceremony there were visible
signs of its approach. People went about blowing of horns and beating
of drums, both night and day, to whom some toak was given out of the
lesser vessels as a small compensation for their trouble. They who
came from a long distance took care to arrive a day or two before, and
were fed and entertained with toak to their heart’s content. On the
evening preceding the feast I went into the town and found it full of
people, some wallowing on the ground, and some staggering; scarcely
one individual sober, either man, woman, or child. And here one might
sensibly discern the sense of peace and security, the people abandoning
themselves without fear or reserve to drinking and all manner of
diversions. My wife” (Mr. Drury got so far reconciled to his state
as to marry a fellow slave) “I found had been among them indeed, but
had the prudence to withdraw in time, for she was fast asleep when I
returned home.
“On the morning of the ceremony I was ordered to fetch in two oxen and
a bull that had been set aside for the feast, to tie their legs, and
to throw them along upon the ground. A great crowd had by this time
collected around the spot where the child was, decked with beads, and
a skin of white cotton thread wound about his head. The richest of the
company brought presents for the child--beads, hatchets, iron shovels,
and the like, which, although of no immediate value to him, would
doubtless be saved from rusting by his parents. Every one was served
once with toak, and then the ceremony began.
“For some time the umossee had been, to all appearance, measuring his
shadow on the ground, and presently finding its length to his mind, he
gave the word. Instantly one of the child’s relatives caught him up
and ran with him to the prostrate bull, and putting the child’s right
hand on the bull’s right horn, repeated a form of words of which the
following is as nigh a translation as I can render: ‘Let the great
God above, the lords of the four quarters of the world, and the
demons, prosper this child and make him a great man. May he prove as
strong as this bull and overcome all his enemies.’ If the bull roars
while the boy’s hand is on his horn they look upon it as an ill omen
portending either sickness or some other misfortune in life. All the
business of the umossee is nothing more than that above related; for
as to the religious part of the ceremony he is in nowise concerned in
it, if there be any religion intended by it, which is somewhat to be
questioned.
[Illustration: Ceremony of Touching the Bull.]
“The ceremony being over the child is delivered to its mother, who
all this time is sitting on a mat, with the women round her; and now
the merriment began: the thatch was all pulled off the toak house,
and I was ordered to kill the bull and the oxen; but these not being
sufficient my master sent for three more which had been brought by his
friends, for there was abundance of mouths to feed. Before they began
to drink he took particular care to secure all their weapons, and no
man was permitted to have so much as a gun or a lance; and then they
indulged themselves in boiling, broiling and roasting of meat, drinking
of toak, singing, hollowing, blowing of shells, and drumming with all
their might and main; and so the revel continued through that night and
the next day.”
It is very curious, and were it not so serious a matter, could scarcely
fail to excite the risible faculties of the reader, to read the
outrageous notions entertained by African savages concerning religion
generally. Take the case of King Peppel, a potentate of “Western
Africa, and the descendant of a very long line of kings of that name
(originally “Pepper” or “Pepperal,” and so named on account of the
country’s chief trade being, in ancient times, nearly limited to
pepper). Thanks to the missionaries, King Peppel had been converted
from his heathen ways and brought to profess Christianity. As to
the quality of the monarch’s religious convictions, the following
conversation between him and a well-known Christian traveller may throw
a light:
“What have you been doing, King Peppel?”
“All the same as you do--I tank God.”
“For what?”
“Every good ting God sends me.”
“Have you seen God?”
“Chi! No; suppose man see God he must die one minute” (He would die in
a moment).
“When you die won’t you see God?”
With great warmth, “I know no savvy (I don’t know). How should I know?
Never mind, I no want to hear more for that palaver” (I want no more
talk on that subject).
“What way?” (Why?)
“It no be your business; you come here for trade palaver.”
I knew, says the missionary in question, it would be of no use pursuing
the subject at that time, so I was silent, and it dropped for the
moment.
In speaking of him dying I had touched a very tender and disagreeable
chord, for he looked very savage and sulky, and I saw by the rapid
changes in his countenance that he was the subject of some internal
emotion. At length he broke out using most violent gesticulations, and
exhibiting a most inhuman expression of countenance, “Suppose God was
here I must kill him, one minute.”
“You what? You kill God?” exclaimed I, quite taken aback and almost
breathless with the novel and diabolical notion, “You kill God? why you
talk all some fool (like a fool); you cannot kill God; and suppose it
possible that He could die, everything would cease to exist. He is the
Spirit of the Universe. But he can kill you.”
“I know I cannot kill him; but suppose I could kill him I would.”
“Where does God live?”
“For top.”
“How?” He pointed to the zenith.
“And suppose you could, why would you kill him?”
“Because he makes men to die.”
“Why, my friend,” in a conciliatory manner, “you would not wish to live
for ever, would you?”
“Yes; I want to stand” (remain for ever).
“But you will be old by-and-by, and if you live long enough will become
very infirm, like that old man,” pointing to a man very old for an
African, and thin, and lame, and almost blind, who had come into the
court during the foregoing conversation to ask some favour, “and like
him you will become lame, and deaf, and blind, and will be able to take
no pleasure; would it not be better, then, for you to die when this
takes place, and you are in pain and trouble, and so make room for your
son as your father did for you?”
“No, it would not. I want to stand all same I stand now.”
“But supposing you should go to a place of happiness after death,
and----”
“I no savvy nothing about that. I know that I now live and have too
many wives and niggers (slaves) and canoes” (he did not mean it when he
said he had too many wives, etc.; it is their way of expressing a great
number), “and that I am king, and plenty of ships come to my country. I
know no other ting, and I want to stand.”
I offered a reply, but he would hear no more, and so the conversation
on that subject ceased, and we proceeded to discuss one not much more
agreeable to him, the payment of a very considerable debt which he owed
me.
Getting round to the south of Africa we find but little improvement in
the matter of the religious belief of royalty, at least according to
what may be gleaned from another “conversation,” this time between the
missionary Moffat and an African monarch:
“Sitting down beside this great man, illustrious for war and conquest,
and amidst nobles and councillors, including rain-makers and others
of the same order, I stated to him that my object was to tell him my
news. His countenance lighted up, hoping to hear of feats of war,
destruction of tribes, and such-like subjects, so congenial to his
savage disposition. When he found my topics had solely a reference
to the Great Being, of whom the day before he had told me he knew
nothing, and of the Saviour’s mission to this world, whose name he
had never heard, he resumed his knife and jackal’s skin and hummed a
native air. One of his men sitting near me appeared struck with the
character of the Redeemer, which I was endeavouring to describe, and
particularly with his miracles. On hearing that he raised the dead he
very naturally exclaimed, ‘What an excellent doctor he must have been
to make dead men alive.’ This led me to describe his power and how the
power would be exercised at the last day in raising the dead. In the
course of my remarks the ear of the monarch caught the startling news
of a resurrection. ‘What,’ he exclaimed with astonishment, ‘what are
these words about; the dead, the dead arise?’ ‘Yes,’ was my reply,
‘all the dead shall arise.’ ‘Will my father arise?’ ‘Yes,’ I answered,
‘your father will arise.’ ‘Will all the slain in battle arise?’ ‘Yes.’
‘And will all that have been killed and devoured by lions, tigers,
hyænas, and crocodiles, again revive?’ ‘Yes, and come to judgment.’
‘And will those whose bodies have been left to waste and to wither on
the desert plains, and scattered to the winds, arise?’ he asked with
a kind of triumph, as if he had now fixed me. ‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘not
one will be left behind.’ This I repeated with increased emphasis.
After looking at me for a few moments he turned to his people, to
whom he spoke with a stentorian voice: ‘Hark, ye wise men, whoever
is among you the wisest of past generations, did ever your ears hear
such strange and unheard-of news?’ and addressing himself to one whose
countenance and attire showed that he had seen many years and was a
personage of no common order, ‘Have you ever heard such strange news as
these?’ ‘No,’ was the sage’s answer; ‘I had supposed that I possessed
all the knowledge of the country, for I have heard the tales of many
generations. I am in the place of the ancients, but my knowledge is
confounded with the words of his mouth. Surely he must have lived
long before the period when we were born.’ Makaba then turning and
addressing himself to me, and laying his hand on my breast, said:
‘Father, I love you much. Your visit and your presence have made my
heart white as milk. The words of your mouth are sweet as honey, but
the words of a resurrection are too great to be heard. I do not wish
to hear again about the dead rising; the dead _cannot_ arise; the
dead _must_ not arise.’ ‘Why,’ I enquired, ‘can so great a man
refuse knowledge and turn away from wisdom? Tell me, my friend, why
I must not speak of a resurrection.’ Raising and uncovering his arm,
which had been strong in battle, and shaking his hand as if quivering a
spear, he replied, ‘I have slain my thousands, and shall they arise?’
Never before had the light of divine revelation dawned upon his savage
mind, and of course his conscience had never accused him; no, not for
one of the thousands of deeds of rapine and murder which had marked his
course through a long career.
“Addressing a Namaqua chief, I asked, ‘Did you ever hear of a God?’
‘Yes, we have heard that there is a God, but we do not know right.’
‘Who told you that there is a God?’ ‘We heard it from other people.’
‘Who made the sea?’ ‘A girl made it on her coming to maturity, when she
had several children at once. When she made it the sweet and bitter
waters were separated. One day she sent some of her children to fetch
sweet water whilst the others were in the field, but the children were
obstinate and would not fetch the water, upon which she got angry and
mixed the sweet and bitter waters together; from that day we are no
longer able to drink the water, and people have learned to swim and run
upon the water.’ ‘Did you ever see a ship?’ ‘Yes, we have seen them a
long time ago.’ ‘Did you ever hear who made the first one?’ ‘No, we
never heard it.’ ‘Did you never hear old people talk about it?’ ‘No, we
never heard it from them.’ ‘Who made the heavens?’ ‘We do not know what
man made them.’ ‘Who made the sun?’ ‘We always heard that those people
at the sea made it; when she goes down they cut her in pieces and fry
her in a pot and then put her together again and bring her out at the
other side. Sometimes the sun is over our head and at other times she
must give place to the moon to pass by.’ They said the moon had told
to mankind that we must die and not become alive again; that is the
reason that when the moon is dark we sometimes become ill. ‘Is there
any difference between man and beast?’ ‘We think man made the beasts.’
‘Did you ever see a man that made beasts?’ ‘No; I only heard so from
others.’ ‘Do you know you have a soul?’ ‘I do not know it.’ ‘How shall
it be with us after death?’ ‘When we are dead, we are dead; when we
have died we go over the sea-water at that side where the devil is.’
‘What do you mean by devil?’ ‘He is not good; all people who die run to
him.’ ‘How does the devil behave to them, well or ill?’ ‘You shall see;
all our people are there who have died (in the ships). Those people in
the ships are masters over them.’”
With such rulers it is not surprising to find the common people
woefully ignorant and superstitious. The crocodile figures prominently
in their religious belief. In the Bamangwato and Bakwain tribes, if a
man is either bitten, or even has had water splashed over him with a
reptile’s tail, he is expelled his tribe. “When on the Zouga,” says Dr.
Livingstone, “we saw one of the Bamangwato living among the Bayeye, who
had the misfortune to have been bitten, and driven out of his tribe
in consequence. Fearing that I would regard him with the same disgust
which his countrymen profess to feel, he would not tell me the cause
of his exile; but the Bayeye informed me of it; and the scars of the
teeth were visible on his thigh. If the Bakwains happened to go near
an alligator, they would spit on the ground and indicate his presence
by saying “Boles ki bo,” There is sin. They imagine the mere sight of
it would give inflammation of the eyes; and though they eat the zebra
without hesitation, yet if one bites a man he is expelled the tribe,
and is obliged to take his wife and family away to the Kalahari. These
curious relics of the animal worship of former times scarcely exist
among the Makololo. Sebituane acted on the principle, “Whatever is food
for men is food for me,” so no man is here considered unclean. The
Barotse appear inclined to pray to alligators, and eat them too, for
when I wounded a water antelope, called onochose, it took to the water.
When near the other side of the river, an alligator appeared at its
tail, and then both sank together. Mashauana, who was nearer to it than
I, told me that though he had called to it to let his meat alone, it
refused to listen.”
[Illustration: Divination Scene.]
The Southern African has most implicit belief in witch power. Whatever
is incomprehensible to him must be submitted to a “witch man,” and be
by him construed. While Mr. Casalis was a guest among the Basutos, he
had opportunity of witnessing several of these witch ceremonies. Let
the reader picture to himself a long procession of black men almost
in a state of nudity, driving an ox before them, advancing towards a
spot of rising ground, on which are a number of huts surrounded with
reeds. A fierce-looking man, his body plastered over with ochre, his
head shaded by long feathers, his left shoulder covered with a panther
skin, and having a javelin in his hand, springs forwards, seizes the
animal, and after shutting it up in a safe place, places himself
at the head of the troop, who still continue their march. He then
commences the song of divination, and every voice joins in the cry.
“Death, death, to the base sorcerer who has stolen into our midst like
a shadow. We will find him, and he shall pay with his head. Death,
death to the sorcerer.” The diviner then brandishes his javelin, and
strikes it into the ground as if he were already piercing his victim.
Then raising his head proudly, he executes a dance accompanied with
leaps of the most extraordinary kind, passing under his feet the handle
of his lance, which he holds with both hands. On reaching his abode,
he again disappears, and shuts himself up in a hut into which no one
dare enter. The consulters then stop and squat down side by side,
forming a complete circle. Each one has in his hand a short club. Loud
acclamations soon burst forth, the formidable diviner comes forth
from his sanctuary where he has been occupied in preparing the sacred
draught, of which he has just imbibed a dose sufficient to enable him
to discover the secrets of all hearts. He springs with one bound into
the midst of the assembly: all arms are raised at once, and the ground
trembles with the blows of the clubs. If this dismal noise does not
awake the infernal gods whom he calls to council, it serves at least to
strike terror into the souls of those wretches who are still harbouring
sinister designs. The diviner recites with great volubility some verses
in celebration of his own praise, and then proceeds to discover of what
the present consists, which he expects in addition to the ox he has
already received, and in whose hands this present will be found. This
first trial of his clairvoyance is designed to banish every doubt. One
quick glance at a few confederates dispersed throughout the assembly
apprises them of their duty.
“There are,” cries the black charlatan, “many objects which man may use
in the adornment of his person. Shall I speak of those perforated balls
of iron which we get from Barolong?”
The assembly strike the ground with their clubs, but the confederates
do it gently.
“Shall I speak of those little beads of various colours which the
whites as we are told pick up by the sea side?”
All strike with equal violence.
“I might have said rather that you had brought me one of those
brilliant rings of copper.”
The blows this time are unequal.
“But no, I see your present; I distinguish it perfectly well.... It is
the necklace of the white men.”
The whole assembly strike on the ground violently. The diviner is not
mistaken.
But he has disappeared; he is gone to drink a second dose of the
prepared beverage.
Now he comes again. During the first act the practised eye has not
failed to observe an individual who seemed to be more absorbed than
the rest, and who betrayed some curiosity and a considerable degree of
embarrassment. He knows therefore who is in possession of the present;
but in order to add a little interest to the proceedings, he amuses
himself for an instant, turns on his heel, advances now to one, now to
the other, and then with the certainty of a sudden inspiration, rushes
to the right one and lifts up his mantle.
Now he says, “Let us seek out the offender. Your community is composed
of men of various tribes. You have among you Bechuanas (unequal blows
on the ground), Batlokoas (blows still unequal), Basias (all strike
with equal violence), Bataungs (blows unequal). For my own part, I hate
none of those tribes. The inhabitants of the same country ought all to
love one another without any distinction of origin. Nevertheless, I
must speak. Strike, strike, the sorcerer belongs to the Basias.”
Violent and prolonged blows.
The diviner goes again to drink from the vessel containing his wisdom.
He has now only to occupy himself with a very small fraction of the
criminated population. On his return he carefully goes over the names
of the individuals belonging to this fraction. This is very easy in
a country where almost all the proper names are borrowed from one or
other of the kingdoms of nature. The different degrees of violence with
which the clubs fall upon the ground give him to understand in what
order he must proceed in his investigation, and the farce continues
thus till the name of the culprit is hit on, and the farce of trial is
brought to an end, and the tragedy of punishment begins.
The Damaras of South Africa have some curious notions about the colour
of oxen: some will not eat the flesh of those marked with red spots;
some with black, or white; or should a sheep have no horns, some will
not eat the flesh thereof. So, should one offer meat to a Damara, very
likely he will ask about the colour of the animal; whether it had
horns or no. And should it prove to be forbidden meat, he will refuse
it; sometimes actually dying of hunger rather than partake of it. To
such an extent is this religious custom carried out, that sometimes
they will not approach any of the vessels in which the meat is cooked;
and the smoke of the fire by which it is cooked is considered highly
injurious. For every wild animal slain by a young man, his father makes
four oblong incisions in front of his body; moreover, he is presented
with a sheep or cow, the young of which, should it have any, are
slaughtered and eaten; males only are allowed to partake of it. Should
a sportsman return from a successful hunt, he takes water in his mouth,
and ejects it three times over his feet, as also in the fire of his own
hearth. When cattle are required for food, they are suffocated; but
when for sacrifices, they are speared.
One of the most lucrative branches of a heathen priest’s profession
is the “manufacture” of rain; at the same time, and as may be easily
understood, the imposture is surrounded by dangers of no ordinary
nature. If the rain fall within a reasonable time, according to the
bargain, so delighted are the people, made as they are in droughty
regions contented and happy, whereas but yesterday they were withering
like winter stalks, that the rain maker is sure to come in for abundant
presents over and above the terms agreed on. But should the rain maker
fail in the terms of his contract, should he promise “rain within
three days,” and the fourth, and the fifth, and the sixth, and the
seventh day arrive, and find the brilliant sky untarnished, and the
people parched and mad with thirst, what more horrible position can
be imagined than his whose fault it appears to be that the universal
thirst is not slaked? “There never was yet known a rain maker,” writes
a well-known missionary, “who died a natural death.” No wonder! The
following narrative of the experiments and perplexities of a rain maker
furnished by Mr. Moffat may be worth perusal.
Having for a number of years experienced severe drought, the Bechuanas
at Kuruman held a council as to the best measures for removing the
evil. After some debate a resolution was passed to send for a rain
maker of great renown, then staying among the Bahurutsi, two hundred
miles north-east of the station. Accordingly commissioners were
dispatched, with strict injunctions not to return without the man; but
it was with some misgiving as to the success of their mission that the
men started. However, by large promises, they succeeded beyond their
most sanguine expectations.
During the absence of the ambassadors the heavens had been as brass,
and scarcely a passing cloud obscured the sky, which blazed with the
dazzling rays of a vertical sun. But strange to relate the very day
that the approach of the rain maker was announced, the clouds began to
gather thickly, the lightning darted and the thunder rolled in awful
grandeur, accompanied by a few drops of rain. The deluded multitude
were wild with delight; they rent the sky with their acclamations of
joy, and the earth rang with their exulting and maddening shouts.
Previously to entering the town, the rain maker sent a peremptory order
to all the inhabitants to wash their feet. Scarcely was the message
delivered before every soul, young and old, noble and ignoble, flew to
the adjoining river to obey the command of the man whom they imagined
was now collecting in the heavens all his stores of rain.
The impostor proclaimed aloud that this year the women must cultivate
gardens on the hills and not in the valleys, for the latter would be
deluged. The natives in their enthusiasm saw already their corn-fields
floating in the breeze and their flocks and herds return lowing
homewards by noonday from the abundance of pasture. He told them how
in his wrath he had desolated the cities of the enemies of his people
by stretching forth his hand and commanding the clouds to burst upon
them; how he had arrested the progress of a powerful army by causing a
flood to descend, which formed a mighty river and stayed their course.
These and many other pretended displays of his power were received as
sober truths, and the chief and the nobles gazed on him with silent
amazement. The report of his fame spread like wildfire, and the rulers
of the neighbouring tribes came to pay him homage.
In order to carry on the fraud, he would, when clouds appeared, command
the women neither to plant nor sow, lest the seeds should be washed
away. He would also require them to go to the fields and gather certain
roots of herbs, with which he might light what appeared to the natives
mysterious fires. Elate with hope, they would go in crowds to the hills
and valleys, collect herbs, return to the town with songs, and lay
the gatherings at the magician’s feet. With these he would sometimes
proceed to certain hills and raise smoke; gladly would he have called
up the wind also, if he could have done so, well knowing that the
latter is frequently the precursor of rain. He would select the time of
new and full moon for his purpose, aware that at those seasons there
was frequently a change in the atmosphere. But the rain maker found
the clouds in these parts rather harder to manage than those of the
Bahurutsi country, whence he came.
One day as he was sound asleep a shower fell, on which one of the
principal men entered his house to congratulate him on the happy event;
but to his utter amazement he found the magician totally insensible to
what was transpiring. “Hela ka rare (halloo, by my father)! I thought
you were making rain,” said the intruder. Arising from his slumber, and
seeing his wife sitting on the floor shaking a milk sack in order to
obtain a little butter to anoint her hair, the wily rain maker adroitly
replied, “Do you not see my wife churning rain as fast as she can?”
This ready answer gave entire satisfaction, and it presently spread
through the town that the rain maker had churned the rain out of a milk
sack.
The moisture, however, caused by this shower soon dried up, and for
many a long week afterwards not a cloud appeared. The women had
cultivated extensive fields, but the seed was lying in the soil as
it had been thrown from the hand; the cattle were dying for want of
pasture, and hundreds of emaciated men were seen going to the fields in
quest of unwholesome roots and reptiles, while others were perishing
with hunger.
[Illustration: Making Rain.]
All these circumstances irritated the rain maker very much, and he
complained that secret rogues were disobeying his proclamations. When
urged to make repeated trials, he would reply, “You only give me sheep
and goats to kill, therefore I can only make goat rain; give me fat
slaughter oxen, and I shall let you see ox rain.”
One night a small cloud passed over, and a single flash of lightning,
from which a heavy peal of thunder burst, struck a tree in the town.
Next day the rain maker and a number of people assembled to perform
the usual ceremony on such an event. The stricken tree was ascended,
and roots and ropes of grass were bound round different parts of the
trunk. When these bandages were made, the conjuror deposited some of
his nostrums, and got quantities of water handed up, which he poured
with great solemnity on the wounded tree, while the assembled multitude
shouted. The tree was now hewn down, dragged out of the town and burned
to ashes. Soon after the rain maker got large bowls of water, with
which was mixed an infusion of bulbs. All the men of the town were then
made to pass before him, when he sprinkled each person with a zebra’s
tail dipped in water.
Finding that this did not produce the desired effect, the impostor
had recourse to another stratagem. He well knew that baboons were not
very easily caught amongst rocky glens and shelving precipices, and
therefore, in order to gain time, he informed the men that to make rain
he must have a baboon. Moreover, that not a hair on its body was to be
wanting; in short the animal should be free from blemish. After a long
and severe pursuit, and with bodies much lacerated, a band of chosen
runners succeeded in capturing a young baboon, which they brought back
triumphantly and exultingly. On seeing the animal, the rogue put on a
countenance exhibiting the most intense sorrow, exclaiming, “My heart
is rent in pieces! I am dumb with grief!” pointing at the same time to
the ear of the baboon that was slightly scratched, and the tail, which
had lost some hair. He added, “Did I not tell you I could not bring
rain if there was one hair wanting?”
He had often said that if they could procure him the heart of a lion
he would show them he could make rain so abundant, that a man might
think himself well off to be under shelter, as when it fell it might
sweep whole towns away. He had discovered that the clouds required
strong medicines, and that a lion’s heart would do the business. To
obtain this the rain maker well knew was no joke. One day it was
announced that a lion had attacked one of the cattle out-posts, not
far from the town, and a party set off for the twofold purpose of
getting a key to the clouds and disposing of a dangerous enemy. The
orders were imperative, whatever the consequences might be. Fortunately
the lion was shot dead by a man armed with a gun. Greatly elated by
their success, they forthwith returned with their prize, singing the
conqueror’s song in full chorus. The rain maker at once set about
preparing his medicines, kindled his fires, and, standing on the top of
a hill, he stretched forth his hands, beckoning to the clouds to draw
near, occasionally shaking his spear and threatening them with his ire,
should they disobey his commands. The populace believed all this and
wondered the rain would not fall.
Having discovered that a corpse which had been put into the ground some
weeks before had not received enough water at its burial, and knowing
the aversion of the Bechuanas to the dead body, he ordered the corpse
to be taken up, washed, and re-interred. Contrary to his expectation,
and horrible as the ceremony must have been, it was performed. Still
the heavens remained inexorable.
Having exhausted his skill and ingenuity, the impostor began to be
sorely puzzled to find something on which to lay the blame. Like all
of his profession, he was a subtle fellow, in the habit of studying
human nature, affable, acute, and exhibiting a dignity of mien, with an
ample share of self-complacency which he could not hide. Hitherto he
had studiously avoided giving the least offence to the missionaries,
whom he found were men of peace who would not quarrel. He frequently
condescended to visit them, and in the course of conversation would
often give a feeble assent to their opinions as to the sources of that
element over which he pretended to have sovereign control. However,
finding all his wiles unavailing to produce the desired result, and,
notwithstanding the many proofs of kindness he had received from the
missionaries, he began to hint that the reverend gentlemen were the
cause of the obstinacy of the clouds. One day it was discovered that
the rain had been prevented by Mr. Moffat bringing a bag of salt with
him from a journey that he had undertaken to Griqua town. But finding
on examination that the reported salt was only white clay or chalk, the
natives could not help laughing at their own credulity.
From insinuations he proceeded to open accusations. After having kept
himself secluded for a fortnight, he one day appeared in the public
fold and proclaimed that he had at last discovered the cause of the
drought. After keeping the audience in suspense for a short time, he
suddenly broke forth: “Do you not see,” he asked, “when the clouds
cover us, that Hamilton and Moffat look at them? Their white faces
scare them away, and you cannot expect rain so long as they are in the
country.” This was a home stroke. The people became impatient, and
poured forth their curses against the poor missionaries as the cause
of all their sorrows. The bell which was rung for public worship, they
said, frightened the vapours; the prayers even came in for a share of
the blame. “Don’t you,” said the chief one day rather fiercely to Mr.
Moffat, “bow down in your houses and pray, and talk to something bad in
the ground?”
But to shorten a long story, after exposing the missionaries to much
risk and danger by his insinuations and accusations, the tables were
turned in their favour. The rain-maker now was suspected, his gross
impositions were unveiled, and he was about to pay the penalty of
death,--the well-merited reward for his scandalous conduct, when
Mr. Moffat generously interfered, and through his presence of mind
and humanity succeeded in saving the life of one who had so often
threatened his own, and who would not have scrupled to take it could he
thereby have served his purpose. Death, however, soon overtook him, for
he was eventually murdered amongst the Bauangketsi nation.
There is scarcely a savage country on the face of the earth but has its
professional rain-makers; Figi has; and these, like other players of a
game of chance, occasionally win in a manner that seems surprising even
to an educated European.
During Mr. Seeman’s stay in Figi, one of the days was rainy, preventing
him from making an excursion. On expressing his regret to that effect,
a man was brought who may be called the clerk of the weather. He
professed to exercise a direct meteorological influence, and said that,
by burning certain leaves and offering prayers only known to himself,
he could make the sun shine or rain come down; and that he was willing
to exercise his influence on Mr. Seeman’s behalf if paid handsomely.
He was told that there was no objection to giving him a butcher’s
knife if he could make fine weather until the travellers returned to
the coast; but if he failed to do so, he must give something for the
disappointment. He was perfectly willing to risk the chance of getting
the knife, but would not hear of a forfeit in case of failure; however,
he left to catch eels. “When returning,” says Mr. Seeman, “the clouds
had dispersed, and the sun was shining brilliantly, and he did not fail
to inform me that he had ‘been and done it.’ I must farther do him
the justice to say, that I did not experience any bad weather until
I fairly reached the coast; and that no sooner had I set my foot in
Navua than rain came down in regular torrents. This man has probably
been a close observer of the weather, and discovered those delicate
local indications of a coming change with which people in all countries
living much in the open air are familiar; and he very likely does not
commence operations until he is pretty sure of success.”
This was not the only singular ceremony witnessed by the gentleman just
quoted, and who is the most recent of Figian travellers. While out one
day he and his friends met a company of natives, and were struck with
the fact that all the young lads were in a state of absolute nudity;
and, on inquiry, learned that preparations were being made to celebrate
the introduction of Kurudwadua’s eldest son into manhood; and that
until then neither the young chieftain nor his playmates could assume
the scanty clothing peculiar to the Figians. Suvana, a rebellious town,
consisting of about five hundred people, was destined to be sacrificed
on the occasion. When the preparations for the feast were concluded,
the day for the ceremony appointed, Kurudwadua and his warriors were to
make a rush upon the town and club the inhabitants indiscriminately.
The bodies were to be piled into one heap, and on the top of all a
living slave would lie on his back. The young chief would then mount
the horrid scaffold, and standing upright on the chest of the slave,
and holding in his uplifted hands an immense club or gun, the priests
would invoke their gods, and commit the future warrior to their
especial protection, praying he may kill all the enemies of the tribe,
and never be beaten in battle; a cheer and a shout from the assembled
multitude concluding the prayer. Two uncles of the boy were then to
ascend the human pile, and to invest him with the malo or girdle of
snow white _tapa_; the multitude again calling on the deities to
make him a great conqueror, and a terror to all who breathe enmity to
Navua. The _malo_ for the occasion would be, perhaps, two hundred
yards long, and six or eight inches wide. When wound round the body the
lad would hardly be perceivable, and no one but an uncle can divest him
of it.
“We proposed,” says Mr. Seeman, “to the chief that we should be allowed
to invest his son with the _malo_, which he at first refused,
but to which he consented after deliberation with his people. At the
appointed hour the multitude collected in the great strangers’ house or
_bure ni sa_. The lad stood upright in the midst of the assembly
guiltless of clothing, and holding a gun over his head. The consul
and I approached, and in due form wrapped him up in thirty yards of
Manchester print, the priest and people chanting songs and invoking the
protection of their gods. A short address from the consul succeeded,
stirring the lad to nobler efforts for his tribe than his ancestors had
known, and pointing to the path of fame that civilization opened to
him. The ceremony concluded by drinking kara, and chanting historical
reminiscences of the lad’s ancestors; and thus we saved the lives of
five hundred men. During the whole of this ceremony the old chief was
much affected, and a few tears might be seen stealing down his cheeks;
soon, however, cheering up, he gave us a full account of the time when
he came of age, and the number of people that were slain to celebrate
the occasion.”
To return, however, to the rain-making business. Lucky is it for
the dim-minded heathen that these false priests of his have not the
advantage of studying for their profession either in England or
America; if it were so, heaven only knows the awful extent to which
they would be bamboozled. Rain-makers especially would have a fine time
of it, at least, if they were all as clever as Mr. Petherick, who, in
his “Egypt and the Soudan,” unblushingly narrates how he “Barnumized”
the Africans as a rain-maker.
“The rainy season was now approaching, and still no tidings of my
men, and the natives daily continued to surround my encampment, and
attempted, sometimes by the report of the murder of my men, and
at others by night attacks upon ourselves when in the darkness we
could not see them, to induce us to return to our boats and abandon
our property. This they more strenuously insisted on, as they were
convinced that as long as we remained in the country the rain would
not fall, and both themselves and their cattle would be reduced to
starvation. This idea being seriously entertained, I one day plainly
stated to the chief and several of the principal men the absurdity of
their assertions, and endeavoured to explain that God alone,--who had
created heaven and earth,--could exercise any power over the elements.
The attention with which my discourse was received induced me to
prolong it, but to my discomfiture, at its close, it was treated as
a capital joke, and only convinced them the more that I endeavoured
to conceal from them my own powers. Finding no relief from their
increasing persecutions, I at length was reduced to a ruse; and after
a reference to an antiquated _Weekly Times_, I told them that the
Supreme Being whose it was to afford them the so much-required rains,
withheld them in consequence of their inhospitality towards myself;
this, although it had the effect of procuring increased temporary
supplies, could not induce them to furnish me with porters. Endless
were the straits and absurdities to which I had recourse in order to
obtain a respite, but the one creating the greatest amusement to myself
and my followers was the following. A deputation of several hundred
men, headed by a subchief, from their kraals some miles distant, in the
most peremptory manner demanded rain or my immediate departure; the
latter they were determined at whatever sacrifice to enforce. Placing
my men under arms in an enclosure, and with a pair of revolver pistols
at my waist, and a first-rate Dean and Adams’ revolver rifle in my
hand, I went into the midst of them, and seated myself in the centre
of them, opposite to the subchief, a man fully six feet six inches
high, and proportionably well made. I stated that no intimidation could
produce rain, and as to compelling me to withdraw, I defied them; that
if I liked, with one single discharge of my gun, I could destroy the
whole tribe and their cattle in an instant; but that with regard to
rain, I would consult my oracle, and invited them to appear before
me to-morrow, upon which, with as much dignity as I could command, I
withdrew. Various were the feelings of the savages. Some expressed a
wish to comply with my desire, whilst others showed an inclination to
fall upon me. Although I was convinced that the chief, Tschol, secretly
encouraged his men, he in the present instance made a demonstration in
my favour; he threatened them with a curse unless they dispersed. Some
device now became necessary to obtain a further respite for the desired
rains; and setting my wits to work, I hit upon an expedient which I
at once put in execution. Despatching some men to catch half-a-dozen
large flies, bearing some resemblance to a horse-fly, but much larger,
which infested a temporary shed where my donkey had been kept; the
men, confident in the success of anything I undertook, set about the
task with a will. In the course of the afternoon they were fortunately
obtained, and were consigned to an empty bottle. At the appointed time
my persecutors did not fail to appear, and shaking a little flower
over my flies, I sallied out amongst them, bottle in hand. Referring
to their wants, I treated them to a long harangue, touching the
depredations which I had learnt in conversation with the chief they had
committed upon the cattle of neighbouring tribes, and assassinations
of unoffending men who had fallen into their power; also to several
abstractions of girls from poor unprotected families of their own
tribe, without the payment of the customary dowry in cattle, and dwelt
upon the impossibility of their obtaining rain until restitution and
satisfaction were made. They unanimously denied the charges; when I
told them that it was nothing less than I had expected, but that I
was furnished with the means of satisfying myself of the veracity of
their assertions. The proof would consist in their restoring to me
the flies, which I intended to liberate from the bottle I held. In
the event of their succeeding, they should be rewarded with abundant
rain; but if one fly escaped, it was a sign of their guilt, and they
would be punished with a continuation of drought until restitution was
made; therefore it was in their own power to procure rain or otherwise.
Hundreds of clubs and lances were poised high in the air, amidst loud
shouts of ‘Let them go! let them go! let them go!’ With a prayer for
the safety of my flies, I held up the bottle, and smashing it against
the barrel of my rifle, I had the satisfaction of seeing the flies in
the enjoyment of their liberty. Man, woman, and child gave chase in
hot pursuit, and the delight of my men at the success of the stratagem
may be imagined. It was not until after the sun had set that the
crest-fallen stragglers returned, their success having been limited to
the capture of two of the flies, though several spurious ones, easily
detected by the absence of the distinctive flour badge, were produced.
A long consultation ensued, and in the firm belief of my oracle they
determined to adopt measures for the carrying out of its requirements,
but with a threat that if the promised rain did not follow, I should
incur their vengeance. Aware of the difficulties in store for them
from their unwillingness to part with cattle under any circumstances,
I promised myself a long cessation from their molestations. I was not
disappointed.”
Further still into the country, and still no sign of amendment; not
that it should be expected, as in this region--Equatorial Africa--the
Christian crusader never yet penetrated, unless indeed we so regard Mr.
Du Chaillu, who certainly appears to have done his best by example, at
least, to convince the barbarous people among whom he found himself
of the advantages of Christianity. Here is a sample of one of many
Sabbaths spent by the renowned gorilla hunter amongst the savages here
abiding.
“The next day was Sunday, and I remained quietly in my house reading
the Scriptures, and thankful to have a day of rest and reflection. My
hunters could scarcely be prevailed upon not to hunt; they declared
that Sunday might do for white people, but the blacks had nothing to do
with it. Indeed, when customs thus come in contact, the only answer the
negro has to make--and it applies to everything--is, that the God who
made the whites is not the God who made the blacks.
“Then the king and a good many of his people gathered about me, and we
astonished each other with our talk. I told them that their fetishes
and greegrees were of no use and had no power, and that it was absurd
to expect anything of a mere wooden idol that a man had made, and could
burn up. Also that there was no such a thing as witchcraft, and that it
was very wrong to kill people who were accused of it; that there was
only one God, whom the whites and blacks must alike love and depend on.
All this elicited only grunts of surprise and incredulity.
“Then the king took up the conversation, and remarked that we white
men were much favoured by our God, who was so kind as to send guns and
powder from heaven.
“Whereupon the king’s brother remarked that it must be very fine to
have rivers of alougou (rum) flowing through our country all the year
round, and that he would like to live on the banks of such a river.
“Hereupon I said that we made our own guns, which no one present seemed
to believe; and that there were no rivers of rum, which seemed a
disappointment to several.”
It would appear that our traveller betrayed at least as much curiosity
respecting the singular rites and superstitions of these Equatorial
African heathens as they evinced in the matter of Christianity.
“One day the women began their peculiar worship of Njambai, which it
seems is their good spirit: and it is remarkable that all the Bakalai
clans and all the females of tribes I have met during my journeys,
worship or venerate a spirit with this same name. Near the seashore it
is pronounced Njembai, but it is evidently the same.
“This worship of the women is a kind of mystery, no men being admitted
to the ceremonies, which are carried on in a house very carefully
closed. This house was covered with dry palm and banana leaves, and
had not even a door open to the street. To make all close, it was set
against two other houses, and the entrance was through one of these.
Quengueza and Mbango warned me not to go near this place, as not even
they were permitted so much as to take a look. All the women of the
village painted their faces and bodies, beat drums, marched about the
town, and from time to time entered the idol house, where they danced
all one night, and made a more outrageous noise than even the men had
made before. They also presented several antelopes to the goddess, and
on the 4th, all but a few went off into the woods to sing to Njambai.
“I noticed that half-a-dozen remained, and in the course of the morning
entered the Njambai house, where they stayed in great silence. Now my
curiosity, which had been greatly excited to know what took place in
this secret worship, finally overcame me. I determined to see. Walking
several times up and down the street past the house to allay suspicion,
I at last suddenly pushed aside some of the leaves, and stuck my head
through the wall. For a moment I could distinguish nothing in the
darkness. Then I beheld three perfectly naked old hags sitting on the
clay floor, with an immense bundle of greegrees before them, which they
seemed to be silently adoring.
[Illustration: Du Chaillu’s Peep into a Heathen Temple.]
“When they saw me they at once set up a hideous howl of rage, and
rushed out to call their companions from the bush; in a few minutes
these came hurrying in, crying and lamenting, rushing towards me with
gestures of anger, and threatening me for my offence. I quickly reached
my house, and seizing my gun in one hand and a revolver in the other,
told them I would shoot the first one that came inside my door. The
house was surrounded by above three hundred infuriated women, every one
shouting out curses at me, but the sight of my revolver kept them back.
They adjourned presently for the Njambai house, and from there sent a
deputation of the men, who were to inform me that I must pay for the
palaver I had made.
“This I peremptorily refused to do, telling Quengueza and Mbango that I
was there a stranger, and must be allowed to do as I pleased, as their
rules were nothing to me, who was a white man and did not believe in
their idols. In truth, if I had once paid for such a trangression as
this, there would have been an end of all travelling for me, as I often
broke through their absurd rules without knowing it, and my only course
was to declare myself irresponsible.
“However, the women would not give up, but threatened vengeance, not
only on me, but on all the men of the town; and as I positively refused
to pay anything, it was at last, to my great surprise, determined by
Mbango and his male subjects, that they would make up from their own
possessions such a sacrifice as the women demanded of me. Accordingly
Mbango contributed ten fathoms of native cloth, and the men came one by
one and put their offerings on the ground; some plates, some knives,
some mugs, some beads, some mats, and various other articles. Mbango
came again, and asked if I too would not contribute something, but I
refused. In fact, I dared not set such a precedent. So when all had
given what they could, the whole amount was taken to the ireful women,
to whom Mbango said that I was his and his men’s guest, and that they
could not ask me to pay in such a matter, therefore they paid the
demand themselves. With this the women were satisfied, and there the
quarrel ended. Of course I could not make any further investigations
into their mysteries. The Njambai feast lasts about two weeks. I could
learn very little about the spirit which they call by this name. Their
own ideas are quite vague. They know only that it protects the women
against their male enemies, avenges their wrongs, and serves them in
various ways, if they please it.”
Before Chaillu left Goumbi a grand effort was made by the people to
ascertain the cause of their king’s sufferings. Quengueza had sent word
to his people to consult Ilogo, a spirit said to live in the moon. The
rites were very curious. To consult Ilogo, the time must be near full
moon. Early in the evening the women of the town assembled in front
of Quengueza’s house and sang songs to and in praise of the moon.
Meantime a woman was seated in the centre of the circle of singers, who
sung with them and looked constantly towards the moon. She was to be
inspired by the spirit and to utter prophecies.
Two women made trial of this post without success. At last came a
third, a little woman, wiry and nervous. When she seated herself, the
singing was redoubled in fury--the excitement of the people had had
time to become intense; the drums beat, the outsiders shouted madly.
Presently the woman who, singing violently, had looked constantly
towards the moon, began to tremble. Her nerves twitched, her face was
contorted, her muscles swelled, and at last her limbs straightened out,
and she lay extended on the ground insensible.
The excitement was now intense and the noise horrible. The songs to
Ilogo were not for a moment discontinued. The words were little varied,
and were to this purport:
“Ilogo, we ask thee,
Tell who has bewitched the king!
Ilogo, we ask thee,
What shall we do to cure the king?
The forests are thine, Ilogo!
The rivers are thine, Ilogo!
The moon is thine.
O moon! O moon! O moon!
Thou art the house of Ilogo.
Shall the king die, O Ilogo?
O Ilogo! O moon! O moon!”
These words were repeated again and again with little variation. The
woman who lay for some time as she had fallen was then supposed to be
able to see things in the world of Ilogo, and was brought to after
half an hour’s insensibility; she looked very much prostrated. She
averred that she had seen Ilogo, that he had told her Quengueza was not
bewitched.
Chaillu heard one day by accident that a man had been apprehended on a
charge of causing the death of one of the chief men of the village, and
went to Dayoko, the king, and asked about it. He said yes, the man was
to be killed; that he was a notorious wizard, and had done much harm.
Chaillu begged to see this terrible being, and was taken to a rough
hut, within which sat an old, old man, with wool white as snow,
wrinkled face, bowed form, and shrunken limbs. His hands were tied
behind him, and his feet were placed in a rude kind of stocks. This
was the great wizard. Several lazy negroes stood guard over him, and
from time to time insulted him with opprobrious epithets and blows, to
which the poor old wretch submitted in silence. He was evidently in his
dotage.
When asked if he had no friends, no relatives, no son or daughter or
wife to take care of him, he said sadly, “No one.”
Now here was the secret of this persecution. They were tired of taking
care of the helpless old man, who had lived too long, and a charge of
witchcraft by the greegree man was a convenient pretext for putting him
out of the way.
[Illustration: The Wizard in the Stocks.]
Chaillu went, however, to Dayoko, and argued the case with him, and
tried to explain the absurdity of charging a harmless old man with
supernatural powers; told him that God did not permit witches to exist,
and dually made an offer to buy the old wretch, offering to give some
pounds of tobacco, one or two coats, and some looking-glasses for him,
goods which would have bought an able-bodied slave.
Dayoko replied that for his part he would be glad to save him, but that
the people must decide; that they were much excited against him, but
that he would, to please Chaillu, try to save his life.
During the night following our travellers heard singing all over the
town all night, and a great uproar. Evidently they were preparing
themselves for the murder. Even these savages cannot kill in cold
blood, but work themselves into a frenzy of excitement first, and then
rush off to do the bloody deed.
Early in the morning the people gathered together with the fetish man,
the rascal who was at the bottom of the murder, in their midst. His
bloodshot eyes glared in savage excitement as he went round from man to
man getting the votes to decide whether the old man should die.
In his hands he held a bundle of herbs, with which he sprinkled three
times those to whom he spoke. Meantime a man was stationed on the top
of a high tree, whence he shouted from time to time in a loud voice,
“Jocoo! Jocoo!” at the same time shaking the tree strongly.
Jocoo is devil among the Mbousha, and the business of this man was to
keep away the evil spirit, and to give notice to the fetish-man of his
approach.
At last the sad vote was taken. It was declared that the old man was a
most malignant wizard, that he had already killed a number of people,
that he was minded to kill many more, and that he must die. No one
would tell Chaillu how he was to be killed, and they proposed to defer
the execution till his departure. The whole scene had considerably
agitated Chaillu, and he was willing to be spared the end. Tired and
sick at heart, Chaillu lay down on his bed about noon to rest and
compose his spirits a little. After a while he saw a man pass his
window, almost like a flash, and after him a horde of silent but
infuriated men. They ran towards the river. Then in a little while was
heard a couple of sharp piercing cries, as of a man in great agony, and
then all was still as death. Chaillu got up, guessing the rascals had
killed the poor old man, and turning his steps toward the river, was
met by the crowd returning, every man armed with axe, knife, cutlass,
or spear, and these weapons and their own hands and arms and bodies all
sprinkled with the blood of their victim. In their frenzy they had tied
the poor wizard to a log near the river bank, and then deliberately
hacked him into many pieces. They finished by splitting open his skull
and scattering the brains in the water. Then they returned; and to see
their behaviour, it would have seemed as though the country had just
been delivered from a great curse.
By night the men, whose faces for two days had filled Chaillu with
loathing and horror, so bloodthirsty and malignant were they, were
again as mild as lambs, and as cheerful as though they had never heard
of a witch tragedy.
The following is a fair sample of “witch-test,” as practised in this
region. A Gaboon black trader in the employment of a white supercargo,
died suddenly. His family thinking that the death had resulted from
witchcraft, two of his sisters were authorised to go to his grave
and bring his head away in order that they might test the fact. This
testing is effected in the following manner: An iron pot with fresh
water is placed on the floor; at one side of it is the head of the
dead man, at the other side is seated a fetish doctor. The latter
functionary then puts in his mouth a piece of herb, supposed to impart
divining powers, chews it, and forms a magic circle by spitting round
the pot, the head, and himself. The face of the murderer, after a few
incantations, is supposed to be reflected on the water contained in the
pot. The fetish man then states he sees the murderer, and orders the
head to be again put back to its proper grave, some days being then
given to him for deliberation. In the mean time he may fix on a man
who is rich enough to pay him a sufficient bribe to be excused of the
charge, and if so he confesses that the fetish has failed.
In the central regions of Eastern Africa all that is sacerdotal is
embodied in individuals called Mganga or Mfumbo. They swarm throughout
the land; are of both sexes: the women, however, generally confine
themselves to the medical part of the profession. The profession is
hereditary; the eldest or the cleverest son begins his education at
an early age, and succeeds to his father’s functions. There is little
mystery, says Burton, in the craft, and the magicians of Unyamwezi have
not refused to initiate some of the Arabs. The power of the Mganga is
great; he is treated as a sultan, whose word is law, and as a giver of
life and death. He is addressed by a kingly title, and is permitted to
wear the chieftain’s badge, made of the base of a conical shell. He is
also known by a number of small greasy and blackened gourds filled with
physic and magic hanging round his waist, and by a little more of the
usual grime, sanctity and dirt being closely connected in Africa. These
men are sent for from village to village, and receive as spiritual fees
sheep and goats, cattle and provisions. Their persons, however, are not
sacred, and for criminal acts they are punished like other malefactors.
The greatest danger to them is an excess of fame. A celebrated magician
rarely, if ever, dies a natural death; too much is expected from him,
and a severe disappointment leads to consequences more violent than
usual.
The African phrase for a man possessed is _ana’p’hepo_, he has a
devil. The Mganga is expected to heal the patient by expelling the
possession. Like the evil spirit in the days of Saul, the unwelcome
visitant must be charmed away by sweet music; the drums cause
excitement, the violent exercise expels the ghost. The principal
remedies are drumming, dancing, and drinking till the auspicious moment
arrives. The ghost is then enticed from the body of the possessed into
some inanimate article which he will condescend to inhabit. This,
technically called a _Keti_ or stool, may be a certain kind of
bead, two or more bits of wood bound together by a strip of snake’s
skin, a lion’s or a leopard’s claw, and other similar articles worn
round the head, the arm, the wrist, or the ankle. Paper is still
considered great medicine by the Wasukuma and other tribes, who
will barter valuable goods for a little bit: the great desideratum
of the charm in fact appears to be its rarity, or the difficulty of
obtaining it. Hence also the habit of driving nails into and hanging
rags upon trees. The vegetable itself is not worshipped, as some
Europeans, who call it the devil’s tree, have supposed; it is merely
the place for the laying of ghosts, where by appending the keti most
acceptable to the spirit, he will be bound over to keep the peace
with man. Several accidents in the town of Zanzibar have confirmed
even the higher orders in their lurking superstition. Mr. Peters,
an English merchant, annoyed by the slaves, who came in numbers to
hammer nails and to hang iron hoops and rags upon a devil’s tree in
his court-yard, ordered it to be cut down, to the horror of all the
black beholders. Within six months five persons died in that house--Mr.
Peters, his two clerks, his cooper, and his ship’s carpenter. Salim
bin Raschid, a half caste merchant, well known at Zanzibar, avers,
and his companions bear witness to his words, that on one occasion,
when travelling northwards from Unyamzembe, the possession occurred to
himself. During the night two female slaves, his companions, of whom
one was a child, fell without apparent cause into the fits which denote
the approach of a spirit. Simultaneously the master became as one
intoxicated; a dark mass--material, not spiritual--entered the tent,
threw it down, and presently vanished, and Salim bin Raschid was found
in a state of stupor, from which he did not recover till the morning.
The same merchant circumstantially related, and called witnesses to
prove, that a small slave boy, who was produced on the occasion, had
been frequently carried off by possession, even when confined in a
windowless room, with a heavy door carefully bolted and padlocked.
Next morning the victim was not found although the chamber remained
closed. A few days afterwards he was met in the jungle, wandering
absently, like an idiot, and with speech too incoherent to explain
what had happened to him. The Arabs of Iman who subscribe readily to
transformation, deride these tales; those of African blood, believe
them. The transformation belief, still so common in many countries, and
anciently an almost universal superstition, is, curious to say, unknown
amongst these East African tribes.
The Mganga, Mr. Burton further informs us, is also a soothsayer. He
foretels the success, or failure of commercial undertakings, of wars,
and of kidnapping; he foresees famine and pestilence, and he suggests
the means of averting calamities. He fixes also before the commencement
of any serious affair fortunate conjunctions, without which, a good
issue cannot be expected. He directs, expedites, or delays the march
of a caravan; and in his quality of augur, he considers the flight of
birds, and the cries of beasts like his prototype of the same class, in
ancient Europe, and in modern Asia.
The principal instrument of the Mganga’s craft is one of the dirty
little buyou, or gourds, which he wears in a bunch round his waist,
and the following is the usual programme when the oracle is to be
consulted. The magician brings his implements in a bag of matting; his
demeanour is serious as the occasion, he is carefully greased, and his
head is adorned with the diminutive antelope horns, fastened by a thong
of leather above the forehead. He sits like a sultan, upon a dwarf
stool in front of the querist, and begins by exhorting the highest
possible offertory. No pay no predict. The Mganga has many implements
of his craft. Some prophesy by the motion of berries swimming in a cup
full of water, which is placed upon a low stool, surrounded by four
tails of the zebra, or the buffalo, lashed to stakes planted upright
in the ground. The Kasanda is a system of folding triangles, not
unlike those upon which plaything soldiers are mounted. Held in the
right hand, it is thrown out, and the direction of the end points to
the safe and auspicious route; this is probably the rudest appliance
of prestidigitation. The shero is a bit of wood, about the size of a
man’s hand, and not unlike a pair of bellows, with a dwarf handle, a
projection like a muzzle, and in a circular centre a little hollow.
This is filled with water, and a grain, or fragment of wood placed to
float, gives an evil omen if it tends towards the sides, and favourable
if it veers towards the handle or the nozzle. The Mganga generally
carries about with him, to announce his approach, a kind of rattle.
This is a hollow gourd of pine-apple, pierced with various holes
prettily carved, and half filled with maize grains, and pebbles; the
handle is a stick passed through its length, and secured by cross-pins.
The Mganga has many minor duties. In elephant hunts he must throw the
first spear, and endure the blame if the beast escapes. He marks ivory
with spots disposed in lines and other figures, and thus enables it to
reach the coast, without let or hindrance. He loads the kirangoze, or
guide, with charms to defend him from the malice which is ever directed
at a leading man, and sedulously forbids him to allow precedence even
to the Mtongi, the commander and proprietor of the caravan. He aids
his tribe by magical arts, in wars by catching a bee, reciting over it
certain incantations, and loosing it in the direction of the foe, when
the insect will instantly summon an army of its fellows and disperse a
host however numerous. This belief well illustrates the easy passage of
the natural into the supernatural. The land being full of swarms, and
man’s body being wholly exposed, many a caravan has been dispersed like
chaff before the wind by a bevy of swarming bees. Similarly in South
Africa the magician kicks an ant-hill, and starts wasps which put the
enemy to flight.
Here is an account of a queer dance witnessed in this land of Mgangas
and Mfumbos and fetishes, furnished by the celebrated explorer
Bakie:--“A little before noon Captain Vidal took leave of King Passol,
in order to prosecute his observations. I remained, but shortly
afterwards prepared to leave also. Passol, however, as soon as he
perceived my intention, jumped up, and in a good-humoured way detaining
me by the arm, exclaimed, ‘No go, no go yet; ‘top a little; bye-bye
you look im fetish dance; me mak you too much laugh!’ It appeared
that the old man had heard me some time before, on listening to the
distant tattoo of a native drum, express a determination to the
young midshipman who was with me to go presently to see the dance,
with which I had little doubt that it was accompanied. The noise of
the drum, almost drowned by the singing, whooping, and clamour of a
multitude of the natives, was soon heard approaching. When close to us
the procession stopped, and the dancers, all of whom were men, ranged
themselves in parallel lines from the front of an adjoining house,
and commenced their exhibition. They were specially dressed for the
purpose, having suspended from their hips a complete kilt formed of
threads of grass-cloth, manufactured by the natives of the interior,
and likewise an appendage of the same kind to one or both arms, just
above the elbow. Some had their faces and others their breasts marked
with white balls, given to them by the fetish as a cure or safeguard
against some disease which they either had or dreaded. The dancing,
although not elegant, was free from that wriggling and contortion
of body so common on the east coast. It consisted principally in
alternately advancing and drawing back the feet and arms, together
with a corresponding inclination of the body, and, at stated times,
the simultaneous clapping of hands, and a loud sharp ejaculation of
‘Heigh!’ Although I have remarked that it was not elegant, yet it
was pleasing, from the regularity with which it was accompanied.
There were two men who did not dance in the line among the rest, but
shuffled around, and at times threaded the needle among them: one was
termed the master fetish, and the other appeared to be his attendant;
neither wore the fancy dress, but they were both encircled by the usual
wrapper round the loins. The former had on a French glazed hat, held
in great request by the natives, and the other, chewing some root of
a red colour, carried a small ornamented stick, surmounted at the end
like a brush with a bunch of long and handsome feathers. At times one
of these men would stop opposite a particular individual among the
dancers, and entice him by gestures to leave the line and accompany
him in his evolutions, which finally always ended where they began,
the pressed man returning to his former place. For some time I had
observed the master fetish dancing opposite to the house, and with many
gesticulations apparently addressing it in a half threatening half
beseeching tone. Old Passol, who was standing close by me, suddenly
exclaimed, ‘Now you laugh too much; fetish he come!’
“Sure enough, forthwith rushed from the house among the dancers a most
extraordinary figure. It was a man mounted on stilts at least six feet
above the ground, of which from practice he had acquired so great a
command that he certainly was as nimble in his evolutions as the most
active among the dancers. He was sometimes so quick that one stilt
could hardly be seen to touch the earth before it was relieved by the
other. Even when standing still he often balanced himself so well as
not to move either stilt for the space of two or three minutes. He
wore a white mask with a large red ball on each cheek, the same on his
chin, and his eyebrows and the lower part of his nose were painted with
the same colour. Over his forehead was a sort of vizor of a yellow
colour, having across it a line of small brass bells; it was armed in
front by long alligator’s teeth, and terminated in a confused display
of feathers, blades of grass, and the stiff hairs of elephants and
other large animals. From the top of his head the skin of a monkey
hung pendant behind, having affixed to its tail a wire and a single
elephant’s hair with a large sheep’s bell attached to the end. The
skin was of a beautiful light green, with the head and neck of a rich
vermilion. From his shoulders a fathom of blue dungaree with a striped
white border hung down behind; and his body and legs and arms were
completely enshrouded in a number of folds of the native grass-cloth,
through which he grasped in each hand a quantity of alligator’s teeth,
lizard’s skins, fowl’s bones, feathers, and stiff hairs, reminding
me strongly of the well-known attributes of Obi, the dread of the
slave-owners of Jamaica.
“The fetish never spoke. When standing still he held his arms erect,
and shook and nodded his head with a quick repetition; but when
advancing he extended them to their full length before him. In the
former case he appeared as if pointing to heaven, and demanding its
vengeance on the dancers and the numerous bystanders around; and in
the latter as one who, finding his exhortations of no avail, was
resolved to exterminate, in the might of his gigantic stature and
superior strength, the refractory set. The master fetish was his
constant attendant, always following, doubling, and facing him, with
exhortations uttered at one minute in the most beseeching tone,
accompanied hat in hand by obsequious bows, and in the next threatening
gestures, and violent, passionate exclamations. The attendant on
the master fetish was likewise constantly at hand, with his stick
applied to his mouth, and in one or two instances when the masquerader
approached, he crouched close under him, and squirted the red juice of
the root he was chewing into his face. For upwards of an hour I watched
the dance, yet the fetish appeared untired; and I afterwards heard
that the same ceremony was performed every day, and sometimes lasted
three or four hours. I at first thought that it was merely got up for
our amusement, but was soon undeceived; and when, under the first
impression, I inquired of a bystander what man it was who performed the
character, he answered, with a mixture of pique at the question and
astonishment of my ignorance, ‘He no man; no man do same as him; he be
de diable! he be de debil!’ Still I was a little sceptic as to their
really holding this belief themselves, though they insisted on the fact
as they represented it to me; and therefore, after I had received the
same answer from all, I used to add in a careless way to try their
sincerity, ‘In what house does he dwell?’ ‘What! fetish! I tell you he
de debil; he no catch house; he lib (live) in dat wood,’ pointing to a
gloomy-looking grove skirting the back of the village. It was in vain
that I attempted to unravel the origin or meaning of this superstition;
to all my questions the only answer I could obtain was that such was
the fashion of the country--a reason which they always had at hand when
puzzled, as they always were when the subject related to any of their
numerous superstitions. The fact is, that these practices still remain,
though their origin has long since been buried in oblivion.”
As with us, “to astonish the natives” is an almost universal weakness,
so is it the sable savage’s delight and ambition to “astonish the white
man;” and should he succeed, and the odds are manifestly against him,
there are no bounds to his satisfaction. The traveller Laing, while
travelling through Timmanee, a country not very far from that over
which old King Passol held sway, experienced an instance of this. He
was invited by the chief to be present at an entertainment resembling
what we recognize as a “bal masqué,” as it embraced music and dancing.
The music, however, was of rather a meagre character, consisting of a
single instrument made of a calabash and a little resembling a guitar.
The player evidently expected applause of the white man, and the white
man generously accorded it. The musician then declared that what our
countrymen had as yet witnessed of his performance was as nothing
compared with what he had yet to show him. Holding up his guitar, he
declared that with that potent instrument, the like of which was not to
be found throughout the length and breadth of Timmanee, he could cure
diseases of every sort, tame wild beasts, and render snakes so docile
that they would come out of their holes and dance as long as the music
lasted. Mr. Laing begged the enchanter to favour him with a specimen
of his skill. The enchanter was quite willing. Did anything ail the
traveller? Was any one of his party afflicted with disease? no matter
how inveterate or of how long standing, let him step forward, and by
a few twangs on the guitar he should be cured. Mr. Laing, however,
wishing perhaps to let the juggler off as lightly as possible, pressed
for a sight of the dancing snakes, on the distinct understanding
that they should be perfectly wild snakes, and such as had never
yet been taken in hand by mortal. The musician cheerfully assented,
and, to quote the words of the “eye-witness,” “changed the air he
had been strumming for one more lively, and immediately there crept
from beneath the stockading that surrounded the space where we were
assembled a snake of very large size. From the reptile’s movements,
it seemed that the music had only disturbed its repose, and that its
only desire was to seek fresh quarters, for without noticing any
one it glided rapidly across the yard towards the further side. The
musician, however, once more changed the tune, playing a slow measure,
and singing to it. The snake at once betrayed considerable uneasiness,
and decreased its speed. ‘Stop snake,’ sung the musician, adapting the
words to the tune he was playing, ‘you go a deal too fast; stop at my
command and show the white man how well you can dance; obey my command
at once, oh snake, and give the white man service.’ Snake stopped.
‘Dance, oh snake!’ continued the musician, growing excited, for a white
man has come to Falaba to see you! dance, oh snake, for indeed this is
a happy day!’ The snake twisted itself about, raised its head, curled,
leaped, and performed various feats, of which I should not have thought
a snake capable. At the conclusion the musician walked out of the yard
followed by the reptile, leaving me in no small degree astonished, and
the rest of the company not a little delighted that a black man had
been able to excite the surprise of a white one.”
In no part of Africa do we find a greater amount of religious
fanaticism than in Old Kalabar. The idea of God entertained by the
Kalabarese is confined to their incomprehensibility of natural causes,
which they attribute to Abasi-Ibun, the Efick term for Almighty God;
hence they believe he is too high and too great to listen to their
prayers and petitions. Idem-Efick is the name of the god who is
supposed to preside over the affairs of Kalabar, and who is connected
mysteriously with the great Abasi, sometimes represented by a tree,
and sometimes by a large snake, in which form he is only seen by his
high priest or vice-regent on earth--old King Kalabar. Mr. Hutchinson,
who resided in an official capacity in this queer heathen country,
once enjoyed the honour of an acquaintance with a representative of
Abasi-Ibun. “He was a lean, spare, withered old man, about sixty years
of age, a little above five feet in height, grey-headed, and toothless.
He wore generally a dressing-gown, with a red cap, bands of bamboo
rope round his neck, wrists, and ankles, with tassels dangling at
the end. In case of any special crime committed, for the punishment
of which there is no provision by Egbo law, the question was at once
referred to King Kalabar’s judgment, whose decision of life or death
was final. King Ergo and all the gentlemen saluted him by a word of
greeting peculiar to himself, ‘Etia,’ meaning in English, you sit
there, which, amongst persons of the slave order, must be joined with
placing the side of the index fingers in juxtaposition, and bowing
humbly, as evidence of obeisance. He offered up a weekly sacrifice to
Idem of goats, fowls, and tortoise, usually dressed with a little rum.
When famine was impending, or a dearth of ships existed at old Kalabar,
the king sent round to the gentlemen of the town an intimation of the
necessity of making an offering to the deity, and that Idem-Efick was
in want of coppers, which of course must be forwarded through the old
king. He had a privilege that every hippopotamus taken, or leopard
shot, must be brought to his house, that he may have the lion’s share
of the spoil. Since my first visit to Kalabar this old man has died,
and has yet had no successor, as the head men and people pretend to
believe ‘twelve moons (two years) must pass by before he be dead for
thrice.’ Besides this idea of worship, they have a deity named Obu,
made of calabash, to which the children are taught to offer up prayer
every morning, to keep them from harm. Idem-Nyanga is the name of the
tree which they hold as the impersonation of Idem-Efick; and a great
reverence is entertained for a shrub, whose pods when pressed by the
finger explode like a pistol. In all their meals they perform ablution
of the hands before and after it; and in drinking, spill a teaspoonful
or so out as a libation to their deity before imbibing. When they kill
a fowl or a goat as a sacrifice, they do not forget to remind their
god of what ‘fine things’ they do for him, and that ‘they expect a
like fine thing in return.’ Ekponyong is the title given to a piece of
stick, with a cloth tied round it at the top, and a skull placed above
the cloth, which is kept in many of their yards as a sort of guardian
spirit. In nearly all their courts there is a ju-ju tree growing in
the centre, with a parasitic plant attached to it, and an enclosure
of from two to four feet in circumference at the bottom of the stem,
within which skulls are always placed, and calabashes of blood at times
of sacrifice. At many of the gentlemen’s thresholds a human skull is
fastened in the ground, whose white glistening crown is trodden upon by
every one who enters.
“A strange biennial custom exists at old Kalabar, that of purifying
the town from all devils and evil spirits, who, in the opinion of
the authorities, have during the past two years taken possession of
it. They call it judok. And a similar ceremony is performed annually
on the gold coast. At a certain time a number of figures, styled
Nabikems, are fabricated and fixed indiscriminately through the town.
These figures are made of sticks and bamboo matting, being moulded
into different shapes. Some of them have an attempt at body, with legs
and arms to resemble the human form. Imaginative artists sometimes
furnish these specimens with an old straw hat, a pipe in the mouth,
and a stick fastened to the end of the arm, as if they were prepared
to undertake a journey. Many of the figures are supposed to resemble
four-footed animals, some crocodiles, and others birds. The evil
spirits are expected, after three weeks or a month, to take up their
residence in them, showing, to my thinking, a very great want of taste
on the part of the spirit vagrant. When the night arrives for their
general expulsion, one would imagine the whole town had gone mad. The
population feast and drink, and sally out in parties, beating at empty
covers, as if they contained tangible objects to hunt, and hallooing
with all their might and main. Shots are fired, the Nabikems are torn
up with violence, set in flames, and thrown into the river. The orgies
continue until daylight dawns, and the town is considered clear of evil
influence for two years more. Strange inconsistency with ideas of the
provision necessary to be made for the dead in their passage to another
world. But heathenism is full of these follies, and few of them can be
more absurd than their belief that if a man is killed by a crocodile
or a leopard, he is supposed to have been the victim of some malicious
enemy, who, at his death, turned himself into either of these animals,
to have vengeance on the person that has just been devoured. Any man
who kills a monkey or a crocodile is supposed to be turned into one or
the other when he dies himself. On my endeavouring to convince two very
intelligent traders of Duketown of the folly of this, and of my belief
that men had no more power to turn themselves into beasts than they had
to make rain fall or grass grow, I was met with the usual cool reply to
all a European’s arguments for civilization, ‘It be Kalabar fash(ion),
and white men no saby any ting about it.’ The same answer, ‘white men
no saby any ting about it,’ was given to me by our Yoruba interpreter
when up the Tshadda, on my doubting two supposed facts, which he thus
recorded to me. The first was, that the Houessa people believe in the
existence of the unicorn, but his precise location cannot be pointed
out. He is accredited to be the champion of the unprotected goat and
sheep from the ravages of the leopard; that when he meets a leopard he
enters amicably into conversation with him, descants upon his cruelty,
and winds up, like a true member of the humane society, by depriving
the leopard of his claws. On my asking if a clawless leopard had ever
been discovered, or if the unicorn had proposed any other species of
food as a substitute, observing me smile with incredulity, he gave
me an answer similar to that of the Kalabar men, in the instance
mentioned. The second, to the effect that a chameleon always went along
at the same pace, not quickening his steps for rain or wind, but going
steadily in all phases of temperature, changing his hue in compliment
to everything he met, turning black for black men, white for white,
blue, red, or green, for any cloth or flowers, or vegetables that fall
in his way; and the only reason he gives for it when questioned on the
subject is, that his father did the same before him, and he does not
think it right to deviate from the old path, because ‘same ting do for
my fader, same ting do for me.’”
Quite by accident it happens that this answer of the Yoruba man to Mr.
Hutchinson’s arguments forms the concluding line of the many examples
of Savage Rites and Superstitions quoted. It is, however, singularly
apropos. In this single line is epitomised the guiding principle of the
savage’s existence--“Same ting do for my fader, same ting do for me.”
This it is that fetters and tethers him. He is born to it, lives by it,
and he dies by it.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Burying Alive in Figi.]
PART XII.
SAVAGE DEATH AND BURIAL.
CHAPTER XXVII.
Killing to cheat death--Preparing the king’s “grave grass”--The
tomb and its living tenant--Figian mourning symbols--Murder
of sick Figians--“Pray don’t bury me!”--The ominous cat
clawing--The sacrifice of fingers--The token of the bloody
apron--The art of embalming--The sin-hole--Ceremonies at King
Finow’s funeral--Heroic appeals to the departed king--The scene
at the sepulchre--The journey of the sand bearers--The Mée too
Buggi--Devotion of Finow’s fishermen--The Sandwich Islanders’
badge of mourning--Putting the tongue in black--A melancholy
procession--The house of Keave--The pahio tabu.
It by no means follows that a disrespect for human life is synonomous
with a personal indifference to death. To whatever savage land we
turn--to the banks of the Mosquito, where lives the barbarous Sambo
Indian; to the deserts of Africa, the abode of the Griqua and Damara;
to the shores of solitary lakes far away in Northern America--we find
a horror of death, or rather of the work of death’s hands, singularly
incompatible with the recklessness of life observable in the countries
named.
No country on the face of the earth, however, can vie in the matter of
death and burial ceremonials with Figi. Here it would seem at first
sight that fear of death was unknown, so much so that parents will
consent to be clubbed to death by their children, and mothers murder
and with their own hands bury their children--where even the grave has
so few terrors that people will go down alive into it. It may, however,
be worth considering whether this apparent trifling with life may not
have for its source dread of the grim reaper in such blind and ignorant
excess as to lead to _killing_ to save from _dying_--to cheat death
in fact, and enable the cunning cannibal to slink out of the world
unmissed and unquestioned as to the errors of his life. This may seem
the wildest theory; but it should be borne in mind that in Figi, as in
many other barbarous countries, it is believed that all that is evil of
a man lives after him, and unless necessary precautions are adopted,
remains to torment his relations; it is not improbable, therefore,
that these latter, if not the ailing one himself, may favour this
death-cheating system.
As regards burying alive, this at least may be said in favour of the
Figians: they are no respecters of persons. The grey hairs of the
monarch are no more respected than those of the poorest beggar in his
realm. Indeed, according to the testimony of an eye-witness--Mr. Thomas
Williams--the king is more likely to be sent quick to the grave than
any one else. Here is an instance:--
“On my first going to Somosomo, I entertained a hope that the old king
would be allowed to die a natural death, although such an event would
be without precedent. The usage of the land had been to intimate that
the king’s death was near by cleaning round about the house, after
which, his eldest son when bathing with his father took a favourable
opportunity, and dispatched him with his club.
“I visited him on the 21st, and was surprised to find him much better
than he had been two days before. On being told, therefore, on the
24th that the king was dead, and that preparations were being made
for his interment, I could scarcely credit the report. The ominous
word _preparing_ urged me to hasten without delay to the scene of
action, but my utmost speed failed to bring me to Nasima--the king’s
house--in time. The moment I entered it was evident that as far as
concerned two of the women I was too late to save their lives. The
effect of that scene was overwhelming. Scores of deliberate murderers
in the very act surrounded me: yet there was no confusion, and, except
a word from him who presided, no voice--only an unearthly, horrid
stillness. Nature seemed to lend her aid and to deepen the dread
effect; there was not a breath stirring in the air, and the half
subdued light in that hall of death showed every object with unusual
distinctness.
“All sat on the floor; the middle figure of each group being held in
a sitting posture by several females, and hidden by a large veil. On
either side of each veiled figure was a company of eight or ten strong
men, one company hauling against the other on a white cord which was
passed twice round the neck of the doomed one, who thus in a few
minutes ceased to live. As my self command was returning to me the
group furthest from me began to move; the men slackened their hold and
the attendant women removed the large covering, making it into a couch
for the victim.... One of the victims was a stout woman and some of the
executioners jocosely invited those who sat near to have pity and help
them. At length the women said ‘she is cold.’ The fatal cord fell and
as the covering was raised I saw dead the oldest wife and unwearied
attendant of the old king.”
These victims are used to _pave the king’s grave_. They are called
_grass_, and when they are arranged in a row at the bottom of the
sepulchre the king’s corpse is couched on them. It is only, however,
great chiefs who demand so extensive a human couch; a dignitary of
minor importance is content with two bodies as his grave floor:
sometimes a man and a woman, sometimes two women. If an important
personage dies it is considered intolerable if his confidential
man--his bosom friend and adviser--should object to accompany his
master as _grass_. It is very common, too, when a great man dies
in Figi to strangle and bury with him an able bodied man, who takes
with him his club to protect the exalted one from the malicious attacks
of his enemies in the land of spirits. For the same purpose a bran new
and well oiled club is placed in the dead hand of the chief himself.
To return, however, to the dead king of Somosomo and Mr. Williams’
narrative:
“Leaving the women to adjust the hair of the victims, to oil their
bodies, cover their faces with vermilion, and adorn them with
flowers, I passed on to see the remains of the deceased Tnithaken.
To my astonishment I found him _alive_. He was weak but quite
conscious, and whenever he coughed placed his hand on his side as
though in pain. Yet his chief wife and a male attendant were covering
him with a thick coat of black powder, and tying round his arms and
legs a number of white scarfs, fastened in rosettes with the long ends
hanging down his sides. His head was turbaned in a scarlet handkerchief
secured by a chaplet of small white cowries, and he wore armlets of the
same shells. On his neck was the ivory necklace formed in long curved
points. To complete his royal attire according to the Figian idea,
he had on a very large new _masi_, the train being wrapped in a
number of loose folds at his feet. No one seemed to display real grief,
which gave way to show and ceremonies. The whole tragedy had an air of
cruel mockery. It was a masquerading of grim death--a decking as for a
dance bodies which were meant for the grave.
“I approached the young king whom I could not regard without
abhorrence. He seemed greatly moved and embraced me before I could
speak. ‘See,’ said he, ‘the father of us two is dead! His spirit is
gone. You see his body move, but that it does unconsciously.’” Knowing
that it would be useless to argue the point the missionary ceased
to care about the father, but begged of the young king that no more
victims might be sacrificed, and after some little show of obstinacy
gained his point.
Preparations were then made for conveying the still living man to the
grave. The bodies of the women--the grave _grass_--were fastened
to mats and carried on biers; they were carried behind the king, whose
stirring body was not brought out at the door of the house, but the
wall being knocked down he was carried through that way (Mr. Williams
is unable to account for this singular proceeding). The funeral
procession moved down to the sea-side and embarked in a canoe which was
silently paddled to the sepulchre of Figian royalty. Here arrived, the
grave was found ready dug, the murdered _grass_ was packed at the
bottom, and after the king’s ornaments were taken off him he too was
lowered into the hole, covered with cloth and mats and then with earth,
and “was heard to cough after a considerable quantity of soil had been
thrown into the grave.”
Although this is an end to the body, many other ceremonies remain for
performance. The most ordinary way to express sorrow for the dead in
Figi is to _shave_--the process being regulated according to the
affinity of the mourner to deceased. Fathers and sons will shave their
heads and cheeks as bare as pumpkins; nephews and cousins shave merely
the summit of the cranium. Among the women, however, the mourning
customs are much more horrible and lasting in effect. Some burn
fantastic devices on their bodies with hot irons, while others submit
to have their fingers chopped off. On the occasion of the royal death
and burial above narrated, “orders were issued that one hundred fingers
should be cut off; but only sixty were amputated, one woman losing her
life in consequence. The fingers being each inserted in a slit reed
were stuck along the eaves of the king’s house.”
[Illustration: “Mourning Suit of Leaves.”]
Among the various modes of expressing grief among the Figians, Mr.
Williams records that of lying out night after night along the grave of
a friend; allowing the great mop of hair to go untouched for months;
abstinence from oiling the body (a tremendous mortification); and the
wearing garments of leaves instead of cloth. These practices, however,
are optional; others there are that are imperative, and among them one
almost unmentionable from its loathsome character. The ceremony is
called _Vathavidiulo_, or “jumping of worms,” and consists of the
relatives of deceased assembling the fourth day after the burial, and
minutely discussing the present condition of the body of the departed.
The next night, however, is not passed in so doleful a manner; for
then takes place the _Vakadredre_, or “causing to laugh,” when
the most uproarious fun is indulged in for the purpose of enabling the
mourners to forget their grief. On the death of a man high in station,
a ludicrous custom is observed, says Williams:--“About the tenth day,
or earlier, the women arm themselves with cords, switches, and whips,
and fall upon any men below the highest chiefs, plying their whips
unsparingly. 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.”
It will be easily understood that since so little respect is paid
to the lives of kings and great warriors, bloodshed and barbarous
murder are rife enough among the poorer classes. And there can be no
doubt that, although the various frightful customs peculiar to the
Figians have their foundation, and are still upheld as a rule in a
purely religious spirit, extensive advantage is taken of the same in
furthering mercenary and spiteful ends. The brother of a dead Figian of
considerable means, might, for instance, find it convenient to persuade
the widows--the heirs to the property--to show their devotedness by
consenting to be strangled and buried with their husband, that he may,
as next of kin, take immediate possession of the goods and chattels,
etc. Where the dead man was poor, his relatives would probably rather
be at the pains to convince the widow of her duty than at the expense
of maintaining her.
The murder of the sick among the Figians is regarded as a simple and
proper course, and one that need not be observed with anything like
secrecy. A fellow missionary of the Rev. Mr. Williams found a woman
in Somosomo who was in a very abject state through the protracted
absence of her husband. For five weeks, although two women lived in the
same house, she lay uncared for, and was reduced to a mere skeleton,
but being provided with food and medicine from the mission-house,
began to get well. One morning, as an attendant was carrying the sick
woman’s breakfast, he was met and told by her relations that he could
take the food back--the woman was buried. The man then related to the
missionaries that while he was at the sick house the previous day, an
old woman came in, and addressing the patient, said, “I came to see my
friend, and inquire whether she was ready to be strangled yet; but as
she is strong we will let her he a while.” It would seem, however, that
in the course of an hour or so the woman’s barbarous nurses saw fit to
alter their plans.
This is not the only instance of the kind quoted by travellers familiar
with the manners and customs of the Figians. Take the following:--“Ratu
Varam (a chief) spoke of one among many whom he had caused to be
buried alive. She had been weakly for a long time, and the chief,
thinking she was likely to remain so, had a grave dug. The curiosity
of the poor girl was excited by loud exclamations, as though something
extraordinary had happened, and on stepping out of the house she was
seized and thrown into the grave. In vain she shrieked with horror, and
cried out, ‘Do not bury me! I am quite well now!’ Two men kept her down
by standing on her, while others threw the earth in upon her until she
was heard no more.”
If a Figian ceases to exist, towards the evening a sort of wake is
observed. Parties of young men sit and “watch” the body, at the same
time chaunting the most melancholy dirges. Early the next morning
the preparations for the funeral and the funeral feast commence. Two
go to dig the grave, others paint and dress the body, while others
prepare the oven, and attend to culinary matters. The two grave diggers
seated opposite each other make three feints with their digging
sticks, which are then stuck into the earth, and a grave rarely more
than three feet deep is prepared. Either the grave-diggers or some
one near repeat twice the words “Figi Tonga.” The earth first thrown
up is laid apart from the rest. When the grave is finished mats are
laid at the bottom, and the body or bodies, wrapped in other mats or
native cloths, are placed thereon, the edges of the mats folding over
all; the earth is then thrown in. Many yards of the man’s _masi_
are often left out of the grave and carried in festoons over the
branches of a neighbouring tree. The sextons go away forthwith and
wash themselves, using during their ablution the leaves of certain
shrubs for purification, after which they return and share the food
which has been prepared for them. Mr. Williams further relates that a
respectable burial is invariably provided for the very poorest of the
community, and that he has repeatedly seen poor wretches unable to
procure a decent mat to lie on while alive, provided with five or six
new ones to lie on in the grave. Moreover, the fact of a person dying
far out at sea, or even being killed in battle with a distant tribe,
whose horrid maws have provided him a sepulchre, does not diminish
the responsibility of his relations in the matter of his funeral
obsequies. The _koloku_, as the after-death ceremonies are named,
takes place just as if the man had died at home, and the desire to make
sacrifice is even more imperative. For instance, a bold and handsome
Figian chief, named Ra Nibittu, was drowned at sea. As soon as the
doleful news reached the land, seventeen of his wives were straightway
strangled, and their bodies used as grass in a grave dedicated to the
dead Ra Nibittu. Again, after the news of the massacre of the Namena
people at Vicca in 1839, eighty women were strangled to accompany the
spirits of their murdered husbands.
In Figi, as in England, the popular superstition concerning the
midnight howling of a dog is prevalent, and thought to betoken death.
A cat purring and rubbing against the legs of a Figian is regarded
just as ominously. If, where a woman is buried, the marks of cat
scratchings are found on the soil, it is thought certain evidence that
while in life the woman was unchaste. Should a warrior fail after
repeated efforts to bring his complexion by aid of various pigments to
the orthodox standard of jetty blackness, he regards himself, and is
regarded by others, as a doomed man, and of course the more he frets
and fumes about the matter, the more he perspires, and the less chance
he has of making the paint stick.
A proper winding up of this string of curious horrors connected with
Figian death and burial, will be the Figian doctrine of the universal
spread of death, as furnished to Mr. Williams, from whom it is only
justice once more to remark these particulars are chiefly derived.
“When the first man, the father of the human race was being buried, a
god passed by this first grave and enquired what it meant. On being
informed by those standing by that they had just buried their father,
he said, ‘Do not inter him; dig the body up again.’--‘No,’ was the
reply, ‘we cannot do that; he has been dead four days, and is unfit to
be seen.’--‘Not so,’ said the god, ‘disinter him, and I promise you
he shall live again.’ Heedless, however, of the promise of the god,
these original sextons persisted in leaving their father’s remains in
the earth. Perceiving their perverseness, the god said, ‘By refusing
compliance with my demands, you have sealed your own destinies. Had you
dug up your ancestor, you would have found him alive, and yourselves
also as 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.’--‘Ah!’ say the Figians, after
tearing this legend recounted, ‘Ah! if those children had dug up that
body!’”
On this and many adjacent islands, cutting off a portion of the little
finger as a sacrifice to the gods for the recovery of a superior sick
relation is very commonly done; indeed there is scarcely a person
living at Tonga but who has lost one or both or a considerable portion
of both little fingers. Those who can have but few superior relations,
such as those near akin to Tooitonga, or the king, or Veachi, have some
chance of escaping, if their relations are tolerably healthy. It does
not appear that the operation is painful. Mr. Mariner records that he
has witnessed more than once little children quarrelling for the honour
(or rather out of bravado) of having it done. The finger is laid flat
upon a block of wood, a knife, axe, or sharp stone is placed with the
edge upon the line of the proposed separation, and a powerful blow
given with a mallet or large stone, the operation is finished. From the
nature and violence of the action the wound seldom bleeds much. The
stump is then held in the smoke and steam arising from the combustion
of fresh plucked grass; this stops any flow of blood. The wound is not
washed for two days; afterwards it is kept clean, and heals in about
two or three weeks without any application whatever. One joint is
generally taken off, but some will have a smaller portion, to admit of
the operation being performed several times on the same finger, in case
a man has many superior relations.
In certain islands of the Polynesian group there was observed at the
approaching dissolution of a man of any importance a rite terribly
fantastic and cruel. As soon as the dying man’s relatives were
made acquainted with the impending calamity, they straightway and
deliberately proceeded to act the part of raving mad men. “Not only,”
says Ellis, “did they wail in the loudest and most affecting manner,
but they tore their hair, rent their garments, and cut themselves
with knives or with shark’s teeth in the most shocking manner. The
instrument usually employed was a small cane about four inches long,
with five or six shark’s teeth fixed in on opposite sides. With one of
these instruments every female provided herself after marriage, and on
occasions of death it was unsparingly used.
“With some this was not sufficient: they prepared a sharp instrument,
something like a plumber’s mallet, about five or six inches long,
rounded at one end for a handle, and armed with two or three rows of
shark’s teeth fixed in the wood at the other. With this, on the death
of a relative or friend, they cut themselves unmercifully, striking
the head, temples, cheeks, and breast, till the blood flowed profusely
from the wounds. At the same time they uttered the most deafening
and agonizing cries; and the distortion of their countenances, their
torn and dishevelled air, the mingled tears and blood that covered
their bodies, their wild gestures and unruly conduct, often gave them
a frightful and almost inhuman appearance. I have often conversed
with these people on their reasons for this strange procedure, and
have asked them if it was not exceeding painful to cut themselves as
they were accustomed to do. They have always answered that it was
very painful in some parts of the face, that the upper lip or the
space between the upper lip and the nostrils was the most tender, and
a stroke there was always attended with the greatest pain.... The
females on these occasions sometimes put on a kind of short apron of
a particular sort of cloth, which they held up with one hand, while
they cut themselves with the other. In this apron they caught the blood
that flowed from these grief-inflicted wounds until it was almost
saturated. It was then dried in the sun and given to the nearest
surviving relations, as a proof of the affection of the donor, and was
preserved by the bereaved family as a token of the estimation in which
the departed had been held.
“I am not prepared to say that the same enormities were practised here
as in the Sandwich Islands at these times, but on the death of a king
or principal chief, the scenes exhibited in and around the house were
in appearance demoniacal. The relatives and members of the household
began; the other chiefs of the island and their relatives came to
sympathize with the survivors, and on reaching the place joined in the
infuriated conduct of the bereaved. The tenantry of the chiefs came
also, and giving themselves to all the savage infatuation which the
conduct of their associates, or the influence of their superstitious
belief inspired, they not only tore their hair and lacerated their
bodies till they were covered with blood, but often fought with clubs
and stones till murder followed.”
As soon as an individual of the islands above alluded to died, a
ceremony known as “tahna tertera” was performed, with a view of
discovering the cause of death. In order to effect this the priest took
his canoe, and paddled slowly along on the sea near the house where the
body was lying, to watch the passage of the spirit, which they supposed
would fly upon him with the emblem of the cause for which the person
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; if killed by the bribe of some enemy given to the gods, the
spirit would appear with a red feather, an emblem signifying that evil
spirits had entered his food. After a short time the tahna or priest
returned to the house of the deceased, and told the survivors the cause
of his death, and received his fee, the amount of which was regulated
by the circumstances of the parties. To avert mischief from the dead
man’s relations, the priest now performed certain secret ceremonies,
and in a day or two he again made his appearance with a cheerful
countenance, to assure them that they need no longer go in fear,
received another fee, and took his departure.
The bodies of the chiefs and persons of rank and affluence were
embalmed. The art of embalming, generally thought to indicate a high
degree of civilization, appears to have been known and practised among
the Polynesians from a very remote period, and however simple the
process, it was thoroughly successful. The intestines, brain, etc.,
were removed, and the body fixed in a sitting posture, and exposed to
the direct rays of the sun. The inside was, after a while, filled with
shreds of native cloth, saturated with perfumed oil, with which the
exterior was plentifully and vigorously anointed. This, together with
the heat of the sun and the dryness of the atmosphere, favoured the
preservation of the body.
Under the influence of these causes, in the course of a few weeks the
muscles were dried up, and the whole body appeared as if covered with a
kind of parchment. It was then clothed, and fixed in a sitting posture;
a small altar was erected before it, and offerings of fruit, food, and
flowers daily presented by the relatives or the priest appointed to
attend the body. In this state it was kept many months, when the body
was buried, and the skull preserved by the family.
In commencing the process of embalming, and placing the body on the
bier, another priest was employed, who was called the _tahna lure
tiapapau_, or “corpse-praying priest.” His office was singular. When
the house for the dead had been erected, and the corpse placed upon the
bier, the priest ordered a hole to be dug near the foot of it. Over
this hole the priest prayed to the god by whom it was supposed the
spirit of the deceased had been required. The purport of his prayer
was, that all the dead man’s sins, and especially that for which his
soul had been called away, might be deposited there; that they might
not attach in any degree to the survivors; and that the anger of the
god might be appeased. After the prayer, the priest, addressing the
deceased, exclaimed, “With you let the guilt now remain.” Then a pillar
of wood was planted in the “sin-hole,” and the earth filled in. Then
the priest, taking a number of small slips of plantain leaf-stalk,
approached the body, and laid some under the arms, and strewed some on
the breast, saying, “There are your family; there are your children,
there is your wife, there is your father, and there is your mother.
Be contented in the world of spirits. Look not towards those you have
left in the world.” And--or so thought the benighted creatures among
whom this singular rite was performed--the dead man’s spirit being
hoodwinked into the belief that the chief of his relations were no
longer inhabitants of the world, ceased to trouble itself further about
mundane affairs, and never appeared in ghostly shape at the midnight
couches of living men.
All who were employed in the embalming, which was called _muri_,
were during the process carefully avoided by every person, as the
guilt of the crime for which the deceased had died was supposed in
some degree to attach to such as touched the body. They did not feed
themselves, lest the food defiled by the touch of their polluted
hands should cause their death, but were fed by others. As soon as
the ceremony of depositing the sin in the hole was over, all who had
touched the dead man or his garments fled precipitately into the
sea, where for a long time they bathed, and came away leaving their
contaminated clothes behind them. At the conclusion of their ablutions
they dived, and brought from the sea-bed some bits of coral. Bearing
these in their hands, their first journey was to the sin-hole of the
defunct, at which the bits of coral were cast, with the adjuration,
“With you may all pollution be!”
On the death of Finow, King of Tonga, Mr. Mariner informs us, the
chiefs and grand company invited to take part in his funeral obsequies,
seated themselves, habited in mats, waiting for the body of the
deceased king to be brought forth. The mourners (who are always women),
consisting of the female relations, widows, mistresses, and servants
of the deceased, and such other females of some rank who chose out of
respect to officiate on such an occasion, were assembled in the house
and seated round the corpse, which still lay out on the blades of
gnatoo. They were all habited in large old ragged mats--the more ragged
the more fit for the occasion, as being more emblematical of a spirit
broken down, or, as it were, torn to pieces by grief. Their appearance
was calculated to excite pity and sorrow in the heart of anyone,
whether accustomed or not to such a scene; their eyes were swollen
with the last night’s frequent flood of grief, and still weeping
genuine tears of regret; the upper part of their cheeks perfectly
black, and swollen so that they could hardly see, with the constant
blows they had inflicted on themselves with their fists.
Among the chiefs and matabooles who were seated on the marly, all those
who were particularly attached to the late king or to his cause evinced
their sorrow by a conduct usual indeed among these people at the death
of a relation, or of a great chief (unless it be that of Tooitonga, or
any of his family), but which to us may well appear barbarous in the
extreme; that is to say, the custom of cutting and wounding themselves
with clubs, stones, knives, or sharp shells; one at a time, or two or
three together, running into the middle of the circle formed by the
spectators to give these proofs of their extreme sorrow for the death,
and great respect for the memory of their departed friend.
The sentiments expressed by these victims of popular superstition
were to the following purpose. “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 are unfaithful; but where is the proof of
infidelity? where is a single instance of disrespect?” Then inflicting
violent blows and deep cuts in the head with a club, stone, or knife,
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?” Then perhaps two or three would run on and endeavour
to seize the same club, saying with a furious tone of voice, “Behold
the land is torn with strife, it is smitten to pieces, it is split by
revolts; how my blood boils; let us haste and die! I no longer wish to
live: your death, Finow, shall be mine. But why did I wish hitherto to
live? it was for you alone; it was in your service and defence only
that I wished to breathe; but now, alas! the country is ruined. Peace
and happiness are at an end; your death has insured ours: henceforth
war and destruction alone can prosper.” These speeches were accompanied
with a wild and frantic agitation of the body, whilst the parties cut
and bruised their heads every two or three words with the knife or club
they held in their hands. Others, somewhat more calm and moderate in
their grief, would parade up and down with rather a wild and agitated
step, spinning and whirling the club about, striking themselves with
the edge of it two or three times violently upon the top or back of
the head, and then suddenly stopping and looking stedfastly at the
instrument spattered with blood, exclaim, “Alas! my club, who could
have said that you would have done this kind office for me, and have
enabled me thus to evince a testimony of my respect for Finow? Never,
no never, can you again tear open the brains of his enemies. Alas! what
a great and mighty warrior has fallen! Oh, Finow, cease to suspect my
loyalty; be convinced of my fidelity! But what absurdity am I talking!
if I had appeared treacherous in your sight, I should have met the
fate of those numerous warriors who have fallen victims to your just
revenge. But do not think, Finow, that I reproach you; no, I wish only
to convince you of my innocence, for who that has thoughts of harming
his chiefs shall grow white headed like me (an expression used by some
of the old men). O cruel gods to deprive us of our father, of our only
hope, for whom alone we wished to live. We have indeed other chiefs,
but they are only chiefs in rank, and not like you, alas! great and
mighty in war.”
Such were their sentiments and conduct on this mournful occasion. Some,
more violent than others, cut their heads to the skull with such strong
and frequent blows, that they caused themselves to reel, producing
afterwards a temporary loss of reason. It is difficult to say to what
length this extravagance would have been carried, particularly by one
old man, if the prince had not ordered Mr. Mariner to go up and take
away the club from him, as well as two others that were engaged at the
same time. It is customary on such occasions, when a man takes a club
from another, to use it himself in the same way about his own head;
but Mr. Mariner, being a foreigner, was not expected to do this; he
therefore went up and, after some hesitation and struggle, secured the
clubs one after another, and returned with them to his seat, when,
after a while, they were taken by others, who used them in like manner.
After these savage expressions of sorrow had been continued for nearly
three hours, the prince gave orders that the body of his father should
be taken to Felletoa to be buried. In the first place, a bale of gnatoo
was put on a kind of hurdle, and the body laid on the bale; the prince
then ordered that, as his father was the first who introduced guns
in the wars of Tonga, the two carronades should be loaded and fired
twice before the procession set out, and twice after it had passed
out of the marly; he gave directions also that the body of Finow’s
daughter, lately deceased, should be taken out in the model of a canoe,
and carried after the body of her father; that during his life, as he
wished always to have her body in his neighbourhood, she might now at
length be buried with him.
Matters being thus arranged, Mr. Mariner loaded the guns and fired four
times with blank cartridge. The procession then went forward, and in
the course of two hours arrived at Felletoa, where the body was laid in
a house on the marly at some distance from the grave, till another and
smaller house could be brought close to it; and this was done in course
of an hour. The post being taken up, the four pieces which compose the
building (a kind of shed in a pyramidal form, the eaves reaching within
four feet of the ground) were brought by a sufficient number of men,
and put together at the place where it was wanted. This being done, the
body was brought on the same hurdle or hand-barrow to the newly-erected
building (if it may be so termed); and then being taken off the hurdle,
it was laid within, on the bale of gnatoo, and the house was hung round
with black gnatoo, reaching from the eaves to the ground.
The women, who were all assembled and seated round the body, began a
most dismal lamentation. In the mean time a number of people, whose
business it is to prepare graves, were digging the place of interment
under the direction of a mataboole, whose office is to superintend
such affairs. Having dug about ten feet, they came to the large stone
covering a vault; a rope was fastened double round one end of the
stone, which always remains a little raised for the purpose, and was
raised by the main strength of 150 or 200 men, pulling at the two ends
of the rope towards the opposite edge of the grave till it was brought
up on end. The body being oiled with sandal-wood oil, and then wrapped
in mats, was handed down on a large bale of gnatoo into the grave; the
bale of gnatoo was then, as is customary, taken by the before-mentioned
mataboole as his perquisite. Next, the body of his daughter, in the
model of a canoe, was let down in like manner, and placed by his side.
The great stone was then lowered down with a loud shout. Immediately
certain matabooles and warriors ran like men frantic round about the
place of sepulture, 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,
axes, etc.
The whole company now formed themselves into a single line, the women
first, and afterwards the men, but without any particular order as to
rank, and proceeded towards the back of the island for the purpose of
getting a quantity of sand in small baskets.
They sang loudly the whole way, as a signal to all who might be in the
road or adjacent fields to hide themselves as quickly as possible, for
it is sacrilegious for any body to be seen abroad by the procession
during this part of the ceremony; and if any man had unfortunately
made his appearance, he would undoubtedly have been pursued by one
of the party, and soon dispatched with the club. So strictly is this
attended to, that nobody in Mr. Mariner’s time recollected a breach
of a law so well known. Even if a common man was to be buried, and
Finow himself was to be upon the road, or in the neighbourhood of the
procession whilst going to get sand at the back of the island, he would
immediately hide himself; not that they would knock out the king’s
brains on such an occasion, but it would be thought sacrilegious and
unlucky, the gods of Bolotoo being supposed to be present at the time.
The chiefs are particularly careful not to infringe upon sacred laws,
lest they should set an example of disobedience to the people. The song
on this occasion, which is very short, is sung first by the men and
then by the women, and so on alternately; and intimates (though Mr.
Mariner has forgotten the exact words) that the _fala_ (which is
the name of this part of the ceremony) is coming, and that every body
must get out of the way.
When they arrived at the back of the island, where anybody may be
present, they proceeded to make a small basket of the leaves of the
cocoa-nut tree, holding about two quarts, and to fill it with sand;
this being done, each of the men carried two upon a stick across the
shoulder, one at each end: while the women only carried one, pressed
in general against the left hip, or rather upon it, by the hand of the
same side, and supported by the hand of the opposite side, brought
backwards across the loins, which they consider the easiest mode for
women to carry small burdens; they then proceeded back the same way,
and with ceremony, to the grave. By this time the grave above the vault
was nearly filled with the earth lately dug out, the remaining small
space being left to be filled by the sand, which is always more than
enough for the purpose. It is considered a great embellishment to a
grave to have it thus covered, and is thought to appear very well from
a distance, where the mound of clean sand may be seen; besides which
it is the custom, and nobody can explain the reason why--which is the
case with several of their customs. This being done, all the baskets
in which the sand was brought, as well as the remaining quantity of
earth not used in filling up the grave, are thrown into the hole out of
which the earth was originally dug. During the whole of this time the
company was seated, still clothed in mats, and their necks strung with
the leaves of the ifi tree; after this they arose and went to their
respective habitations, where they shaved their heads, and burnt their
cheeks with a small lighted roll of tápa, by applying it once upon
each cheek bone; after which, the place was rubbed with the astringent
berry of the matchi, which occasioned it to bleed, and with the blood
they smeared about the wound in a circular form, to about two inches in
diameter, giving themselves a very unseemly appearance.
They repeat this friction with the berry every day, making the wound
bleed afresh; and the men in the meantime neglect to shave and to
oil themselves during the day: they do it, however, at night, for
the comfort which this operation affords. After having, in the first
place, burnt their cheeks and shaved their heads, they built for
themselves small temporary huts for their own accommodation during the
time of mourning, which lasts twenty days. Early in the morning of the
twentieth day, all the relations of the deceased chief, together with
those who formed his household, and also the women who were tabooed by
having touched his dead body whilst oiling and preparing it, went to
the back of the island (without any particular order or ceremony) to
procure a number of flat pebbles, principally white, but a few black,
for which they made baskets on the spot to carry them in, as before
mentioned, when they went to procure sand. With these they returned to
the grave, strewed inside of the house with the white ones, as also the
outside, as a decoration to it; the black pebbles they strewed only
upon the white ones which covered the ground directly over the body.
After this the house over the tomb 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, which remains till the next burial, when they are taken down,
and after the conclusion of the ceremony new ones are put up in like
manner. A large quantity of provisions was now sent to the marly by
the chiefs of the different districts of the island, ready prepared
and cooked, as also a considerable quantity prepared by Finow’s own
household: among these provisions was a good supply of cava root. After
the chiefs, matabooles, and others were assembled, the provisions and
cava were served out in the usual way. During this time no speech
was made, nor did any particular occurrence take place. The company
afterwards repaired each to his respective house, and got ready for a
grand wrestling-match and entertainment of dancing the Mée too Buggi
(literally, “the dance, standing up with paddles”).
[Illustration: Funeral Obsequies of King Finow.]
During the intervals of the dances, several matabooles, warriors,
and others, indulged in bruising and cutting their heads with clubs,
axes, etc., as proofs of their fidelity to the late chief; among
them two boys, one about twelve, the other about fourteen years of
age (sons of matabooles), made themselves very conspicuous in this
kind of self-infliction; the youngest in particular, whose father was
killed in the service of the late chief, dining the great revolution
at Tonga, after having given his head two or three hard knocks, ran
up to the grave in a fit of enthusiasm, and dashing his club with
all his force to the ground, exclaimed, “Finow! why should I attempt
thus to express my love and fidelity towards you? My wish is that the
gods of Bolotoo permit me to live long enough to prove my fidelity to
your son.” He then again raised his club, and running about bruised
and cut his little head in so many places, that he was covered with
streams of blood. This demonstration on the part of the young hero
was thought very highly of by every one present, though, according
to custom, nothing at that time was said in his praise; agreeable to
their maxim, that praise raises a man’s opinions of his own merit too
high, and fills him with self-conceit. The late Finow’s fishermen now
advanced forward to show their love for their deceased master in the
usual way, though instead of a club or axe, each bore the paddle of
a canoe, with which they beat and bruised their heads at intervals,
making similar exclamations to those so often related. In one respect,
however, they were somewhat singular, that is, in having three arrows
stuck through each cheek in a slanting direction, so that while their
points came quite through the cheek into the mouth, the other ends went
over their shoulders, and were kept in that situation by another arrow,
the point of which was tied to the ends of the arrows passing over
one shoulder, and the other end to those of the arrows passing over
the other shoulder, so as to form a triangle; and with this horrible
equipment they walked round the grave, beating their heads and faces as
before stated with the paddles, or pinching up the skin of the breast
and sticking a spear quite through: all this to show their love and
affection for the deceased chief.
After these exhibitions of cruelty were over, this day’s ceremony
(which altogether lasted about six hours) was finished by a grand
wrestling match, which being ended, every one retired to his respective
house or occupation; and thus terminated the ceremony of burying the
King of the Tonga Islands.
The Sandwich Islanders observe a number of singular ceremonies on the
death of their kings and chiefs, and have been till very recently
accustomed to make these events occasions for the practice of almost
every enormity and vice.
“The people here,” writes Mr. Mariner, “had followed only one fashion
in cutting their hair, but we have seen it polled in every imaginable
form; sometimes a small round place only is made bald just on the
crown, which causes them to look like Romish priests; at other times
the whole head is shaved or cropped close, except round the edge,
where, for about half an inch in breadth, the hair hangs down its usual
length. Some make their heads bald on one side, and leave the hair
twelve or eighteen inches long on the other. Occasionally they cut
out a patch in the shape of a horse-shoe, either behind or above the
forehead; and sometimes we have seen a number of curved furrows cut
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 imitated it in cutting
theirs. Not to cut or shave off the hair indicates want of respect
towards the deceased and the surviving friends; but to have it cut
close in any form is enough. Each one usually follows his own taste,
which produces the endless variety in which this ornamental appendage
of the head is worn by the natives during a season of mourning.
“Another custom, almost as universal on these occasions, was that of
knocking out some of the front teeth, practised by both sexes, though
perhaps most extensively by the men. When a chief died, those most
anxious to show their respect for him or his family, would be the first
to knock out with a stone one of their front teeth. The chiefs related
to the deceased, or on terms of friendship with him, were expected
thus to exhibit their attachment; and when they had done so, their
attendants and tenants felt themselves, by the influence of custom,
obliged to follow their example. Sometimes a man broke out his own
tooth with a stone; more frequently, however, it was done by another,
who fixed one end of a piece of stick or hard wood against the tooth,
and struck the other end with a stone till it was broken off. When any
of the men deferred this operation, the women often performed it for
them while they were asleep. More than one tooth was seldom destroyed
at one time; but the mutilation being repeated on the decease of every
chief of rank or authority, there are few men to be seen who had
arrived at maturity before the introduction of Christianity to the
islands with an entire set of teeth; and many by this custom have lost
the front teeth on both the upper and lower jaw, which, aside from
other inconveniences, causes a great defect in their speech. Some,
however, have dared to be singular, and though they must have seen many
deaths, have parted with but few of their teeth.
“Cutting one or both ears was formerly practised on these occasions,
but as we never saw more than one or two old men thus disfigured, the
custom appears to have been discontinued.
“Another badge of mourning, assumed principally by the chiefs, is that
of tatooing a black spot or line on the tongue, in the same manner as
other parts of their bodies are tatooed.
“The Sandwich islanders have also another custom almost peculiar to
themselves, viz., singing at the death of their chiefs, something in
the manner of the ancient Peruvians. I have been peculiarly affected
more than once on witnessing this ceremony.
“A day or two after the decease of Keeaumoku, governor of Maui, and the
elder brother of Kuakina, governor of Hawaii, I was sitting with the
surviving relatives, who were weeping around the couch on which the
corpse was lying, when a middle-aged woman came in at the other end of
the large house, and, having proceeded about half way towards the spot
where the body lay, began to sing in a plaintive tone, accompanying
her song with affecting gesticulations, such as wringing her hands,
grasping her hair, and beating her breasts. I wrote down her monody as
she repeated it. She described in a feeling manner the benevolence of
the deceased, and her own consequent loss. One passage was as follows:--
“‘Alas! alas! dead is my chief!
Dead is my lord and my friend!
My friend in the season of famine,
My friend in the time of drought,
My friend in my poverty,
My friend in the rain and the wind,
My friend in the heat and the sun,
My friend in the cold from the mountain,
My friend in the storm,
My friend in the calm,
My friend in the eight seas.
Alas! alas! gone is my friend,
And no more will return!’
“Other exhibitions of a similar kind I witnessed at Mani. After the
death of Keopuolani we frequently saw the inhabitants of a whole
district that had belonged to her coming to weep on account of her
death. They walked in profound silence, either in single file or two or
three abreast, the old people leading the van and the children bringing
up the rear. They were not covered with ashes, but almost literally
clothed in sackcloth. No ornament, or even decent piece of cloth, was
seen on any one. Dressed only in old fishing nets, dirty and torn
pieces of matting, or tattered garments, and these sometimes tied on
their bodies with pieces of old canoe ropes, they appeared the most
abject and wretched of human beings I ever saw. When they were within
a few hundred yards of the house where the corpse was lying they began
to lament and wail. The crowds of mourners around the house opened a
passage for them to approach it, and then one or two of their number
came forward and, standing a little before the rest, began a song or
recitation, showing her birth, rank, honours, and virtues, brandishing
a staff or piece of sugar-cane, and accompanying their recitation with
attitudes and gestures, expressive of the most frantic grief. When they
had finished they sat down and mingled with the thronging multitudes in
their loud and ceaseless wailing.”
Though these ceremonies were so popular, and almost universal, on the
decease of their chiefs, they do not appear to have been practised
by the common people among themselves. The wife did not knock out
her teeth on the death of her husband, nor the son his when he lost
his father or mother, neither did parents thus express their grief
when bereaved of an only child. Sometimes they cut their hair, but in
general only indulged in lamentations and weeping for several days.
Ellis, the Polynesian traveller, makes mention of a singular building
seen by him in Hawaii, called the _Hare o Keave_ (the House of
Keave), a sacred depository of the bones of departed kings and princes,
probably erected for the reception of the bones of the king whose name
it bears, and who reigned in Hawaii about eight generations back. It
is, or was when Mr. Ellis saw it, a compact building, twenty-four feet
by sixteen, constructed with the most durable timber, and thatched
with _ti_ leaves, standing on a bed of lava that runs out a
considerable distance into the sea. It is surrounded by a strong
fence or paling, leaving an area in the front and at each end about
twenty-four feet wide. The pavement is of smooth fragments of lava,
laid down with considerable skill. 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 an adjacent tree, others on
high posts on the jutting rocks that hung over the edge of the water.
“A number stood on the fence at unequal distances all round; but the
principal assemblage of these frightful representatives of their former
deities was at the south-east end of the enclosed space, where, forming
a semi-circle, twelve of them stood in grim array, as if perpetual
guardians of the mighty dead reposing in his house adjoining. A pile of
stones was neatly laid up in the form of a crescent, about three feet
wide and two feet higher than the pavement, and in this pile the images
were fixed. They stood on small pedestals three or four feet high,
though some were placed on pillars eight or ten feet in height, and
curiously carved. The principal idol stood in the centre, the others on
either hand, the most powerful being placed nearest to him; he was not
so large as some of the others, but distinguished by the variety and
superior carvings of his body, and especially of his head. Once they
had evidently been clothed, but now they appeared in the most indigent
nakedness. A few tattered shreds round the neck of one that stood on
the left hand side of the door, rotted by the rain and bleached by
the sun, were all that remained of numerous and gaudy garments with
which their votaries had formerly arrayed them. A large pile of broken
calabashes and cocoa-nut shells lay in the centre, and a considerable
heap of dried and partly rotten wreaths of flowers, branches and
shrubs, and bushes and fragments of tapa (the accumulated offerings of
former days), formed an unsightly mound immediately before each of the
images. The horrid stare of these idols, the tattered garments upon
some of them, and the heaps of rotting offerings before them, seemed
to us no improper emblems of the system they were designed to support,
distinguished alike by its cruelty, folly, and wretchedness.”
Mr. Ellis endeavoured to gain admission to the inside of the house,
but was told it was _tabu roa_ (strictly prohibited), and that
nothing but a direct order from the king or high priest could open
the door. However, by pushing one of the boards across the doorway
a little on one side, he looked in, and saw many large images, some
of wood very much carved, and others of red feathers, with distended
mouths, large rows of sharks’ teeth, and pearl-shell eyes. He also saw
several bundles, apparently of human bones, cleaned carefully, tied up
with cinet made of cocoa-nut fibres, and placed in different parts of
the house, together with some rich shawls and other valuable articles,
probably worn by those to whom the bones belonged, as the wearing
apparel and other personal property of the chiefs is generally buried
with them. When he had gratified his curiosity, and had taken a drawing
of the building and some of its appendages, he proceeded to examine
other remarkable objects of the place.
Adjoining the _Hare o Keave_ to the southward, he found a _Pahio
tabu_ (sacred enclosure) of considerable extent, and was informed by
his guide that it was one of the _Pohonuas_ of Hawaii, of which he
had often heard the chiefs and others speak. There are only two on the
island--the one which he was then examining, and another at Waipio on
the north-east part of the island, in the district of Kohala.
These _Pohonuas_ were the Hawaiian _cities of refuge_, and
afforded an inviolable sanctuary to the guilty fugitive, who, when
flying from the avenging spear, was so favoured as to enter their
precincts. They had several wide entrances, some on the side next the
sea, the others facing the mountains. Hither the manslayer, the man who
had broken a _tabu_, or failed in the observance of its rigid
requirements, the thief, and even the murderer, fled from his incensed
pursuers, and was secure. To whomsoever he belonged, and from whatever
part he came, he was equally certain of admittance, though liable to
be pursued even to the gates of the enclosure. Happily for him, those
gates were perpetually open; and, as soon as the fugitive had entered,
he repaired to the presence of the idol, and made a short ejaculatory
address, expressive of his obligations to him in reaching the place
with security. Whenever war was proclaimed, and during the period of
actual hostilities, a white flag was unfurled on the top of a tall
spear at each end of the enclosure; and until the conclusion of peace
waved the symbol of hope to those who, vanquished in fight, might flee
thither for protection. It was fixed a short distance from the walls
on the outside, and to the spot on which this banner was unfurled
the victorious warrior might chase his routed foes, but here he must
himself fall back; beyond it he must not advance one step, on pain of
forfeiting his life; the priests and their adherents would immediately
put to death any one who should have the temerity to follow or molest
those who were once within the pale of the _pahio tabu_, and,
as they expressed it, under the shade or protection of the spirit of
Keave, the tutelar deity of the place.
In one part of the enclosure, houses were formerly erected for the
priests, and others for the refugees, who, after a certain period, or
at the cessation of war, were dismissed by the priests, and returned
unmolested to their dwellings and families, no one venturing to injure
those who, when they fled to the gods, had been by them protected. Mr.
Ellis could not learn the length of time it was necessary for them to
remain in the _Pohonuas_, but it did not appear to be more than
two or three days. After that they either attached themselves to the
service of the priests, or returned to their homes.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A Samoan inquest--Carrying a body about--Embalming in
Samoa--Samoan grave fires--Catching a spirit--New Zealand
burial customs--The Sexton in Borneo--Dayak funerals--Funeral
customs of the Sea Dayaks--Tombs in the air--Exorcising the
evil spirit--Cruel treatment of widows--The “village of the
dead”--The place of skulls--Praying to the dead--Ojibbeway
mourners--Disposing of the property of the dead--A Chippewa
ghost story--An invisible presence--A spirited ghost--Veneration
for the dead--A royal funeral--The death dance--The last of the
“Stung Serpent.”
In Samoa, another of the Polynesian islands, it is considered a
disgrace to the family of an aged chief if he is not buried alive·
“When an old man feels sick and infirm,” says the missionary Turner,
“and thinks he is dying, he deliberately tells his children and friends
to get all ready and bury him. They yield to his wishes, dig a round
deep pit, wind a number of fine mats round his body, and lower down
the poor old heathen into his grave in a sitting posture. Live pigs
are then brought and tied, each with a separate cord, the one end
of the cord to the pig and the other to the arm of the old man. The
cords are then cut in the middle, leaving the one half hanging at the
arm of the old man, and off the pigs are taken to be killed and baked
for the burial feast. The old man, however, is still supposed to take
the pigs with him to the world of spirits. The greater the chief the
more numerous the pigs, and the more numerous the pigs the better the
reception in their Hades of heathenism. The poor old man thus wound up,
furnished with his pig strings, and covered over with some more mats,
is all ready. His grave is then filled up, and his dying groans are
drowned amid the weeping and the wailing of the living.
“This revolting custom of burying alive is, as I have noted, not
confined to infants and the aged. If a person in sickness shows signs
of delirium, his grave is dug, and he is buried forthwith, to prevent
the disease spreading to other members of the family. A young man in
the prime of life was thus buried lately. He burst up the grave and
escaped. He was caught and forced into the grave again. A second time
he struggled to the surface, and they led him to the bush, lashed him
fast to a tree, and left him there to die.
“Whenever the eye is fixed in death the house becomes a scene of
indescribable lamentation and wailing. ‘Oh! my father, why did you not
let me die, and you live here still?’ ‘Oh! my brother, why have you run
away and left your only brother to be trampled upon?’ ‘Oh! my child,
had I known you were going to die! Of what use is it for me to survive
you?’ These and other doleful cries may be heard two hundred yards
from the house; and as you go near you find that they are accompanied
by the most frantic expressions of grief, such as rending garments,
tearing the hair, thumping the face and eyes, burning the body with
small piercing firebrands, beating the head with stones till the blood
runs; and this they called an “offering of blood for the dead.” Every
one acquainted with the historical parts of the Bible will here observe
remarkable coincidences. After an hour or so, the more boisterous
wailing subsides, and, as in that climate the corpse must be buried
in a few hours, preparations are made without delay. The body is laid
out on a mat oiled with scented oil, and, to modify the cadaverous
look, they tinge the oil for the face with a little turmeric. The body
is then wound up with several folds of native cloth, the chin propped
up with a little bundle of the same material, and the face and head
left uncovered, while for some hours longer the body is surrounded by
weeping relatives. If the person has died of a complaint which has
carried off some other members of the family, they will probably open
the body to search for the disease. Any inflamed substance they happen
to find they take away and burn, thinking that this will prevent any
other members of the family being affected with the same disease. This
is done when the body is laid in the grave.
“While a dead body is in the house no food is taken under the same
roof. The family have their meals outside, or in another house. Those
who attended the deceased were formerly most careful not to handle
food, and for days 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, if they violated the rule. Fasting was
common at such times, and they who did so, ate nothing during the
day, but had a meal at night, reminding us of what David said when
mourning the death of Abner: ‘So do God to me and more also, if I taste
bread or aught else till the sun be down.’ The fifth day was a day of
purification. They bathed the face and hands with hot water, and then
they were clean, and resumed the usual time and mode of eating.
“The death of a chief of high rank was attended with great excitement
and display: all work was suspended in the settlement; no stranger
dared to pass through the place. For days they kept the body unburied,
until all the different parties connected with that particular clan
assembled from various parts of the island, and until each party had
in turn paraded the body, shoulder high, through the village, singing
at the same time some mournful dirge. The body, too, was wrapped up
in the best robe, viz., the most valuable fine mat clothing which the
deceased possessed. Great respect is still shown to chiefs on these
occasions, and there was a recent instance of something like a thirty
days’ mourning; but the body is seldom paraded about the settlements
now-a-days.
“The burial generally takes place the day after death. As many friends
as can be present in time attend. Every one brings a present; and the
day after the funeral, these presents are all so distributed again as
that every one goes away with something in return for what he brought.
Formerly, the body was buried without a coffin, except in the cases of
chiefs; but now it is quite common to cut off the ends of some canoe
belonging to the family, and make a coffin of it. The body being put
into this rude encasement, all is done up again in some other folds
of native cloth, and carried on the shoulders of four or five men to
the grave. The friends follow, but in no particular order; and at the
grave again there was often further wailing, and exclamations such as,
“Alas! I looked to you for protection, but you have gone away! why
did you die! would that I had died for you!” Since the introduction
of Christianity, all is generally quiet at the grave. The missionary,
or some native teacher appointed by him, attends, reads a portion of
Scripture, delivers an address, and engages in prayer, that the living
may consider and prepare for the time to die. The grave is called the
last resting place; and in the case of chiefs the house is thatched
with the leaves of sandal wood, alluding to the custom of planting
some tree with pretty foliage near the grave. Attempts have been made
to get a place set apart as the village burying-ground, but it is
difficult to carry it out. All prefer laying their dead among the ashes
of their ancestors, on their own particular ground. As the bones of
Joseph were carried from Egypt to Canaan, so did the Samoans carry the
skulls of their dead from a land where they had been residing during
war, back to the graves of their fathers as soon as possible after
peace was proclaimed. The grave is often dug close by the house. They
make it about four feet deep; and, after spreading it with mats like a
comfortable bed, there they place the body, with the head to the rising
of the sun and the feet to the west. With the body they deposit several
things which may have been used to answer the purpose of a pickaxe in
digging the grave; not that they think these things of any use to the
dead, but it is supposed that if they are left and handled by others,
further disease and death will be the consequence. Other mats are
spread over the body, on these a layer of white sand from the beach,
and then they fill up the grave.
[Illustration: A Samoan Sepulchre.]
“The spot is marked by a little heap of stones a foot or two high. The
grave of a chief is nearly built up in an oblong slanting form, about
three feet high at the foot and four at the head. White stones or
shells are intermixed with the top layer; and if he has been a noted
warrior, his grave may be surrounded with spears, or his gun laid
loosely on the top.”
Embalming, the same authority informs us, is known and practised with
surprising skill in one particular family of Samoan chiefs. Unlike the
Egyptian method, as described by Herodotus, it is performed in Samoa
exclusively by women. The viscera being removed and buried, they day
after day anoint the body with a mixture of oil and aromatic juices,
and they continue to puncture the body all over with fine needles. In
about two months the process of desiccation is completed. The hair,
which had been cut off and laid aside at the commencement of the
operation, is now glued carefully on to the scalp by a resin from the
bush. The abdomen is filled up with folds of native cloth, the body is
wrapped up with the same material, and laid out on a mat, leaving the
hands, face, and head exposed.
A house is built for the purpose, and there the body is placed with a
sheet of native cloth loosely thrown over it. Now and then the face is
oiled with a mixture of scented oil and turmeric, and passing strangers
are freely admitted to see the remains of the departed. At present
there are four bodies laid out in this way in a house belonging to the
family to which we refer--viz., a chief, his wife, and two sons. They
are laid on a platform, raised on a double canoe. It must be upwards
of thirty years since some of them were embalmed, and although thus
exposed they are in a remarkable state of preservation. They assign
no particular reason for this embalming, further than that it is the
expression of their affection to keep the bodies of the departed still
with them as if they were alive.
On the evening of the burial of any important chief, his friends
kindled a number of fires at a distance of some twenty feet from each
other, near the grave, and there they sat and kept them burning till
morning light. This was continued sometimes for ten days after the
funeral; it was also done before the burial. In the house where the
body lay, or out in front of it, fires were kept burning all night
by the immediate relatives of the departed. The common people had a
similar custom. After burial they kept a fire blazing in the house all
night, and had the space between the house and the grave so cleared
as that a stream of light went forth all night from the fire to the
grave. Whether this had its origin in any custom of burning the dead
body, like the ancient Greeks, it is impossible now to ascertain. The
probability, however, is that it had not. The account the Samoans
give of it, is, that it was merely a light-burning in honour of the
departed, and a mark of tender regard: just as we may suppose the Jews
did after the death of Asa, when it is said they made a very great
burning for him. Those commentators who hold that this and one or two
other passages refer to a Jewish mark of respect, and not to the actual
burning of the body, have in the Samoan custom which we have just named
a remarkable coincidence in their favour.
The unburied occasioned great concern. “No Roman,” says Mr. Turner,
“was ever more grieved at the thought of his unburied friend wandering
a hundred years along the banks of the Styx than were the Samoans,
while they thought of the spirit of one who had been drowned, or
of another who had fallen in war, wandering about neglected and
comfortless. They supposed the spirit haunted them everywhere night and
day, and imagined they heard it calling upon them in a most pitiful
tone, and saying, ‘Oh! how cold; oh! how cold.’ Nor were the Samoans,
like the ancient Romans, satisfied with a mere _tumulus-inanis_
(or empty grave), at which to observe the usual solemnities; they
thought it was possible to obtain the soul of the departed in some
tangible transmigrated form. On the beach, near where a person had
been drowned, or on the battle-field, where another fell, might be
seen sitting in silence a group of five or six, and one a few yards
in advance, with a sheet of native cloth spread out on the ground
before him. Addressing some god of the family, he said, ‘Oh! be kind
to us; let us obtain without difficulty the spirit of the young man.’
The first thing that happened to light upon the sheet was supposed to
be the spirit. If nothing came, it was supposed that the spirit had
some ill-will to the person praying. That person after a time retired,
and another stepped forward, addressed some other god, and waited
the result. By-and-bye something came--grasshopper, butterfly, ant,
or whatever else it might be; it was carefully wrapped up, taken to
the family, the friends assembled, and the bundle buried with all due
ceremony, as if it contained the real spirit of the departed.”
The burial, like all other customs of the New Zealanders, are very
singular. Very little, however, was known concerning them until a
recent date. At the time Captain Cook visited the country, everything
connected with the disposal of their dead was concealed from him by the
natives.
It is now known, however, that the dead bodies of slaves were thrown
into holes or into the sea, or buried under the poles supporting
houses; but the dead bodies of free persons were ever held in high
respect. It was only, however, at the death of chiefs that the funeral
rites of the people were celebrated. A chief on his death bed was
surrounded by most of his relatives, his last words were treasured
up, and the resignation with which the dying man submitted to his
fate suggested to the mind that he died of his own will. The moment
the vital spark fled, its departure was bewailed with doleful cries:
abundance of water was shed in the form of tears, and the spectators
groaned, sighed, and seemed inconsolable. But all was hollow, except
with the immediate relatives of the deceased, and a specimen of the
talent of the New Zealanders for dissimulation. Men, women, and
children cut themselves with shells, and slaves were slain to attend
on the dead in the next world, and in revenge for his death. Since the
introduction of fire-arms, guns are fired off at the death of chiefs.
Twenty-four hours after death the body was washed and beaten with
flax-leaves, to drive away evil spirits. Priests then dressed the
corpse. The legs were bent, the body placed in a sitting attitude,
the hair tied in a lump on the crown of the head, and ornamented with
albatross feathers; garlands of flowers were wound round the temples,
tufts of white down from a sea-bird’s breast were stuck in the ears,
the face was smeared with red ochre and oil, and the whole body, save
the head, enveloped in a fine mat. In this condition, surrounded with
his weapons of war, the bones and preserved heads of his ancestors,
the dead chief sat in state; and as the complexion of the skins of the
natives alters little after death, there was a life-like appearance
in the whole scene. Certain birds were sacrificed to the gods. Tribes
from a distance visited the dead. Wisps of the long toitoi grass placed
in the dead warrior’s hands were grasped by friends, and flattering
laments, of which the following is a good specimen, were sung in his
honour:--
“Behold the lightning’s glare:
It seems to cut asunder Tuwhara’s rugged mountains.
From thy hand the weapon dropped,
And thy bright spirit disappeared
Beyond the heights of Rauhawa.
The sun grows dim, and hastes away,
As a woman from the scene of the battle.
The tides of the ocean weep as they ebb and flow,
And the mountains of the south melt away,
For the spirit of the chieftain
Is taking its flight to Kona.
Open ye the gates of the heavens--
Enter the first heaven, then enter the second heaven,
And when thou shalt travel the land of spirits,
And they shall say to thee, ‘What meanest this?’
Say’st thou, the winds of this our world
Have been torn from it in the death of the brave one,
The leader of our battles.
Atutahi and the stars of the morning
Look down from the sky.
The earth reels to and fro,
For the great prop of the tribes lies low,
Ah! my friend, the dews of Kokianga
Will penetrate the body;
The waters of the rivers will ebb out,
And the land be desolate.”
Dead chiefs sat in state until they gave out an ill odour. Then
their bodies were wrapped in mats, put into canoe-shaped boxes along
with their _meris_, and deposited on stages nine feet high, or
suspended from trees in the neighbourhood of villages, or interred
within the houses where they died. Here, after daylight, for many weeks
the nearest relatives regularly bewailed their death with mournful
cries. Persons tapued from touching the dead were now made clean.
Carved wooden ornaments, or rude human images twenty or forty feet
high, not unlike Hindoo idols, were erected on the spots where the
bodies were deposited. Mourning head dresses made of dark feathers were
worn; some mourners clipped half their hair short, and people talked of
the dead as if they were alive.
The bodies were permitted to remain about half a year on the stages, or
in the earth, after which the bones were scraped clean, placed in boxes
or mats, and secretly deposited by priests in sepulchres, on hill tops,
in forests, or in caves. The meris and valuable property of chiefs were
now received by their heirs. To witness this ceremony of the removal of
bones neighbouring tribes were invited to feasts, called the hahunga;
and for several successive years afterwards hahungas were given in
honour of the dead, on which occasions skulls and preserved heads of
chiefs were brought from sepulchres, and adorned with mats, flowers,
and feathers. Speeches and laments delivered at hahungas kept chiefs’
memories alive, and stimulated the living to imitate the dead.
In Borneo when a Dayak dies the whole village is tabooed for a day;
and within a few hours of death the body is rolled up in the sleeping
mat of the deceased, and carried by the “Peninu,” or sexton of the
village, to the place of burial or burning. The body is accompanied
for a little distance from the village by the women, uttering a loud
and melancholy lament. In one tribe--the Pemujan--the women follow
the corpse a short way down the path below the village to the spot
where it divides, one branch leading to the burning ground, the other
to the Chinese town of Siniawau. Here they mount upon a broad stone
and weep, and utter doleful cries till the sexton and his melancholy
burden have disappeared from view. Curiously enough, the top of this
stone is hollowed, and the Dayaks declare that this has been occasioned
by the tears of their women, which, during many ages, have fallen so
abundantly and so often as to wear away the stone by their continual
dropping.
In Western Sarawak the custom of burning the dead is universal. In the
district near the Samarahan they are indifferently burnt or buried,
and when the Sadong is reached, the custom of cremation ceases, the
Dayaks of the last river being in the habit of burying their dead. In
the grave a cocoa nut and areca nut are thrown; and a small basket
and one containing the chewing condiments of the deceased are hung up
near the grave, and if he were a noted warrior a spear is stuck in the
ground close by. The above articles of food are for the sustenance of
the soul in his passage to the other world.
The graves are very shallow, and not unfrequently the corpse is rooted
up and devoured by wild pigs. The burning also is not unfrequently very
inefficiently performed. “Portions of bones and flesh have been brought
back by the dogs and pigs of the village to the space below the very
houses of the relatives,” says Mr. St. John. “In times of epidemic
disease, and when the deceased is very poor, or the relatives do not
feel inclined to be at much expense for the sexton’s services, corpses
are not unfrequently thrown into some solitary piece of jungle not far
from the village, and there left. The Dayaks have very little respect
for the bodies of the departed, though they have an intense fear of
their ghosts.
“The office of sexton is hereditary, descending from father to son;
and when the line fails, great indeed is the difficulty of inducing
another family to undertake its unpleasant duties, involving, as it is
supposed, too familiar an association with the dead and with the other
world to be at all beneficial. Though the prospect of fees is good, and
perhaps every family in the village offers six gallons of unpounded
rice to start the sexton in his new and certainly useful career, it
is difficult to find a candidate. The usual burying fee is one jav,
valued at a rupee; though if great care be bestowed on the interment, a
dollar is asked; at other places as much as two dollars is occasionally
demanded.”
On the day of a person’s death a feast is given by the family to their
relations: if the deceased be rich, a pig and a fowl are killed; but if
poor, a fowl is considered sufficient. The apartment and the family in
which the death occurs are tabooed for seven days and nights, and if
the interdict be not rigidly kept, the ghost of the departed will haunt
the place.
Among the Sea Dayaks, as we are likewise informed by Mr. St. John,
human bodies are usually buried, although, should a man express a wish
to share the privilege of the priests, and be, like them, exposed on a
raised platform, his friends are bound to comply with his request.
Immediately after the breath has left the body, the female relations
commence loud and melancholy laments; they wash the corpse and dress
it in its finest garments, and often, if a man, fully armed, and bear
it forth to the great common hall, where it is surrounded by its
friends to be mourned over. In some villages a hireling leads the
lament, which is continued till the corpse leaves the house. Before
this takes place, however, the body is rolled up in clothes and fine
mats, kept together by pieces of bamboo tied on with rattans, and taken
to the burial-ground. A fowl is then killed as a sacrifice to the
spirit who guards the earth, and they commence digging the grave from
two and a half to four and a half feet deep, according to the person’s
rank: deeper than five feet would be unlawful. Whilst this operation
is going on others fell a large tree, and cutting off about six feet,
split it in two, and hollow out the pieces with an adze. One part
serves as a coffin and the other as the lid; the body is placed within,
and the two are secured together by means of strips of pliable cane
wound round them.
After the coffin is lowered into the grave, many things belonging to
the deceased are cast in, together with rice, tobacco, and betel-nut,
as they believe they may prove useful in the other world.
It was an old custom, but now falling into disuse, to place money, gold
and silver ornaments, clothes, and various china and brass utensils
in the grave; but these treasures were too great temptation to those
Malays who were addicted to gambling, and the rifling of the place of
interment has often given great and deserved offence to the relations.
As it is almost impossible to discover the offenders, it is now the
practice to break in pieces all the utensils placed in the grave, and
to conceal as carefully as possible the valuable ornaments.
The relatives and bearers of the corpse must return direct to the
house from which they started before they may enter another, as it
is unlawful or unlucky to stop, whatever may be the distance to
be traversed. Sea Dayaks who fall in battle are seldom interred,
but a paling is put round them to keep away the pigs, and they are
left there. Those who commit suicide are buried in different places
from others, as it is supposed that they will not be allowed to mix
in the “Seven-storied Sabayau,” or Paradise, with such of their
fellow-countrymen as come by their death in a natural manner, or
through the influence of the spirits.
Black is the sign of mourning among the Indians of North America, as
among us; but among these savage populations grief is manifested by
other signs than the gloomy colour of the dress. The Crows cut part
of their hair on the death of a relation. The widows of the Foxes,
as a sign of mourning, remain several months without changing their
clothes, or paying any other attention to their dress. This custom is
common to many tribes of the north. Among the Shahonees and several
other of the western population, those who have lost one of their
relatives manifest their grief by inflicting on themselves mutilations
and wounds. The mourning of an Indian for the loss of a relative
continues for at least six months. It generally consists in neglecting
his person, and painting his face black. A widow will generally mourn
the loss of her husband for a year. During all this time she appears
sincerely affected, never speaking to any one unless she is forced
to do so from necessity or propriety. She always seeks solitude, and
desires to remain alone, in order to abandon herself more freely to her
affliction. After her mourning is over, she resumes her best garments,
and paints herself as coquettishly as possible, in order to find
another husband.
The customs observed in the burial of the dead differ in different
tribes. The only observance common to them all is the singular one of
painting the corpses black. The Omahas swathe the bodies with bandages
made of skins, giving them the appearance of Egyptian mummies. Thus
enveloped they are placed in the branches of a tree, with a wooden
vase full of dried meat by their side, and which from time to time is
renewed. The Sioux bury their dead on the summit of a hill or mountain,
and plant on the tomb a cedar tree, which may be seen from afar. When
no natural elevation exists, they construct a scaffolding two or three
yards high.
The Chinooks, says the Abbé Dominech (from whose account of Indian
burial customs this description is chiefly derived), and some other
populations of Columbia and Oregon, have a more poetical custom. They
wrap the bodies of their dead in skins, bind their eyes, put little
shells in their nostrils, and dress them in their most beautiful
clothes; they then place them in a canoe, which is allowed to drift at
the pleasure of the winds and currents, on a lake, a river, or on the
Pacific Ocean.
When there is neither lake nor river nor sea near the village, the
funeral canoe is attached to the branches of the loftiest trees. These
aërial tombs are always so placed that the wild animals cannot reach
them; the favourite spots are solitary and wooded islands. These
sepulchral canoes are often moored in little bays, under shady trees
whose thick foliage overhang them like a protecting dome. There are
islands on the large rivers of Columbia where as many as twenty or
thirty of these canoes are attached to the cedars and birches on the
banks.
Not far from Columbia is a rock which serves as a cemetery for the
people of the neighbourhood. One perceives, on examining this village
of death, that the tribes of fishermen bestow the same religious care
on the dead as do the various tribes of hunters. In one case, as in the
other, the favourite objects he used while alive are placed by his side
in death. In Columbia, the oar and the net lie by the fisherman in his
funereal canoe; in the Great Prairies, the lance, the bow and arrows,
and often the war-horse, are buried in the grave with the hunter. To
the east as to the west of the Rocky Mountains, the savages venerate,
respect, and take care of their friends and relatives even after death.
The lamentations and prayers of the survivors are heard each day at
dawn and dusk wherever there are tombs.
In New Mexico the whites have singularly modified the customs of the
Indians; what remains of their ancient practices bears the impress at
once of the superstitious character of the natives, and of the habits
of the Spaniards. Thus, the inhabitants of Pueblo de Laguna, who are
half Christians, half followers of Montezuma, wrap the body of the
deceased in his ordinary garments, lay him in a narrow grave of little
depth, and place bread and a vase of water near him. They then throw
huge stones upon him with such violence as to break his bones, with the
notion that any evil spirit remaining in the carcase may be driven out
in the process.
The Sacs and Foxes place their dead, wrapped in blankets or buffalo
skins, in rude coffins made out of old canoes or the bark of trees, and
bury them; if the deceased was a warrior, a post is erected above his
head, painted with red lines, indicating the number of men, women, and
children he has killed during his life, and who are to be his slaves in
the land of shadows.
The Tahkalis burn the bodies of their dead. The medicine-man who
directs the ceremony makes the most extraordinary gesticulations and
contortions, for the purpose, as he pretends, of receiving into his
hands the life of the deceased, which he communicates to a living
person by laying his hands on his head, and blowing on him; the person
thus endowed takes the rank of the deceased, whose name he adds to
that he bore previously. If the dead man had a wife, she is obliged to
lay down on the funeral pyre while it is set on fire, and to remain
there till she is almost suffocated with smoke and heat. Formerly,
when a woman endeavoured to escape this torture, she was carried to
the fire and pushed in, to scramble out how she might. When the corpse
is consumed it is the duty of the widow to collect the ashes, place
them in a basket and carry them away. At the same time she becomes
the servant of her husband’s family, who employ her in all sorts of
domestic drudgery, and treat her very ill. This servitude continues
during two or three years, at the expiration of which period the
relatives of deceased assemble to celebrate the “feast of deliverance.”
At this solemnity a pole five or six yards in height is fixed in the
ground, to sustain the basket containing the ashes of the deceased,
which remain thus exposed till the pole, destroyed by time and the
elements, falls down. The widow then recovers her liberty, and can
marry again.
Mr. Paul Kane, in his “Wanderings of an Artist,” describes much
such a ceremony as observed by him in New Caledonia, which is east
of Vancouver’s Island and north of Columbia. Among the tribe called
“Taw-wa-tius,” and also among other tribes in their neighbourhood, the
custom prevails of burning the bodies, with circumstances of peculiar
barbarity to the widows of the deceased. The dead body of the husband
is laid naked upon a large heap of resinous wood; his wife is then
placed upon the body, and covered over with a skin; the pile is then
lighted, and the poor woman is compelled to remain until she is nearly
suffocated, when she is allowed to descend as best she can through
the flames and smoke. No sooner, however, does she reach the ground,
than she is expected to prevent the body from becoming distorted by
the action of the fire on the muscles and sinews; and wherever such an
event takes place, she must with her bare hands restore the burning
body to its proper position, her person being the whole time exposed
to the intense heat. Should she fail in the performance of this
indispensable rite, from weakness or the intensity of her pain, she is
held up by some one until the body is consumed. A continual singing and
beating of drums is kept up throughout the ceremony, which drowns her
cries.
Afterwards she must collect the unconsumed pieces of bone and the
ashes, and put them in a bag made for the purpose, and which she has
to carry on her back for three years; remaining for a time a slave to
her husband’s relations, and being neither allowed to wash nor comb
herself for the whole time, so that she soon becomes a very unpleasant
object to behold. At the expiration of three years a feast is given by
her tormentors, who invite all the friends and relations of her and
themselves. At the commencement they deposit with great ceremony the
remains of the burnt dead in a box, which they affix to the top of a
high pole, and dance round it. The widow is then stripped and smeared
from head to foot with fish-oil, over which one of the bystanders
throws a quantity of swans’-down, covering her entire person. After
this she is free to marry again, if she have the inclination and
courage enough to venture on a second risk of being roasted alive and
the subsequent horrors.
It has often happened that a widow, who has married a second husband in
the hope perhaps of not outliving him, commits suicide in the event of
her second husband’s death, rather than undergo a second ordeal.
[Illustration: A Mandan Chief.]
Among the Mandans, another tribe of North American Indians, burial is
unknown. A tract of land is set apart, and is known to all the tribes
as the “village of the dead.” When a Mandan dies he is wrapped in the
hide of a freshly-slaughtered buffalo, which is secured by thongs of
new hide. Other buffalo skins are soaked until they are soft as cloth,
and in these the already thoroughly enveloped body is swathed till the
bulk more resembles a bale of goods packed for exportation than a human
body. Within the bundle are placed the man’s bow and quiver, shield,
knife, pipe and tobacco, flint and steel, and provisions enough to last
him some time “on his long journey.” Then his relatives bear him on
their shoulders, and carry him to the cemetery, “where,” says Catlin,
“are numerous scaffolds, consisting of four upright poles some six
or seven feet in height. On the top of these are small poles passing
around from one corner post to another; across these are placed a row
of willow rods, just strong enough to support the body.”
[Illustration: Mandan Place of Skulls.]
On this scaffold, and with his feet towards the rising sun, the Mandan
is laid, and he is not disturbed till the scaffold poles decay, and
the buffalo coffin, still containing the Mandan’s bones, falls to the
earth. Then the relatives of the deceased, having received notice of
the circumstance, once more assemble at the cemetery and, digging a
hole, bury the bones--all except the skull; for this is reserved a
separate ceremony.
Apart from the willow biers may be seen circles of skulls, numbering
from fifty to a hundred, each about nine inches from its neighbour,
and with the face turned towards the centre. In this ghastly cordon
room is made, and the newly fallen skull added thereto, and ever after
regarded with the rest as an object of veneration, not only by those
who can claim with it family acquaintance, but by the whole tribe.
“Very frequently,” says Catlin, “the traveller may observe a wife, or
maybe a mother, of this sad remnant of mortality sitting down by the
side of the skull of its departed husband or child, talking to it in
the most endearing tones, and even throwing herself down to embrace
it, the while bewailing with loud and incessant cries; very often too
they will cut and hack themselves with knives as a punishment for any
offence they may have given their relative while alive.”
Among the Ojibbeways, as soon as the man is dead, they array him in his
best clothes, and as soon as possible place him in a coffin. If this
latter article is not available, he is wrapped in the best skins or
blankets the tent furnishes. A hole about three feet deep is dug, and
generally within twelve hours of his decease the man is buried, with
his head towards the west. By the side of his body is placed his former
hunting and war implements, such as his bow and arrow, tomahawk, gun,
pipe and tobacco, knife, pouch, flint and steel, medicine-bag, kettle,
trinkets, and other articles which he carried with him when going on
a long journey. The grave is then covered, and on the top of it poles
or sticks are placed lengthways, to the height of about two feet, over
which birch bark or mats form a covering to secure the body from the
rain. The relations or friends of the deceased then sit on the ground
in a circle round the head of the grave, when the usual offering to the
dead, consisting of meat, soup, or the fire-waters, is made. This is
handed to the people present in bowls, a certain quantity being kept
back for a burnt offering. While this is preparing at the head of the
grave, the old man, or speaker for the occasion, makes a prayer to
the soul of the departed, enumerating his good qualities, imploring
the blessing of the dead that his spirit may intercede for them, that
they may have plenty of game; he also exhorts his spirit to depart
quietly from them. They believe that the soul partakes of a portion
of the feast, and especially that which is consumed by fire. If the
deceased was a husband, it is often the custom for the widow, after the
burial is over, to spring or leap over the grave, and then run zigzag
behind the trees, as if she were fleeing from some one. This is called
running away from the spirit of her husband, that it may not haunt
her. In the evening of the day on which the burial has taken place,
when it begins to grow dark, the men fire off their guns through the
hole left at the top of the wigwam. As soon as this firing ceases, the
old women commence knocking and making such a rattling at the door as
would frighten away any spirit that would dare to hover near. The next
ceremony is to cut into narrow strips like ribbon, thin birch bark.
These they fold into shapes, and hang round inside the wigwam, so that
the least puff of wind will move them. With such scarecrows as these,
what spirit would venture to disturb their slumbers? Lest this should
not prove effectual, they will also frequently take a deer’s tail,
and after burning or singeing off all the hair, will rub the necks or
faces of the children before they lie down to sleep, thinking that the
offensive smell will be another preventive to the spirit’s entrance. “I
well remember,” says the Rev. Peter Jones, a Christianised Ojibbeway
and missionary, “when I used to be daubed over with this disagreeable
fumigation, and had great faith in it all. Thinking that the soul
lingers about the body a long time before it takes its final departure,
they use these means to hasten it away.
“I was present at the burial of an old pagan chief by the name of
Odahmekoo, of Muncey Town. We had a coffin made for him, which was
presented to his relatives; but before they placed the body in it, they
bored several holes at the head, in order, as they supposed, to enable
the soul to go in and out at pleasure.
“During the winter season, when the ground is frozen as hard as a rock
two or three feet deep, finding it almost impossible to penetrate
through the frost, having no suitable tools, they are obliged to wind
up the corpse in skins and the bark of trees, and then hang it on the
fork of a large tree, high enough to be beyond the reach of wolves,
foxes, and dogs, that would soon devour it. Thus the body hangs till
decomposition takes place, and the bones, falling to the ground, are
afterwards gathered up and buried.
“Immediately after the decease of an Indian all the near relatives go
into mourning, by blackening their faces with charcoal, and putting
on the most ragged and filthy clothing they can find. These they wear
for a year, which is the usual time of mourning for a husband or wife,
father or mother.
“At the expiration of a year the widow or widower is allowed to
marry again. Should this take place before the year expires, it is
considered, not only a want of affection for the memory of the dead,
but a great insult to the relations, who have a claim on the person
during the days of the mourning. The first few days after the death of
the relative are spent in retirement and fasting; during the whole of
their mourning they make an offering of a portion of their daily food
to the dead, and this they do by putting a part of it in the fire,
which burns while they are eating. I have seen my poor countrymen make
an offering of the fire-waters to the departed: they deem this very
acceptable, on account of its igniting the moment it touches the fire.
Occasionally they visit the grave of the dead, and there make a feast
and an offering to the departed spirit: tobacco is never forgotten at
these times. All the friends of the dead will for a long time wear
leather strings tied round their wrists and ankles, for the purpose of
reminding them of their deceased relative.”
It is a custom always observed by widows to tie up a bundle of clothes
in the form of an infant, frequently ornamented with silver brooches.
This she will lie with and carry about for twelve months, as a memorial
of her departed husband. When the days of her mourning are ended, a
feast is prepared by some of her relatives, at which she appears in her
best attire. Having for the first time for a twelvemonth washed herself
all over, she looks once more neat and clean.
The Shahonees bury their dead with everything belonging to them. The
Comanches generally bury a warrior with his arms and his favourite
horse; formerly his wives also shared the same fate, but this custom
has disappeared. Whilst the Sioux put striking marks on their tombs
that they may be easily distinguished, the Comanches cover them with
grass and plants to keep them concealed. Among the tribes of the west
the warriors are still sometimes buried on horseback, wrapped in their
richest dress, with bow in hand, buckler on arm, the quiver full of
arrows slung behind, the pipe and the medicine-bag hanging to the belt,
and supplied with a provision of tobacco and dried meat sufficient for
the voyage to the enchanted prairies.
The Assineboins, like several other tribes of the great American
desert, never bury their dead, but suspend them by thongs of leather
between the branches of the great trees, or expose them on scaffoldings
sufficiently high to place the body out of reach of the voracious wild
animals. The feet of the corpse are turned towards the rising sun; and
when the scaffoldings fall through old age, the bones are collected and
burned religiously within a circle formed of skulls. The sacred deposit
is guarded, as among the Mandans, by medicine-trees or posts, from
which amulets or medicine-bags are suspended.
On the death of a member of their tribe, the Potowatomies, the Ottawas,
and several other people of the north, distribute all the things which
belonged to the deceased to his friends. Some of them are Catholics,
and these fix on the tomb a great pole, at the summit of which floats
a banner ornamented with a black cross. Among these same tribes, when
a married man or woman dies, the survivor pays the debt of the body
by giving money, horses, and other presents to the relatives of the
deceased. The Ottawas sacrifice a horse on the tomb of the dead; they
strangle the animal by means of a noose, then cut off its tail and
suspend it to stakes fixed on the tomb. The women of the Crows also
pay the debt of the dead by making incisions deep in their own flesh.
The Chippewas are in the habit of lighting large fires on the tombs of
members of their family for several nights after the funeral.
As to the origin of this last-mentioned custom nothing is known; but
there exists among the Chippewas a legend which may be worth the
reader’s perusal as throwing some light on the subject.
“Once upon a time, many years ago, a war raged between the Chippewas
and their enemies, and the lands of the hostile tribes were red with
blood. It was then that a party of the Chippewas met a band of their
foes upon an open plain in the country of the Great Lakes. Meteewan,
the leader of the Chippewas, was a brave; his martial deeds were the
song of every youth who looked to obtain renown in the warpath; and
the young squaws talked of them at the fires. And never did the chief
act with more bravery or prudence than on this occasion. After he had,
by the strength of his arm, turned the battle against his enemies, and
while he was giving the great shout of victory, an arrow quivered in
his breast, and he fell upon the plain. No Indian warrior killed thus
is ever buried. According to old custom, he was placed in a sitting
posture upon the field of battle, his back supported by a tree, and
his face turned towards the path in which his enemies had fled. His
spear and club were placed in his hands, and his bow and quiver leaned
against his shoulder. So they left him.
[Illustration: “He heard them recount their valiant deeds.”]
“But was he gone to the land of spirits? Though he could not move, nor
speak, he heard all that had been said by his friends. He heard them
bewail his death and could not comfort them; he heard them speak of his
great deeds; he heard them depict the grief of his wife when she should
be told he was dead. He felt the touch of their hands, but his limbs
were bound in chains of strength, and he could not burst them. His
thoughts flowed as free as the great rivers; but his limbs were like
the fallen branches. His anguish, when he felt himself thus abandoned,
was heavy; but he was compelled to bear it. His wish to follow his
friends who were about to return to their wigwams so filled his mind,
that, after making a violent exertion, he rose, or seemed to rise, and
followed them.
But he was invisible; they neither saw his form nor heard his voice.
Astonishment, disappointment, rage filled him, while he attempted to
make himself heard, seen, or felt, and could not; but still he followed
on their track. “Wherever they went, he went; when they walked, he
walked; when they ran, he ran; when they built their fires, and sat
down, his feet were in the embers; when they slept, he slept; when they
awoke, he awoke. He heard them recount their valiant deeds, but he was
unable to tell them how much his own exceeded theirs; he heard them
paint the joys which awaited their return to their wigwams, but could
not say how much peace and how much love was in his.
“At length the war-party reached their village, and the women and
children came out to welcome their return. The old warrior whom
weakness had compelled to throw down the bow and the spear, and the
eagle-eyed boy who was fast hastening to take them up, did each his
part in making joy. The wife came forward with embraces, the timid
maiden with love weighing on her eyelids, to meet their braves. And if
an old warrior found not his son, he knew he had fallen bravely, and
grieved not; and if the wife found not her husband, she wept only a
little while: for was he not gone to the great Hunting Grounds?
“Still no one seemed conscious of the presence of the wounded chief.
He heard many ask for him; he heard them say that he had fought,
conquered, and fallen, pierced through his breast with an arrow, and
that his body had been left among the slain.
“‘It is not true,’ replied the indignant chief with a loud voice. ‘I
am here; I live! I move! See me! touch me! I shall again raise my
spear and bend my bow in the war path; I shall again sound my drum at
the feast.’ But nobody knew of his presence; they mistook the loudest
tones of his voice for the softest whisperings of the winds. He walked
to his own lodge; he saw his wife tearing her hair, and bewailing
him. He endeavoured to undeceive her, but she also was insensible to
his presence or his voice. She sat despairing, with her head upon her
hands. He told her to bind up his wounds, but she made no reply. He
then placed his mouth close to her ear and shouted, ‘Give me food.’ The
wife said, ‘It is a fly buzzing.’ Her enraged husband struck her upon
the forehead. She placed her hand to her head and said, ‘It is a little
arrow of pain.’
“Foiled thus in every attempt to make himself known, the chief began
to think upon what he had heard the priests and wise men say, that the
spirit sometimes left the body, and might wander. He reflected that
possibly his body had remained upon the field of battle, while his
spirit only accompanied his returning companions. He determined then
to return upon their track, though it was four days’ journey. He went.
For three days he pursued his way, and saw nothing; but on the fourth,
at evening, as he came to the skirts of the battle-field, he saw a fire
in the path. He walked on one side to avoid stepping into it, but the
fire also went aside, and was still before him. He went another way,
but the fire still burned in his path. ‘Demon!’ he exclaimed at length,
‘why dost thou keep my feet from the field of battle, where my body
lies? Knowest thou not that I am a spirit also, and seek again to enter
that body? Or dost thou say I shall return and do it not? Know that I
am a chief and a warrior, well tried in many a hard battle--I will not
be turned back.’
“So saying, he made a vigorous effort, and passed through the flame.
In this exertion he awoke from his trance, having lain eight days on
the field. He found himself sitting on the ground, with his back to
a tree, and his bow leaning against his shoulder, the same as they
had been left. Looking up, he beheld a large canieu, a war-eagle,
sitting upon the tree above his head. Then he knew this bird to be the
same he had dreamed of in his youth, and which he had taken as his
guardian spirit, his Manitou. While his body had lain breathless, this
friendly bird had watched it. He got up and stood upon his feet; but
he was weak, and it was a long time before he felt that his limbs were
his. The blood upon his wound had stanched itself; he bound it up.
Possessing, as every Indian does, the knowledge of medicinal roots, he
sought diligently in the woods for them, and obtained sufficient for
his purpose. Some of them he pounded between stones and placed upon
the wound, others he ate. So in a short time he found himself so much
recovered as to commence his journey. With his bow and arrows he killed
birds in the day, which he roasted before the fire at night. In this
way he kept hunger from him until he came to a water that separated his
wife and friends from him. He then gave that whoop which says a friend
is returned. The signal was instantly known, and a canoe came to bring
him across; and soon the chief was landed amidst many shouts. Then he
called his people to his lodge, and told them all that happened. Then
ever after it was resolved to build a fire by the dead warrior, that
he might have light and warmth, if he only dreamed as the chief had
dreamed.”
The Indians of Natchez carried to a still higher point their profound
veneration for those who were no more. At the funerals of their
relatives or friends they gave unequivocal signs of extreme and most
sincere grief. They did not burn the body, like the Greeks, the Romans,
and several American nations, but they placed it for a time in a coffin
of reed, and regularly brought it food in token of their love and
solicitude. This they continued till nothing remained of the body but
dry bones, which were then collected and placed in the funeral temple.
These temples of the dead only differed from the ordinary dwellings of
the Natchez in having a wooden head suspended over the entrance door.
Nothing could surpass their attachment to these relics of the departed
beings they had lost, and when they emigrated they generally carried
away the bones of their ancestors.
The interment of their sovereigns, or one of his near relations,
assumed with the Natchez the proportions of a public calamity. Such
funereal ceremonies were accompanied by a real voluntary massacre, in
which a multitude of individuals allied to the family of the deceased,
his friends or servants, were immolated. We will give, still through
the Abbé Dominech, a few examples of this custom, by citing some
details related in history concerning the death of the “Stung Serpent,”
brother of the “Great Sun.” As the number of victims to be sacrificed
during the funeral ceremony was very considerable, the officers of
Port Rosalie repaired to the village where the deceased had dwelt,
in order to save from death as many people as they could. Thanks to
the charitable intervention of the French, the number of victims was
limited to the two wives of the deceased, the chamberlain, physician,
servant, pipe-bearer, and a remarkably beautiful young Indian girl, who
had loved him greatly, and some old women, who were to be strangled
near the mortal remains of the noble dead.
The body of the “Stung Serpent” was clothed in beautiful garments, and
placed on a bed of state; his face was painted vermilion, on his feet
were beautiful embroidered mocassins, and on his head he wore a crown
of red and white feathers, as a prince of blood. By his side was placed
his gun, his pistol, his bow and a quiver full of arrows, and his best
tomahawk, with all the calumets of peace which had been offered to
him during his life. At the head of the bed was a red pole supporting
a chain of reeds also painted red, and composed of forty-six rings,
indicating the number of enemies he had killed in battle.
All the persons composing the household surrounded the deceased,
serving him from time to time as when in life; but as of course all the
food remained untouched, his servant called out, “Why do you not accept
our offerings? Do you no longer love your favourite meats? Are you
angry with us, and will you allow us no longer to serve you? Ah! you
speak to us no more as you used to do. You are dead! all is finished!
Our occupation is ended; and since you abandon us, we will follow you
to the land of spirits.” Then the servant uttered the death shout,
which was repeated by all present, and spread from village to village
to the farthest extremities of the country like a tremendous funeral
echo.
The beautiful young Indian, who would not survive her lover, raised her
voice in the midst of the general lamentations, and, addressing the
officers, said, “Chiefs and nobles of France, I see how much you regret
my husband. His death is indeed a great calamity for you, as well as
for your nation, for he carried them all in his heart. How he has left
us for the world of spirits; in two days I shall be with him, and I
will tell him that your hearts swelled with sadness at the sight of
his mortal remains. When I am no more, remember that our children are
orphans, remember that you loved their father, and let the dew of your
friendship fall in abundance on the children of him who was friendly to
you.”
The following day the grand master of the ceremonies came to fetch the
victims for the death dance, and led them in procession to the place
where they were to die. Each of them was accompanied by eight of his
nearest relatives, who were to perform the office of executioners: one
carried a tomahawk, and threatened every instant to strike the victim;
another carried the mat on which the sacrifice was to be made; a third
the cord which was to serve for the execution; a fourth bore the deer
skin which was to be placed on the head and shoulders of the condemned;
the fifth carried a wooden bowl containing the pills of tobacco which
the patient swallowed before dying; the sixth an earthen bottle full of
water, to facilitate the passage of the pills. The office of the last
two was to render the strangulation as speedy as possible, by drawing
the cord to the right and to the left of the patient.
These eight persons became noble after the execution: they walked two
and two after the victims, whose hair was painted red. On arriving at
the public place where the temple stood, all began to shout out the
death cry; the persons who were to be sacrificed placed themselves
on the mats, and danced the death dance. Their executioners formed a
circle round them, and danced the same dance; then all returned in
procession to the cabin of the deceased.
The inauspicious day of the funeral ceremony having arrived, the
legitimate wife of the “Stung Serpent” took leave of her children with
the following words. “The death of your father is a great loss. He
wills that I accompany him into the world of spirits, and I must not
let him wait for me in vain. I am in haste to depart, for since his
death I walk the earth with a heavy step. You are young, my children;
you have before you a long path, which you must pursue with a prudent
spirit and a courageous heart. Take care you do not tear your feet on
the thorns of duplicity and the stones of dishonesty. I leave you the
keys of your father’s inheritance, brilliant and without rust.”
The body of the prince was borne by eight guardians of the temple,
and preceded by a multitude of warriors, who, in walking, described
continual circles until they reached the temple where the body of
the “Stung Serpent” was deposited. The victims, after having been
strangled according to custom, were buried in the following order: the
two widows in the same tomb as their husband, the young Indian woman
to the right of the temple, and the chamberlain to the left. The other
bodies were removed to the different villages to which they belonged.
Then the dwelling of the “Stung Serpent” was fired, and burnt to its
foundations. Such were the barbarous and touching ceremonies observed
by the Natchez on the death of the highest dignitaries of their ancient
nation.
[Illustration: Dacotah Chief.]
CHAPTER XXIX.
Funeral rites in Damara land--The Koossan method of disposing
of the dead--The grave in the cattle fold--No recovering
spilt water--Coming out of mourning--No half mourning among
savages--The feast of release--The slave barracoon--A thousand
skeletons--The mortal remains of a Bechuana--The burying
ground at Fetich Point--The grave of old King Pass-all--A
Barrodo Beondo funeral--The late King Jemmy--Respect of the
Timannees for their dead--A Religious impostor--A funeral
at Mandingo--Strange behaviour of the mourners--By whose
“Griffee” did you die?--Burial of King Archibongo--His
devil-house--Funeral ceremonies in Madagascar--How the poor
Malagasey is disposed of--“Take that for dying”--Sepulchral
rites in Abyssinia--Burying in Sambo land--The demon
“Wulasha”--Blood rule in Dahomey--The very last grand
custom--Devil’s work--How a Dahoman king is buried--A pot for
the king’s bones.
Among the Damaras of South Africa the mode of disposing of the dead is
somewhat different from that practised by those who dwell in the more
remote parts of that country. Andersson tells us, that in the case
of the Damara, as soon as he dies (sometimes, indeed, it is horridly
rumoured, _before_ animation has ceased), his nearest kinsfolk
fetch a big stone and break the backbone, the more conveniently to
bundle and tie him nose and knees together. This accomplished, the
body is wrapped in the hide of an ox, a hole dug in the earth, and the
defunct squatted in with his face towards the north. This is done, say
the natives, to remind them where they originally came from.
When a poor Bechuana or Damara woman, having a helpless baby, dies,
it is no uncommon thing for the little creature to be placed with her
_alive_ in the hole dug for the reception of the adult body. Mr.
Rath, a missionary, happened on one occasion to approach a burial party
at which this atrocity was about to be committed, and was successful in
releasing the poor little thing.
“After having consigned the remains of a chief to his last
resting-place,” says Andersson, “they collect his arms, war-dress,
etc., and suspend them to a pole or to a tree at the head of the grave.
The horns of such oxen as have been killed in commemoration of the
occasion are hung up in a like manner. The tomb consists of a large
heap of stones surrounded by thorn bushes, no doubt to keep hyænas
and other carnivorous animals from extracting the corpse. Sometimes,
however, the chief, should he have expressed a wish to that effect,
instead of being buried is placed in a reclining position on a slightly
raised platform in the centre of his own hut, which in such a case is
surrounded by stout and strong palisadings.
[Illustration: Damara Tomb.]
“When a chief feels his dissolution approaching, he calls his sons to
his bedside and gives them his benediction, which consists solely in
wishing them an abundance of the good things of this world. The eldest
son of the chief’s favourite wife succeeds his father; and as soon as
the obsequies are over he quits the desolate spot, remaining absent for
years. At last, however, he returns, and immediately proceeds to his
parent’s grave, where he kneels down, and in a whispering voice tells
the deceased that he is there with his family and the cattle that he
gave him. He then prays for a long life; also that his herds may thrive
and multiply: and, in short, that he may obtain all those things that
are dear to a savage. This duty being performed, he constructs a kraal
on the identical spot where once the ancestral camp stood; even the
huts and the fireplaces are placed as near as possible in their former
position.
“The flesh of the first animal slaughtered here is cooked in a
particular vessel; and when ready the chief hands a portion of it to
every one present. An image consisting of two pieces of wood, supposed
to represent, the household deity, or rather the deified parent, is
then produced and moistened in the platter of each individual. The
chief then takes the image, and after affixing a piece of meat to the
upper end of it, he plants it in the ground on the identical spot where
the parent was accustomed to sacrifice. The first pail of milk produced
from the cattle is also taken to the grave; a small quantity is also
poured over the ground, and a blessing asked on the remainder.
Among the Koossas, a tribe of South African natives, as soon as they
perceive a sick man near his end, he is carried from his hut to some
solitary spot beneath the shade of a tree. A fire is then made, and a
vessel and water set near him. Only the husband or wife, or some near
relation, remains with him. If he appear dying, water is thrown over
his head, in hopes of its reviving him; but should this fail, and it
becomes apparent that death is approaching, he is left by everybody
but his wife; or should the sick person be a woman, then it is her
husband alone who stays with her. The relations, however, do not retire
to their homes; they gather at a distance, and from time to time the
dying person’s nurse calls out and lets them know how matters are
progressing, till comes the final announcement “he is dead.” When all
is over, the dead man’s relatives proceed to the nearest stream, and,
having purified themselves, return home.
The wife, however, who must pay the last duties to her husband,
cannot do this. She leaves the body, about which no one is any longer
solicitous, to become a prey to beasts and birds, and goes with a
firebrand taken from the fire that had been kindled near the dying man,
to some other solitary place, where she again makes a fire, and though
it should rain ever so hard, she must not suffer it to be extinguished.
In the night she comes secretly to the hut where she had lived with her
husband, and burns it, and then returns back to her solitude, where she
must remain a month entirely secluded from the world, and living the
whole time on roots and berries. When this period of solitary mourning
has expired, she divests herself of her clothes, which she destroys,
bathes, lacerates her breasts and her arms with a sharp stone, and
having made her a long petticoat of rushes returns at sunset to the
kraal.
At her desire a youth of the tribe brings her a lighted firebrand, and
exactly on the spot where her husband’s hut formerly stood she builds
a fire; some one of her tribe then brings her some new milk, with
which she rinses her mouth, and she is then acknowledged as completely
purified, and is received once more among her relations and friends.
Singularly enough, however, the cow from which the milk is drawn is,
on the contrary, rendered impure, and though not killed, is neglected
entirely and left to die a natural death. The day following the widow’s
return an ox is killed, and after feasting on its flesh, the skin is
given to her to make her a new mantle. Immediately after this her
sisters-in-law assist her in building a new hut, and she is completely
reinstated in social life.
A widower has nearly the same mourning ceremonies to observe, only
with this difference, that his seclusion lasts but half a month. He
then throws his garments away and prepares himself a new garment from
the skin of an ox. He takes besides the hair the tail of the ox, with
which he makes himself a necklace and wears it as long as it will last.
If a person dies suddenly the whole colony will shift, judging that
no further luck will attend them if they stay, and the body of the
suddenly defunct is allowed to remain exactly as it fell, and with the
hut for its sepulchre. If, however, the individual suddenly dying is a
young child, impurity is supposed to attach only to the hut in which it
died, and which is either pulled down or closed up for ever.
It is only the chiefs and their wives who are buried. They are left to
die in their huts; the corpse is then wrapped in the folds of their
mantle and a grave is dug in the cattle-fold. After the earth is thrown
in some of the oxen are driven into the fold and remain there, so that
the earth is entirely trodden down and indistinguishable from the rest.
The oxen are then driven out; but they by this process become sacred
oxen, and must by no man be slain for his eating.
The widows of the deceased have all the household utensils which they
and their husbands had used together; and after remaining three days
in solitude purify themselves according to the usual manner. They then
each kill an ox, and each makes herself a new mantle of its hide. The
kraal is then entirely deserted by the tribe and is never chosen as
a building site, even though it be highly eligible and the horde in
search of a site is entirely unknown to that belonging to which the
chief died. A chief whose wife dies has the same ceremonies to observe
as any other man, excepting that with him the time of mourning is only
three days. The place where the wife of a chief is buried is forsaken
in the same manner as in the case of the chief himself.
The Koossas have no priests or religious ceremonies, and consequently
but few traditions. They know of no power superior to that with which
ordinary mortals are invested except that professed by enchanters,
which are of two sorts--good and bad; the former being the more
powerful and able to frustrate the designs of the latter, provided
that he be called on in time and the transaction be made worth his
while. The Koossan enchanters are, as a rule, old women--poor wretches
who, doubtless, finding themselves past labour and objects of contempt
and impatience among their tribe, avail themselves of their long
experience of the weaknesses and superstitions of those by whom they
are surrounded, and boldly set up as witches as the most certain means
of gaining not only the goodwill of the people but also their awe and
respect.
Should a Koossan find himself at what he has reason to suspect to be
death’s door, he sends for an enchantress. The “magic woman,” after
hearing his case--never mind what it may be--proceeds to cure him; she
makes some pellets of cow-dung, and laying them in rows and circles
upon the man’s stomach, chants certain mysterious airs and dances and
skips about him; after a while she will make a sudden dart at her
patient and hold up to her audience a snake or a lizard, which the said
audience is to infer was at that moment, through her force of magic,
extracted from the seat of the patient’s ailment. If the sick man
should die the excuse is that the appointed time of life had expired
and that “there was no recovering spilled water,” or else she puts a
bold face on the matter and declares that at least two evil enchanters
were working against her, and that against such odds success was
hopeless. In his dealings with these enchanters, however, the Koossan
has this substantial security that no stone will be left unturned
to effect his cure--the fee is agreed on beforehand and posted with
a friend; should the patient grow well the friend delivers the ox,
or whatever the fee may consist of, to the doctress; if the patient
should die, or after a reasonable time find himself no better for the
old lady’s services, he fetches home his ox and there is an end to the
matter.
If, however, the patient be an exacting individual and inclined to
avail himself to the fullest of Koossan law, he, although quite
restored to health through the witch’s agency, may still refuse to pay
her her fee till she discovers and brings to justice the person who
enchanted him. As this, however, is a mere matter of hard swearing,
combined with a little discrimination in the selection of the victim,
the witch-doctress is seldom averse to undertake this latter business.
The whole tribe is collected on a certain day, and in their midst a hut
is built. To this hut the witch retires on the pretence that before
she can reveal the name of the malefactor she must sleep, that he
may appear before her in a dream. The people without in the meantime
dance and sing for a while, till at length the men go into the hut and
beg the enchantress to come forward. At first she hesitates; but they
take her a number of assagais as a present, and in a little while she
makes her appearance with the weapons in her hand. While staying in the
hut she has busied herself in painting her body all sorts of colours,
and with scarcely any other covering she stalks into the midst of the
assembled throng.
With loud compassion for her nudity the people hasten to pluck their
ox-hide mantles from their own shoulders and cast them on those of the
witch, till she is nearly overwhelmed by these demonstrations of their
solicitude. Suddenly, however, she starts up, flings off the cover of
mantles, and makes a rush towards a certain man or woman, striking him
or her with the bundle of assagais. For the unlucky wretch to protest
his innocence it is utterly useless. The rabble, chafing like other
beasts, seizes the evil doer and impatiently await the good witch’s
decision as to what had best be done with him--whether, for instance,
he shall be buried under an ant heap or put in a hole in the ground
and covered with large hot stones. Should the ant hill be his doom,
lingering torture and death are certain; but if he be a very strong man
he may resist the hot stone torture, and when night arrives may force
the terrible weights from off him, and dragging his poor scorched body
out of the hole make his escape. Never again, however, must he venture
among the people, who in all probability number among them his wife and
children; for should he do so he would be executed off hand and his
body thrown out to the hyænas.
In certain parts of the interior of Africa the custom of “waking” the
defunct is ordinarily practised. Du Chaillu had a serving man named
Tonda, and one day Tonda died, and the traveller having a suspicion
of the ceremony that would be performed visited the house of Tonda’s
mother, where the body lay. The narrow space of the room was crowded;
about two hundred women were sitting and standing around, singing
mourning songs to doleful and monotonous airs. “They were so huddled
together that for a while I could not distinguish the place of the
corpse. At last some moved aside, and behold! the body of my friend.
It was seated in a chair, dressed in a black tail coat and a pair of
pantaloons, and wore round its neck several strings of beads. Tonda’s
mother approaching her dead son, prostrated herself before him and
begged him to speak to her once more. A painful silence followed the
of course fruitless adjuration; but presently it was broken by the loud
hopeless wailing uttered by the bereaved woman, the rest of the company
making dolorous chorus.”
[Illustration: African Wake.]
The savages of Central Africa do not wear black for their departed
relatives, unless indeed an accumulative coat of dirt may be so called;
for it is a fact that among these people the way to express extreme
sorrow is to go unwashed and very dirty. Besides, they wear about their
bodies any ragged cloth that comes handy, and altogether evidently
endeavour to convey the idea that now so-and-so is dead their relish
for life is at an end, and that the frivolous question of personal
appearance is no longer worth discussing. To their credit be it named,
however, they are not guilty of the monstrous civilized custom of
_half_-mourning. They don’t immediately on the death of a friend
don attire and virtually proclaim, “See how sorry I am!--see my jetty
gown or coat and the black studs in my shirt-front!” nor do they, when
the deceased has passed away three months or less, streak their black
with white and proclaim, “I am a _little_ more cheerful--you may
see how much by the breadth of the white stripe in my ribands.” The
African is happily ignorant of these grades of grief; when he sorrows
he sorrows to the very dust, but between that mood and boisterous
merriment is with him but a single skip. Thus when the mourning period
has expired (it varies from one to two years) a day is appointed for
the breaking-up of mourning-time and a return to the bright side of the
world. The friends and relatives and the widows (there are often six
or seven of them) come in gangs of ten or a dozen from villages far
off--some by the road, and some in their canoes, and none empty-handed.
Each one is provided with a jar of _mimbo_ or palm wine, and
_something that will make a row_--gunpowder, kettles with round
stones to shake in them, drums, tom-toms, and whistles made of reed.
The row is the leading feature of the breaking-up, and is called
_bola woga_. Virtually the mourning is over the evening before the
ceremony commences, for the company have all arrived, as has the dead
man’s heir (who, by-the-by, can, if he chooses, claim and take home
every widow on the establishment), and the bereaved wives, albeit as
yet uncleansed from their long-worn and grimy mourning suit, are full
of glee and giggle, and have pleasant chat among themselves concerning
the gay rig out they will adopt to-morrow.
To-morrow comes. Early in the morning the village is informed that the
widows are already up and have already partaken of a certain magic
brew that effectually divorces them from their weeds. The gun firing
is likewise the signal for as many as choose to come and take part in
the jollification, and as it invariably happens that as many as like
unlimited _mimbo_ accept the invitation, the entire population
may presently be seen wending one way--toward the feast house. There
they find mats spread not only about the house, but down the street
that leads to it, and there they find the cleanly-washed widows decked
in spotless calico and wearing anklets and wristlets heavy enough to
account for their sedate mien. Then all the guests, having taken care
that floods of _mimbo_ are within easy reach, take their seats,
and more guns are fired, and the orgie commences, and concludes not
till every jar of palm wine has been broached, all the gunpowder
expended, every drum-head beaten in, and every kettle hammered into
a shapeless thing by the banging of the stones within. The rising
moon finds them to a man huddled in every possible attitude about the
wine-stained mats, helplessly drunk and with each other’s carcases, and
cooking pots, and jars, and fractured drums as pillows. Next day the
house of the deceased is razed to the ground, and the mourning for the
rich man with many wives is at an end.
While Du Chaillu was sojourning at Sangatanga, the domains of a certain
African king named Bango, whose chief revenue is derived from dealing
in slaves and by taxing the slave “factors” whose “barracoons” (as
the slave warehouses are called) are situated on the coast there;
he was witness to the disposal of the body of a poor wretch who had
fortunately died before he could be bought, hauled aboard a slaver,
and “traded-off” anywhere where the market was briskest. If anything
can be told in connexion with the hideous system further to disgust
its enemies--which happily includes every man in England’s broad
dominions--it is such stories as the following:
“During my stay in the village, as I was one day shooting birds in a
grove not far from my house, I saw a procession of slaves coming from
one of the barracoons towards the further end of my grove. As they came
nearer I saw that two gangs of six slaves each, all chained about the
neck, were carrying a burden between them, which I presently knew to
be the corpse of another slave. They bore it to the edge of the grove,
about three hundred yards from my house, and there throwing it down
upon the bare ground returned to their prison, accompanied by their
overseer, who with his whip had marched behind them hither. Here,
then, is the burying-ground of the barracoon, I said to myself sadly,
thinking, I confess, of the poor fellow who had been dragged away from
his home and friends to die here and be thrown out as food for the
vultures, who even as I stood in thought began already to darken the
air above my head and were presently heard fighting over the remains.
“The grove, which was in fact but an African aceldama, was beautiful to
view from my house, and I had often resolved to explore it and rest in
the shade of its dark-foliaged trees. It seemed a ghastly place enough
now, as I approached it to see more closely the work of the disgusting
vultures. They fled when they saw me, but only a little way, sitting
upon the lower branches of the surrounding trees watching me with eyes
askance, as though fearful I would rob them of their prey.
“As I walked towards the body I felt something crack under my feet,
and looking down saw that I was already in the midst of the field of
skulls. I had inadvertently stepped into the skeleton of some poor
creature who had been thrown here long enough ago for the birds and
ants to pick his bones clean and the rains to bleach them. I think
there must have been a thousand such skeletons lying within my sight.
The place had been used for many years, and the mortality in the
barracoons is sometimes frightful. Here the dead were thrown, and here
the vultures found their daily carrion. The grass had just been burned,
and the white bones scattered everywhere gave the ground a singular,
and when the cause was known, a frightful appearance. Penetrating a
little farther into the bush, I found great piles of bones.
[Illustration: The “Master of Life” as represented in Equatorial
Africa.]
“Here was the place where, when years ago Cape Lopez was one of the
great slave markets on the west coast and barracoons were more numerous
than now, the poor dead were thrown one upon another till even the
mouldering bones remained in high piles as monuments of the nefarious
traffic.”
In Angola, in cases of death the body is kept several days, and there
is a grand concourse of both sexes, with beating of drums, dances, and
debauchery kept up with feasting, etc., according to the means of the
relatives. The great ambition of many of the blacks of Angola is to
give their friends an expensive funeral. Often when one is asked to
sell a pig he replies, “I am keeping it in case of the death of any of
my friends.” A pig is usually slaughtered and eaten on the last day of
the ceremonies, and its head thrown into the nearest stream or river.
A native will sometimes appear intoxicated on these occasions, and if
blamed for his intemperance will reply, “Why, don’t you know that my
mother is dead,” as if he thought it a sufficient justification. The
expenses of funerals are so heavy that often years elapse before they
can defray them.
The Bechuanas of Southern Africa generally bury their dead. The
ceremony of interment, etc., varies in different localities and is
influenced by the rank of the deceased. But the following is a fair
specimen of the way in which these obsequies are managed:
On the approaching dissolution of a man, a skin or net is thrown over
the body, which is held in a sitting posture with the knees doubled
up under the chin, until life is extinct. A grave is then dug--very
frequently in the cattle-fold--six feet in depth and about three in
width, the interior being rubbed over with a certain large bulb. The
body, having the head covered, is then conveyed through a hole made for
the purpose in the house and the surrounding fence and deposited in
the grave in a sitting position, care being taken to put the face of
the corpse against the north. Portions of an ant-hill are placed about
the feet, when the net which held the body is gradually withdrawn.
As the grave is filled up the earth is handed in with bowls, while
two men stand in the hole to tread it down round the body, great care
being taken to pick out anything like a root or pebble. When the earth
reaches the height of the mouth, a small twig or branch of an acacia
is thrown in, and on the top of the head a few roots of grass are
placed. The grave being nearly filled, another root of grass is fixed
immediately over the head, part of which stands above ground. When this
portion of the ceremony is over, the men and women stoop, and with
their hands scrape on to the little mound the loose soil lying about.
A large bowl of water, with an infusion of bulbs, is now brought, when
the men and women wash their hands and the upper part of their legs,
shouting “Pùla, pùla” (rain, rain). An old woman, probably a relation,
will then bring the weapons of the deceased (bows, arrows, war-axe,
and even the bone of an old pack ox), with other things. They finally
address the grave, saying, “These are all your articles.” The things
are then taken away and bowls of water are poured on the grave, when
all retire, the women wailing, “Yo, yo, yo,” with some doleful dirge,
sorrowing without hope.
Here is another singular picture of an African burying-ground:
“Near Fetich Point is the Oroungou burying-ground, and this I went to
visit the following morning. It lay about a mile from our camp, toward
Sangatanga, from which it was distant about half-a-day’s pull in a
canoe. It is in a grove of noble trees, many of them of magnificent
size and shape. The natives hold this place in great reverence, and
refused at first to go with me on my contemplated visit, even desiring
that I should not go. I explained to them that I did not go to laugh
at their dead, but rather to pay them honour. But it was only by the
promise of a large reward that I at last persuaded Niamkala, who was of
our party, to accompany me. The negroes visit the place only on funeral
errands, and hold it in the greatest awe, conceiving that here the
spirits of their ancestors wander about, and that these are not lightly
to be disturbed. I am quite sure that treasure to any amount might be
left here exposed in perfect safety.
“The grove stands by the seashore. It is entirely cleared of underbush,
and as the wind sighs through the dense foliage of the trees and
whispers in the darkened and somewhat gloomy grove, it is an awful
place, even to an unimpressible white man. Niamkala stood in silence
by the strand while I entered the domains of the Oroungou dead. They
are not put below the surface; they lie about beneath the trees in
huge wooden coffins, some of which by their new look betokened recent
arrival, but by far the greater number were crumbling away. Here was a
coffin falling to pieces, and disclosing a grinning skeleton within. On
the other side were skeletons already without covers, which lay in dust
beside them. Everywhere were bleached bones and mouldering remains.
It was curious to see the brass anklets and bracelets in which some
Oroungou maiden has been buried still surrounding her whitened bones,
and to note the remains of goods which had been laid in the same coffin
with some wealthy fellow now mouldering to dust at his side. In some
places there remained only little heaps of shapeless dust, from which
some copper or iron or ivory ornament gleamed out to prove that here
too once lay a corpse. Passing on to a yet more sombre gloom, I came
at last to the grave of old King Pass-all, the brother of his present
majesty. The coffin lay on the ground, and was surrounded on every
side with great chests, which contained the property of his deceased
majesty. Among these chests, and on the top of them, were piled huge
earthenware jugs, glasses, mugs, plates, iron pots and bars, brass and
copper rings, and other precious things, which this old Pass-all had
determined to carry at last to the grave with him. And also there lay
around numerous skeletons of the poor slaves who were, to the number
of one hundred, killed when the king died, that his ebony kingship
might not pass into the other world without due attendance. It was a
grim sight, and one which filled me with a sadder awe than even the
disgusting barracoon ground.”
In matters of death and burial, as in all other matters pertaining to
savagery, Western Africa stands conspicuous. “At the town of Ambago,”
says Hutchinson, “when all preliminaries are arranged, they carry
the corpse to its last resting-place, accompanied by the surviving
relatives, male and female, who bear in a small package a portion of
the hair, nails, etc., of the deceased. When arrived at the secluded
place which has been prepared to receive the body they deposit it in
its last resting-place. Over this they erect a tomb, on which, in a
sort of niche, are placed various small earthen or hardware figures,
plates, mugs, bottles, etc., together with a variety of edibles; the
receptacle prepared to receive these being called quindumbila. After
the ceremony, the survivor--husband or wife--is carried from the grave
on the back of a person of the same sex, and thrown into the river for
ablution or purification. On coming up out of the river, the individual
is conveyed back to his residence, where he is obliged to remain
secluded for eight days, during which time he must not converse with
any person of the opposite sex, nor eat anything that has been boiled,
nor wash himself during these days of obit. The friends, meanwhile,
enjoy a feast of fowls and other delicacies which has been prepared
for the occasion, after which they each make a present to the mourner
of something preparatory to the celebration of the great batuque,
or dance. If unable to provide for the expense of the funeral, some
relative or friend generally becomes security for its payment; this is
called “gungo.” After the eight days have elapsed the room is swept,
and the mourner is permitted to enjoy comfortable and warm food. On
this occasion the eldest child or heir (if any) is brought in and made
to sit down on a benza,--a small square seat made of bamboos. They
then place upon his head a caginga, or calotte, a kind of hat or cap
made of palm straw interwoven, and demand that all the papers belonging
to the deceased be produced, that they may learn what his will was in
reference to the disposal of his property, and whether he had given
liberty to any of his slaves. The nearest of kin is looked upon as the
legitimate heir, and accordingly takes possession of all the moveable
property.”
Valdez, the African traveller, furnishes some curious examples of the
death and funeral ceremonials of the inhabitants of many remote Western
African towns. As for instance at Barrodo Beondo:
“Attracted by a strange noise proceeding from the river, I went to
ascertain what it was. On arriving at the landing-place I learned that
it proceeded from a number of persons who formed an itame, or funeral
procession, of a Muxi Loanda who had just died. When any person dies
the mourners commence a great lamentation and manifest apparently the
most extravagant grief. The corpse is first wrapped in a number of
cloths with aromatics and perfumes; it is then conveyed to the place of
interment, followed by a large cortege of the relatives and friends of
the deceased, the females who accompany the funeral procession being
dressed in a long black cloak with a hood which covers the head.
“On the present occasion the Muxi Loanda not being a Christian was
buried in a place not far distant from the road, and the grave covered
with small stones, a paddle or oar being placed on it in commemoration
of the profession of the deceased. Many graves are thus marked by the
distinctive insignia of office of those interred in them.
“There is another singular custom amongst these people, that of one of
the survivors, the nearest of kin to the deceased, being obliged to lie
in the bed that was lately occupied by him for the space of three days
from the time of removal. During this period the mourning relatives
make lamentation at stated intervals each day--namely, at day-break,
sunset, and midnight. At the expiration of eight days the relatives and
friends reuniting, resume their lamentations and recount the virtues
and good deeds of the deceased, occasionally exclaiming ‘Uafu!’ (he is
dead), all present at the same time joining in a chorus and exclaiming
‘Ay-ú-é (woe is me). At the expiration of the eighth day they go in
solemn procession, headed by the chief mourner, to the sea-side, river,
or forest, whichever is nearest, bearing the skull of the pig upon
which they had feasted, and on this occasion they suppose that the
zumbi or soul of the deceased enters eternal happiness. One month
after death the relatives and friends again assemble together and hold
a great feast, at which they consume great quantities of cachassa or
rum, and which they terminate with that lascivious dance the bateque.”
Among the Bulloms and the Timannees, we are informed by Winterbottom,
the chief solemnity and magnificence of their funerals consists in the
quantity of rum and tobacco expended upon the occasion, which they
call “making a cry.” Among the poorer sort this ceremony is sometimes
deferred for several months after the body is buried, until they can
procure a sufficient quantity of these indispensable articles to
honour the memory of the deceased. The funeral or “cry” of Mr. James
Cleveland (a favourite European official), owing to some considerations
of policy in his successor, was not solemnized until near three years
after the body had been buried. During the time which elapsed from his
death until the “cry” was celebrated a bed was kept constantly prepared
for him in the palaver house, water was placed by the bedside for his
hands, and also meat for him to eat. Upwards of twenty puncheons of
rum, together with a large quantity of tobacco, were consumed at the
celebration of his “cry.”
“King Jemmy,” a native chief who resided within a mile of the
settlement of Sierra Leone, died at a town on the river Bunch, whither
he had been removed about ten days for the benefit of medical aid,
and probably to escape from the witchcraft which he conceived to be
practised against him. The body was removed to his own town the day
after his death and placed in the palaver house. A message was sent
to the governor of Sierra Leone to solicit him to help the people to
cry for king Jemmy. About half-past four in the afternoon the body was
taken from the palaver house, where it was attended by a number of
women, to the grave, which was dug about four feet deep, just without
the town. The corpse being placed by the side of the grave, a number
of questions were put to it by different persons who stooped down to
the coffin for that purpose. Pa Denba (a neighbouring head man), in a
speech of some minutes, which he addressed to the deceased as if he
had been still alive, expressed his great grief in having lost so good
a father; he further added that he and all the people had wished the
deceased to stay with them; but as he had thought proper to leave them
they could not help it, but he and all the people wished him well. Some
others of the head men expressed themselves in a similar manner. The
umbrella belonging to the deceased was put into the coffin because,
they said, he liked to walk with it. The pillow which he commonly used
was laid in the grave beneath the head of the coffin. The queen or head
woman stood sorrowing by the side of the grave, having his hat in her
hand, which she was going to put into the grave, but was prevented by
one of the head men, who probably reserved it for his own use. When the
corpse was let down into the grave, which was done with great care,
each of the spectators took a handful of earth and threw it on the
coffin--most of them threw it backwards over their shoulder. When the
speeches were finished, a friend of Mr. Winterbottom, who represented
the governor upon the occasion, was asked if he would not “shake king
Jemmy by the hand.” Upon requesting an explanation, he was desired to
say a prayer white man’s fashion, which was done, not for the dead but
for the living, by the chaplain of the colony, who was also present.
Several pieces of kola were put into the grave for the king to eat, and
his neckerchief for him to wear.
The Timannees are, it would seem, mighty particular as to the care
of their graves. When Mr. Laing was exploring their country, a man
belonging to his party had unconsciously committed a trifling indignity
upon the supposed grave of a Timannee’s father, who immediately brought
a palaver against him. The man charged with the offence protested that
he was ignorant that the ground on which he had stood had covered
the remains of any one, as there was no apparent mark to distinguish
it from other ground, and that had he known it he would have been
more circumspect; but the apparently injured Timannee insisted on
satisfaction, and, according to the custom of the country, demanded
a fine of two “bars,” one of cloth and the other of rum. These Mr.
Laing immediately paid, being always desirous to conciliate (as far as
he could) the goodwill of the natives. The Timannee, however, being
ignorant of the motive, and supposing by his easy compliance that the
traveller might be still further imposed upon, made an extra demand of
two additional bars, on the ground that if a poor man would be obliged
to pay two, the follower of a rich white man ought to pay four. This
additional demand was, however, not only refused, but the previous
presents were taken back; Mr. Laing stating that he had no objection to
conform to their customs, but when he saw that the object was extortion
and not satisfaction for a supposed injury done to the dead, he would
give nothing, being well convinced that no man belonging to his party
would do any wrong in the country intentionally. “The head men, who
were judges of the palaver, were satisfied, and gave their voice
against their own countryman, who, on retiring, went to his household
greegree, and making sacrifice of a fowl and some palm wine, addressed
it for more than an hour, requesting that it would kill the man who had
defiled his father’s grave; ‘If he eats, make his food choke him; if he
walk, make the thorns cut him; if he bathes, make the alligators eat
him; if he goes in a canoe, make it sink with him; but never, never,
let him return to Sierra Leone.’ This curious anathema was sung to a
sort of tune so pathetic that had I heard its mournful intonation,
accompanied by the earnest gesticulation of the Timannee, without
knowing the cause, it must have excited my most sincere commiseration;
as it was, I regretted that the powers of mimicry, with which this
people are gifted, should aid them so much in the art of dissimulating
as to enable them frequently to impose even upon one another. The
appeal had nearly turned the tables against our countryman, and
probably would have done so effectually, had not a greegree man come
forward and declared the whole affair an imposition fabricated for the
sake of procuring money, for he knew that my man had never been near
the grave of the supplicant’s father.”
While the gentleman who relates the above incident was at Mabung a
young girl died rather suddenly, and previous to her interment, the
following practices were observed:
“The moment that life fled from the body, a loud yell was uttered from
the throats of about a hundred people who had assembled to watch the
departing struggles of nature, after which a party of several hundred
women, some of them beating small drums, sallied through the town,
seizing and keeping possession of every moveable article which they
could find out of doors; the cause or origin of this privilege I could
not ascertain. A few hours after the death of the girl, the elders
and the greegree men of the town assembled in the palaver-hall and
held a long consultation or inquest as to the probable cause of the
death. It was enquired whether any one had threatened her during her
lifetime, and it was long surmised that she might have been killed by
witchcraft. Had the slave trade existed, some unfortunate individual
might have been accused and sold into captivity; but its suppression in
this country permitted the Magi, after a tedious consultation of three
days, to decide that the death had been caused by the agency of the
devil. During the two first nights of those days large parties paraded
the town, yelling, shouting, and clapping hands to keep away the wrath
of the greegrees, and on the third, being the night on which the body
was interred, considerable presents of rice, cassada, cloth, and palm
wine were deposited at the greegree houses to appease the evil spirits,
and to beg they would kill no more people. At midnight five or six men,
habited in very singular and unsightly costumes, made their appearance,
and taking away the presents, intimated that all the evil spirits were
satisfied, and that nobody should die in the town for a long period.
Dancing and revelry then took place, and continued till long after
daylight.”
Again he tells us--“A young Mandingo negro was celebrating the funeral
of his mother, who had been dead about a fortnight. On the very day of
her death I had been attracted to the neighbourhood by the sound of
the music. I saw in the court-yard two large drums, made like ours,
and some persons were beating them and clashing cymbals. The cymbals
consist of two pieces of iron, about five inches long and two and
a half wide. The two negroes who were beating the drums held these
cymbals in their left hands. Each of the pieces of iron has a ring,
one is passed over the thumb and the other over the forefinger, and by
a movement of the hand they are struck together in regular time. The
women of the neighbourhood brought little presents by way of showing
respect to the deceased. A large circular basket was placed exactly
in the centre of the yard to receive the offerings. The women having
deposited their presents assumed a grave look, and ranging themselves
in a file, marched along, keeping time to the music, and making motions
with their hands and heads expressive of sorrow. Sometimes they beat
time by clapping their hands while they sang a melancholy song. The
scene continued the whole of the day. I enquired whether the presents
which had been brought in honour of the deceased were to be buried with
her, for the Bambaras observe this superstitious custom.
“Four little boys, whose bodies were covered with leaves of trees well
arranged, and whose heads were adorned with plumes of ostrich feathers,
held in each hand a round basket with a handle, in which were bits of
iron and pebbles. They kept time with the music, jumping and shaking
their baskets, the contents of which produced a strange jingling.
There were two leaders of the band who regulated the intervals when
the performers were to play. They wore beautiful mantles of cotton
network, very white and fringed round. On their heads they had black
caps edged with scarlet and adorned with cowries and ostrich feathers.
The musicians stood at the foot of a baobab. The assemblage was
numerous and all were well dressed. The men were tricked out in all
their finery. I saw several with little coussabes of a rusty colour and
almost covered with amulets rolled up in little pieces of yellow cloth.
Some were armed with muskets, and others with bows and arrows, as if
prepared for combat. They also wore large round straw hats of their
own native manufacture. They walked all together round the assembled
circle, leaping and dancing to the sound of the music, which I thought
very agreeable. Sometimes they appeared furious, firing their muskets
and running about with threatening looks. The men with bows and arrows
appeared as if on the point of rushing on an enemy, and they pretended
to shoot their arrows. The men were followed by a number of women, all
neatly dressed, having about their shoulders white pagones, or mantles
of native cloth, which they tossed about from side to side, while they
walked to the sound of the music and observed profound silence. Those
who were fatigued withdrew and their places were immediately supplied
by others. When they left the party they ran away very fast and were
followed by some of the musicians, who accompanied them playing as far
as their huts, where they received a small present. About the middle
of the festival all the male relatives of the deceased made their
appearance, dressed in white. They walked in two files, each carrying
in his hand a piece of flat iron which they struck with another smaller
piece. They walked round the assembly, keeping time, and singing a
melancholy air. They were followed by women who repeated the same song
in chorus and at intervals clapped their hands. Next came the son of
the deceased, who was well dressed and armed with a sabre. He did not
appear much affected, and after having walked round the assembly he
withdrew, and the warlike dancers were renewed. The whole festival was
arranged by two old men, relatives of the deceased. They addressed
the assembled party and delivered an eulogium on the good qualities
of their departed kinswoman. The festival ended with a grand feast,
during which the goat which was killed in the morning was eaten. I
remarked with pleasure the good order which prevailed throughout the
entertainment, which was kept up with great merriment. The young people
danced almost the whole of the night. The son of the deceased withdrew
from the supper which he had provided for his friends, and came to
partake of ours.”
In Sierra Leone when any one dies, if it be a man, the body is
stretched out and put in order by men; if a woman, that office is
performed by females. Before the corpse is carried out for interment,
it is generally put upon a kind of bier composed of sticks formed
like a ladder, but having two flat pieces of board for the head and
feet to rest upon. This is placed upon the heads of two men, while
a third standing before the body, and having in his hand a length
of reed called _cattop_, proceeds to interrogate it respecting
the cause of its death. He first advances a step or two towards the
corpse, shakes the reed over it, and immediately steps back; he then
asks a variety of questions, to which assent is signified by the
corpse impelling the bearers, as is supposed, towards the man with the
reed, while a negative is implied by its producing a kind of rolling
motion. It is first asked, “Was your death caused by God on account
of your great age and infirmities, or (if a young person) because he
liked to take you?” If this question be answered in the affirmative,
which is seldom if ever the case, the inquest closes and the burial
takes place; if not, the examiner proceeds to enquire, “Was your death
caused by your bad actions?” (in other words, on account of your being
a witch). If assent be signified, the next question is “By whose
griffee (witchery) was it caused--was it by such an one’s or such an
one’s?” naming a number of persons in succession, until, at last,
an affirmative reply is obtained. The reply generally attributes to
the griffee of the head man of the place the merit of destroying the
man,--a circumstance which enhances the dread of the power of the head
man’s demon, and is supposed to operate in deterring others from evil
practices. If it should appear, however, that the decease was not put
to death for being “bad,” an expression synonymous with being a witch,
the body is asked, “Was your death caused by a man or a woman in such a
town (naming a number of towns), belonging to such a family,” naming as
many as the enquirer chooses, until an answer has been obtained which
fixes the guilt of killing the deceased by witchcraft on one or more
individuals. These, if they have friends to plead for them, are allowed
the privilege of appealing to one of their witchcraft ordeals in proof
of their innocence; but if not, they are sold. A confession of the
crime is also followed by being sold for slaves.
The reader has already been made aware of the many curious ceremonies
finding favour at Old Kalabar, but on the authority of Mr. Hutchinson,
who was frequently an eye-witness of them, the rites connected with
their funeral obsequies are the most singular of all:
“At the death of ‘Iron Bar,’ a very respectable trader, and of the
late king Archibongo, I saw the absurdity of these rites carried out
to their fullest extent. At ‘Iron Bar’s,’ as I went into the yard,
there was a dense crowd gathered round what was supposed to be his
grave, which was made in the room where he died, and sunk to a depth
of ten or twelve feet, that it might hold all the things put into
it for his use in the next world. At the head of his grave a palm
oil light was burning with a livid flame, and cast a dim shade over
a man who had descended into it for the purpose of arranging his
furniture--brass pans, copper rods, mugs, jugs, pots, ewers, tureens,
plates, knives, forks, spoons, soap, looking-glasses, and a heap of
Manchester cloth, all impaired in their integrity by a slight fracture
or a tear. In the evening I visited the place again. The grave was
filled up and levelled. Over it was placed a number of mats, on which
were squatted a score of women. In all the apartments of the court
numbers of the soft sex were in a like position, and kept up the most
dismal and dolorous mourning it is possible for the imagination to
conceive. I find it out of my power to convey any idea of the sensation
it communicated to me. It was not harsh, it was not loud, it was not
crying, nor was it shrieking; it bore no resemblance to an Irish wake,
or to the squalling of a congregation of cats; but it was a puling,
nauseating, melancholy howl, that would have turned my stomach long
before it could have affected my brain. Over the grave, and suspended
by a string from the roof, was a living cock, tied up by his legs,
with its beak pointed downward. There is always a hole left in the
side of the grave, through which, from time to time, rum or mimbo is
poured for the spirit’s refreshment. With this there are also erected,
within the house, or on the public road, or by the river’s side, what
are called ‘devil houses,’ of which Iron Bar’s were good specimens.
There were three structures of this kind constructed for him; one in
the court attached to the house, one outside, and one on the beach,
adjoining the canopy, overspread the bamboo roof placed to shelter the
table, and over this again was a trio of parasols, two crimson and one
blue, of silk material, and white fringe to each. Around the table
were three large sofas, and at either end of the roof a pendant glass
lamp. But the greatest display was on the table. In the centre was a
large mirror, with a huge brass jug behind it; on either side, and
covering every spare inch of the table, heaped over each other as high
up as an equilibrium could be sustained, were monster jugs, decanters,
tumblers, soup tureens, flower vases, bottles and mugs of all shapes
and sizes, china and glass articles, as much as would stock a large
shop; all being damaged like the articles placed in the graves, perhaps
on the supposition that their materiality should be destroyed in order
to allow the spirit to escape with them, for the ghostly company they
were intended to serve, or perhaps, and more likely, to render them
useless to any of the thieving fraternity, who in the practice of their
science might stray in the road of these establishments. In another of
the ‘devil-houses’ a quantity of cooked meat, cooked plaintain, and the
pounded yam called _foo-poo_, were placed in calabashes for the
refreshment of himself and those who were to be his fellow-travellers
in the world of spirits. It shows clearly that they have a belief in
a future existence, because these ‘devil-houses’ are always furnished
as profusely as their means will allow, from the conviction that of
whatever quality his comforts may have been to the defunct when he was
in this world, they will be similar in the next. The houses erected
for King Archibongo, to entertain his devil in, were superior in their
furniture to those of Iron Bar. That on the beach, particularly,
contained a quantity of the productions of native art. The women always
go in mourning by painting patterns of deep black on their foreheads,
and the men by covering their bodies over with ashes. When the mourning
time is over a general smash is made of all the things in the devil
house, the house itself is pulled down, and nothing but the wreck of
matter left behind. Together with the widows and slaves, who in former
times were sacrificed at the death of a gentleman, there were added to
the list a number of persons who were accused by the friends of the
deceased as being accessory to his death, and obliged to undergo what
is called the ‘chop-nut’ test. They cannot believe, or at least they
will not try to understand, how natural causes create disease, and
attribute them and subsequent death to ‘ijod,’ or witchcraft. Hence a
plan is adopted to find out the perpetrator by fixing on a number of
persons, and compelling them to take a quantity of a poisonous nut,
which is supposed to be innocuous if the accused be innocent, and to be
fatal if he be guilty.”
In Madagascar, that dark “country with no God,” the burial rites are
on a much more splendid and elaborate scale--at least as regards
royalty--than would be expected, considering that the Malagaseys’
belief is that death is the end of all things, and the animated clay
called man is of no more account than an empty earthen pitcher as soon
as evil passions have ceased to stir it and it lies cold and still.
While Madame Pfieffer was sojourning at the court of Queen Ranavola,
her majesty’s brother-in-law, Prince Razakaoatrino gave up the ghost,
and was buried. “The death of this grand lord,” says Madame Pfieffer,
“will give me an opportunity of seeing a new and interesting rite; for
the funeral of such an exalted personage is conducted at Madagascar
with the greatest solemnity.” After the body has been washed it is
wrapped in a simbus of red silk, often to the number of several
hundred, and none of which must cost less than ten piastres, though
they generally cost much more. Thus enshrouded, the corpse is placed
in a kind of coffin, and lies in state in the principal apartment of
the house, under a canopy of red silks. Slaves crouch around it as
closely as possible, with their hair hanging loose, and their heads
bent down, in token of mourning. Each of them is furnished with a kind
of fan to keep off the flies and mosquitoes from the deceased. This
strange occupation continues day and night; and as high personages are
frequently kept unburied for weeks, these slaves have to be continually
relieved by others.
“During the time the corpse is lying under the canopy, envoys come from
every caste of the nobility, and from every district of the country,
accompanied by long trains of servants and slaves, to present tokens
of condolence from themselves and in the names of those by whom they
are sent. Each of the envoys brings an offering of money, varying
according to his own fortune and the amount of popularity enjoyed by
the deceased, from half a dollar to fifty or more. These presents are
received by the nearest relation to the dead man, and are devoted to
defraying the expenses of the burial, which often come to a very large
sum; for besides the large number of simbus to be purchased, a good
many oxen must be killed. All visitors and envoys stay until the day of
the funeral, and are entertained, as well as their servants and slaves,
at the expense of the heirs. When the funeral ceremonies extend over
several weeks, and the number of guests is large, it may be easily
imagined that a goodly stock of provisions is consumed, especially as
the people of Madagascar, masters and servants, are valiant trenchermen
when they feed at the cost of another. Thus at the death of the last
commander of the army, the father of Prince Raharo, no fewer than
fifteen hundred oxen were slain and eaten. But then this man had stood
very high in the queen’s favour, and his funeral is recorded as the
most splendid in the memory of man. He lay in state for three weeks,
and young and old streamed in from the farthest corners of the kingdom
to pay him the last honours.
“When the corpse is carried out of the house a few slaughtered oxen
must be laid at the door, and the bearers have to step over their
bodies. The period of lying in state, and of mourning generally, is
fixed by the queen herself. For the prince in question the time was
fixed at four days. If he had been a near relation of the queen--a
brother or uncle--or one of her particular favourites, he would not
have been buried under from ten to fourteen days, and the period of
mourning would have extended to twenty or thirty days at least. The
body is prevented from becoming offensive by the number of simbus in
which it is wrapped.
“We did not follow the funeral procession, but saw it pass. Its extent
was very great, and it consisted of nobles, officers, women, mourning
women, and slaves in large numbers. From the highest to the lowest all
wore their hair loose as a token of mourning; and with this loosened
hair they looked so particularly ugly--so horribly hideous--that I had
never seen anything like them among the ugliest races of America and
India. The women especially, who let their hair grow longer than the
men wear it, might have passed for scarecrows or furies.
“In the midst of the procession came the catafalque, borne by more than
thirty men. Like the costumes at the court ball, so this catafalque
had been copied from some engraving, for its ornamentation was quite
European in character, with this one difference, that the machine was
hung with red and variegated silk stuffs instead of the customary black
cloth. The prince’s hat and other insignia of rank and honour were
placed on it, and on both sides marched slaves with clappers to scare
away the flies from the catafalque.
“The corpse was conveyed to the estate of the deceased, thirty miles
away, to be buried there. The greater number of officers and nobles
only escorted it for the first few miles, but many carried their
politeness so far as to go the whole distance. In all Madagascar there
is no place exclusively set apart for the burial of the dead. Those
who possess land are buried on their own estates. The poor are carried
to some place that belongs to nobody, and are there frequently thrown
under a bush or put into a hollow, no one taking the trouble even to
throw a little earth over them.”
“Among the aborigines of Australia,” says a modern traveller, “when
an individual dies they carefully avoid mentioning his name; but if
compelled to do so they pronounce it in a very low whisper, so faint
that they imagine the spirit cannot hear their voice. The body is never
buried with the head on, the skulls of the dead being taken away and
used as drinking-vessels by the relations of the deceased. Mooloo,
the native whom I met near the junction of the lake, parted with his
mother’s skull for a small piece of tobacco. Favourite children are
put into bags after death, and placed on elevated scaffolds, two or
three being frequently enclosed beneath one covering. The bodies of
aged women are dragged out by the legs, and either pushed into a hole
in the earth or placed in the forked branches of a tree, no attention
whatever being paid to their remains. Those of old men are placed upon
the elevated tombs and left to rot until the structure falls to pieces;
the bones are then gathered up and buried in the nearest patch of soft
earth. When a young man dies, or a warrior is slain in battle, his
corpse is set up cross-legged upon a platform with his face towards
the rising of the sun; the arms are extended by means of sticks, the
head is fastened back, and all the apertures of the body are sewn up;
the hair is plucked, and the fat of the corpse, which had previously
been taken out, is now mixed with red ochre and rubbed all over the
body. Fires are then kindled underneath the platform, and the friends
and mourners take up their position around it, where they remain about
ten days, during the whole of which time the mourners are not allowed
to speak; a native is placed on each side of the corpse, whose duty
it is to keep off the flies with bunches of emu feathers or small
branches of trees. If the body thus operated upon should happen to
belong to a warrior slain in fight his weapons are laid across his lap
and his limbs are painted in stripes of red and white and yellow. After
the body has remained for several weeks on the platform it is taken
down and buried, the skull becoming the drinking-cup of the nearest
relation. Bodies thus preserved have the appearance of mummies; there
is no sign of decay, and the wild dogs will not meddle with them,
though they devour all manner of carrion.
“When a friend or an individual belonging to the same tribe sees for
the first time one of these bodies thus set up, he approaches it, and
commences by abusing the deceased for dying, saying there is plenty
of food and that he should have been contented to remain; then after
looking at the body intently for some time, he throws his spear and his
_wirri_ at it, exclaiming--‘Why did you die?’ or ‘Take that for
dying!’”
Mr. Parkyns, the Abyssinian traveller, thus relates his observation of
the death and burial custom prevailing in this part of the world.
“A plaintive and melancholy wail which suddenly broke on my ear induced
me to return to the square to witness the funeral ceremonies of a
young woman who had died on the previous night. The priests and deacons
had mustered in strong force, and came fully robed, and their flaring
and tawdry ceremonials ill accorded with the mournful ceremony they
were about to perform. Some of the priests went into the house where
the deceased lay to comfort the bereaved relatives, but the greater
number continued outside waving incense and chanting. The corpse, which
meantime had been washed and dressed, was brought out on its bier, and
the procession formed. On seeing this, the relatives and friends gave
vent to their uncontrollable griefs in the most violent and agonizing
lamentations. Some frantically grasped the bier, as if they would
still retain the beloved object; others gave utterance to the heart’s
intense despair by sobs and sighs, by tearing their hair, rending their
clothes, and even by dashing their nails into their neck and face till
the blood trickled down in copious streams. The most affecting and
touching sight was the mother, the old grandmother, and two sisters,
who each with some trifling memento of the departed in their hands, ran
distractedly about the court, telling every one some story or incident
connected with those precious relics of an undying love, which they
continually pressed to their lips.
“The prayers being ended, the bier was lifted on the shoulders of the
bearers, and preceded by the priests moved towards the grave-yard.
Here arrived, after a psalm had been chanted, the fees paid to the
priests, and the deceased formally absolved, the friends and relatives
are allowed to gaze for the last time on the face of the dead, which is
coffined or not, according to the means of the surviving friends. Then
another psalm is chanted and the body lowered into the grave.
“The mourners now retire to the house of the deceased, where every
morning for a whole week the _lesko_ or waking ceremony is
repeated. During this period no fire may be kindled in the house, nor
any food prepared; but all the wants of the bereaved must be provided
for by the friends and neighbours, who willingly do this, as it is
considered a good and meritorious work.”
We have already presented the reader with a coloured picture of the
manner in which the Sambo Indian of the Mosquito shore is carried,
or rather dragged, to his final resting-place. We will now, with the
permission of Mr. Bard, who was an eye-witness of the curious scene,
give the details:--
“My friend Hodgson informed me that a funeral was to take place at
a settlement a few miles up the river, and volunteered to escort me
thither in the pitpan, if Antonio would undertake the business of
paddling. The suggestion was very acceptable, and after dinner we set
out.
“But we were not alone. We found dozens of pitpans, filled with men and
women, starting for the same destination. It is impossible to imagine
a more picturesque spectacle than these light and graceful boats, with
occupants dressed in the brightest colours, sailing over the placid
waters of the river. There was a keen strife among the rowers, who,
with shouts and screeches, in which both men and women joined, exerted
themselves to the utmost.
“Less than an hour brought us in view of a little collection of huts,
grouped on the shore under the shadow of a cluster of palm trees, which
from a distance presented a picture of entrancing beauty. A large group
of natives had already collected on the shore, and as we came near
we heard the monotonous heating of the native drum, relieved by an
occasional low and deep blast on a large hollow pipe. In the pauses we
distinguished suppressed wails, which contained for a minute or so, and
were then followed by dreary music of the drum and pipe.
“On advancing towards the huts and the centre of the group, I found a
small pitpan cut in a half, in one part of which, wrapped in cotton
cloth, was the dead body of a man of middle age. Around the pitpan were
stationed a number of women with palm branches to keep off the flies.
Their frizzled hair started from their heads like snakes from the brow
of the fabled Gorgon, and they swayed their bodies to and fro, keeping
a kind of treadmill step to the measure of the doleful _tum-tum_.
With the exception of the men who beat the drum and blew the pipe,
these women appeared to be the only persons at all interested in the
proceedings. The rest were standing in groups, or squatted at the roots
of the palm trees. I was beginning to grow tired of the performance,
when, with a suddenness which startled even the women, four men,
entirely naked excepting a cloth tied round their loins and daubed
over with variously-coloured clays, rushed from the interior of one
of the huts, and hastily fastening a piece of rope to the half of the
pitpan containing the corpse, dashed away towards the woods, dragging
it after them like a sledge. The women with the Gorgon heads, and the
men with the drum and trumpet, followed them on the run, each keeping
time on his respective instrument. The spectators all hurried after in
a confused mass, while a big negro, catching up the remaining half of
the pitpan, placed it on his head, and trotted behind the crowd.
“The men bearing the corpse entered the woods, and the mass of
spectators jostling each in the narrow path, kept up at the same
rapid pace. At the distance of perhaps two hundred yards, there was
an open space, covered with low, dark, tangled underbrush, still wet
from the rain of the preceding night, and which, although unmarked by
any sign, I took to be the burial-place. When I came up, the half of
the pitpan containing the body had been put in a shallow trench. The
other half was then inverted over it. The Gorgon-headed women threw
in their palm-branches, and the painted negroes rapidly filled in the
earth. While this was going on, some men were collecting sticks and
palm-branches, with which a little hut was hastily built over the
grave. In this was placed an earthen vessel, filled with water. The
turtle-spear of the dead man was stuck deep in the ground at his head,
and a fantastic fellow, with an old musket, discharged three or four
rounds over the spot.
“This done, the entire crowd started back in the same manner it had
come. No sooner, however, did the painted men reach the village, than,
seizing some heavy machetes, they commenced cutting down the palm-trees
which stood around the hut that had been occupied by the dead Sambo.
It was done silently, in the most hasty manner, and when finished,
they ran down to the river and plunged out of sight in the water--a
kind of lustration or purifying rite. They remained in the water a few
moments, then hurried back to the hut from which they had issued, and
disappeared.
“This savage and apparently unmeaning ceremony was explained to me, by
Hodgson, as follows:--Death is supposed by the Sambos to result from
the influences of a demon, called ‘Wulasha,’ who, ogre-like, feeds
upon the bodies of the dead. To rescue the corpse from this fate, it
is necessary to lull the demon to sleep, and then steal away the body
and bury it, after which it is safe. To this end they bring in the
aid of the drowsy drum and droning pipe, and the women go through a
slow and soothing dance. Meanwhile, in the recesses of some hut, where
they cannot be seen by Wulasha, a certain number of men carefully
disguise themselves, so that they may not afterwards be recognized and
tormented; and when the demon is supposed to have been lulled to sleep,
they seize the moment to bury the body. I could not ascertain any
reason for cutting down the palm-trees, except that it had always been
practised by their ancestors. As the palm-tree is of slow growth, it
has resulted, from this custom, that they have nearly disappeared from
some parts of the coast. I could not learn that it was the habit to
plant a cocoa-nut tree upon the birth of a child, as in some parts of
Africa, where the tree receives a common name with the infant, and the
annual rings on its trunk mark his age.
“If the water disappears from the earthen vessel placed on the
grave--which, as the ware is porous, it seldom fails to do in the
course of a few days--it is taken as evidence that it has been consumed
by the dead man, and that he has escaped the maw of Wulasha.”
Last in this melancholy chapter on African funerals comes Dahomey.
And having at length arrived at the end of our task, we would once
more impress on the reader’s mind that, with very few exceptions,
the illustrations of savage life here given are not affairs of the
past--they exist _now_, at the present day and hour. At the very
moment the reader is perusing our account of Dahoman blood-rule,
blood-rule is dominant. Only that so many thousands of miles part the
reader from the scene of these atrocities, he might still hear the wail
of the victims as he reads. That we are authorised in making these
remarks, we will prove to the reader by placing before him the very
last report from this horrible country--that furnished to Government
by Commodore Wilmot, January, 1863. As already narrated in this book,
once a year the whole of the king’s possessions are carried through the
town, that the people may see and admire.
It was during the procession of the king’s treasures that the “human
sacrifices” came round, after the cowries, cloths, tobacco, and rum
had passed, which were to be thrown to the people. A long string of
live fowls on poles appeared, followed by goats in baskets, then by a
bull, and lastly half-a-dozen men with hands and feet tied, and a cloth
fastened in a peculiar way round the head.
[Illustration: The Very Last Dahoman “Custom.”]
A day or two after these processions, the king appeared on the first
platform: there were four of these platforms, two large and two small.
His father never had more than two, but he endeavours to excel him in
everything, and to do as much again as he did. If his father gave one
sheep as a present, he gives two. The sides of all these platforms were
covered with crimson and other coloured cloths, with curious devices,
and figures of alligators, elephants, and snakes; the large ones are
in the form of a square, with a neat building of considerable size,
also covered over, running along the whole extent of one side. The
ascent was by a rough ladder covered over, and the platform itself was
neatly floored with dried grass, and perfectly level. Dispersed all
over this were chiefs under the king’s umbrellas, sitting down, and
at the further end from the entrance the king stood, surrounded by a
chosen few of his Amazons. In the centre of this side of the platform
was a round tower, about thirty feet high, covered with cloths, bearing
similar devices as the other parts. This is a new idea of the king’s,
and from the top of this tower the victims are thrown to the people
below. When the king is ready, he commences by throwing cowries to the
people in bundles, as well as separately. The scramble begins, and the
noise occasioned by the men fighting to catch these is very great.
Thousands are assembled with nothing on but a waist-clout, and a small
bag for the cowries. Sometimes they fight by companies, one company
against the other, according to the king’s fancy; and the leaders are
mounted on the shoulders of their people. After the cowries, cloths
are thrown, occasioning the greatest excitement. While this lasts, the
king gives them to understand that if any man is killed, nothing will
be done to the man who is the cause of it, as all is supposed to be
fair fighting with hands, no weapons being allowed. Then the chiefs
are called, and cowries and cloths are given to them. The king begins
by throwing away everything himself; then his Amazons take it up for
a short time, when the king renews the game and finishes the sport,
changing his position from one place to another along the front part
of the platform. When all that the king intends throwing away for the
day is expended, a short pause ensues, and, by and by, are seen inside
the platform the poles with live fowls (all cocks) at the end of them,
in procession towards the round tower. Three men mount to the top, and
receive, one by one, all these poles, which are precipitated on the
people beneath. A large hole has been prepared, and a rough block of
wood ready, upon which the necks of the victims are laid, and their
heads chopped off, the blood from the body being allowed to fall into
the hole. After the fowls come the goats, then the bull, and, lastly,
the men, who are tumbled down in the same way. All the blood is mixed
together in the hole, and remains exposed with the block till night.
The bodies of the men are dragged along by the feet, and maltreated
on the way, by being beaten with sticks, hands in some cases cut off,
and large pieces cut out of their bodies, which are held up. They are
then taken to a deep pit and thrown in. The heads alone are preserved
by being boiled, so that the skull may be seen in a state of great
perfection. The heads of the human victims killed are first placed in
baskets and exposed for a short time. This was carried on for two days.
Mr. Wilmot would not witness the slaying of these men on the first day,
as he was very close to them, and did not think it right to sanction by
his presence such sacrifices. He therefore got up and went into a tent,
and when all was over returned to his seat. One of the victims was
saved:--
“While sitting in the tent a messenger arrived, saying, ‘The king
calls you.’ I went and stood under the platform where he was. Tens
of thousands of people were assembled; not a word, not a whisper was
heard. I saw one of the victims ready for slaughter on the platform,
held by a narrow strip of white cloth under his arms. His face was
expressive of the deepest alarm, and much of its blackness had
disappeared; there was a whiteness about it most extraordinary. The
king said, ‘You have come here as my friend, have witnessed all my
customs, have shared goodnaturedly in the distribution of my cowries
and cloths; I love you as my friend, and you have shown that an
Englishman, like you, can have sympathy with the black man. I now give
you your share of the victims, and present you with this man, who from
henceforth belongs to you, to do as you like with him, to educate him,
take him to England, or anything else you choose.’ The poor fellow
was then lowered down, and the white band placed in my hands. The
expression of joy in his countenance cannot be described: it said,
‘The bitterness of death, and such a death, is passed, and I cannot
comprehend my position.’ Not a sound escaped from his lips, but the eye
told what the heart felt; and even the king himself participated in his
joy. The chiefs and people cheered me as I passed through them with the
late intended victim behind me.”
And now let us describe the burial of a Dahoman king; would it were of
the last king of this accursed nation of fanatics and murderers:
On the death of a king, a description of cenotaph, surrounded by iron
rails, is erected in the centre of this catacomb. On the top of this
they place an earthen coffin, cemented together by the blood of one
hundred of the captives taken in the last wars, who are sacrificed
on the occasion of the king’s death that they may attend on their
sovereign in the next world. The corpse of the king is then deposited
in this coffin, with the head resting on the skulls of other conquered
kings, and as many relics of royalty, such as the skulls and bones,
as can be placed beneath the cenotaph are put there as trophies of
the deceased sovereign. When all is arranged, the doors of this
subterraneous catacomb are thrown open, and eighty of the female
dancers connected with the court, together with fifty soldiers of
the royal guard, are compelled to enter. All these are supplied with
provisions, and are destined to accompany their sovereign to the land
of shades--in other words, they are offered as a living sacrifice to
the manes of their departed king; and, strange as it may appear, there
is always a sufficient number of volunteers of both sexes who consider
it an honour thus to immolate themselves.
The entrance of the catacomb having remained open for three days, to
receive the deluded votaries, the prime minister covers the coffin with
a black velvet pall, and then divides, between himself, the grandees,
and the surviving women, the various presents of jewels and clothes
made by the new king to the shade of the departed.
During eighteen moons, or months, the heir acts as regent, governing
with two of his ministers in the name of the deceased king. At the
expiration of the above period, he convenes the whole court at the
palace of Ahome, whence they proceed to the subterraneous tomb, when
the coffin is opened, and the skull of the deceased king is taken
out. The regent, taking it in his left hand, and holding a hatchet
in his right, for the first time proclaims aloud the fact, of which
the people are supposed to be ignorant, that the king is dead, and
that he has hitherto governed only in his name. The company present,
on hearing this, fall prostrate, covering themselves with earth in
token of profound grief, which, however, does not continue long; for,
laying aside the skull and hatchet, the regent draws a sword from its
scabbard, and proclaims himself their king. The people immediately make
a loud noise with their rude instruments of music, and dancing and
other manifestations of mirth follow.
On this occasion all the grandees of the principal white men, who
conduct the _sarames_, or factories, present valuable gifts.
This is what is termed the “great custom,” to distinguish it from the
six months’ custom. Even on this festive occasion some hundreds are
immolated that they may convey to the deceased king the tidings of his
successor’s coronation. The blood of the victims being mixed with clay;
a kind of large pot, something in the shape of an oven, and perforated
with holes, is formed. Into this the skull and bones of the deceased
king are put, and it is filled up with silk and other articles. On a
certain day he goes to pay a visit to his father’s skull, to which he
makes an offering, by pouring in, through the holes, brandy, zumbi, and
cowries, the current medium of exchange in the kingdom. The latter are
presented in order that the deceased may pay his way in the next world,
and not disgrace his successor by getting into debt.
THE END.
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C. ARMSTRONG. With Illustrations.
=17.= =Pyrotechny=; or, The Art of Making Fireworks at
little Cost, and with complete Safety and Cleanliness. With
124 Illustrations of Forms and Diagrams for Manufacture and
Exhibition.
=18.= =Mont Blanc, A Boy’s Ascent of.= By ALBERT SMITH.
Illustrated. With Memoir of the Author, by EDMUND YATES.
=19.= =Poe’s Tales of Mystery, Imagination, and Humour.= By
EDGAR ALLAN POE.
=21.= =Boy’s Book of Modern Travel and Adventure=. Illustrated.
=22.= =The Young Marooners.= By F. R. GOULDING. Illustrated.
_Presentation Volumes for Girls._
BOOKS AT THREE-AND-SIXPENCE--_continued_.
The Girls’ Favourite Library.
Price 3_s._ 6_d._ each, Illustrated.
_These are all books which have gained a reputation for combining
deep interest and amusement with pleasantly conveyed instruction. They
are really “favourites”; books which Girls will read and preserve as
indispensable to the Library of the School or the Home._
=1.= =Fifty Celebrated Women=: Their Virtues and Failings, and
the Lessons of their Lives. Illustrated with numerous Engravings
on Wood.
=2.= =Evenings at Home=; or, The Juvenile Budget Opened.
Consisting of a variety of Miscellaneous Pieces, for the
Instruction and Amusement of Young Persons. By Dr. AIKEN and
Mrs. BARBAULD.
=3.= =Fern Leaves from Fanny’s Portfolio.= First and Second
Series, Complete. Beautifully Illustrated with page and other
Engravings.
=4.= =Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress= (from this World to that
which is to Come). A New Edition, with a Memoir. Illustrated
with 100 Engravings by the Brothers DALZIEL.
=5.= =Orange Blossoms.= A Book for all who have worn, are
wearing, or are likely to wear them. Edited by T. S. ARTHUR.
With Illustrations.
=6.= =Julamerk=; or, The Converted Jewess. By the Author of
“Naomi.” With numerous Illustrations.
=7.= =Martyrs of Carthage=; or, The Christian Converts. A Tale
of the Times of Old.
=8.= =Margaret Catchpole=, the Suffolk Girl. By the Rev. R.
COBBOLD.
=9.= =Modern Accomplishments=; or, The March of Intellect. By
CATHERINE SINCLAIR.
=10.= =Mary Bunyan=, the Dreamer’s Blind Daughter. By SALLIE
ROCHESTER FORD.
=11.= =Aunt Jane’s Hero=, and =Stepping Heavenward=. By E.
PRENTISS, Author of “The Flower of the Family.”
=12.= =Faith Gartney’s Girlhood=, and =A Summer in Leslie
Goldthwaite’s Life=. By the Author of “The Gayworthys.”
=13.= =Little Women=, and =Good Wives=. Being Stories for Girls.
By Miss L. M. ALCOTT.
=14.= =The Lamplighter=; or, An Orphan Girl’s Struggles and
Triumphs. By Miss CUMMING. Illustrated.
=15.= =Queechy.= By the Author of “The Wide, Wide World.”
=16.= =The Wide, Wide World.= By Miss WETHERELL. Illustrated.
=17.= =Uncle Tom’s Cabin=; or, Life among the Lowly. By Mrs.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. Illustrated.
=18.= =Maternal Counsels to a Daughter.= By Mrs. PULLAN.
=19.= =Mothers of Scripture.= Showing their Influence on their
Sons.
=20.= =The School-Girl in France.= By Miss MCCRINDELL.
_Gift Books for Young People._
BOOKS AT THREE-AND-SIXPENCE--_continued_.
Jules Verne’s Stories.
Crown 8vo, elegant cloth gilt, 3_s._ 6_d._ each. DOUBLE VOLUMES.
=1.= =The Adventures of Captain Hatteras.= Containing The
English at the North Pole, and The Ice Desert. With Six Coloured
Pictures.
=2.= =Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.= First and Second
Series, complete. With Six Coloured Pictures.
=3.= =The Wonderful Travels.= Containing A Journey into the
Interior of the Earth, and Five Weeks in a Balloon. With Six
Coloured Pictures.
=4.= =The Moon Voyage.= Containing From the Earth to the Moon,
and Round the Moon. With Five Coloured Pictures.
=Beeton’s Erckmann-Chatrian Library.= Illustrated, cloth gilt,
gilt edges, 3_s._ 6_d._ each. For List _see_ “Books at 2_s._
6_d._”
=Andersen’s Popular Tales for Children.= With many full-page and
other Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3_s._ 6_d._
=Andersen’s Stories for the Young.= With many full-page and
other Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3_s._ 6_d._
=The Animal Picture Book for Kind Little People.= With large
Coloured Pictures. Folio, cloth, plain, 3_s._ 6_d._
=Aunt Fanny’s Nursery Tales and Rhymes.= With full-page
Illustrations printed in Colours. 4to, cloth gilt, 3_s._ 6_d._
=Aunt Fanny’s Pretty Picture Book.= With full-page Illustrations
printed in Colours. 4to, cloth gilt, 3_s._ 6_d._
=The Book of Animals.= With Nine Coloured Illustrations
by HARRISON WEIR (printed by LEIGHTON Brothers) and other
Engravings. Folio, cloth plain, 3_s._ 6_d._
=Ann and Jane Taylor’s Poetry for Children.= Containing the
Original Poems, Hymns for Infant Minds, and Rhymes for the
Nursery. With many Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3_s._
6_d._
=Sacred Stories for Sunday Hours=; or, Scripture Narratives from
the Old Testament. With Coloured Pictures. Crown 8vo, cloth
gilt, 3_s._ 6_d._
=The Children’s Forget-me-Not.= A Book of Pictures and Stories
for the Young. Royal 4to, cloth gilt, 3_s._ 6_d._
=Webster’s Universal Pronouncing and Defining Dictionary of the
English Language.= Condensed from NOAH WEBSTER’S Large Work,
with numerous Synonyms, carefully discriminated by CHAUNCEY A.
GOODRICH, D.D., Professor In Yale College. To which are added,
WALKER’S KEY to the Pronunciation of Classical and Scriptural
Proper Names, a Vocabulary of Modern Geographical Names,
Phrases and Quotations from the Ancient and Modern Languages,
Abbreviations used in Writing, Printing, &c. 664 pages. Demy
8vo, cloth, 3_s._ 6_d._
=Getting On in the World=; or, Hints on Success in Life. By
WILLIAM MATHEWS. Series I. and II., complete. Crown 8vo, cloth
gilt, 3_s._ 6_d._
=Beeton’s Public Speaker.= Containing the Remarkable Speeches of
the World’s Greatest Orators. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3_s._ 6_d._
_Religious and Moral Gift Books._
The Christian Life Series.
Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, handsome binding, 3_s._ 6_d._ each.
=1.= =The Christian Year.= Thoughts in Verse for the Sundays and
Holy Days throughout the Year. By JOHN KEBLE.
=2.= =Life Thoughts.= By HENRY WARD BEECHER. Red border lines.
=3.= =The Christian Life.= Bible Helps and Counsels for Every
Day throughout the Year. Red border lines.
=4.= =Religion and Science.= A Series of Sunday Lectures on
the Relation of Natural and Revealed Religion; or, The Truths
Revealed in Nature and Scripture. By JOSEPH LE CONTE.
=5.= =The Perfect Life.= By WILLIAM E. CHANNING.
=6.= =Sacred Heroes and Martyrs.= By J. T. HEADLEY. Revised and
Edited by J. W. KIRTON.
BOOKS AT THREE SHILLINGS.
=Golden Childhood for Christmas, 1875.= Beautiful Pictures,
Pretty Stories, Songs for the Little Ones, Fairy Tales, Nursery
Rhymes, with Music for the Piano. With a set of Paper Patterns
for a Complete Dolly’s Outfit. Imperial 16mo, boards, 3_s._
=Merry Sunbeams=: The “Golden Childhood” Annual for Christmas,
1876. With Charming Pictures, Pretty Stories, Fairy Tales,
Children’s Songs with Music, &c. Imperial 16mo, boards, 3_s._
=Golden Childhood.= 1877 Volume. Much Enlarged and Improved.
Imperial 16mo, picture boards, 3_s._
=The Child’s Famous Picture Book.= With many Illustrations.
Folio, cloth gilt or wrapper boards, 3_s._
BOOKS AT TWO SHILLINGS AND SIXPENCE.
The Young Ladies’ Library.
Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2_s._ 6_d._ each.
=1.= =Sunshine and Rain=; or, Blanche Cleveland. By A. E. W.
With Eight full-page Illustrations.
=2.= =Roses and Thorns=; or, Five Tales of the Start in Life.
=3.= =Bible Narratives=; or, Scripture Stories. By the Rev.
FREDERICK CALDER, M.A. Illustrated.
=4.= =Pleasure and Profit=; or, Lessons at Home. With Eight
Illustrations.
=5.= =Country Pleasures=; or, The Carterets. By A. E. R. With
Eight full-page Illustrations.
=6.= =Stories of Courage and Principle=; or, Fit to be a
Duchess. By Mrs. GILLESPIE SMYTH. 8 full-page Illustrations.
=7.= =Who are the Happy Ones?= or, Home Sketches. By the Author
of “Quiet Thoughts for Quiet Hours,” &c. With Eight full-page
Illustrations.
=8.= =The Progress of Character=; or, Cliffethorpe. By H. POWER.
With Eight full-page Illustrations.
=9.= =What can She Do?= By the Rev. E. P. ROE, Author of “From
Jest to Earnest,” &c.
_Entertaining Presentation Volumes._
BOOKS AT TWO-AND-SIXPENCE—continued.
Beeton’s Erckmann-Chatrian Library.
Handsomely bound in cloth gilt, plain edges, 2_s._ 6_d._
Those volumes marked thus (*) are beautifully Illustrated.
=*1.= =Madame Therese.=
=2.= =The Conscript.=
=3.= =The Great Invasion of France.=
=4.= =The Blockade.=
=*5.= =The States-General, 1789.=
=*6.= =The Country in Danger, 1792.=
=7.= =Waterloo.=
=*8.= =The Illustrious Dr. Matheus.=
=*9.= =Stories of the Rhine.=
=*10.= =Friend Fritz.=
=*11.= =The Alsacian Schoolmaster.=
=*12.= =The Polish Jew.=
=13.= =Master Daniel Rock.=
=14.= =War.=
=*15.= =Year One of the Republic, 1793.=
=*16.= =Citizen Buonaparte, 1794–1815.=
=*17.= =Confessions of a Clarionet Player.=
=*18.= =The Campaign in Kabylia.=
=*19.= =The Man Wolf.=
=*20.= =The Wild Huntsman.=
[Beeton’s Library of Humour.
Post 8vo, cloth, price 2_s._ 6_d._ each.
=1.= =The Innocents Abroad=; or, The New Pilgrim’s Progress. By
MARK TWAIN.
=2.= =Bret Harte.= Complete Tales.
=3.= =Out of the Hurly-Burly.= By MAX ADELER. With 400 humorous
Illustrations by A. B. FROST.
=4.= =Artemus Ward: His Book=, and =Among the Mormons=.
=5.= =Hood’s Whims and Oddities.= Illustrated.
=7.= =Lowell’s Biglow Papers= and =Saxe’s Poems=.
=8.= =Back Log Studies=, and =My Summer in a Garden=. By C. D.
WARNER.
=9.= =Riddles and Charades.=
=10.= =American Drolleries.= Containing The Jumping Frog and
Screamers. By MARK TWAIN.
=11.= =Artemus Ward’s Letters to Punch=, and =Mark Twain’s
Practical Jokes=.
=12.= =Funny Stories, and Humorous Poems.= By MARK TWAIN and O.
W. HOLMES.
=13.= =Josh Billings’ Sayings=, and =Major Jack Downing=.
=18.= =Elbow Room.= By the Author of “Out of the Hurly-Burly.”
Humorously Illustrated by A. B. FROST.
=19.= =Helen’s Babies=, and =Other People’s Children=. By JOHN
HABBERTON. With 16 full-page Illustrations.
=20.= =Grown Up Babies, and Other People.= By JOHN HABBERTON.
Illustrated.
_Good Tone Books._
BOOKS AT TWO-AND-SIXPENCE—continued.
The Good Tone Library.
Post 8vo, elegantly bound, cloth gilt, price 2_s._ 6_d._ each.
=1.= =The Prince of the House of David.= By Rev. J. H. INGRAHAM.
New Edition, with Coloured Frontispiece.
=2.= =The Wide, Wide World.= By Miss WETHERELL, Author of
“Queechy,” &c. New Edition, Coloured Frontispiece.
=3.= =Queechy.= By Miss WETHERELL, Author of “The Wide, Wide
World.” New Edition. Coloured Frontispiece.
=4.= =Melbourne House.= By Miss WETHERELL, Author of “Queechy,”
&c. New Edition. With Coloured Frontispiece.
=The Children’s Forget-me-Not.= A Book of Pictures and Stories
for the Young. Royal 4to, boards, handsome floral design, 2_s._
6_d._
=Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress= from this World to that which is
to Come. With a Memoir of the Author by H. W. DULCKEN, Ph.D. 100
page and other Illustrations by THOMAS DALZIEL, engraved by the
Brothers DALZIEL. Cloth, bevelled boards, gilt, 2_s._ 6_d._
=Christian Year (The).= Thoughts in Verse for the Sundays and
Holy Days throughout the Year. By JOHN KEBLE.
=Webster’s Improved Pronouncing Dictionary of the English
Language.= Condensed and Adapted to English Orthography and
Usage, with Additions from various Accredited Sources, by
CHARLES ROBSON. To which are added, Accentuated Lists of
Scriptural, Classical, and Geographical Proper Names. Fcap. 4to,
cloth, 2_s._ 6_d._
=Webster’s Dictionary of Quotations=: A Book of Ready Reference
to all the Familiar Words and Phrases in the English Language.
With a copious Index. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2_s._ 6_d._
=The Good Shepherd=: or, The Story of Jesus and His Apostles,
for the Young. With Coloured Pictures. Imperial 16mo, cloth
gilt, 2_s._ 6_d._
=Charles Lamb’s Elia and Eliana.= New Edition, with Portraits.
Fcap. 8vo, cloth, 2_s._ 6_d._
=The Language and Poetry of Flowers.= With a Complete
Vocabulary, Quotations, Meanings, Flower Language, and a
Collection of Poems illustrating the Nature, Beauty, Sentiments,
Teachings, and Associations of the Floral World, &c. Coloured
Pictures and other Illustrations. Fcap. 8vo, cloth gilt, red
edges, 2_s._ 6_d._
Ward, Lock, & Co.’s 2s. 6d. Novels.
In neat cloth gilt binding, 2_s._ 6_d._ each.
=1.= =The Scottish Chiefs.= By Miss JANE PORTER.
=2.= =Never Again.= By W. S. MAYO.
=3.= =Margaret Catchpole.= By Rev. R. COBBOLD.
=4.= =The Improvisatore.= By HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN.
=5.= =Arthur Bonnicastle.= By J. G. HOLLAND.
=6.= =Margaret.= By SYLVESTER JUDD.
=7.= =Evelina.= By Madame D’ARBLAY.
=8.= =Gambler’s Wife.= By Mrs. GREY.
=9.= =Kiddle-a-Wink=; or, The Three Guests. By the Author of
“Olive Varcoe,” &c.
=10.= =The Berber.= By W. S. MAYO.
=11.= =Barriers Burnt Away.= By Rev. E. P. ROE.
_Useful Works and Children’s Present Books._
BOOKS AT TWO-AND-SIXPENCE—continued.
Beeton’s “All About It” Books.
Now Ready, handsomely bound, price 2_s._ 6_d._ each.
=1.= =All about Cookery=: Being a Dictionary of Every-day
Cookery. By Mrs. ISABELLA BEETON.
=2.= =All about Everything=: Being a Dictionary of Practical
Recipes and Every-day Information. An entirely New Domestic
Cyclopædia, arranged in Alphabetical Order, and usefully
Illustrated.
=3.= =All about Gardening=: Being a Dictionary of Practical
Gardening.
=4.= =All about Country Life=: A Dictionary of Rural Avocations,
and of Knowledge necessary to the Management of the Farm, &c.
=5.= =All about Hard Words=: Being a Dictionary of Every-day
Difficulties in Reading, Writing, &c. &c.
BOOKS AT TWO SHILLINGS.
The Little Pet Series.
Imperial 16mo, half cloth, picture boards, 2_s._; or neat cloth,
2_s._ 6_d._
=1.= =Our Little Pet’s Own Picture Book.= 160 Illustrations.
=2.= =New Comical Nursery Rhymes and Stories= to make Children
Laugh. With numerous Engravings.
=3.= =Pretty Little Lessons for Pretty Little Children.= With
250 Illustrations.
=4.= =Easy Tales and Pleasant Stories for our Young Friends.=
With upwards of 200 Engravings.
=5.= =Bible Sketches from the Old and New Testaments=, adapted
for Juvenile Reading. With about 80 Illustrations.
=6.= =Sacred Readings for Young Children.= Selected from the Old
Testament. With about 60 Illustrations.
=8.= =The Child’s Own Book of Pictures, Tales, and Poetry.= With
numerous Illustrations.
=9.= =Favourite Nursery Rhymes for Nursery Favourites.= With
about 200 Illustrations.
=10.= =Merry Rhymes and Stories for Merry Little Learners.= With
about 90 humorous Illustrations.
=11.= =Little Fanny’s Nursery Picture Book.= Super-royal 16mo.
With Coloured Illustrations.
=The Children’s Picture Annual.= The Story of a United Family,
with their Travels and Adventures at Home and Abroad. By MERCIE
SUNSHINE. With numerous Illustrations. Imperial 16mo, cloth
gilt, 2_s._
_Books for Young Men and Women._
BOOKS AT TWO SHILLINGS--continued
The Friendly Counsel Series.
Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2_s._; those marked thus (*) extra cloth
gilt, bevelled boards, gilt edges, 2_s._ 6_d._
=*1.= =Timothy Titcomb’s Letters addressed to Young People=,
Single and Married.
=*2.= =Beecher’s (Henry Ward) Lectures to Young Men.=
=*3.= =Getting On in the World=; or, Hints on Success in Life.
By WILLIAM MATHEWS, LL.D. First Series.
=*4.= =Cobbett’s Advice to Young Men, and incidentally to Young
Women.=
=5.= =Christians in Council.= Author of “Stepping Heavenward.”
=6.= =How to Make a Living.= By GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON.
=7.= =The Art of Prolonging Life.= Translated from the
celebrated work by HUFELAND.
=*8.= =Foster’s Decision of Character, and other Essays.= With
Life of the Author.
=*9.= =Getting On in the World.= Second Series. By WILLIAM
MATHEWS, LL.D.
=*10.= =How to Excel in Business=; or, The Clerk’s Instructor.
By JAMES MASON.
=*11.= =Todd’s Student’s Manual.=
The Rose Library.
Fcap. 8vo, cloth gilt, gilt edges, 2_s._
=1.= =The Autobiography of a £5 Note.= By Mrs. J. B. WEBB.
=2.= =Zenon, the Roman Martyr.= By the Rev. R. COBBOLD, Author
of “Margaret Catchpole.”
=3.= =The Pilgrims of New England.= By Mrs. J. B. WEBB.
=4.= =Mary Ann Wellington.= By the Author of “Margaret
Catchpole.”
=5.= =The History of the Fairchild Family.= By Mrs. SHERWOOD.
=6.= =Sceptres and Crowns.= By Author of “The Wide, Wide World.”
=7.= =Nidworth, and his Three Magic Wands.= By E. PRENTISS,
Author of “Stepping Heavenward.”
=8.= =Freston Tower.= A Tale of the Times of Cardinal Wolsey. By
the Rev. R. COBBOLD, Author of “Margaret Catchpole.”
=9.= =The Mysterious Marriage=; or, Sir Edward Graham. By
CATHERINE SINCLAIR. (Sequel to “Holiday House.”)
=10.= =Jane Bouverie=, and How She became an Old Maid. By Ditto.
=11.= =Modern Flirtations=; or, A Month at Harrowgate. By Ditto.
=12.= =The Star and the Cloud.= By A. S. ROE.
=13.= =Nellie of Truro.= A Tale from Life.
=14.= =The Nun.= By Mrs. SHERWOOD.
_Stirring Stories and High-Class Fiction._
BOOKS AT TWO SHILLINGS--continued
The Youth’s Library of Wonders & Adventures
Including JULES VERNE’S Startling Stories, with Coloured
Plates, cloth gilt, 2_s._
=1.= =A Journey into the Interior of the Earth.= By JULES VERNE.
=2.= =The English at the North Pole.= By JULES VERNE.
=3.= =The Ice Desert.= By JULES VERNE.
=4.= =Five Weeks in a Balloon.= By JULES VERNE.
=5.= =The Mysterious Document.= By JULES VERNE.
=6.= =On the Track.= By JULES VERNE.
=7.= =Among the Cannibals.= By JULES VERNE.
=8.= =Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.= By JULES VERNE.
Part I.
=9.= ---- Part II.
=10.= =Two Years Before the Mast.= By R. H. DANA.
=11.= =From the Earth to the Moon.= By JULES VERNE.
=12.= =Round the Moon.= By JULES VERNE.
=13.= =History of Sandford and Merton.= By THOMAS DAY.
=14.= =Baron Munchausen (The Life, Travels, and Extraordinary
Adventures of).= By the Last of his Family.
The Country House Library.
OF FICTION, TRAVEL, ESSAY, BIOGRAPHY, &c.
_BY STANDARD LIVING AUTHORS. COPYRIGHT EDITIONS._
Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2_s._
=1.= =The Mad Willoughbys, and other Tales.= By Mrs. LYNN
LINTON, Author of “Patricia Kemball,” &c.
=2.= =False Beasts and True.= By FRANCIS POWER COBBE.
=3.= =The Blossoming of an Aloe.= By Mrs. CASHEL HOEY, Author of
“Out of Court,” &c.
=4.= =Country House Essays.= By JOHN LATOUCHE, Author of
“Travels in Portugal,” &c.
=5.= =No Sign=, and other Tales. By Mrs. CASHEL HOEY, Author of
“The Blossoming of an Aloe.”
=6.= =Grace Tolmar.= By JOHN DANGERFIELD.
_Ward and Lock’s Useful Series._
BOOKS AT ONE-AND-SIXPENCE.
=The Lily Series.= Sixty-six Books. In new cloth gilt binding,
plain edges. For List _see_ Books at 2_s._
=The Rose Library.= Fourteen Books. In cloth gilt binding, plain
edges. For List _see_ Books at 2_s._
=The Good Aim Series.= Twenty-five Books. In cloth gilt,
bevelled boards, gilt edges. For List _see_ Books at 1_s._
=Beeton’s Englishwoman’s Cookery Book.= 255th Thousand. By Mrs.
ISABELLA BEETON. Being a collection of Economical Recipes, taken
from her “Household Management.” The Best Shilling Cookery. New
Edition. Illustrated by a large number of appropriate and useful
Engravings. With 4 Coloured Plates, post 8vo, half bound, cloth,
1_s._ 6_d._
=Beeton’s Gardening Book.= Containing full and Practical
Instructions concerning Garden Operations, the Fruit, Flower,
and Kitchen Garden, Pests of the Month, and a Monthly Calendar
of work to be done in the Garden. With 4 Coloured Plates. Post
8vo, half bound, cloth, 1_s._ 6_d._
=The Christian Year.= Thoughts in Verse for the Sundays and Holy
Days throughout the Year. By JOHN KEBLE. Small fcap. 8vo, cloth,
gilt back and sides, red burnished edges, 1_s._ 6_d._
NOW READY, NEW VOLUME, Edited by the Author of “Buy your Own
Cherries.”
=Kirton’s Standard Temperance Reciter.= An entirely New Volume
of Readings and Recitations, for Band of Hope Meetings, Good
Templar Gatherings, and General Reading. Containing many
Original Pieces by the Editor, J. W. KIRTON, Author of “Buy your
Own Cherries.” Fcap. 8vo, cloth gilt, 1_s._ 6_d._
_Also, shortly will be published, uniform with the above._
=Kirton’s Standard Band of Hope Reciter.=
BOOKS AT ONE SHILLING.
=Beeton’s Pictorial Speller.= The Cheapest Illustrated Spelling
Book published. 196 pp. 430 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth
plain, 1_s._
=Webster’s Pocket Pronouncing Dictionary= of the English
Language. Condensed from the Original by NOAH WEBSTER. With
accentuated Vocabularies of Classical, Scriptural, and Modern
Geographical Names. Revised by WM. G. WEBSTER, son of Noah
Webster. Royal 16mo, cloth, 1_s._
=Webster’s Shilling Bookkeeping=, in Single and Double Entry.
Post 8vo, cloth plain, 1_s._
=The Language of Flowers.= With numerous Engravings, and a
Coloured Frontispiece. Fcap. 8vo, cloth gilt, 1_s._
=The Poetry of Flowers.= An entirely New Selection of
appropriate Poems, carefully edited. With Coloured Frontispiece
and many Illustrations. Fcap. 8vo, cloth gilt, 1_s._
=The Christian Year.= Thoughts in Verse for the Sundays and Holy
Days throughout the Year. By JOHN KEBLE. Small fcap. 8vo, cloth
gilt, plain edges, 1_s._
=The Children’s Picture Annual=: The Story of a United Family,
with their Travels and Adventures at Home and Abroad. By MERCIE
SUNSHINE. With numerous Illustrations. Imperial 16mo, picture
boards, 1_s._
_National Reference Books._
BOOKS AT ONE SHILLINGS--continued
S. O. Beeton’s National Reference Books,
FOR THE PEOPLE OF GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND.
The Cheapest and Best Reference Books in the World.
_Each Volume complete in itself, and containing from 512 to 590
Columns. Price 1s. in strong cloth binding._
=Beeton’s British Gazetteer=: A Topographical and Historical
Guide to the United Kingdom. Compiled from the Latest and Best
Authorities. It gives the most Recent Improvements in Cities and
Towns; states all the Railway Stations in the Three Kingdoms,
the nearest Post Towns and Money Order Offices.
=Beeton’s British Biography=: From the Earliest Times to the
Accession of George III.
=Beeton’s Modern Men and Women=: A British Biography from the
Accession of George III. to the Present Time.
=Beeton’s Bible Dictionary.= A Cyclopædia of the Geography,
Biography, Narratives, and Truths of Scripture.
=Beeton’s Classical Dictionary=: A Cyclopædia of Greek and Roman
Biography, Geography, Mythology, and Antiquities.
=Beeton’s Medical Dictionary.= A Safe Guide for every Family,
defining with perfect plainness the Symptoms and Treatment of
all Ailments, Illnesses, and Diseases. 592 columns.
=Beeton’s Date Book.= A British Chronology from the Earliest
Records to the Present Day.
=Beeton’s Dictionary of Commerce.= A Book of Reference.
Containing an Account of the Natural Productions and
Manufactures dealt within the Commercial World; Explanations of
the principal Terms used in, and modes of transacting Business
at Home and Abroad.
=Beeton’s Modern European Celebrities.= A Biography of
Continental Men and Women of Note who have lived during the last
Hundred Years, or are now living.
Price 1_s._, cloth, containing 208 pages, 477 Recipes, and Formulæ
for Mistresses and Servants.
=MRS. BEETON’S ENGLISHWOMAN’S COOKERY BOOK.= Comprising Recipes
in all branches of Cookery, and accurate Descriptions of
Quantities, Times, Costs, Seasons, for the various Dishes.
⁂ _The capital Coloured Plates render the Eighteenpenny Edition of_
THE ENGLISHWOMAN’S COOKERY BOOK _absolutely unapproachable in point
of excellence and cheapness. There are infinitely more Recipes in
this volume than in any other Cheap Cookery Book, their accuracy is
beyond question, and the addition of these Coloured Plates removes all
possibility of successful rivalry which may be attempted by imitative
and meretricious displays._
Price 1_s._, cloth, containing 252 pages.
=BEETON’S GARDENING BOOK=: Containing such full and Practical
Information as will enable the Amateur to manage his own Garden.
Amply Illustrated.
=BEETON’S READY RECKONER.= A Business and Family Arithmetic.
With all kinds of New Tables, and a variety of carefully
digested Information, never before collected. Cloth, 1_s._
_Story Books for the Young._
BOOKS AT ONE SHILLING--continued
Beeton’s Good-Aim Series.
Pott 8vo, cloth gilt, 1_s._
=1.= =The Original Poems for Children.= By the TAYLOR Family, M.
E. B., and others.
=2.= =The Basket of Flowers=; or, Piety and Truth Triumphant.
=3.= =Ellen’s Idol.= By the Author of “Tiny,” and “Trotty’s
Book.”
=5.= =Sermons on the Wall.= By JOHN TILLOTSON.
=6.= =Goldy and Goldy’s Friends.= By MARY DENSEL.
=7.= =The One Thing Needful=; or, Ethel’s Pearls.
=8.= =I Don’t Know How.= By the Author of “The Gates Ajar.”
=9.= =Sayings and Doings of Children.= By the Rev. J. B. SMITH.
=10.= =Tiny.= By ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS.
=11.= =Tiny’s Sunday Night.= By ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS.
=12.= =The Orphan Boy=; or, From Peasant to Prince.
=13.= =Tom, Tom, the Printer’s Son=: A Boy’s Story. Related by
Himself.
=14.= =Only a Dandelion.= By the Author of “Stepping Heavenward.”
=15.= =Follow Me.= By the Author of “Stepping Heavenward.”
=16.= =New Year’s Bargain.=
=17.= =In the Beginning=; or, From Eden to Canaan.
=18.= =Conquerors and Captives=; or, From David to Daniel.
=19.= =The Star of Promise=; or, From Bethlehem to Calvary.
=20.= =History of the Robins.= By Mrs. TRIMMER. Coloured Front.
=21.= =Hymns for Infant Minds.= By ANN and JANE TAYLOR.
=22.= =Rhymes for the Nursery.= By the same.
=23.= =Little Susy’s Six Birthdays.= By Mrs. E. PRENTISS.
=24.= =Little Susy’s Little Servants.= By the same.
=25.= =Little Susy’s Six Teachers.= By the same.
The Hans Andersen Story Books for the Young:--
Fcap. 8vo, cloth gilt, 1_s._
1. THE CHRISTMAS TREE.
2. THE GARDEN OF PARADISE.
3. THE WILLOW TREE.
4. THE SILENT BOOK.
5. THE LITTLE MERMAID.
6. THE SILVER SHILLING.
7. THE SNOW QUEEN.
8. THE ICE MAIDEN.
9. LITTLE IDA’S FLOWERS.
10. LITTLE TUK.
11. WHAT THE MOON SAW.
=Child’s First Book of Natural History.= Illustrated. Crown 8vo,
cloth, 1_s._
=Easy Steps for Little Learners.= Many Illustrations. Crown 8vo,
cloth, 1_s._
_Published by Ward, Lock, and Co._
Transcriber’s Notes:
1. Obvious printers’, punctuation and spelling errors have been
corrected silently.
2. Where hyphenation is in doubt, it has been retained as in the
original.
3. Some hyphenated and non-hyphenated versions of the same words have
been retained as in the original.
4. Italics are shown as _xxx_.
5. Bold print is shown as =xxx=.
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