teach the boys the first principles of reading and writing. In the
first lessons the pupils learn by heart the letters of the alphabet,
each letter representing, according to Hindu belief, one of the
divinities which make their dwelling-place in the human body. After
the alphabet come the names of the animals which symbolize the years
of the duodenary cycle. The remuneration of the teachers consists of a
present of eggs and a bottle of spirits and is due at the beginning of
the first lesson. The Cham, however, are not apt pupils, being
incorrigibly lazy and it is quite a triumph if a woman knows the
elements of housekeeping. When we tried to make laundresses of some of
the women in our escort we discovered the depths of their ignorance
and stupidity. The articles we sent to be washed came back as dirty as
when they went, for the sole idea of washing was to beat the object a
certain number of times against a stone. The number of times was a
fixed quantity beyond which the laundress refused to go, even if the
dirt remained unshaken!
But if the domestic education of the women is neglected what shall be
said of their moral education which is practically non-existent? Here,
as elsewhere in the Far East, a woman is regarded as requiring nothing
more than a knowledge of etiquette and her instruction is complete
when she can recite by heart all the rules which govern social
intercourse and constitute good manners. Some of these rules seem
nothing less than comic to the European.
For example, to laugh in public as a sign of pleasure is strictly
forbidden, but it is the height of good form to yawn when bored. When
the flax is being gathered in it is proper to pretend to be drunk, for
the plant is thereby encouraged to preserve its inebriating qualities.
When a domestic utensil, such as a cooking-pot, becomes broken with
use the good housewife will do nothing so ill-advised as to throw it
away. Good breeding as well as respect, which is due to inanimate
objects just as much as to living persons, exact that the faithful
servant shall be hung on the piles on which the house stands and in
due time be graciously abandoned to a sudden flood. Hence the enormous
number of utensils of all descriptions which are to be seen in the
rivers of Cambodia and other countries inhabited by the Cham.
Lessons in etiquette, which are obligatory on both boys and girls, are
varied most pleasantly with games of all kinds. Of these perhaps the
most popular are the foot races which are organized for children of
all ages. The competitors are handicapped according to their years and
intense is the excitement when the signal is given to start. The
prizes awarded to the winners are generally bananas or mangoes,
whichever is in season. When the sugar cane is ripe the children are
very fond of a game which is played in this wise.
A stick of sugar cane is put on the ground. The player takes a knife
and his task is to cut the stalk into five pieces in three strokes. If
he is a skilled performer he makes the second cut in such a way that
two of the pieces lie close enough together to be slashed through with
the final stroke. The rules forbid the player to use his hands to
arrange the pieces so that the second stroke requires no little skill.
If the canes cannot be obtained from the paternal field recourse must
be had to the shops, and then a contest ensues in which each child
tries to avoid being left to pay the bill. To settle this thorny point
lots are drawn, for the first comers have a great advantage. The
fortunate player on whom the lot falls has the right of selecting the
largest stalk from the dealer's stock, taking care that the bottom
section is of normal form. He now balances the cane before him, and
with one slash of his knife cuts it in two before it has had time to
fall. He is entitled to keep the part he has cut off and if he is
skilful it will be a large one. The second player now takes the rest
of the stick and performs the same operation. The others follow in
turn, the various sections are compared and the owner of the shortest
piece has the honour of paying for all after which they devour the
booty with the solemnity of a public ceremony.
The children pick up a smattering of musical knowledge and never lose
an opportunity of performing on their fathers' gongs. Sometimes they
play together and occasionally attain the height of a recognizable
melody when the instruments are of much the same pitch and the touch
of the artist is light. Children of a more serious disposition are
initiated into the mysteries of chess, a game which is played all the
world over. The Cham chessman is very similar to ours and the board
has also sixty-four squares. The castle, however, is replaced by a
general, the bishops by canoes, and the pawns by fishes. The object of
each player is to put the opposing king in check and the means adopted
are virtually the same as in our game.
CHAPTER III
RITES AND SUPERSTITIONS
The beginnings of Islam in Indo-China--Rites which accompany
initiation into the priestly caste--The gods of
Cham--Temples--Resemblance between the architecture of the Cham
and that of the Kmer--Phallic rites--A visit to a royal
sepulchre.
The date of the introduction of Islam into Indo-China has never been
more than approximately fixed. The better opinion is that it made its
way into the country in the twelfth century through the medium of
Persian or Arab traders. However that may be, the new faith maintained
itself more or less in its primitive purity among the Cham, thanks
largely to the zeal of the Malays who had proved ready converts and
migrated into Indo-China, and more especially Cambodia, in large
numbers from the fourteenth century onwards. In Annam, on the other
hand, Islam was speedily blended with Hinduism to form a compound in
which the original ingredients almost defied recognition.
Among the Mohammedan Cham, known as the Cham Bani, the head of the
priestly caste is called "Pô Gru" or "Ong Gru," titles the sense of
which may be rendered by "Leader of the Faithful." He is selected
from the Imôns, the priesthood who are assisted in the discharge of
their ceremonial duties by various religious officials of lower rank.
The rank of a priest is indicated by the length of the scarlet and
gold tassels on his turban. Otherwise there is no distinction in the
costume which consists of a white sarong, a white shirt fastened with
yellow glass buttons and a white girdle also ornamented with tassels.
The crook is a long rattan stalk carried in the hand. The High
Priest's crook is distinguished by having its roots plaited together
to form a kind of basket.
Few of the priests read Arabic and that with difficulty, while the
surahs they recite by heart bear only a distant resemblance to the
Koran. The very word "Koran" is unfamiliar. It is usually referred to
as "The Book of Islam," or "The Book of Praise," or the "Treatise of
the Faith."
In Annam the Ramadan lasts only three days, though the priests observe
the fast for the full prescribed month.
On the evening before the fast begins each priest makes his way to the
mosque and takes up his station in the building with his impedimenta.
He is careful not to forget his minimum of necessaries. His first act
is to spread out with meticulous care the mat which is to serve him
for a bed. At one end of this he places a cube of lacquered wood, his
pillow. Next he solemnly unrolls the palm leaves on which the sacred
lines have been engraved with some sharp instrument. Then he hangs his
string of amber beads on the wall. As earthly indulgences are not
entirely forbidden to him, he takes good care to bring his cigarettes
and the apparatus for preparing betel and tea.
As long as the fast lasts he is prohibited from leaving the building,
so the two vessels containing water for the nine liturgical ablutions
are set up under the porch just within reach. These ablutions are a
very serious part of the business, for it is absolutely essential that
no part of the ceremony should be omitted, even in forgetfulness.
First he washes his hands, spraying the water up to his elbows, then
his mouth, nostrils, forehead, and finally his feet as far as the
ankles. Woe to him if he forgets to recite his five daily prayers or
his nightly salaam, religious exercises which he usually consigns to
oblivion at other times! The meticulous observance of the rites during
these four weeks is a guarantee of sanctity and the redemption of
sins, past, present and prospective.
Of these sins the commonest are breaches of the multifarious
regulations, affecting both the Kaphir and Bani priests, prohibiting
the consumption of certain specified foods. That sins of this
character should be distressingly frequent is hardly surprising when
we remember that each month, and even each day of the month, has its
particular prohibition. Thus stews, hashes, hare and poultry are
strictly forbidden on Mondays in the second month. All foods
containing oil and dark-coloured meat may not be touched on Thursdays
in the fifth month. Prohibitions so strict and comprehensive show the
road to certain transgression in a country where in the nature of
things there can be little variety of diet.
Historians have noted in all peoples, whatever the degree of
civilization that has been attained, the prevalence of the idea that
some intermediary is necessary to establish communication between man
and his God. Thus, in Egypt of the Pharaohs, the King was considered
the son of God, and as such the proper medium through which his
subjects should address their deity. This sacred office of the King
was recognized by the deity himself. On certain appointed days the
statue of the god made some conventional sign to indicate his approval
and assent. We have the evidence of bas-reliefs in the temples to show
that this fiction was still maintained in the days of the Roman
Empire. At a subsequent period the sacred function was delegated to a
special priestly caste; under the later Empire we find the High
Priests of Amon at Thebes usurping the royal authority in its
entirety.
Professor Foucart, in his "History of Religions,"[4] shows that the
origin of the sacerdotal caste is to be sought in remote antiquity.
Man has always experienced the need of a privileged class, set apart
for the purpose of ensuring the observance of certain religious rites
and securing their transmission from generation to generation in their
primitive purity. These rites, which are usually simple in character
and in essentials common to all religions, are generally accompanied
by mystic phrases, the sum of which constitutes Ritual. As the phrases
are often high-sounding and impressive, historians have been tempted
to attribute to them a meaning which is not warranted in fact. In most
cases the words used do nothing more than define the character of the
ceremonial act which they accompany. But as the essence of Magic is
the endowment of a simple phrase or object with an ulterior mystical
significance it is not surprising that the ritual-makers should spare
no pains to produce an illusion in the minds of the worshippers. Their
obvious motive is to exploit, in the interest of their own class, a
science which results in material advantages.
The education of the priests is not confined to the study of the
secret language but extends to a knowledge of the special objects used
in religious ceremonies. Consequently a period of initiation, a
phenomenon noticed in all ages and among all races, is regarded as
essential for aspirants to the priestly ranks. The rites which mark
this period of initiation are substantially similar among all races.
They are directed in the main towards the purification of the neophyte
from the sins inherent to the secular state and to set the stamp of
legality on his adoption of the religious life. In general, they
consist of a rite of separation to mark the abandonment of old ties,
a rite of purification proper, and rites of adoption into the new
association. From this it is easy to see why ceremonies of this kind
always enshrine the metaphor of a death to the old life and a re-birth
in the new one. Whether we turn to the Shamans of Siberia, the Lamas
of Thibet, the Brahmins of India, the Bonzes of Cambodia, the Padjaos
of the Cham, we find the essence of the ceremony identical, however
diversified the details may be.
All those familiar with the practice of the Roman Catholic Church know
that among certain of the Orders the ceremony of entry or taking the
veil includes the Burial Service followed by a hymn of triumph to hail
the resurrection of the new spirit reclaimed from the world. In other
religions the procedure is a heavy sleep from which the novice awakes
to find himself consecrated by Heaven.
The rudiments of this idea are found in the rites which mark the
ordination of a Padjao among the Kaphir Cham. A Padjao is not so much
a priestess as a prophetess in whom resides the power of foretelling
the future and also of protecting from all evil when the Spirit--or
rather the "Transport," to adopt the professional phrase used by her
class--takes her.
Properly speaking the Padjao does not "take vows," but rather devotes
herself to strict celibacy. If she is married when the heavenly call
comes to her her husband must leave her at once. The observance of
continence, apparent if not actual, is obligatory, and any breach of
this rule would be visited by the Spirits with the most condign
punishment affecting both the transgressor and her accomplice.
[Illustration: Image of a Departed Saint in a Phallic Temple.]
[Illustration: Statues erected to the Dead in Laos.]
[Illustration: Shrine of a Laotian Priest.]
[Illustration: The Interior of the Shrine.]
According to a certain priest of Phanrang, "Padjao" means "Princess,"
and the modern priestesses perform the functions which formerly
devolved on the ladies of royal blood who filled religious offices in
ancient Champa. On the other hand, "Padjand" in old Javanese, means
"Moonlight," and in this connection it is significant that the Cham
identify with the moon one of their most highly venerated divinities,
the "Celestial Padjao." However this may be, the ordination of these
women in Annam is marked by some very curious ceremonies. The novice
is selected by the Priestess herself when, feeling herself advancing
in years, the choice of a successor becomes an urgent matter. The
fortunate object of her selection receives the name of "Happiness of
the Human Race." She falls on her knees before her spiritual mother
and offers her two eggs, a cup of spirits and some betel, a sign of
her dutiful submission. The recipient of these gifts now takes off her
girdle and passes it round the head of her newly appointed assistant
who is bound henceforth to appear in this form of turban at every
public ceremony. Then they both swallow three grains of rice and salt,
symbols of plenty. The novice next falls into a sleep or trance,
during which her soul departs to the moon to be consecrated by the
great "Celestial Padjao," who will reveal to her all the mysteries of
life and the secrets of mortals. This trance is, of course, the
counterpart of the symbolic death and resurrection which we have seen
to be characteristic of the change from the earthly to the heavenly
life.
During this ceremony, which is called the "Deification of the Padjao,"
the Faithful sacrifice a black kid and burn eagle-wood, the odour of
which is supposed to be particularly agreeable to the dwellers in the
Heavens.
Priestess and novice next indulge in a religious dance known as the
"Tania." In their left hands they wave a scarlet scarf while holding a
fan in their right. Then taking a betel leaf the priestess passes it
through the flame of a candle and offers it to her who is
thenceforward to share her office. It must not be imagined, however,
that the novice secures her entry into the priestly caste by this
ceremony. Her admission is temporary and is only confirmed when, after
a novitiate of a year, the Gods indicate their consent to delegate
their powers to her. A second ordination is thus necessary which must
be attended by all those who were present at the first. If, however,
some of the original spectators have died in the meantime the rites
are satisfied if they are represented by members of their families of
the same sex.
On the evening before this second ceremony all those who are to take
part in it must take the bath of purification.
As the approval of the Celestial Padjao is by no means a foregone
conclusion her answer is awaited by the priestess with some
trepidation. With a view to securing her favourable regard the latter
brings an offering in a basket on which she sets up two lighted
candles. These candles are the medium through which the divine will is
to be revealed. If they go out or burn with a smoky flame this is a
clear indication to the novice to abandon her hopes and return to her
old life. In that case a successor to her will be found in due time.
But if the candles burn up brightly the year's apprenticeship has been
judged sufficient to qualify her for divine approval.
A person whose assistance is indispensable to the Padjao is the
"Meûdoun," an individual who does not belong to the priestly caste but
who is in constant touch with the deities by virtue of his office. The
period of initiation is short and is occupied by learning to perform
on the drum and reciting liturgical phrases. The "Meûdoun" is
appointed by his predecessor and enters upon his duties immediately.
His services are requisitioned when exorcisms, incantations or
divinations are on foot.
Among the Cham of Cambodia another variety of ceremonies marks the
ordination of their Prophetess. In the first place, the social status
enjoyed by that official is not as high as in Annam. She seems to
inspire a kind of awe rather than any sentiment of veneration. Here
the rites of initiation savour of Demonology.
The requirements of time and place are satisfied by a clear moonlight
night and a deserted ant-heap in the depths of the forest. The
prospective Prophetess appears and with one sweep with a sword severs
a cock in twain from its head to its tail. Then, totally naked, she
executes a frenzied dance, accompanied by weird incantations before
her victim until the mystic moment when, thanks to the powers of magic
and the veil of night, the severed halves join together and the
resurrected fowl utters a pæan of victory!
Priestesses of all these regions have this in common, that they dress
either in white or in black and red. The flesh of swine and lizards is
absolutely forbidden, no mean hardship in a portion of the globe where
the lizard is regarded as a great delicacy.
It is to be observed that, contrary to the practice prevailing among
most semi-barbarous peoples, the Cham allow young and middle-aged
women to perform religious functions. The age of twenty is, in fact,
the normal time for entering the sacerdotal caste. This is all the
more remarkable because it has frequently been demonstrated that among
primitive races women are not admitted to the privileges of men until
after the menopause.
The Pantheon of the Cham Bani consists of the "Heroes of Civilization"
to whom they ascribe the foundation and development of their three
ancient capitals. Thus Pô Oulah, or Allah the Mighty, made his
residence during the eleventh century in the town of Bal Sri Banôy. It
is more than likely that this potentate was the actual conqueror who
first brought Islam into Indo-China.
Pô Klong Garai is said to have founded the second capital, Bal-Hangov,
the "City of Pine Trees," the reputed traces of which have been
discovered near Hué. Finally Pô Binôsuor shed the lustre of his name
on Bal Angouai, the ruins of which are still visible at Cha Bàn in the
province of Binh Dinh. Some philologists associate this city with the
ancient town of Balonga mentioned by Ptolemy. For this last ruler,
however, whose great achievement was the repulse of the Annamite
invasion, the Cham have substituted the name of Pô Ramé, a prince of
no great fame, who seems to have been a kind of adventurer who sprang
into importance by marrying a princess of royal blood.
It need hardly be said that these great heroes are credited with all
manner of marvellous exploits. The supernatural even enters into their
birth, for they are supposed to have been born of virgin mothers, a
detail which enhances their resemblance to the Brahminic divinities.
In this connection it may be observed that the members of the Hindu
Trinity, Brahma, Vishnu and Siva, with their "Saktis," or wives, Umâ,
Lasmî and Kali, are universally confused with the native deities of
the Cham either under their own or substituted names. For example, Pô
Inö Nögar, the Black Lady, the Queen of Women, is none other than
ancient Bhagavati, the sakti of Siva.
The Pantheon of the Kaphir Cham is no less nondescript. At its head
stand out three masculine divinities. The first is Pô Amö, Lord of
Creation, who bears a close resemblance to Brahma. The second, Pô
Yâta, is only an emanation of Pô Amö and reigns over the Vault of
Heaven. The third is Pô Allah, an incorporeal deity whose sanctuary is
at Mecca and who has been borrowed from the pantheon of the Cham Bani.
Then follows a certain number of female divinities, among whom Pô Inö
Nögar of the Cham Bani appears as Pô Yang Inö Nögar Taha, the Great
Mother-Goddess of the Kingdom who is endowed with authority over the
others. This venerable matron, born, it is said, from a wave of the
sea, married no less than ninety-seven husbands. Her offspring,
however, amounted to no more than thirty-eight daughters, a poor
compliment to the prolific powers of her spouses.
These girls remained virgins all their lives and showed the effects of
their enforced celibacy in their sour tempers. This unpleasant
characteristic, however, has made them objects of peculiar veneration
to the natives whose utilitarian morals teach them to neglect the
deities reputed to be amiable and concentrate all their fervour on
those considered evilly disposed towards man.
In addition to housing these disagreeable virgins, the Heavens are
also the abode of a young queen who can grant or withhold all human
joys. Her name is Padjao Yang and she personifies the Moon, the
faithful minister of Pô Adityak, the Sun. When the Sun passes before
Padjao Yang she shows her good breeding and training by bowing to the
ground before her Master, a mark of respect which produces the
phenomenon of eclipse. One characteristic which this immortal person
shares with her mortal sisters is worthy of remark. She is never more
than thirty years old! This figure has been selected probably because
thirty is the average number of days in a lunar month. It need hardly
be said that she never complains of this burden of youth. Some of the
more gallant Cham go further, and seeing her sometimes arrayed in a
diaphanous halo, swear that her age never exceeds that of her robe!
How many of those same mortal sisters would like to say the same!
The temples in which the ritualistic ceremonies of the Cham take place
differ according to the observances of the various sects. Thus the
mosques of the Cham Bani are narrow huts which could hardly
accommodate a single family. It is doubtful whether more than a dozen
are to be found in the whole of Annam. They invariably face west, the
direction of Mecca, and for furniture and accessories contain a few
mats for the use of the worshippers, a drum to call them to prayer and
a pulpit which never seems to be occupied. On the very holiest of
holy days strips of white cloth are hung over this pulpit and spread
over the floor. On Fridays is held the general service of prayer,
which, however, is usually but sparsely attended. The Koran requires a
quorum of forty, but in practice that figure is seldom reached. At the
conclusion of this ceremony wine and spirits are freely circulated
among the worshippers though these liquids are taboo to the true
Mussulman.
The hut-temples of the Siva-worshippers among the Kaphir Cham are not
more elaborate. The chief object to be seen in one of these is the
"Mukha-Linga," a piece of stone cut to resemble the male organ of
generation but adorned with the face of the god Siva, which is made
more life-like by a dressing of coloured plaster. On special occasions
this curious object is dressed up in a scarlet mantle. A stone
receptacle for holy water and a few other utensils complete the
necessary accessories.
These temples, however, are not the only outward and visible signs of
religious life among the Cham. A certain number of ancient monuments,
which both Annamites and Europeans erroneously call towers, but which
are in fact exclusively devoted to religious uses, are carefully
preserved. These constructions are always to be found on hills or at
other conspicuous points dominating the surrounding country. The
choice of the site is not without significance. It is a matter of
universal knowledge that most races attach a sacred character to
heights. For example, Mount Sinai and Mount Tabor are mentioned as
holy mountains in the Bible. The temple of Delphi stood on a hill. The
Acropolis looks over Athens, and the Celts always selected some
prominent spot as the scene of their sacrifices.
The best preserved of the temples which date from the days when the
kingdom of the Champa stood at its apogee is only a few miles distant
from Phanrang. It was built early in the fourteenth century and was
consecrated to Pô Klong Garai. I had plenty of opportunity to examine
the ruins carefully, for with the sacrilegious indifference of
Europeans we had erected on them the lofty mast which was essential to
our geodetical operations.
They consisted of a principal building with three annexes. All four
faced east and were made of brick. As we made our way into the
sanctuary for the first time, through the opening which served for
sole entrance and exit, we were greeted by a nauseating smell and the
clapping of innumerable wings. The place was literally infested with
bats, and, in addition, was pitch dark, so that a torch was a prime
necessity.
The interior was not what might have been expected from inspection of
the exterior. As access to light and air was only provided by the one
narrow doorway, it is not difficult to imagine how the sanctuary had
become the favourite resort of all the bats in the district.
A stone altar stood against the back wall. The upper surface was
slightly concave to enable liquids to run off. On one of its sides was
a "Mukha-Linga" with black beard and whiskers, which contrasted
strangely with the pallor of the face. In the vestibule, with a
necklace round its throat was a "Nandi," the White Bull of Siva, which
the Cham call "Kapila." He it is who bears away the dead on his back
to Keylasa, of which he is the guardian. According to the Hindus the
"Nandi" is also Siva's favourite mount and frequently their identities
blend in the figure of a Hermit with the body of a man and the head of
a bull.
The Samaritans also favoured animal-headed deities. It will be
remembered that Thartac had a donkey's head and Anubis that of a dog.
Other analogies between various early religious systems readily
suggest themselves.
Thus the Babylonian Ishtar stood for the principle of fecundity and
must be compared with the goddess Kali, the sakti of Siva, who is also
known as "Yomi," the "Fertile Womb."
The Assyrians worshipped another Ishtar, a highly formidable goddess,
who always appears in her statues armed with some murderous weapon.
This characteristic of cruelty is equally prominent in Kali, the
goddess of Blood, Lust and Death, whose statues always represent her
grimacing and repulsive with a necklace and bracelets of human skulls
and bones.
The doorway of the temple is formed of three granite monoliths of
which the two uprights are covered with inscriptions. Above is a
bas-relief on a kind of sculptured lintel, representing Siva dancing.
It is remarkably well-preserved. The god has six arms. The lowest pair
grasp a trident, as is usual in statues of Siva, and a lotus-bloom,
which is more generally associated with Vishnu. The middle pair
brandish a scimitar and a dagger. The other pair are clasped behind
the god's head.
Four small stone elephants complete the accessories of the sanctuary.
They represent the wild elephants which, so legend says, entered the
temple while it was being built.
There is a broad general resemblance between the temples of the Cham
and those of the Kmer who also professed the Brahminic religion. The
Kmer also selected rising ground with a wide sweep of view as the site
for their sacred edifices. Great care was taken that the main façade
should face towards the east. The interior consisted of a single hall
with an entrance sometimes so low that it was necessary to stoop to
get in. The walls were innocent of all decoration and became damp and
clammy in the darkness. The outside walls and especially the doorway,
however, were the objects of considerable artistic effort. The doorway
in particular was usually surmounted by a lintel with figures of the
gods and their distinctive symbols. Thus Vishnu is represented astride
of Garuda, the parrot-headed god, Brahma rides on geese and Indra a
three-headed elephant. The dancing Siva, with a multitude of arms
disposed halo-wise around his head, is one of the commonest figures. I
remember seeing one on the façade of the Temple of Pô Klong Garai.
The architecture of the Javanese also furnishes some equally
remarkable resemblances.
I have already remarked that the Siva-worshipping Cham, like their
Hindu co-religionists, have adopted the symbol of a linga to represent
that deity. It is worthy of note in this connection that the Egyptians
represented their god Osiris in the form of a phallus, the equivalent
of a linga. This phallus-worship made its way into Greece, and
especially Babylon where the earliest inscriptions are found engraved
on large clay phalli.
Phallus-worship, transformed into linga-worship, was introduced into
the Far East by the Hindus. Traces of it have been found in Java. In
spite of the distance, Japan also welcomed it along with many other
foreign cults but to-day it only remains a tradition in that country,
though there are some Japanese villages where huge phalli, made of
bamboo covered with canvas, figure in the local processions. At the
top of these weird structures is a small opening from which urchins
make a pretence of haranguing the crowd.
Barth considers the origin of linga-worship to be wrapped in
obscurity. We know that phallic rites were part of the religions of
the Veda but that there was no actual phallus-worship.
Some say it came from the west, probably Greece, but it is at least as
likely that the Hindus evolved this particular symbolism themselves.
However that may be, it is certain that the cult made its appearance
simultaneously with Siva-worship.
The linga is often represented in conjunction with the yoni, the
female organ and the symbol of Devi, wife of Siva.
It should be said at once that these objects are treated symbolically,
not realistically. The linga is a simple cone, the yoni a triangular
prism. This abstract treatment is said by some to be the outcome of a
protest against idolatry, in proof of which they point to the fact
that Vishnu and Lasmî his wife are represented respectively by a
fossil-shell, the Calagrama, and a plant of the sweet-basil species,
the Tulosi. It should be added that Hindu art is remarkable for its
freedom from suggestiveness and that, in whatever guise the mystery of
life is symbolized, the form selected is one which never provokes
indecent ideas.
The Kaphir Cham of Phantiet and Phanry have another cult of the same
kind, the worship of the yoni in another form. This rite is the
introduction into some cavity, the hollow of a tree perhaps, or the
fissure of a rock or the burrow of an animal, of a large rudely carved
wooden cylinder. The worshipper recites the wish on the fulfilment of
which his hopes are set while pouring spirits on the cylinder. He
makes his prayer to Pô Yang Dari, the Shameless Goddess who can cure
children of all diseases.
The primitive conception which underlies all this symbolism must, of
course, be traced to the belief in imitative magic, which endows the
performance of a ritualistic act with the power of inducing other
beings or objects to imitate that act. It is thus quite natural that
the idea of fecundity, the word being taken in its widest sense,
should be closely associated with every phase and form of
phallus-worship.
It is a thousand pities that from the beginning of the nineteenth
century the spread of pharisaical prudery has prevented even those
best qualified by long residence among uncivilized races from probing
into questions concerning sex and publishing the results of their
researches. The explorers of the eighteenth century were not so
hampered, and their observations, from which the veil of priggish
reticence is withdrawn, furnish us with much valuable information on a
department of human activity which is of surpassing interest and
importance to the ethnographer.
The Kmer took their architecture from the Hindus. There is an obvious
resemblance between the religious edifices of the two peoples and in
addition both built their temples in naturally secluded places, a
preference which is amply explained by the nature of a religion which
endows its deities with so formidable a character that only priests
may approach them. The rank and file of worshippers have to be content
with following the sacrifices with their thoughts. They congregate in
the outer paved courts of the temples and make themselves shelters of
bamboos and leaves. In some places asylums for ailing pilgrims are
built in the immediate neighbourhood of the temples. These hospices
are under the charge of monks who care for the stricken wayfarers.
Of the slight differences which distinguish the buildings of the two
peoples the most noticeable is the treatment of the roof. The Kmer
roof is a kind of ogival dome recalling the edifices of the Arabs,
while the Hindus crown their quadrangular pyramids with a four-sided
cone.
The artistic skill of the Kmer has mainly been lavished on pyramids,
sacred pools and rock-surfaces, many of which are entirely covered
with figures of gods. There are also many towers which serve as
shrines for images of the deities. It will be remembered that the
stupas of the Hindus are devoted to a similar use.
The temples face east, an arrangement which is explained by the fact
that the services usually take place early in the morning on that side
of the building which receives a maximum of sun. On the other hand
certain temples devoted to the worship of the Gods of the Lower
Regions face to the west, for the reason that the rites are always
celebrated at sunset.
The statuary of the Cham seems to owe much both to the Kmer and the
Hindus. One fact, indeed, is incontestable, that the human type
represented is clearly the Aryan, whereas the Cham artists spent all
their lives among men of a totally different type. It is plain that
they did not take their own people for their models. The explanation
can only be that the Cham imported their art of sculpture just as they
imported their religion. Another remarkable fact is that in their
statues of gods and prophets the figures are almost destitute of
clothing, while their kings and heroes are always represented in
gorgeous apparel. In this connection it may be remembered that the
prophets of one of the two principal sects of the Jainists call
themselves the "Digambara," which means "They who are clothed in
space."
The usual type of head-dress is conical or cylindrical in shape. The
lobes of the ears are elongated and pierced with holes from which
earrings are hung. The feet are always bare. The figures of women show
them as of the same type as the men, and their hair is dressed in
similar fashion. The upper half of the body is uncovered, exposing
their breasts which are full and perfect in shape. The lower half is
concealed by a kind of skirt secured at the waist by a girdle with
fringes which sweep to their feet. Their ears, neck, legs and arms are
adorned with jewels.
These main features are found reproduced in the few antique statues
still to be found among the Cham.
I have a lively recollection of one occasion on which, so I was told,
I was the first European to enter a certain temple. No experience in
my varied life has left a more indelible impression on my memory. The
Mission was engaged in scientific operations between Phantiet and
Phanry, the ancient home of the Cham, and our headquarters consisted
of a number of rude huts in the very heart of the forest.
One day I received a visit from the headman of a neighbouring village,
a diminutive individual with a face the colour of a dead leaf. I had
previously rendered him some service by treating him for severe
ophthalmia and he now proposed to show his gratitude by revealing to
me the whereabouts of a ruined temple which was so concealed in the
forest as hitherto to defy discovery by Europeans. He told me I should
find two statues, in excellent preservation, of kings who had been
raised to the rank of deities by their subjects. Also I was to have
every opportunity of sketching and taking photographs.
The temple was not more than thirty miles distant, so my expedition
was duly announced as a mere excursion for pleasure. We set out,
accompanied by two young natives, my usual companions in my private
wanderings, who had charge of the photographic and other apparatus as
well as our arms and provisions. Our journey was without incident, for
my kind guide gave me the fullest instructions as to the route to the
Temple of Song Sui.
[Illustration: Statue of an Ancient King of Cambodia.]
[Illustration: Statue of an Ancient Queen of Cambodia.]
[Illustration: An Old Cham Temple in a Cambodian Forest.]
[Illustration: The House of a Cham Aristocrat.]
[Illustration: A Cottage Home in Cambodia.]
This remarkable sanctuary is the tomb of an ancient king of the Cham
and the object of a very popular pilgrimage at certain seasons of the
year. It consists of three separate pavilions in a large enclosure
which is divided into two halves, one higher than the other. The lower
half is used by the general public while the upper is reserved for the
family of any worshipper who desires to make a sacrificial offering.
The statue of the King is in the central building. It is cut from a
single block of granite and coloured to show a robe of red and gold.
On the King's head is a fez to which a golden helmet is added on
special occasions. The neck and the ears are pierced with holes from
which necklaces and earrings are suspended. The eyebrows meet above
the nose, the moustaches are twisted upwards and the eyes are
half-closed.
The door of the central pavilion is of beaten iron, hand-forged. Of
the two other pavilions one alone remains, a picturesque ruin. The
other has completely disappeared in the undergrowth, a few stones
remaining to mark the site. In the survivor there is a statue of one
of the King's two wives standing between two elaborate steles. The
Queen's hair is arranged in the shape of a cone, a fashion which is
typical of the statues of the Kmer. The nails are stained red, and all
the fingers (except the middle one), and also the thumb, are covered
with rings.
A balustrade, very similar to those which decorate European tombs,
runs round behind this pavilion. In this enclosure an unhappy black
goat is chained up, destined to decapitation at the precise moment
when the sacrifice is consummated. The floor is made of stone with a
narrow trench through which the blood is drained off.
Having exhibited the resemblances between this temple and those of the
Kmer I propose to suggest other resemblances, not less striking,
between it and some of the ancient Egyptian tombs.
The royal steles of the Egyptians are of a fairly regular outline,
gently rounded at the top and usually semicircular. As is well known,
their purpose was to hand down to posterity the identity and genealogy
of a particular Pharaoh. The monarch's statue, on the other hand, was
the actual living image of the departed, for it was universally
believed that the dead man's double returned to make its abode in his
form. It is even possible that the first idea of statuary had its
origin in this conception of a magical reanimation.
The deceased was always represented in his robes of state (however
scanty) and seated on the throne. Food was set on a small table within
his reach. The figure was dressed, covered with jewels and smothered
in perfumes. The nails were coloured with henna and the eyes
blackened. Every step in the proceedings was accompanied by formal
chanting.
In the case of royal statues these ceremonies were observed up to the
twelfth dynasty. They then fell into desuetude and it became
customary merely to paint up the statue with clothes, jewels and other
accoutrements in as realistic a manner as possible. In the British
Museum there are three large wooden statues, taken from royal tombs of
the thirteenth century, which are remarkable illustrations of this
process of evolution in statuary.
It is to this process of evolution, due to a change of ideas, that we
must ascribe the gradual disappearance of the belief that the soul of
the deceased returned to dwell in his statue, and also of the equally
primitive belief that the purpose and meaning of offering a sacrifice
was to furnish the deceased with food in his new existence.
I was extremely interested in my visit with its valuable discoveries,
and it may readily be imagined that I was in great haste to return to
camp and develop my plates. My guide announced that he knew a route
which would save us many miles. The morning passed uneventfully
enough. On many occasions we crossed the tracks of elephants, but I
was not to be moved from my purpose. Hunting was out of fashion that
day. We were too bent on getting home.
To be ready for any emergency I gave one of my rifles to the Cham
chief who was a good shot. Some alligators were sunning themselves on
the sandy banks of a stream. We broke in upon their siesta without
hesitation and without apology.
My companion informed me that we should pass through a certain
village and that, at the rate at which we were then marching, we
should reach it before nightfall. However, our two boys, less
accustomed to forced marching than their elders, began to show signs
of distress. I could see them shifting from one shoulder to the other
the bamboo-pole from which our impedimenta was slung and they soon
began to complain of the thorns in the path which lacerated their
feet. The two boys were quite young, the elder being perhaps sixteen.
They had been attached to the Mission for more than six months, a long
period for natives, who dislike regular occupation and are ever in
search of change. I had a peculiar affection for these two. They were
indefatigable servants and remarkably docile and even-tempered.
Their complaints seemed reasonable enough and to relieve them the
chief and I shouldered the bamboo-pole. We set off again but soon put
a large and growing distance between ourselves and the younger
generation lagging behind. Meanwhile the sun was hastening towards his
western bed. At one time the loiterers seemed to have put on a spurt,
but the effort exhausted itself and they fell behind once more. At a
bend of the path we decided to wait until the boys came up. We kept
ourselves carefully out of sight lest the vision of our halt should
inspire them to a similar indulgence.
Some minutes passed, but no one appeared. Had the rascals given up the
attempt to follow us or had they lost their way? I ran back to the
bend in the path. The route by which we had come stretched away in a
straight line for miles, but no human being was in sight.
Our coolies had fled!
The mask-like countenance of my companion betrayed neither surprise
nor any other emotion. The truants were not of his faith nor did they
hail from his village. They were but vulgar Annamites, at best a race
of sneaking hucksterers. His sympathies were evidently confined to the
faithful of his own parish.
I confess I was irritated by his obvious indifference. To my knowledge
the forest through which we had passed was infested with tigers and
the stunted leafless trees were the most illusory refuge from the
brutes. I had an uncomfortable premonition that our pleasure-party, so
happily begun, was entering the realms of tragedy.
In the course of our three years' residence in southern Annam no less
than twelve natives had been devoured by tigers. Several of the
victims were attached to the Mission, and on more than one occasion I
had been the hapless witness of their horrible sufferings.
On one occasion a coolie suddenly vanished through the wicker-work
floor of our hut, which was built on piles quite nine feet high. The
tiger, however, had climbed on to a baulk of timber which was lying on
the ground below and using this as a platform had succeeded in
catching hold of one end of his victim's waist-cord which happened to
be hanging through the interstices of the floor. The beast gave a
violent tug and dragged the hapless coolie through the floor. The man,
taken by surprise, was helpless and fell, an unresisting prey, into
the tiger's jaws.
I feel considerable diffidence in telling a story which I myself
should not have believed had the tragedy not occurred before my very
eyes.
On another occasion one of my colleagues and myself were taking our
evening meal, waited on by a Cham boy about twelve years old. It was
shortly after seven, I think, and the rain was falling in torrents.
All at once we heard a shriek proceeding from the direction of the
kitchen and in a moment the boy entered, white with terror.
"The Tiger," he could hardly get the words out, "seized hold of my
coat." He showed us a huge rent in the flimsy material which covered
his trembling body. Outside it was pitch dark. We had no lamps and it
seemed highly risky to venture forth with so undesirable a neighbour
watching us. We quickly set about protecting ourselves by barricading
the entrance to the room with a palisade of wattles. The real mystery
was how the beast had made its way into the enclosure, guarded as it
was by a solid fence made of baulks of timber and forming a veritable
blockhouse. An hour later we heard the stamping of hoofs, violent
kicks and terror-stricken neighing. Then silence. About midnight our
light went out. It would have been madness to go to the kitchen to
fetch another, so we found ourselves condemned to wait in the
darkness, listening for every sound and our nerves on edge. Needless
to say, sleep was impossible. At dawn we ventured out. Everything was
in confusion. Our horses had broken loose and stampeded over the
fence. One of them lay disembowelled before us and half its
hindquarters had disappeared. On the face of the embankment on which
our house was elevated, immediately before the door of the room where
we had been sitting, were the traces of a tiger's paws clearly visible
in the clay.
The boy had not been mistaken. He had indeed been seized by the beast
and owed his safety to his worn and tattered clothing. The marks of
teeth and claws on some of the baulks of the palisade showed us that
the visitor had climbed over. We learnt one lesson from this
experience. Our camp, with its solid rampart ten feet high, was only
an illusory protection against a really determined man-eater!
All these horrible recollections--and many others which can find no
place here, this not being a story of adventure--flashed through my
mind in the space of a few seconds.
Meanwhile time was flying and night came down on us unheralded by
twilight as in Europe. Our search was all in vain and no answer came
to our repeated shouts. The coolies had gone.
It was not until late at night and after much struggling that we
reached the village. In spite of the friendly light thrown by a torch
I remained all night a prey to the most vivid hallucinations. Time
after time I watched a huge tiger spring out of the darkness with the
corpse of one of the missing boys in his jaws.
Two days later the elder of the two came into the village. He was
shivering with fever and dared not present himself before me, so I
went to see him. Ghastly was the story he had to unfold. Just before
the bend in the path which I have mentioned the two boys had been
unable to go further and had sat down. When we were out of sight they
had attempted to continue their journey, but before they had advanced
a few yards a huge tiger had sprung upon the younger, while the elder
had remained dumb with astonishment and terror. Helpless with fear and
weariness the survivor had wandered in the forest and at last, in
sheer desperation, had climbed into a tree expecting at every moment
to share the fate of his luckless companion.
The Cham chief, who listened to this harrowing story with an air of
indifference and barely concealed scorn, at length delivered himself
of an aphorism:
"Fear claims far more victims than courage."
CHAPTER IV
RITES AND SUPERSTITIONS (_continued_)
Agrarian rites--Tabooed ricefields--Secret ploughing--Sleeping
rice--Various uses of eagle-wood--How the Cham procure
it--Public festivals and holy days.
Of all the races which inhabit Indo-China the Cham come easily first
for the variety and individuality of their agrarian rites. There is
practically no difference between the Bani and Kaphir in this respect.
Both peoples recognize three kinds of sacred ricefields in which no
manner of work may be carried on without the accompaniment of a
special ritual. If, in the course of ploughing a rice-field, excessive
fatigue has been occasioned to either man or beast, sufficient to
cause illness, the field becomes taboo, "Hamu Tabung." The evil eye
has been cast upon it, and no remedy exists but to sell the
contaminated place at no matter what sacrifice. It need hardly be said
that the only possible purchasers are the few Annamite Christians who
are scattered throughout these regions. The Buddhist Annamites shun
such a spot as if it were plague-stricken. The cause of the mischance
is supposed to be the presence of some ancient burial-ground, the
existence of which was not suspected.
Every village has its two or three sacred ricefields the "Hamu
Canrauv," which are invariably the first to be ploughed. As a rule
they are the property of the local aristocracy. The owner with his
wife, who plays the principal part in the ceremony, goes to the field
in question, either in the evening or at dawn. They lay down a mat at
one corner and on it place two eggs, a cup of spirits and three betel
leaves, which the wife offers as a sacrifice to Pô Olwah Tak Alâ, the
great Lord of the Underworld, begging him to accept them. To set a
good example, husband and wife share the good things between them
while making three furrows round the field. After this ceremony
ploughing and sowing may proceed in the ordinary manner.
There are also fields where cultivation is forbidden, the "Hamû Klaik
Lavâ." To speak more accurately the interdict only extends to open
cultivation and the tabooed area is ploughed and worked in secret.
These operations are accomplished in the following manner. With the
first signs of day the husband and wife go to the field and after
making three furrows in silence return home. When morning comes they
walk to the place and profess the greatest astonishment that the work
of ploughing has already begun. "Who is the kindly Spirit," they
exclaim, "who has worked for us while we slept?" Without loss of time
they run back to their house to fetch suitable offerings. So great a
marvel as a field which cultivates itself is worthy to be consecrated
with a sacrifice. Accordingly they first bury five pieces of betel in
the ground and throw a handful of rice into the three magic furrows,
after which plough and bullocks are sprinkled with holy water and the
remaining operations may be carried out without further concealment.
A sacrifice is offered as soon as the stalks have emerged from the
ground and are tall enough "to hide the doves." Another marks the
moment of flowering, and a third, the most important, celebrates the
time of harvest. On this last occasion the owner cuts off the heads of
three of the stalks and wraps them up in a cloth. The next step is to
pass them through the smoke of a fire in which several pieces of
eagle-wood are burning. These ears are the first-fruits offered to the
goddess Pô Nögar, and they are afterwards hung in the owner's house
until the next sowing time comes round. The same field will then be
sown from the rice thus gathered.
For "unconsecrated" ricefields the ritual is less complicated. When
the harvesting is due the oldest woman of the group is selected to cut
three tufts, which she sets with much pomp against the bank which
borders the field and harangues the grain as yet ungathered in the
following terms:
"Follow the example you see here before you and you will be worthy of
a place in my barns." After this address harvesting proceeds without
interruption.
When the grain is safely gathered in, the Cham believe that it sleeps
all day and only awakes at night. It would be the height of
desecration and imprudence to disturb its slumbers, and consequently
we soon learnt the futility of asking our hosts for paddy in the
daytime. We were invariably informed that we must wait until night. It
was only at a late hour that the owner would consent to open the door
of his barn and give us what we wanted.
There was a very curious rite, fallen into desuetude since our
occupation in 1888, which accompanied the gathering of the precious
essence known as eagle-wood or aloe-wood. This substance is mentioned
in the Bible, the Egyptian papyri, and by many Greek, Hindu and Arab
writers. It seems to have been used extensively for embalming the
dead, as also for combining with camphor to make a kind of incense
burnt in the temples. It appears under different names, "ahalot" in
Hebrew, "aghäluhy" in Arabic, "ἀγάλλοχον" in Greek, "agaru" in
Sanscrit. The Cham call it "galao." Portuguese explorers, who seem to
have been the first to discover its commercial value, used the Arabic
name and translated it "pao de Aguila." In Latin this becomes "lignum
aquilae," and so, in modern tongues, "eagle-wood," or "agal-wood,"
"adlerholz," and "bois d'aigle."
This essence has attracted the attention of travellers of all nations
owing to its various properties, and was formerly a commercial product
of great importance among the Cham. It is found all over this region,
which seems to have been the land of its origin, for it is never met
with further north than the thirteenth or fourteenth degree of
latitude.
Botanists are not yet agreed as to the class of trees from which it is
produced. The most up-to-date investigators assert that it is produced
by diseases due to malnutrition in certain trees such as the
_aquilaria secundaria_, _aloexylum agallochum_, and _aquilaria
agallocha_, all of the family of the _aquilarinæa_. It is an aromatic
substance with a slightly resinous odour and bitter to the taste.
The natives distinguish three varieties, according to their commercial
value. The first quality, which is almost impossible to find to-day,
commanded a price of no less than fifty-four pounds a kilogramme. The
medium quality was worth sixteen pounds for the same quantity, and the
cheapest quality was worth rather more than one pound a kilogramme.
The variety of uses to which this accommodating substance can be put
is astonishing, though it is not suitable for cabinet-making.
It is largely used for incense. When thrown into a fire it melts like
wax and gives off an odour which is supposed to be particularly
pleasing to the Gods. Certain other of its properties are no less
useful to man, who values more material favours. Thus, for example, it
has very great value as a safeguard against dysentery, which is
prevalent throughout Indo-China. No Mandarin in all this region
ventures forth on a journey without having a supply of this
indispensable medicine with him.
Of course, the oriental imagination is not content to confine the
virtues of this substance to those which have been demonstrated by
actual experience. The supernatural is bound to appear somewhere, and
accordingly all kinds of magical powers are also attributed to it.
Thus every person who bears this talisman will never succumb, however
long he may be deprived of food. On the contrary, his body will no
longer be subjected to earthly necessities but will enter on a state
of divinity which requires no sustenance. The Mandarins have every
reason to appreciate this arrangement, especially at the time of their
presentation at the Imperial Court at Hué. Etiquette exacts that until
the Sovereign actually enters the throne-room they must remain quite
motionless, and they sometimes find themselves compelled to stand for
hours without stirring!
With properties so invaluable as this, it is hardly to be wondered at
that eagle-wood figured largely in the gifts presented by the
sovereign of Annam to the Emperor of China by way of tribute every
three years. To ensure a sufficient supply, all trade in this
substance, whether for home or export, was strictly prohibited, but
the prohibition was removed after our occupation, when the obligation
of tribute was suspended and finally annulled.
According to Masoudi, the celebrated Arab writer, eagle-wood has a
celestial origin.
"After the Fall, when Adam had been driven from Heaven by the
angel, he fled to Mount Rahoun in the island of Ceylon. Before
leaving Paradise, however, he contrived to snatch some leaves
from the trees and sewed them together to make a garment. To
his astonishment they shrivelled up immediately and the winds
scattered them to every corner of India. It is said, but of the
truth God alone can judge, that these remnants of our first
father's vestment gave birth to all the perfumes of Asia, and,
among them, to eagle-wood."
Other legends of Hindu origin say that the aloes tree grew in an
earthly paradise and that fragments of it were swept over the face of
the globe by a series of floods.
It is also said that the tree originally grew only on the tops of
inaccessible mountains where fearful monsters or wild beasts guarded
it from the greedy hands of man.
However that may be, it is certain that at the present time the public
is not interested in the origin of this substance so much as its
exploitation for commercial purposes. An industry formerly so
flourishing should be systematically revived, if only for its
prospective financial importance.
Balap, where the members of our mission remained for some time, is
celebrated as the residence of Pô Galao, the "Lord of the Eagle-wood,"
on whom devolved in former times the duty of supervising the gathering
of the precious substance. His associates were sixteen men of the same
village and a certain number of the "Raglaï" Moï, a group living in
the neighbourhood whose keen sense of smell is vital to success. A
good nose is of far greater importance than good sight, for eagle-wood
exhales a characteristic odour which has to be detected from among the
various smells of the virgin forest. Indeed the task of finding the
tree is beset with difficulties. The undergrowth is so thick, the
vegetation so hardy and rampant, that progress can only be made by
clearing a path with knife and hatchet. The decaying vegetation is a
prolific source of fevers. It is easily understood that with so many
perils ahead the expedition never sets out without a preliminary
sacrifice to the deities who can assure or withhold success. Of these
deities the most important to appease are the four tutelary divinities
of the valley of Phanrang. To earn their goodwill it is necessary to
build a special barn for the sacrifice and make offerings of a goat,
cooked rice, eggs and spirits.
As soon as the expedition starts the searchers are bound by a
religious law of silence. Should any member of the party speak it
would be almost certain that the wood would lose its perfume, and
therefore all its value.
Of course, an occasional direction to the "Raglaï" Moï is unavoidable,
and for this purpose the Cham make use of certain brief vivid
expressions. For example, if they wish to indicate an axe they say
"the wood-pecker." When they want to speak of fire they say "the red."
For a long time it was believed that this conventional language was a
form of religious speech, somewhat similar to the "Bhasa Hantu," or
language of the Spirit, employed by the Malays. Further research,
however, has proved that these expressions are confined to a few
detached words borrowed from the Raglaï dialect and used by the Cham
to communicate with them alone.
The women who remain behind in the villages are strictly forbidden to
quarrel amongst themselves while their husbands are away looking for
eagle-wood. A breach of this regulation would mean that the men would
run grave risk of being attacked by tigers or bitten by serpents. The
cynical, however, assert that even this evil possibility is
insufficient to preserve harmony in the village!
While I was at Malam near Phantiet I was present at the annual
festival of the Cham Bani of that village. The ceremony is known as
"Raja," a name which is also applied to the priestess who officiates.
On reaching the courtyard of the compound to which I was invited I
observed a large hut and several sheds ornamented with branches of
trees on which sheets of coarse cotton were spread. The sheds served
to accommodate the many guests who, like myself, had accepted the
invitation to be present at the festival. The hut was devoted to the
ceremonies of ancestor-worship, which were that day celebrated.
This building faced the east. On entering I immediately noticed at the
back of the room a kind of trough serving as an altar. From the
ceiling hung paper figures of boats, carts, animals and various
domestic objects. In the middle of the room, suspended from the two
principal beams, was a swing with its seat covered with
brightly-coloured materials, which took on a strangely gay and
barbaric aspect under the lights of many little candles.
The native orchestra comprised a flute, a stringed instrument with
some resemblance to a guitar, gongs and tambourines. The conductor,
who seemed to be the principal performer, also improvised on a flat
drum, timing his melodious drone to fill the intervals when the
priestess was resting.
The latter, clothed in a long white robe and with a wreath of flowers
in her hair, joined with an assistant priest in the steps of a
saraband. Together they gave vent to their feelings in dancing,
singing, prayers, imprecations, tears, grinding of teeth and hypnotic
ecstasies, all with the object of appeasing the shades of the
ancestors. Suddenly the priestess seated herself on the swing in the
narrow passage left between the candles. She swung herself slowly to
and fro, running her hands up and down the supporting ropes and
droning through endless prayers. When she had finished the priest
followed her example and went through the same rigmarole. So curious
was the scene that I could not resist the malevolent idea of taking a
photograph and without reflection I fired a piece of magnesium ribbon.
Woe to me for my impatience! In the confusion which followed the flash
both I and my camera were almost upset. I had purposely given the
company no notice of my intention in order to avoid the "posing" which
self-conscious sitters cannot avoid. The Faithful, in their amazement,
had taken the sudden apparition as an emanation of the Gods
themselves. Something more than explanations was necessary to allay
the general alarm, and it was only after a generous distribution of
tobacco that I was able to restore some measure of harmony.
The religious celebrations lasted three days, interspersed with feasts
and other diversions, notably an acrobatic display by a performer who
roused his audience to a frenzy of enthusiasm. At the beginning of
each feast a priest called all the deities by name and executed the
movements of a dance in their honour. These evolutions are an
invitation to the divinities to take their place in the celebrations.
At dawn on the second day the priestess filled with cakes and fruit a
toy boat hollowed out of the trunk of a banana-tree by some ingenious
artisan. In this frail canoe a rag monkey was placed, squatting on its
haunches in a very grotesque position. The boat was meant to
commemorate the vessel which in former days came from China every
three years to fetch the tribute exacted from a vassal state.
After this the roysterers fell upon the improvised temple and hacked
it to pieces amongst general rejoicings.
The next day, by way of applying the closure to the festivities, the
whole crowd, headed by the priest and priestess, marched to a
neighbouring canal, taking the symbolical boat with them. While the
orchestra poured forth an unmelodious symphony the lilliputian vessel
was entrusted to the waters, in which it speedily filled and
disappeared.
There are strong resemblances between this Cham ceremony and the
celebrations in India which mark the changes of the monsoon. In this
latter country travellers find the same gaily bedecked sheds, the same
rude figures cut out of paper, and the same swing scene. The Hindus
regard the backward and forward movement of the swing as a symbol of
the movements of the seasons.
Most of the rites which obtain among the Cham, in fact, recall the
ritual observances of the Vedic and Brahminic religions, of which the
following are among the most characteristic features.
The place selected for the crowning act of sacrifice, "Devayajana," is
always an open space, whether at a cross-roads or in an enclosure. The
improvised temple is made of branches or clods of earth and is
invariably destroyed by the worshippers after the solemn ceremony is
over.
Each sacrifice is regarded as the conclusion of a treaty between the
gods and mortals. The value of the offering is in proportion to the
extent of the favours desired. Most sacrifices are for heat or rain,
two necessaries of life without which neither health nor prosperity is
possible.
The officiating priest and his bodyguard of acolytes are housed and
fed at the expense of the "Yajamana," the individual for whose
ultimate benefit the benevolence of the gods is solicited. I ought to
add that the previous life and blamelessness of this person have
nothing to do with the efficacy of the sacrifice. On the contrary, the
only thing that matters is the exact, punctilious observance of the
rite itself.
It is plain that intellect plays little part in these religious
ceremonies. Throughout, each act is designed to fire the imagination
and arouse the emotions, rather than carry conviction.
It is equally certain that rites of undoubted Dravidian origin are to
be observed among the Cham. The common denominator of all the
religions of India is the worship of divinities personifying the earth
or the elements, generally in the shape of a woman, and almost always
considered malevolent.
Horrible sacrifices are offered to appease them, and the religious
ceremonies usually terminate in the most abandoned orgies. The
presiding priest, or "Devil Dancer," after a series of frantic
contortions, falls to the ground in a hypnotic trance, during which
the incoherent expressions that fall from his lips are greedily noted
and repeated by the Faithful, who regard them as the words of Divinity
itself.
For a last example there are certain fêtes, such as the "Durgapuja" in
Bengal, marked by buffoonery and pantomime, in which the worshippers
conclude the ceremonies by carrying a statue of the goddess in
procession to the river banks, and casting it into the waters to the
strains of an ear-shattering orchestra.
CHAPTER V
RITES AND SUPERSTITIONS (_continued_)
Burial rites--Philology--Legends and fables.
The exorcisms of the "Padjao" directed towards expelling disease from
the bodies of the Cham are too similar to those of the Moï sorceress
to merit description, which would be little more than repetition.
On the other hand, the burial rites of the Kaphir Cham are highly
characteristic.
Children who die before the age of puberty, and therefore not
initiated into the full rights and mysteries of manhood, are buried in
the earth, while adults of both sexes are cremated. The reason for
this distinction is not far to seek. The adults are regarded as a
class set apart with its own complex of funeral rites and observances.
Further, those who die while still of tender years die in innocence
and need no such purification from their sins as is implied in the
practice of submitting the bodies of their elders to the scourge of
fire.
After death the spirits of the little ones are supposed to dwell in
the bodies of rats, and their memory is perpetuated from time to time
by ceremonies in which the head of the family, clad in a new robe for
the occasions, makes offerings, waves his hands in the air to imitate
the movements of a bird, performs certain mystical passes, and puts a
red flower in a bronze vase.
The burial rites which are still practised by the Kaphir Cham of
Phanrang and Phanry serve as excellent comments on the duties of the
priest in case of the death of any inhabitant of a village.
The fundamental notion on which all the observances are based is that
the soul of the deceased must have a new body in which it may take
refuge after the loss of its earthly dwelling-place. All the
ceremonies are designed to create this new body. It is universally
agreed that rice alone can operate the necessary transformation, and
as the rice must be of the finest quality procurable, each family
preserves the best stalks from the harvest and lays them up in
anticipation of a death.
When the dread moment arrives the selected grains are mixed in a bowl
into which a gold ring, symbol of immortality, has been dropped. The
priest now glues a few grains together with melted wax to form a soft
round ball, which is introduced under the dead man's tongue. A few
mystical passes, and the soul leaves its old shell for the new
ætherial body thus called into existence. The next and last step is to
give the soul its necessary directions. These depend upon the manner
of life of the deceased. Virtuous men are sent to the sun, women
against whom there is no reproach to the moon. If the credit and
debit items of a man's moral account balance out he is dispatched to
the planets. The wicked are dispersed among the clouds, as are also
the poor and lowly, an inequitable disposition worthy of a theocracy!
The actual ceremony of cremation follows after a period which is
determined by the state of the corpse and the financial position of
the deceased's family. From the moment of death to the cremation
custom exacts that all visitors to the family should be housed and fed
at the expense of the relations. These visitors come to keep the
deceased company and pretend to entertain him by their wit and
conversation. They also cheer up the relations and do their best to
keep sorrow at a convenient distance.
The family build a special shed under which the corpse is laid, after
having been dressed in eight robes, one over the other. Thus swathed
in white linen the body looks exactly like a package with the head,
covered with a thin veil, emerging from one end. It is strictly
forbidden to offer any nourishment to the deceased before he leaves
his own house. The bed on which the corpse is laid is turned towards
the south and surmounted by a kind of canopy from which hang birds cut
out of paper. It seems that the function of this winged escort is to
conduct the soul to its future home. Clumps of hemp and various foods
are strewn around the bier and the walls of the shed are hung with
martial trophies.
[Illustration:
_Photo by_] [_A. Cabaton._
Cremation in Cambodia: The Head of the Procession.]
[Illustration:
_Photo by_] [_A. Cabaton._
A Catafalque upon which several Bodies are being carried away for
Cremation.]
[Illustration:
_Photo by_] [_A. Cabaton._
The Hearse and Bearers at an Annamese Funeral.]
[Illustration:
_Photo. by_] [_A. Cabaton._
The Altar of his Ancestors which accompanies the Deceased.]
Three times a day the priestess prepares a meal for the deceased.
An orchestra plays from morning to night almost without intermission.
It is soon plain that this lying-in-state, so far from being a rite of
mourning, is more like a festival. The guests consume enormous
quantities of food and drink, and only the unfortunate relations are
under ban to refrain from meat until after the cremation.
When at length the great day arrives the priests construct a
catafalque adorned with paper figures, the mourners line up in
procession behind, and all proceed to the appointed place. Every
villager dons his white scarf--white being the colour of
mourning--brandishes a spear, sword, or flag, and joins in the
cortège. The bearers perform the most remarkable evolutions with the
body, carrying it now feet first, now head first, or turning it round
and round in order to confuse the spirit and prevent it from finding
its way back. This essential object is also secured by a priest, known
on these occasions as "Pô Damoeun," "Lord of Sorrow," who remains in
the house of the deceased, shuts himself in, and calls on every
object, animate and inanimate, to prevent the soul from entering and
molesting the living.
When the funeral procession is within a hundred yards from the exit
from the village a priest takes a spade and marks out the spot
destined for the funeral pyre. Wood is brought and piled up and the
corpse is stripped of its wrappings and offered its last meal. As soon
as the flames break out the clothes of the deceased are thrown into
them. Now comes the moment, marked by the passage of the soul to the
life beyond, when the living send gifts to their dead relations. Each
man writes his list of presents on a slip of paper and then burns it.
The list is exhaustive, including such homely and necessary articles
as a pipe, spittoon and the inevitable receptacle for betel and lime.
Even underclothing and small change are not forgotten. During the
progress of the conflagration the spectators joke and chatter
together, leaving the serious business of desolation to the hired
mourners, who weep aloud and tear their hair. At the conclusion of the
ceremony the frontal bone of the deceased is carefully broken in nine
pieces, which are collected in a metal box, the "klong," a special
kind of urn. Every man provides himself with one of these receptacles
in anticipation of his own death, but the usual practice is to conceal
it in some place known only to his family, as it is not altogether
pleasant to be perpetually reminded of the terror to come.
The fragments of bone are now subjected to a long and tedious process
of purification, after which they are buried at the foot of a tree,
which is carefully noted, as being only a temporary depository. For
the next seven years on each anniversary the family dig up the box,
carry it back to their house, and offer sacrifices in its honour.
After the seventh year the interment is permanent. A spot is chosen
near to the best of the family ricefields, trees are planted round it,
and a tombstone is erected.
Sometimes the rites require that for the first interment the "klong"
of a man and a woman must be used together. It follows that in small
families where many years may elapse between the deaths of its members
the first "klong" runs a great risk of exceeding its seven compulsory
years of waiting before reaching its final resting-place.
The direction in which the urn is placed varies with the sex of the
deceased. The "klong" of a woman points to the west, that of a man to
the east.
I have described these rites at some length on account of their
intrinsic interest, but it would be illuminating to compare them with
similar ceremonies obtaining among other groups.
The Man Quan Trang, or "white-breeched" Man of Tonkin, bury the hair
and portions of the nails and bones in a different place from that of
the corpse itself. The reason for this is that these fragments are
considered the abode of the Material Soul and the Vital Spirits.
The Bouriates of Siberia bury some of the bones of their priests at
the foot of a tree.
The Egyptians made a set speech to their dead, in which they gave
directions for the guidance of the soul to the distant regions, and
enumerated a list of necessary articles to accompany it. The
recitation of these articles dispensed with the necessity of
furnishing them. The will was thus considered as good as the deed.
Lastly the funeral rites I have described find analogies among the
Laotians and the peoples of Cambodia. Here also a death is celebrated
as a happy event, as being merely a step to a new existence far more
blessed than the life on earth. The face of the corpse is covered with
a mask in gold leaf which is moulded to the features, and the process
of decomposition is retarded by the introduction of mercury. The
catafalque is large or small according to the social position of the
deceased. A king, for example, has a regular monument known as the
"Mén." A Minister of State or a High Priest is honoured with a rather
smaller edifice, while those of humble estate have to be content with
a simple pyramid. A large white cloth is hung over the catafalque, of
which the opening is guarded by a small figure in the mask of a
monkey. This is "Yéac," a subject of Couvera, the God of Riches, whose
statue adorns every place where a mystical transformation is to be
accomplished. The quaint figure holds in its hand a reel of white
cotton, of which one end is secured to the coffin and which will guide
the soul after it has left the body. The torch which fires the funeral
pyre is lit at a brasier which contains the sacred embers which must
never be extinguished. When cremation is complete the bones are
collected into a box made of precious metal, which is buried under a
tower, the height of which varies with the wealth of the deceased.
All these rites, however much they vary among themselves in detail,
seem to be based on the same popular ideas of the significance of
death.
* * * * *
Like ourselves, the Cham write from left to right. Their alphabet
varies in different regions. In Cambodia it comprises four vowels, two
diphthongs, and twenty-nine consonants. In Annam there are five short
vowels, five long vowels, and four diphthongs. Both of these alphabets
have two special signs which correspond to the "Anusvara" and
"Visarga" of Sanscrit. There are also certain signs usually employed
in conjunction with the vowels which influence their pronunciation.
With the exception of the figures 4 and 0 the numerals are only a
modified form of the letters.
The popular pen is a short bamboo cut to a point and manipulated like
a paint-brush. The European pen is, however, coming into fashion with
the progress of Western ideas.
In Cambodia manuscripts are written in a beautiful free hand on paper
of Western form and manufacture. On the other hand, the Cham of Annam
use sheets of rice-paper of tremendous size imported from China.
Occasionally the traveller meets with inscriptions made with a needle
on palm-leaves.
The priests of Annam employ a hieratic writing, which they call "Akhar
Rik," especially for such purposes as engraving magical inscriptions
on amulets. A secret system and an abbreviated system are also used
when occasion requires.
A curious feature of their books is that the authors display a
tendency to coin new words from Sanscrit or Arabic roots even when the
idea expressed in those roots has only the remotest similarity to the
meaning they wish the word to convey.
The Cham Bani of Phanrang are the proud possessors of the manuscript
of a Bible, the text of which has been modified in many places by
Mohammedan influence. The truth of this will be demonstrated from the
examples translated by Father Durand.
"This Book tells the story of the beginnings of Earth and
Heaven.... The creation of the Sun God and the Moon Goddess.
The Lord Uwlwah--Allah--then created the Pô Adam and the woman
Hawā, whom he took from the man's side.... Their children
numbered nine and ninety, an equal(!) number of boys and girls.
They died in the Kingdom of Judah."
Then follow the story of the flood, the lives of Abraham and David,
without conspicuous discrepancies.
"The son of Nabi Dalawat--Daoud, David--(the Cham have no final
d) was called the Nabi Suleiman--Solomon. Allah commanded him
to build the Caabah--temple--and gave him a mountain of gold
and silver. Suleiman covered the walls of his Caabah with these
precious metals and it became wondrously beautiful. He was
appointed Chief of the Priests therein.... Then Nabi
Esā--Issa, Jesus--was born in the country of Baitelem and
him Allah took to himself.... Then Mohammat--Mahomet--for forty
years decreed all the Doctrine in the Kingdom of
Makah--Mecca--and died in the Kingdom of Madjanah--Medina....
Then Adam and Hawā produced the seven Royalties. The sum of
these seven epochs gives the total of 7306 years to the cyclic
year of the Tiger....
"That is all...."
The Cham, like the Kmer, have taken little trouble over the
composition of their legends and fables.
Apart from certain legends which by internal evidence and local
flavour can only be regarded as having originated among the Cham, all
the others are more or less successful adaptations of Hindu tales. In
almost all countries, and conspicuously in the Far East, popular fancy
fastens and feeds on the fabulous, or, at least, incredibly romantic,
adventures of the ancient Kings. It is at least true to say that these
adventures furnish a canvas on which imagination has worked wondrous
pictures.
The origin of the special tight-fitting costume worn by the Cham women
is explained on this wise.
In the darkness of the Past a Cham Prince named Hon Hoî declared war
on a Laotian Princess, whose ricefields he coveted. In accordance with
the customs of the women of her race, the Princess, Diep Lieu, was
arrayed in nothing more than a scanty covering of bamboo fibres. The
barbarity and ignorance of her subjects was incredible. All buying
and selling went on by night, and in the darkness it was impossible to
determine the quality of the wares displayed except by their fine
smell. The Prince had no difficulty in overwhelming her forces and
making her his prisoner. But she found favour in his sight, and within
a short time she exchanged captivity for freedom and honour as his
wife. The Prince, however, was shocked at the summary attire of his
betrothed and for the wedding-day he gave her a costume of his own
making. This was a kind of sack, at the top of which was a narrow hole
for the head to come through. The Cham also honour the thesis that
imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, so the women adopted this
new mode with avidity, and it has survived all the attacks of time and
feminine caprice.
* * * * *
A legend has gathered round each of the kings who has been raised to
the ranks of divinity by the Cham. Pô Klong Garai was born of a Virgin
Mother, Pô Sah Ineu, who rose alive from the waves. Though hardly yet
a woman she conceived her son while sipping water from a stream which
flowed through a rock. The child was smitten with the horror of
leprosy from birth. While he rested near a rock, a dragon emerged from
a cavern, licked the sores caused by the fell disease, and the child
was immediately cured. From that day he felt himself endowed with
matchless celestial powers. On one occasion, when about to make a
distant journey, and at a loss for a receptacle in which to carry
water he saw a pumpkin.
At the first touch of his hand the fruit broke its stalk and offered
its services as a gourd. When this magician became King he built
several dams in the valley of Phanrang and turned an arid desert into
a fertile plain. So great were his services to his people that finally
the gods rewarded him by calling him to be one of themselves.
Hardly less humble in origin than this prince was Pô Romé. He also was
born of a Virgin Mother, whom the family drove from their doors in
horror at the alleged crime. Nature, too, was not more kindly to the
tiny bastard, who had neither arms nor legs and rolled over the ground
like a cocoa-nut (a peculiarity from which he soon took that name). In
spite of his deformity, however, the reigning sovereign praised him to
his mother and appointed him to guard the cattle. Destiny was watching
over him and a Dragon soon appeared to tell him of all the glories the
future had in store. Warned of the approaching miracle by the court
astrologers, the King set himself to win the regard of one who might
one day prove a formidable rival to himself. He finally decided to
abdicate in the young man's favour and added to his benefits by giving
him the hand of his daughter in marriage and two other wives of the
second and third degree. But Cocoa-nut was not happy even with his
three wives. Hardly had he ascended the throne than he lost his crown
through the artifices of his second wife. This lady was the daughter
of the King of Annam who coveted his neighbour's lands and was not
above treachery to secure them. At this time the tutelary deity of the
Cham was shut up in the trunk of a tree, known as the "Kraik," and so
long as this tree was alive no misfortune could befall the race
beneath its ægis. The second wife, adopting the counsel of her evil
father, pretended to be smitten with a grave malady. She refused all
cures and asserted that her only hope was the destruction of the
Kraik. Cocoa-nut, who had a strong affection for this wife, had her
carefully examined by the four most eminent medicine-men of his
kingdom. All four agreed that the illness was a sham, and all four
paid for their truthfulness with their heads. Meanwhile the lady's
condition seemed to go from bad to worse, and the King decided to fell
with his own hand the tree on which hung the destinies of his people.
Streams of blood flowed from the smitten trunk and soaked the ground
around. The King had not long to wait for retribution. Betrayed by his
treacherous spouse, his kingdom was wrested from him and he was hacked
in pieces by his triumphant foe. His incisors alone were restored to
his first wife that she might pay the honour due to his remains. The
ex-Cocoa-nut, become Pô Romé, now dwells among the Gods, but even
there, it seems, his domestic tribulations have pursued him, and he is
often glad, when distracted by the factious quarrels of his
womenfolk, to get away from his palace and leave it to them.
The Cham have a certain partiality for songs and lyrical poems not
destitute of taste and feeling have acquired popularity among them. A
romance which the girls of Phanrang sing on their fishing expeditions
is as follows:
"Do you go forth to set sail, my Lord, that you look at the
leaves for the direction of the wind? Ibrahim, my soul of gold
... hard would it be if you left me....
"Pity your little sister fair as gold itself! Do not leave her,
like an orphan, to wander in the forests where fear and danger
lurk....
"You will stay! Oh joy! Life will be naught but play and
laughter and walks together, hand in hand!"
Finally, there is the skeleton, not much more, of a literature. Here
are some extracts from a bedside book which all girls are supposed to
study before making their own homes.
"Liver and Bile of thy mother, approach, my child, and learn
what a woman should know.
"When thou speakest with thy husband, let thy tone above all be
modest.
"Strive not to appear superior or even as his equal, for the
man it is who should lead the woman.
"My child, the boat will not leave its moorings if the stake is
solid and secure! In a family the husband is the keystone of
the structure!
"The honour he gains goes to the credit of his wife.
"My daughter, ever remember that the happiness of a household
lies in the hands of the wife. She must not waste the goods he
entrusts to her.
"Waste not then the least trifle. See that every door has
always its bolt.... Follow these precepts and wert thou as
hideous as an ape thou shalt keep the love of thy husband, for
thy presence shall be more profitable to him than a bar of
gold, were it the height of a cocoa-nut tree...."
Of such homely advice consists the very ancient manuscript which Moura
translated and which escaped the wreck in which all the others were
lost.
I expect modern young ladies will find these mother's words somewhat
out of date. But what European husband would not occasionally envy the
Cham so perfect a partner?
THE END
BIBLIOGRAPHY
I have kept the scientific side of my researches in the background in
this book, but the curious may consult the following works with
advantage:
AYMONIER, E., "Les Tjames et leurs Religions." Paris, Leroux, 1891;
"Légendes historiques des Chams," in _Excursions et Reconnaissances_,
No. 32, 1890.
BARTH, "Les Religions de l'Inde." Paris, Fichbacher, 1879.
BARTHÉLÉMY, DE, "Au pays Moï." Paris, Plon Nourrit, 1903.
BERNARD, DR. NOËL, "Les Khas, peuple inculte du Laos," in _Bulletin de
géographie historique et descriptive_, 1904.
BERGAIGNE, A., "L'Ancien Royaume du Champa dans l'Indochine," in
_Journal Asiatique_. Paris, 1886.
CABATON, ANTOINE, "Nouvelles recherches sur les Chams." Paris, Leroux,
1901; "Notes sur les sources européennes de l'histoire de
l'Indochine," in _Bulletin de la Commission Archéologique de
l'Indochine_, 1911; "Les Malais et l'avenir de leur langue," in _Revue
du Monde Musulman_. Paris, 1908; "Les Chams musulmans de l'Indochine,"
in _Revue du Monde Musulman_. Paris, 1907.
CADIÈRE, LE PÈRE, "Croyances et dictons populaires de la vallée du
Nguon Son," in _Bulletin de l'École Française d'Extrême Orient_.
Hanoi, Schneider, 1902.
CRAWLEY, E., "The Mystic Rose." London, Macmillan, 1902.
CREMAZY, "Le droit coutumier de l'Extrême Orient à travers les ages."
Conférence faite à l'École Coloniale en 1909.
CUMONT, FRANZ, "Les Religions Orientales dans le paganisme romain."
Paris, Leroux, 1907.
CUPET, COMMANDANT. See Pavie.
DIGUET, LE COLONEL E., "Les montagnards du Tonkin." Paris, Challamel,
1908.
DOUDART DE LAGRÉE. See Garnier.
DOURISBOURE, LE PÈRE, "Les sauvages Bahnars." Paris, Téqui, 1904.
DULAURE, J. A., "Les divinités génératrices, ou du culte du Phallus
chez les Anciens et les Modernes." Paris, 1805. A new edition by the
Société du Mercure de France. Paris, 1905.
DURAND, LE PÈRE, "Les Moï du Song Phang," in _B. G. D. H._ Paris,
1900; "Les Chams Banis," in _B. E. F. E. O._ Hanoi, 1903; "Notes sur
les Chams," in _B. E. F. E. O._ Hanoi, 1905; "Les Archives des
derniers Rois Chams," in _B. E. F. E. O._ Hanoi, 1907.
FILLASTRE, LE PÈRE ADRIEN, "Bois d'aigle et bois d'aloès," in _Revue
Indochinoise_. Hanoi, 1905.
FINOT, LOUIS, "La Religion des Chams d'après les monuments," in _B. E.
F. E. O._ Hanoi, 1901. Cours d'Histoire et de Philologie Indochinoises
professé au Collège de France, 1908.
FOUCART, GEORGE, "Histoire des Religions et Méthode Comparative."
Paris, Picard, 1912.
FRAZER, "The Golden Bough." London, Macmillan, 1900.
GARNIER, F., "Voyage d'exploration en l'Indochine." Paris, Hachette,
1873.
GENNEP, ARNOLD VAN, "Religions, Mœurs et Légendes." Paris, Mercure
de France, 4 vols. 1908 à 1911; "Mythes et Légendes d'Australie."
Paris, Guilmoto, 1908; "Les Rites de Passage." Paris, E. Nourry,
1909.
HAVELOCK, ELLIS, "Studies in Sexual Psychology."
HOLBÉ, T. V., "Les poisons Moï et recherches sur le Cai voi-voi."
Montpellier, Serre et Roumegous, 1905.
HUTEREAU, A., "Notes sur la vie familiale et juridique de quelques
populations du Congo Beige," in _Annales du Musée du Congo Belge_.
Brussels, 1909.
JOYCE, T. A., "Notes ethnographiques sur les peuples communément
appelés Bakuba, ainsi que sur les peuplades apparentées Les Busongo,"
in _Annales du Musée du Congo Belge_. Brussels, 1911.
KEANE, A. H., "On the Relations of the Indo-Chinese and Inter-Oceanic
races and languages," in the _Journal of the Anthropological Institute
of Great Britain and Ireland_. London, 1880.
KEMLIN, LE P., "Les rites agraires des Reungao," in _B. E. F. E. O._
Hanoi, 1910; "Au pays Jaraï," in _Missions Catholiques_. Paris, 1909.
LANDES, A., "Légende djarai sur l'origine du sabre sacré par le Roi du
Feu," in _Revue Indochinoise_. Hanoi, 1904.
LEFÈVRE, PONTALIS, "Notes sur l'écriture des Khas," in
_L'Anthropologie_. Paris, 1892; "Notes sur quelques populations du
Nord de l'Indochine," in _Journal Asiatique_. Paris, 1892.
LEMIRE, CH., "Les anciens monuments des Kiams en Annam et au Tonkin,"
in _L'Anthropologie_. Paris.
LETOURNEAU, CH., "La littérature synthétique des premiers âges," in
_Bulletin de la Société d'Anthropologie_. Paris, 1894.
MAÎTRE, H., "Les régions Moï du Sud Indochinois." Paris, Plon, 1909;
"Les jungles Moï." Paris, E. Larose, 1912.
MALGLAIVE, CAP. DE. See Pavie.
MASPERO, "Le Royaume de Champa," in Toung-Pao. 1910 à 1912.
MOURA, J., "Le Royaume du Cambodge." Paris, Leroux, 1883.
NEÏS, DR. P., "Explorations chez les Sauvages de l'Indochine," in
_Bulletin de la Société de Géographie_. Paris, 1883.
PAVIE, AUGUSTE, "Mission Pa vie en l'Indochine, 1879-1895." Paris, E.
Leroux, 1901 à 1911; 6 vols. (See Cupet and Malglaive, in
collaboration.)
REINACH, SALOMON. "Cultes, Mythes et Religions." Paris. E. Leroux.
RIEDEL, J. G. F., "Prohibitieve Teekens en Tatuage--vormen op het
ecland." Batavia, 1907.
SAINTYVES, P., "Les Vierges Mères et les naissances miraculeuses."
Paris, E. Nourry, 1908.
SÉBILLOT, P., "Le Folklore de France." Paris, Guilmoto, 1905.
SKEAT, W. W., "Some records of Malay magic." Singapore, 1898.
TORDAY, E. See Joyce, in collaboration.
TOURNIER, COLONEL, "Notice sur le Laos Français." Hanoi, 1900.
ZABOROSKI, "Les Tsiams. Origine et caractère," in _Revue
Scientifique_. Paris, série IV.; "De la circoncision des garçons et de
l'excision des filles comme pratiques d'initiation," in _Bulletin de
la Société d'Anthropologie_. Paris. 1894.
X., "Notes analytiques sur les collections ethnographiques du Musée du
Congo, publiées sous la direction du Musée. Tome I., fascicule II. La
Religion." Bruxelles, 1906.
_Printed at The Chapel River Press, Kingston, Surrey._
FOOTNOTES
[1] According to the measurements of Dr. Noël Bernard the cephalic
index of the living male is 76. The transverse nasal index varies
between 84 and 95.
[2] Pronounced Tiam, Tiampa. Ch = tia.
[3] _Les Tjames et leurs religions_, by Aymonier. _Nouvelles
Recherches sur les Cham_, by A. Cabaton.
[4] See Bibliography at end.
* * * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Diacritical markings have been made consistent. Otherwise the text,
including hyphenated variants, has been transcribed as printed.