(M222) In the Nicobar Islands the names of dead relatives are tabooed for

a generation; but when both their parents are dead, men and women are

bound to assume the names of their deceased grandfathers or grandmothers

respectively.(1395) Perhaps with the names they may be thought to inherit

the spirits of their ancestors. Among the Tartars in the Middle Ages the

names of the dead might not be uttered till the third generation.(1396)

Among the Gilyaks of Saghalien no two persons in the same tribe may bear

the same name at the same time; for they think that if a child were to

receive the name of a living man, either the child or the man would die

within the year. When a man dies, his name may not be uttered until after

the celebration of the festival at which they sacrifice a bear for the

purpose of procuring plenty of game and fish. At that festival they call

out the name of the deceased while they beat the skin of the bear.

Thenceforth the name may be pronounced by every one, and it will be

bestowed on a child who shall afterwards be born.(1397) These customs

suggest that the Gilyaks, like other peoples, suppose the namesake of a

deceased person to be his or her reincarnation; for their objection to let

two living persons bear the same name seems to imply a belief that the

soul goes with the name, and therefore cannot be shared by two people at

the same time.

(M223) Among the Esquimaux of Bering Strait the first child born in a

village after some one has died receives the dead person’s name, and must

represent him in subsequent festivals which are given in his honour. The

day before the great feast of the dead the nearest male relative of the

deceased goes to the grave and plants before it a stake bearing the crest

or badge of the departed. This is the notice served to the ghost to attend

the festival. Accordingly he returns from the spirit-land to the grave.

Afterwards a song is sung at the grave inviting the ghost to repair to the

assembly-house, where the people are gathered to celebrate the festival.

The shade accepts the invitation and takes his place, with the other

ghosts, in the fire-pit under the floor of the assembly-house. All the

time of the festival, which lasts for several days, lamps filled with

seal-oil are kept burning day and night in the assembly-house in order to

light up the path to the spirit-land and enable the ghosts to find their

way back to their old haunts on earth. When the spirits of the dead are

gathered in the pit, and the proper moment has come, they all rise up

through the floor and enter the bodies of their living namesakes.

Offerings of food, drink, and clothes are now made to these namesakes, who

eat and drink and wear the clothes on behalf of the ghosts. Finally, the

shades, refreshed and strengthened by the banquet, are sent away back to

their graves thinly clad in the spiritual essence of the clothes, while

the gross material substance of the garments is retained by their

namesakes.(1398) Here the reincarnation of the dead in the living is not

permanent, but merely occasional and temporary. Still a special connexion

may well be thought to subsist at all times between the deceased and the

living person who bears his or her name.

(M224) The foregoing facts seem to render it probable that even where a

belief in the reincarnation of ancestors either is not expressly attested

or has long ceased to form part of the popular creed, many of the

solemnities which attend the naming of children may have sprung originally

from the widespread notion that the souls of the dead come to life again

in their namesakes.(1399)

(M225) In some cases the period during which the name of the deceased may

not be pronounced seems to bear a close relation to the time during which

his mortal remains may be supposed still to hold together. Thus, of some

Indian tribes on the north-west coast of America it is said that they may

not speak the name of a dead person “until the bones are finally disposed

of.”(1400) Among the Narrinyeri of South Australia the name might not be

uttered until the corpse had decayed.(1401) In the Encounter Bay tribe of

the same country the dead body is dried over a fire, packed up in mats,

and carried about for several months among the scenes which had been

familiar to the deceased in his life. Next it is placed on a platform of

sticks and left there till it has completely decayed, whereupon the next

of kin takes the skull and uses it as a drinking-cup. After that the name

of the departed may be uttered without offence. Were it pronounced sooner

his kinsmen would be deeply offended, and a war might be the result.(1402)

The rule that the name of the dead may not be spoken until his body has

mouldered away seems to point to a belief that the spirit continues to

exist only so long as the body does so, and that, when the material frame

is dissolved, the spiritual part of the man perishes with it, or goes

away, or at least becomes so feeble and incapable of mischief that his

name may be bandied about with impunity.(1403) This view is to some extent

confirmed by the practice of the Arunta tribe in central Australia. We

have seen that among them no one may mention the name of the deceased

during the period of mourning for fear of disturbing and annoying the

ghost, who is believed to be walking about at large. Some of the relations

of the dead man, it is true, such as his parents, elder brothers and

sisters, paternal aunts, mother-in-law, and all his sons-in-law, whether

actual or possible, are debarred all their lives from taking his name into

their lips; but other people, including his wife, children, grandchildren,

grandparents, younger brothers and sisters, and father-in-law, are free to

name him so soon as he has ceased to walk the earth and hence to be

dangerous. Some twelve or eighteen months after his death the people seem

to think that the dead man has enjoyed his liberty long enough, and that

it is time to confine his restless spirit within narrower bounds.

Accordingly a grand battue or ghost-hunt brings the days of mourning to an

end. The favourite haunt of the deceased is believed to be the burnt and

deserted camp where he died. Here therefore on a certain day a band of men

and women, the men armed with shields and spear-throwers, assemble and

begin dancing round the charred and blackened remains of the camp,

shouting and beating the air with their weapons and hands in order to

drive away the lingering spirit from the spot he loves too well. When the

dancing is over, the whole party proceed to the grave at a run, chasing

the ghost before them. It is in vain that the unhappy ghost makes a last

bid for freedom, and, breaking away from the beaters, doubles back towards

the camp; the leader of the party is prepared for this manœuvre, and by

making a long circuit adroitly cuts off the retreat of the fugitive.

Finally, having run him to earth, they trample him down into the grave,

dancing and stamping on the heaped-up soil, while with downward thrusts

through the air they beat and force him under ground. There, lying in his

narrow house, flattened and prostrate under a load of earth, the poor

ghost sees his widow wearing the gay feathers of the ring-neck parrot in

her hair, and he knows that the time of her mourning for him is over. The

loud shouts of the men and women shew him that they are not to be

frightened and bullied by him any more, and that he had better lie quiet.

But he may still watch over his friends, and guard them from harm, and

visit them in dreams.(1404)

§ 4. Names of Kings and other Sacred Persons tabooed.

(M226) When we see that in primitive society the names of mere commoners,

whether alive or dead, are matters of such anxious care, we need not be

surprised that great precautions should be taken to guard from harm the

names of sacred kings and priests. Thus the name of the king of Dahomey is

always kept secret, lest the knowledge of it should enable some

evil-minded person to do him a mischief. The appellations by which the

different kings of Dahomey have been known to Europeans are not their true

names, but mere titles, or what the natives call “strong names”

(_nyi-sese_). As a rule, these “strong names” are the first words of

sentences descriptive of certain qualities. Thus Agaja, the name by which

the fourth king of the dynasty was known, was part of a sentence meaning,

“A spreading tree must be lopped before it can be cast into the fire”; and

Tegbwesun, the name of the fifth king, formed the first word of a sentence

which signified, “No one can take the cloth off the neck of a wild bull.”

The natives seem to think that no harm comes of such titles being known,

since they are not, like the birth-names, vitally connected with their

owners.(1405) In the Galla kingdom of Ghera the birth-name of the

sovereign may not be pronounced by a subject under pain of death, and

common words which resemble it in sound are changed for others. Thus when

a queen named Carre reigned over the kingdom, the word _hara_, which means

smoke, was exchanged for _unno_; further, _arre_, “ass,” was replaced by

_culula_; and _gudare_, “potato,” was dropped and _loccio_ substituted for

it.(1406) Among the Bahima of central Africa, when the king dies, his name

is abolished from the language, and if his name was that of an animal, a

new appellation must be found for the creature at once. For example, the

king is often called a lion; hence at the death of a king named Lion a new

name for lions in general has to be coined.(1407) Thus in the language of

the Bahima the word for “lion” some years ago was _mpologoma_. But when a

prominent chief of that name died, the word for lion was changed to

_kichunchu_. Again, in the Bahima language the word for “nine” used to be

_mwenda_, a word which occurs with the same meaning but dialectical

variations in the languages of other tribes of central and eastern Africa.

But when a chief who bore the name Mwenda died, the old name for “nine”

had to be changed, and accordingly the word _isaga_ has been substituted

for it.(1408) In Siam it used to be difficult to ascertain the king’s real

name, since it was carefully kept secret from fear of sorcery; any one who

mentioned it was clapped into gaol. The king might only be referred to

under certain high-sounding titles, such as “the august,” “the perfect,”

“the supreme,” “the great emperor,” “descendant of the angels,” and so

on.(1409) In Burma it was accounted an impiety of the deepest dye to

mention the name of the reigning sovereign; Burmese subjects, even when

they were far from their country, could not be prevailed upon to do

so;(1410) after his accession to the throne the king was known by his

royal titles only.(1411) The proper name of the Emperor of China may

neither be pronounced nor written by any of his subjects.(1412) Coreans

were formerly forbidden, under severe penalties, to utter the king’s name,

which, indeed, was seldom known.(1413) When a prince ascends the throne of

Cambodia he ceases to be designated by his real name; and if that name

happens to be a common word in the language, the word is often changed.

Thus, for example, since the reign of King Ang Duong the word _duong_,

which meant a small coin, has been replaced by _dom_.(1414) In the island

of Sunda it is taboo to utter any word which coincides with the name of a

prince or chief.(1415) The name of the rajah of Bolang Mongondo, a

district in the west of Celebes, is never mentioned except in case of

urgent necessity, and even then his pardon must be asked repeatedly before

the liberty is taken.(1416) In the island of Sumba people do not mention

the real name of a prince, but refer to him by the name of the first slave

whom in his youth he became master of. This slave is regarded by the chief

as his second self, and he enjoys practical impunity for any misdeeds he

may commit.(1417)

(M227) Among the Zulus no man will mention the name of the chief of his

tribe or the names of the progenitors of the chief, so far as he can

remember them; nor will he utter common words which coincide with or

merely resemble in sound tabooed names. “As, for instance, the Zungu tribe

say _mata_ for _manzi_ (water), and _inkosta_ for _tshanti_ (grass), and

_embigatdu_ for _umkondo_ (assegai), and _inyatugo_ for _enhlela_ (path),

because their present chief is Umfan-o inhlela, his father was Manzini,

his grandfather Imkondo, and one before him Tshani.” In the tribe of the

Dwandwes there was a chief called Langa, which means the sun; hence the

name of the sun was changed from _langa_ to _gala_, and so remains to this

day, though Langa died more than a hundred years ago. Once more, in the

Xnumayo tribe the word meaning “to herd cattle” was changed from _alusa_

or _ayusa_ to _kagesa_, because u-Mayusi was the name of the chief.

Besides these taboos, which were observed by each tribe separately, all

the Zulu tribes united in tabooing the name of the king who reigned over

the whole nation. Hence, for example, when Panda was king of Zululand, the

word for “a root of a tree,” which is _impando_, was changed to _nxabo_.

Again, the word for “lies” or “slander” was altered from _amacebo_ to

_amakwata_, because _amacebo_ contains a syllable of the name of the

famous King Cetchwayo. These substitutions are not, however, carried so

far by the men as by the women, who omit every sound even remotely

resembling one that occurs in a tabooed name. At the king’s kraal, indeed,

it is sometimes difficult to understand the speech of the royal wives, as

they treat in this fashion the names not only of the king and his

forefathers, but even of his and their brothers back for generations. When

to these tribal and national taboos we add those family taboos on the

names of connexions by marriage which have been already described,(1418)

we can easily understand how it comes about that in Zululand every tribe

has words peculiar to itself, and that the women have a considerable

vocabulary of their own. Members, too, of one family may be debarred from

using words employed by those of another. The women of one kraal, for

instance, may call a hyaena by its ordinary name; those of the next may

use the common substitute; while in a third the substitute may also be

unlawful and another term may have to be invented to supply its place.

Hence the Zulu language at the present day almost presents the appearance

of being a double one; indeed, for multitudes of things it possesses three

or four synonyms, which through the blending of tribes are known all over

Zululand.(1419)

(M228) In Madagascar a similar custom everywhere prevails and has

resulted, as among the Zulus, in producing certain dialectic differences

in the speech of the various tribes. There are no family names in

Madagascar, and almost every personal name is drawn from the language of

daily life and signifies some common object or action or quality, such as

a bird, a beast, a tree, a plant, a colour, and so on. Now, whenever one

of these common words forms the name or part of the name of the chief of

the tribe, it becomes sacred and may no longer be used in its ordinary

signification as the name of a tree, an insect, or what not. Hence a new

name for the object must be invented to replace the one which has been

discarded. Often the new name consists of a descriptive epithet or a

periphrasis. Thus when the princess Rabodo became queen in 1863 she took

the name of Rasoherina. Now _soherina_ was the word for the silkworm moth,

but having been assumed as the name of the sovereign it could no longer be

applied to the insect, which ever since has been called _zany-dandy_,

“offspring of silk.” So, again, if a chief had or took the name of an

animal, say of the dog (_amboa_), and was known as Ramboa, the animal

would henceforth be called by another name, probably a descriptive one,

such as “the barker” (_famovo_) or “the driver away” (_fandroaka_), etc.

In the western part of Imerina there was a chief called Andria-mamba; but

_mamba_ was one of the names of the crocodile, so the chiefs subjects

might not call the reptile by that name and were always scrupulous to use

another. It is easy to conceive what confusion and uncertainty may thus be

introduced into a language when it is spoken by many little local tribes

each ruled by a petty chief with his own sacred name. Yet there are tribes

and people who submit to this tyranny of words as their fathers did before

them from time immemorial. The inconvenient results of the custom are

especially marked on the western coast of the island, where, on account of

the large number of independent chieftains, the names of things, places,

and rivers have suffered so many changes that confusion often arises, for

when once common words have been banned by the chiefs the natives will not

acknowledge to have ever known them in their old sense.(1420)

(M229) But it is not merely the names of living kings and chiefs which are

tabooed in Madagascar; the names of dead sovereigns are equally under a

ban, at least in some parts of the island. Thus among the Sakalavas, when

a king has died, the nobles and people meet in council round the dead body

and solemnly choose a new name by which the deceased monarch shall be

henceforth known. The new name always begins with _andrian_, “lord,” and

ends with _arrivou_, “thousand,” to signify that the late king ruled over

a numerous nation. The body of the name is composed of an epithet or

phrase descriptive of the deceased or of his reign. After the new name has

been adopted, the old name by which the king was known during his life

becomes sacred and may not be pronounced under pain of death. Further,

words in the common language which bear any resemblance to the forbidden

name also become sacred and have to be replaced by others. For example,

after the death of King Makka the word _laka_, which meant a canoe, was

abandoned and the word _fiounrâma_ substituted for it. When Taoussi died,

the word _taoussi_, signifying “beautiful,” was replaced by _senga_. For

similar reasons the word _ântétsi_, “old,” was changed for _matoué_, which

properly means “ripe”; the word _voûssi_, “castrated,” was dropped and

_manapaka_, “cut,” adopted in its place; and the word for island (_nossi_)

was changed into _varioû_, which signifies strictly “a place where there

is rice.” Again, when a Sakalava king named Marentoetsa died, two words

fell into disuse, namely, the word _màry_ or _màre_ meaning “true,” and

the word _toetsa_ meaning “condition.” Persons who uttered these forbidden

words were looked on not only as grossly rude, but even as felons; they

had committed a capital crime. However, these changes of vocabulary are

confined to the district over which the deceased king reigned; in the

neighbouring districts the old words continue to be employed in the old

sense.(1421) Again, among the Bara, another tribe of Madagascar, “the

memory of their deceased kings is held in the very highest respect; the

name of such kings is considered sacred—too sacred indeed for utterance,

and no one is allowed to pronounce it. To such a length is this absurdity

carried that the name of any person or thing whatsoever, if it bear a

resemblance to the name of the deceased king, is no longer used, but some

other designation is given. For instance, there was a king named

Andriamasoandro. After his decease the word _masoandro_ was no longer

employed as the name of the sun, but _mahenika_ was substituted for

it.”(1422) An eminent authority on Madagascar has observed: “A curious

fact, which has had a very marked influence on the Malagasy language, is

the custom of no longer pronouncing the name of a dead person nor even the

words which resemble it in their conclusions. The name is replaced by

another. King Ramitra, since his decease, has been called

Mahatenatenarivou, ’the prince who has conquered a thousand foes,’ and a

Malagasy who should utter his old name would be regarded as the murderer

of the prince, and would therefore be liable to the confiscation of his

property, or even to the penalty of death. It is easy accordingly to

understand how the Malagasy language, one in its origin, has been

corrupted, and how it comes about that at the present day there are

discrepancies between the various dialects. In Menabe, since the death of

King Vinany, the word _vilany_, meaning a pot, has been replaced by

_fiketrehane_, ‘cooking vessel,’ whereas the old word continues in use in

the rest of Madagascar. These changes, it is true, hardly take place

except for kings and great chiefs.”(1423)

(M230) The sanctity attributed to the persons of chiefs in Polynesia

naturally extended also to their names, which on the primitive view are

hardly separable from the personality of their owners. Hence in Polynesia

we find the same systematic prohibition to utter the names of chiefs or of

common words resembling them which we have already met with in Zululand

and Madagascar. Thus in New Zealand the name of a chief is held so sacred

that, when it happens to be a common word, it may not be used in the

language, and another has to be found to replace it. For example, a chief

to the southward of East Cape bore the name of Maripi, which signified a

knife, hence a new word (_nekra_) for knife was introduced, and the old

one became obsolete. Elsewhere the word for water (_wai_) had to be

changed, because it chanced to be the name of the chief, and would have

been desecrated by being applied to the vulgar fluid as well as to his

sacred person. This taboo naturally produced a plentiful crop of synonyms

in the Maori language, and travellers newly arrived in the country were

sometimes puzzled at finding the same things called by quite different

names in neighbouring tribes.(1424) When a king comes to the throne in

Tahiti, any words in the language that resemble his name in sound must be

changed for others. In former times, if any man were so rash as to

disregard this custom and to use the forbidden words, not only he but all

his relations were immediately put to death.(1425) On the accession of

King Otoo, which happened before Vancouver’s visit to Tahiti, the proper

names of all the chiefs were changed, as well as forty or fifty of the

commonest words in the language, and every native was obliged to adopt the

new terms, for any neglect to do so was punished with the greatest

severity.(1426) When a certain king named Tu came to the throne of Tahiti

the word _tu_, which means “to stand,” was changed to _tia_; _fetu_, “a

star,” became _fetia_; _tui_, “to strike,” was turned into _tiai_, and so

on. Sometimes, as in these instances, the new names were formed by merely

changing or dropping some letter or letters of the original words; in

other cases the substituted terms were entirely different words, whether

chosen for their similarity of meaning though not of sound, or adopted

from another dialect, or arbitrarily invented. But the changes thus

introduced were only temporary; on the death of the king the new words

fell into disuse, and the original ones were revived.(1427) Similarly in

Samoa, when the name of a sacred chief was that of an animal or bird, the

name of the animal or bird was at once changed for another, and the old

one might never again be uttered in that chief’s district. For example, a

sacred Samoan chief was named Pe’a, which means “flying-fox.” Hence in his

district a flying-fox was no longer called a flying-fox but a “bird of

heaven” (_manu langi_).(1428)

(M231) In ancient Greece the names of the priests and other high officials

who had to do with the performances of the Eleusinian mysteries might not

be uttered in their lifetime. To pronounce them was a legal offence. The

pedant in Lucian tells how he fell in with these august personages hailing

along to the police court a ribald fellow who had dared to name them,

though well he knew that ever since their consecration it was unlawful to

do so, because they had become anonymous, having lost their old names and

acquired new and sacred titles.(1429) From two inscriptions found at

Eleusis it appears that the names of the priests were committed to the

depths of the sea;(1430) probably they were engraved on tablets of bronze

or lead, which were then thrown into deep water in the Gulf of Salamis.

The intention doubtless was to keep the names a profound secret; and how

could that be done more surely than by sinking them in the sea? what human

vision could spy them glimmering far down in the dim depths of the green

water? A clearer illustration of the confusion between the incorporeal and

the corporeal, between the name and its material embodiment, could hardly

be found than in this practice of civilised Greece.

(M232) In Togo, a district of West Africa, a secret religious society

flourishes under the name of the Yewe order. Both men and women are

admitted to it. The teaching and practice of the order are lewd and

licentious. Murderers and debtors join it for the sake of escaping from

justice, for the members are not amenable to the laws. On being initiated

every one receives a new name, and thenceforth his or her old name may

never be mentioned by anybody under penalty of a heavy fine. Should the

old name be uttered in a quarrel by an uninitiated person, the aggrieved

party, who seems to be oftener a woman than a man, pretends to fall into a

frenzy, and in this state rushes into the house of the offender, smashes

his pots, destroys the grass roof, and tears down the fence. Then she runs

away into the forest, where the simple people believe that she is changed

into a leopard. In truth she slinks by night into the conventual buildings

of the order, and is there secretly kept in comfort till the business is

settled. At last she is publicly brought back by the society with great

pomp, her body smeared with red earth and adorned with an artificial tail

in order to make the ignorant think that she has really been turned into a

leopard.(1431)

(M233) When the name is held to be a vital part of the person, it is

natural to suppose that the mightier the person the more potent must be

his name. Hence the names of supernatural beings, such as gods and

spirits, are commonly believed to be endowed with marvellous virtues, and

the mere utterance of them may work wonders and disturb the course of

nature. The Warramunga of central Australia believe in a formidable but

mythical snake called the Wollunqua, which lives in a pool. When they

speak of it amongst themselves they designate it by another name, because

they say that, were they to call the snake too often by its real name,

they would lose control over the creature, and it would come out of the

water and eat them all up.(1432) For this reason, too, the sacred books of

the Mongols, which narrate the miraculous deeds of the divinities, are

allowed to be read only in spring or summer; because at other seasons the

reading of them would bring on tempests or snow.(1433) When Mr. Campbell

was travelling with some Bechuanas, he asked them one morning after

breakfast to tell him some of their stories, but they informed him that

were they to do so before sunset, the clouds would fall from the heavens

upon their heads.(1434) The Sulka of New Britain believe in a certain

hostile spirit named Kot, to whose wrath they attribute earthquakes,

thunder, and lightning. Among the things which provoke his vengeance is

the telling of tales and legends by day; stories should be told only at

evening or night.(1435) Most of the rites of the Navajo Indians may be

celebrated only in winter, when the thunder is silent and the rattlesnakes

are hibernating. Were they to tell of their chief gods or narrate the

myths of the days of old at any other time, the Indians believe that they

would soon be killed by lightning or snake-bites. When Dr. Washington

Matthews was in New Mexico, he often employed as his guide and informant a

liberal-minded member of the tribe who had lived with Americans and

Mexicans and seemed to be free from the superstitions of his fellows. “On

one occasion,” says Dr. Matthews, “during the month of August, in the

height of the rainy season, I had him in my study conversing with him. In

an unguarded moment, on his part, I led him into a discussion about the

gods of his people, and neither of us had noticed a heavy storm coming

over the crest of the Zuñi mountains, close by. We were just talking of

Estsanatlehi, the goddess of the west, when the house was shaken by a

terrific peal of thunder. He rose at once, pale and evidently agitated,

and, whispering hoarsely, ‘Wait till Christmas; they are angry,’ he

hurried away. I have seen many such evidences of the deep influence of

this superstition on them.”(1436) Among the Iroquois the rehearsal of

tales of wonder formed the chief entertainment at the fireside in winter.

But all the summer long, from the time when the trees began to bud in

spring till the red leaves of autumn began to fall, these marvellous

stories were hushed and historical traditions took their place.(1437)

Other Indian tribes also will only tell their mythic tales in winter, when

the snow lies like a pall on the ground, and lakes and rivers are covered

with sheets of ice; for then the spirits underground cannot hear the

stories in which their names are made free with by merry groups gathered

round the fire.(1438) The Yabims of German New Guinea tell their magical

tales especially at the time when the yams have been gathered and are

stored in the houses. Such tales are told at evening by the light of the

fire to a circle of eager listeners, the narrative being broken from time

to time with a song in which the hearers join. The telling of these

stories is believed to promote the growth of the crops. Hence each tale

ends with a wish that there may be many yams, that the taro may be big,

the sugar-cane thick, and the bananas long.(1439)

(M234) Among the Kwakiutl Indians of British Columbia the superstition

about names has affected in a very curious way the social structure of the

tribe. The nobles have two different sets of names, one for use in winter

and the other in summer. Their winter names are those which were given

them at initiation by their guardian spirits, and as these spirits appear

to their devotees only in winter, the names which they bestowed on the

Indians may not be pronounced in summer. Conversely the summer names may

not be used in winter. The change from summer to winter names takes place

from the moment when the spirits are supposed to be present, and it

involves a complete transformation of the social system; for whereas

during summer the people are grouped in clans, in winter they are grouped

in societies, each society consisting of all persons who have been

initiated by the same spirit and have received from him the same magical

powers. Thus among these Indians the fundamental constitution of society

changes with the seasons: in summer it is organised on a basis of kin, in

winter on a basis of spiritual affinity: for one half the year it is

civil, for the other half religious.(1440)

§ 5. Names of Gods tabooed.

(M235) Primitive man creates his gods in his own image. Xenophanes

remarked long ago that the complexion of negro gods was black and their

noses flat; that Thracian gods were ruddy and blue-eyed; and that if

horses, oxen, and lions only believed in gods and had hands wherewith to

portray them, they would doubtless fashion their deities in the form of

horses, and oxen, and lions.(1441) Hence just as the furtive savage

conceals his real name because he fears that sorcerers might make an evil

use of it, so he fancies that his gods must likewise keep their true names

secret, lest other gods or even men should learn the mystic sounds and

thus be able to conjure with them. Nowhere was this crude conception of

the secrecy and magical virtue of the divine name more firmly held or more

fully developed than in ancient Egypt, where the superstitions of a

dateless past were embalmed in the hearts of the people hardly less

effectually than the bodies of cats and crocodiles and the rest of the

divine menagerie in their rock-cut tombs. The conception is well

illustrated by a story which tells how the subtle Isis wormed his secret

name from Ra, the great Egyptian god of the sun. Isis, so runs the tale,

was a woman mighty in words, and she was weary of the world of men, and

yearned after the world of the gods. And she meditated in her heart,

saying, “Cannot I by virtue of the great name of Ra make myself a goddess

and reign like him in heaven and earth?” For Ra had many names, but the

great name which gave him all power over gods and men was known to none

but himself. Now the god was by this time grown old; he slobbered at the

mouth and his spittle fell upon the ground. So Isis gathered up the

spittle and the earth with it, and kneaded thereof a serpent and laid it

in the path where the great god passed every day to his double kingdom

after his heart’s desire. And when he came forth according to his wont,

attended by all his company of gods, the sacred serpent stung him, and the

god opened his mouth and cried, and his cry went up to heaven. And the

company of gods cried, “What aileth thee?” and the gods shouted, “Lo and

behold!” But he could not answer; his jaws rattled, his limbs shook, the

poison ran through his flesh as the Nile floweth over the land. When the

great god had stilled his heart, he cried to his followers, “Come to me, O

my children, offspring of my body. I am a prince, the son of a prince, the

divine seed of a god. My father devised my name; my father and my mother

gave me my name, and it remained hidden in my body since my birth, that no

magician might have magic power over me. I went out to behold that which I

have made, I walked in the two lands which I have created, and lo!

something stung me. What it was, I know not. Was it fire? was it water? My

heart is on fire, my flesh trembleth, all my limbs do quake. Bring me the

children of the gods with healing words and understanding lips, whose

power reacheth to heaven.” Then came to him the children of the gods, and

they were very sorrowful. And Isis came with her craft, whose mouth is

full of the breath of life, whose spells chase pain away, whose word

maketh the dead to live. She said, “What is it, divine Father? what is

it?” The holy god opened his mouth, he spake and said, “I went upon my

way, I walked after my heart’s desire in the two regions which I have made

to behold that which I have created, and lo! a serpent that I saw not

stung me. Is it fire? is it water? I am colder than water, I am hotter

than fire, all my limbs sweat, I tremble, mine eye is not steadfast, I

behold not the sky, the moisture bedeweth my face as in summer-time.” Then

spake Isis, “Tell me thy name, divine Father, for the man shall live who

is called by his name.” Then answered Ra, “I created the heavens and the

earth, I ordered the mountains, I made the great and wide sea, I stretched

out the two horizons like a curtain. I am he who openeth his eyes and it

is light, and who shutteth them and it is dark. At his command the Nile

riseth, but the gods know not his name. I am Khepera in the morning, I am

Ra at noon, I am Tum at eve.” But the poison was not taken away from him;

it pierced deeper, and the great god could no longer walk. Then said Isis

to him, “That was not thy name that thou spakest unto me. Oh tell it me,

that the poison may depart; for he shall live whose name is named.” Now

the poison burned like fire, it was hotter than the flame of fire. The god

said, “I consent that Isis shall search into me, and that my name shall

pass from my breast into hers.” Then the god hid himself from the gods,

and his place in the ship of eternity was empty. Thus was the name of the

great god taken from him, and Isis, the witch, spake, “Flow away poison,

depart from Ra. It is I, even I, who overcome the poison and cast it to

the earth; for the name of the great god hath been taken away from him.

Let Ra live and let the poison die.” Thus spake great Isis, the queen of

the gods, she who knows Ra and his true name.(1442)

(M236) Thus we see that the real name of the god, with which his power was

inextricably bound up, was supposed to be lodged, in an almost physical

sense, somewhere in his breast, from which it could be extracted by a sort

of surgical operation and transferred with all its supernatural powers to

the breast of another. In Egypt attempts like that of Isis to appropriate

the power of a high god by possessing herself of his name were not mere

legends told of the mythical beings of a remote past; every Egyptian

magician aspired to wield like powers by similar means. For it was

believed that he who possessed the true name possessed the very being of

god or man, and could force even a deity to obey him as a slave obeys his

master. Thus the art of the magician consisted in obtaining from the gods

a revelation of their sacred names, and he left no stone unturned to

accomplish his end. When once a god in a moment of weakness or

forgetfulness had imparted to the wizard the wondrous lore, the deity had

no choice but to submit humbly to the man or pay the penalty of his

contumacy.(1443) In one papyrus we find the god Typhon thus adjured: “I

invoke thee by thy true names, in virtue of which thou canst not refuse to

hear me”; and in another the magician threatens Osiris that if the god

does not do his bidding he will name him aloud in the port of

Busiris.(1444) So in the Lucan the Thessalian witch whom Sextus Pompeius

consulted before the battle of Pharsalia threatens to call up the Furies

by their real names if they will not do her bidding.(1445) In modern Egypt

the magician still works his old enchantments by the same ancient means;

only the name of the god by which he conjures is different. The man who

knows “the most great name” of God can, we are told, by the mere utterance

of it kill the living, raise the dead, transport himself instantly

wherever he pleases, and perform any other miracle.(1446) Similarly among

the Arabs of North Africa at the present day “the power of the name is

such that when one knows the proper names the jinn can scarcely help

answering the call and obeying; they are the servants of the magical

names; in this case the incantation has a constraining quality which is

for the most part very strongly marked. When Ibn el Hâdjdj et-Tlemsânî

relates how the jinn yielded up their secrets to him, he says, ‘I once met

the seven kings of the jinn in a cave and I asked them to teach me the way

in which they attack men and women, causing them to fall sick, smiting

them, paralysing them, and the like. They all answered me: “If it were

anybody but you we would teach that to nobody, but you have discovered the

bonds, the spells, and the names which compel us; were it not for the

names by which you have constrained us, we would not have answered to your

call.” ’ ”(1447) So, too, “the Chinese of ancient times were dominated by

the notion that beings are intimately associated with their names, so that

a man’s knowledge of the name of a spectre might enable him to exert power

over the latter and to bend it to his will.”(1448)

(M237) The belief in the magic virtue of divine names was shared by the

Romans. When they sat down before a city, the priests addressed the

guardian deity of the place in a set form of prayer or incantation,

inviting him to abandon the beleaguered city and come over to the Romans,

who would treat him as well as or better than he had ever been treated in

his old home. Hence the name of the guardian deity of Rome was kept a

profound secret, lest the enemies of the republic might lure him away,

even as the Romans themselves had induced many gods to desert, like rats,

the falling fortunes of cities that had sheltered them in happier

days.(1449) Nay, the real name, not merely of its guardian deity, but of

the city itself, was wrapt in mystery and might never be uttered, not even

in the sacred rites. A certain Valerius Soranus, who dared to divulge the

priceless secret, was put to death or came to a bad end.(1450) In like

manner, it seems, the ancient Assyrians were forbidden to mention the

mystic names of their cities;(1451) and down to modern times the Cheremiss

of the Caucasus keep the names of their communal villages secret from

motives of superstition.(1452)

(M238) If the reader has had the patience to follow this long and perhaps

tedious examination of the superstitions attaching to personal names, he

will probably agree that the mystery in which the names of royal

personages are so often shrouded is no isolated phenomenon, no arbitrary

expression of courtly servility and adulation, but merely the particular

application of a general law of primitive thought, which includes within

its scope common folk and gods as well as kings and priests.

§ 6. Common Words tabooed.

(M239) But personal names are not the only words which superstitious fears

have banished from everyday use. In many cases similar motives forbid

certain persons at certain times to call common things by common names,

thus obliging them either to refrain from mentioning these things

altogether or to designate them by special terms or phrases reserved for

such occasions. A consideration of these cases follows naturally on an

examination of the taboos imposed upon personal names; for personal names

are themselves very often ordinary terms of the language, so that an

embargo laid on them necessarily extends to many expressions current in

the commerce of daily life. And though a survey of some of the interdicts

on common words is not strictly necessary for our immediate purpose, it

may serve usefully to complete our view of the transforming influence

which superstition has exercised on language. I shall make no attempt to

subject the examples to a searching analysis or a rigid classification,

but will set them down as they come in a rough geographical order. And

since my native land furnishes as apt instances of the superstition as any

other, we may start on our round from Scotland.

(M240) In the Atlantic Ocean, about six leagues to the west of Gallon Head

in the Lewis, lies a small group of rocky islets known as the Flannan

Islands. Sheep and wild fowl are now their only inhabitants, but remains

of what are described as Druidical temples and the title of the Sacred

Isles given them by Buchanan suggest that in days gone by piety or

superstition may have found a safe retreat from the turmoil of the world

in these remote solitudes, where the dashing of the waves and the strident

scream of the sea-birds are almost the only sounds that break the silence.

Once a year, in summer-time, the inhabitants of the adjacent lands of the

Lewis, who have a right to these islands, cross over to them to fleece

their sheep and kill the wild fowl for the sake both of their flesh and

their feathers. They regard the islands as invested with a certain

sanctity, and have been heard to say that none ever yet landed in them but

found himself more disposed to devotion there than anywhere else.

Accordingly the fowlers who go thither are bound, during the whole of the

time that they ply their business, to observe very punctiliously certain

quaint customs, the transgression of which would be sure, in their

opinion, to entail some serious inconvenience. When they have landed and

fastened their boat to the side of a rock, they clamber up into the island

by a wooden ladder, and no sooner are they got to the top, than they all

uncover their heads and make a turn sun-ways round about, thanking God for

their safety. On the biggest of the islands are the ruins of a chapel

dedicated to St. Flannan. When the men come within about twenty paces of

the altar, they all strip themselves of their upper garments at once and

betake themselves to their devotions, praying thrice before they begin

fowling. On the first day the first prayer is offered as they advance

towards the chapel on their knees; the second is said as they go round the

chapel; and the third is said in or hard by the ruins. They also pray

thrice every evening, and account it unlawful to kill a fowl after evening

prayers, as also to kill a fowl at any time with a stone. Another ancient

custom forbids the crew to carry home in the boat any suet of the sheep

they slaughter in the islands, however many they may kill. But what here

chiefly concerns us is that so long as they stay on the islands they are

strictly forbidden to use certain common words, and are obliged to

substitute others for them. Thus it is absolutely unlawful to call the

island of St. Kilda, which lies thirty leagues to the southward, by its

proper Gaelic name of Hirt; they must call it only “the high country.”

They may not so much as once name the islands in which they are fowling by

the ordinary name of Flannan; they must speak only of “the country.”

“There are several other things that must not be called by their common

names: _e.g._ _visk_, which in the language of the natives signifies

water, they call burn; a rock, which in their language is _creg_, must

here be called _cruey_, _i.e._ hard; shore in their language expressed by

_claddach_, must here be called _vah_, _i.e._ a cave; sour in their

language is expressed _gort_, but must here be called _gaire_, _i.e._

sharp; slippery, which is expressed _bog_, must be called soft; and

several other things to this purpose.”(1453) When Highlanders were in a

boat at sea, whether sailing or fishing, they were forbidden to call

things by the names by which they were known on land. Thus the boat-hook

should not be called a _croman_, but a _chliob_; a knife not _sgian_, but

“the sharp one” (_a ghiar_); a seal not _ròn_, but “the bald beast”

(_béisd mhaol_); a fox not _sionnach_, but “the red dog” (_madadh ruadh_);

the stone for anchoring the boat not _clach_, but “hardness” (_cruaidh_).

This practice now prevails much more on the east coast than on the west,

where it may be said to be generally extinct. It is reported to be

carefully observed by the fishermen about the Cromarty Firth.(1454) Among

the words tabooed by fishermen in the north of Scotland when they are at

sea are minister, salmon, hare, rabbit, rat, pig, and porpoise. At the

present day if some of the boats that come to the herring-fishing at Wick

should meet a salmon-boat from Reay in Caithness, the herring-men will not

speak to, nor even look at, the salmon-fishers.(1455)

(M241) When Shetland fishermen are at sea, they employ a nomenclature

peculiar to the occasion, and hardly anything may be mentioned by its

usual name. The substituted terms are mostly of Norwegian origin, for the

Norway men were reported to be good fishers.(1456) In setting their lines

the Shetland fishermen are bound to refer to certain objects only by some

special words or phrases. Thus a knife is then called a _skunie_ or

_tullie_; a church becomes _buanhoos_ or _banehoos_; a minister is

_upstanda_ or _haydeen_ or _prestingolva_; the devil is _da auld chield_,

_da sorrow_, _da ill-healt_ (health), or _da black tief_; a cat is

_kirser_, _fitting_, _vengla_, or _foodin_.(1457) On the north-east coast

of Scotland there are some villages, of which the inhabitants never

pronounce certain words and family names when they are at sea; each

village has its peculiar aversion to one or more of these words, among

which are “minister,” “kirk,” “swine,” “salmon,” “trout,” and “dog.” When

a church has to be referred to, as often happens, since some of the

churches serve as land-marks to the fishermen at sea, it is spoken of as

the “bell-hoose” instead of the “kirk.” A minister is called “the man wi’

the black quyte.” It is particularly unlucky to utter the word “sow” or

“swine” or “pig” while the line is being baited; if any one is foolish

enough to do so, the line is sure to be lost. In some villages on the

coast of Fife a fisherman who hears the ill-omened word spoken will cry

out “Cold iron.” In the village of Buckie there are some family names,

especially Ross, and in a less degree Coull, which no fisherman will

pronounce. If one of these names be mentioned in the hearing of a

fisherman, he spits or, as he calls it, “chiffs.” Any one who bears the

dreaded name is called a “chiffer-oot,” and is referred to only by a

circumlocution such as “The man it diz so in so,” or “the laad it lives at

such and such a place.” During the herring-season men who are unlucky

enough to inherit the tabooed names have little chance of being hired in

the fishing-boats; and sometimes, if they have been hired before their

names were known, they have been refused their wages at the end of the

season, because the boat in which they sailed had not been successful, and

the bad luck was set down to their presence in it.(1458) Although in

Scotland superstitions of this kind appear to be specially incident to the

callings of fishermen and fowlers, other occupations are not exempt from

them. Thus in the Outer Hebrides the fire of a kiln is not called fire

(_teine_) but _aingeal_. Such a fire, it is said, is a dangerous thing,

and ought not to be referred to except by a euphemism. “Evil be to him who

called it fire or who named fire in the kiln. It was considered the next

thing to setting it on fire.”(1459) Again, in some districts of Scotland a

brewer would have resented the use of the word “water” in reference to the

work in which he was engaged. “Water be your part of it,” was the common

retort. It was supposed that the use of the word would spoil the

brewing.(1460) The Highlanders say that when you meet a hobgoblin, and the

fiend asks what is the name of your dirk, you should not call it a dirk

(_biodag_), but “my father’s sister” (_piuthar m’athar_) or “my

grandmother’s sister” (_piuthar mo sheanamhair_) or by some similar title.

If you do not observe this precaution, the goblin will lay such an

enchantment on the blade that you will be unable to stab him with it; the

dirk will merely make a tinkling noise against the soft impalpable body of

the fiend.(1461)

(M242) Manx fishermen think it unlucky to mention a horse or a mouse on

board a fishing-boat.(1462) The fishermen of Dieppe on board their boats

will not speak of several things, for instance priests and cats.(1463)

German huntsmen, from motives of superstition, call everything by names

different from those in common use.(1464) In some parts of Bavaria the

farmer will not mention a fox by its proper name, lest his poultry-yard

should suffer from the ravages of the animal. So instead of _Fuchs_ he

calls the beast _Loinl_, _Henoloinl_, _Henading_, or _Henabou_.(1465) In

Prussia and Lithuania they say that in the month of December you should

not call a wolf a wolf but “the vermin” (_das Gewürm_), otherwise you will

be torn in pieces by the werewolves.(1466) In various parts of Germany it

is a rule that certain animals may not be mentioned by their proper names

in the mystic season between Christmas and Twelfth Night. Thus in

Thüringen they say that if you would be spared by the wolves you must not

mention their name at this time.(1467) In Mecklenburg people think that

were they to name a wolf on one of these days the animal would appear. A

shepherd would rather mention the devil than the wolf at this season; and

we read of a farmer who had a bailiff named Wolf, but did not dare to call

the man by his name between Christmas and Twelfth Night, referring to him

instead as Herr Undeert (Mr. Monster). In Quatzow, a village of

Mecklenburg, there are many animals whose common names are disused at this

season and replaced by others: thus a fox is called “long-tail,” and a

mouse “leg-runner” (_Boenlöper_). Any person who disregards the custom has

to pay a fine.(1468) In the Mark of Brandenburg they say that between

Christmas and Twelfth Night you should not speak of mice as mice but as

_dinger_; otherwise the field-mice would multiply excessively.(1469)

According to the Swedish popular belief, there are certain animals which

should never be spoken of by their proper names, but must always be

signified by euphemisms and kind allusions to their character. Thus, if

you speak slightingly of the cat or beat her, you must be sure not to

mention her name; for she belongs to the hellish crew, and is a friend of

the mountain troll, whom she often visits. Great caution is also needed in

talking of the cuckoo, the owl, and the magpie, for they are birds of

witchery. The fox must be called “blue-foot,” or “he that goes in the

forest”; and rats are “the long-bodied,” mice “the small grey,” and the

seal “brother Lars.” Swedish herd-girls, again, believe that if the wolf

and the bear be called by other than their proper and legitimate names,

they will not attack the herd. Hence they give these brutes names which

they fancy will not hurt their feelings. The number of endearing

appellations lavished by them on the wolf is legion; they call him “golden

tooth,” “the silent one,” “grey legs,” and so on; while the bear is

referred to by the respectful titles of “the old man,” “grandfather,”

“twelve men’s strength,” “golden feet,” and more of the same sort. Even

inanimate things are not always to be called by their usual names. For

instance, fire is sometimes to be called “heat” (_hetta_) not _eld_ or

_ell_; water for brewing must be called _lag_ or _löu_, not _vatn_, else

the beer would not turn out so well.(1470) The Huzuls of the Carpathians,

a pastoral people, who dread the ravages of wild beasts on their flocks

and herds, are unwilling to mention the bear by his proper name, so they

call him respectfully “the little uncle” or “the big one.” In like manner

and for similar reasons they name the wolf “the little one” and the

serpent “the long one.”(1471) They may not say that wool is scalded, or in

the heat of summer the sheep would rub themselves till their sides were

raw; so they merely say that the wool is warmed.(1472) The Lapps fear to

call the bear by his true name, lest he should ravage their herds; so they

speak of him as “the old man with the coat of skin,” and in cooking his

flesh to furnish a meal they may not refer to the work they are engaged in

as “cooking,” but must designate it by a special term.(1473) The Finns

speak of the bear as “the apple of the wood,” “beautiful honey-paw,” “the

pride of the thicket,” “the old man,” and so on.(1474) And in general a

Finnish hunter thinks that he will have poor sport if he calls animals by

their real names; the beasts resent it. The fox and the hare are only

spoken of as “game,” and the lynx is termed “the forest cat,” lest it

should devour the sheep.(1475) Esthonian peasants are very loth to mention

wild beasts by their proper names, for they believe that the creatures

will not do so much harm if only they are called by other names than their

own. Hence they speak of the bear as “broad foot” and the wolf as “grey

coat.”(1476)

(M243) The natives of Siberia are unwilling to call a bear a bear; they

speak of him as “the little old man,” “the master of the forest,” “the

sage,” “the respected one.” Some who are more familiar style him “my

cousin.”(1477) The Kamtchatkans reverence the whale, the bear, and the

wolf from fear, and never mention their names when they meet them,

believing that they understand human speech.(1478) Further, they think

that mice also understand the Kamtchatkan language; so in autumn, when

they rob the field-mice of the bulbs which these little creatures have

laid up in their burrows as a store against winter, they call everything

by names different from the ordinary ones, lest the mice should know what

they were saying. Moreover, they leave odds and ends, such as old rags,

broken needles, cedar-nuts, and so forth, in the burrows, to make the mice

think that the transaction has been not a robbery but a fair exchange. If

they did not do that, they fancy that the mice would go and drown or hang

themselves out of pure vexation; and then what would the Kamtchatkans do

without the mice to gather the bulbs for them? They also speak kindly to

the animals, and beg them not to take it ill, explaining that what they do

is done out of pure friendship.(1479) The Cherokee Indians regard the

rattlesnake as a superior being and take great pains not to offend him.

They never say that a man has been bitten by a snake but that he has been

“scratched by a briar.” In like manner, when an eagle has been shot for a

ceremonial dance, it is announced that “a snowbird has been killed.” The

purpose is to deceive the spirits of rattlesnakes or eagles which might be

listening.(1480) The Esquimaux of Bering Strait think that some animals

can hear and understand what is said of them at a distance. Hence, when a

hunter is going out to kill bears he will speak of them with the greatest

respect and give out that he is going to hunt some other beast. Thus the

bears will be deceived and taken unawares.(1481) Among the Esquimaux of

Baffin Land, women in mourning may not mention the names of any

animals.(1482) Among the Thompson Indians of British Columbia, children

may not name the coyote or prairie wolf in winter, lest he should turn on

his back and so bring cold weather.(1483)

(M244) The Arabs call a man who has been bitten by a snake “the sound

one”; leprosy or the scab they designate “the blessed disease”; the left

side they name “the lucky side”; they will not speak of a lion by his

right name, but refer to him as for example “the fox.”(1484) In Africa the

lion is alluded to with the same ceremonious respect as the wolf and the

bear in northern Europe and Asia. The Arabs of Algeria, who hunt the lion,

speak of him as Mr. John Johnson (Johan-ben-el-Johan), because he has the

noblest qualities of man and understands all languages. Hence, too, the

first huntsman to catch sight of the beast points at him with his finger

and says, “He is not there”; for if he were to say “He is there,” the lion

would eat him up.(1485) Except under dire necessity the Waziguas of

eastern Africa never mention the name of the lion from fear of attracting

him. They call him “the owner of the land” or “the great beast.”(1486) The

negroes of Angola always use the word _ngana_ (“sir”) in speaking of the

same noble animal, because they think that he is “fetish” and would not

fail to punish them for disrespect if they omitted to do so.(1487) Bushmen

and Bechuanas both deem it unlucky to speak of the lion by his proper

name; the Bechuanas call him “the boy with the beard.”(1488) During an

epidemic of smallpox in Mombasa, British East Africa, it was noticed that

the people were unwilling to mention the native name (_ndui_) of the

disease. They referred to it either as “grains of corn” (_tete_) or simply

as “the bad disease.”(1489) So the Chinese of Amoy are averse to speak of

fever by its proper name; they prefer to call it “beggar’s disease,”

hoping thereby to make the demons of fever imagine that they despise it

and that therefore it would be useless to attack them.(1490) Some of the

natives of Nigeria dread the owl as a bird of ill omen and are loth to

mention its name, preferring to speak of it by means of a circumlocution

such as “the bird that makes one afraid.”(1491) The Herero think that if

they see a snake and call it by its name, the reptile will sting them, but

that if they call it a strap (_omuvia_) it will lie still.(1492) When

Nandi warriors are out on an expedition, they may not call a knife a knife

(_chepkeswet_); they must call it “an arrow for bleeding cattle”

(_loñget_); and none of the party may utter the usual word employed in

greeting males.(1493) In Madagascar there seems to be an aversion to

pronouncing the word for lightning (_vàratra_); the word for mud

(_fòtaka_) is sometimes substituted for it.(1494) Again, it is strictly

forbidden to mention the word for crocodile (_màmba_) near some rivers of

Madagascar; and if clothes should be wetted in certain other rivers of the

island, you may not say that they are wet (_lèna_); you must say that they

are on fire (_may_) or that they are drinking water (_misòtro

ràno_).(1495) A certain spirit, who used to inhabit a lake in Madagascar,

entertained a rooted aversion to salt, so that whenever the thing was

carried past the lake in which he resided it had to be called by another

name, or it would all have been dissolved and lost. The persons whom he

inspired had to veil their references to the obnoxious article under the

disguise of “sweet peppers.”(1496) In a West African story we read of a

man who was told that he would die if ever the word for salt was

pronounced in his hearing. The fatal word was pronounced, and die he did

sure enough, but he soon came to life again with the help of a magical

wooden pestle of which he was the lucky possessor.(1497)

(M245) In India the animals whose names are most commonly tabooed are the

snake and the tiger, but the same tribute of respect is paid to other

beasts also. Sayids and Mussulmans of high rank in northern India say that

you should never call a snake by its proper name, but always describe it

either as a tiger (_sher_) or a string (_rassi_).(1498) In Telingana the

euphemistic name for a snake, which should always be employed, is worm or

insect (_purugu_); if you call a cobra by its proper name, the creature

will haunt you for seven years and bite you at the first

opportunity.(1499) Ignorant Bengalee women will not mention a snake or a

thief by their proper names at night, for fear that one or other might

appear. When they have to allude to a serpent, they call it “the creeping

thing”; when they speak of a thief, they say “the unwelcome

visitor.”(1500) Other euphemisms for the snake in northern India are

“maternal uncle” and “rope.” They say that if a snake bites you, you

should not mention its name, but merely observe “A rope has touched

me.”(1501) Natives of Travancore are careful not to speak disrespectfully

of serpents. A cobra is called “the good lord” (_nalla tambiran_) or “the

good snake” (_nalla pambu_). While the Malayalies of the Shervaray Hills

are hunting the tiger, they speak of the beast only as “the dog.”(1502)

The Canarese of southern India call the tiger either “the dog” or “the

jackal”; they think that if they called him by his proper name, he would

be sure to carry off one of them.(1503) The jungle people of northern

India, who meet the tiger in his native haunts, will not pronounce his

name, but speak of him as “the jackal” (_gídar_), or “the beast”

(_janwar_), or use some other euphemistic term. In some places they treat

the wolf and the bear in the same fashion.(1504) The Pankas of South

Mirzapur will not name the tiger, bear, camel, or donkey by their proper

names; the camel they call “long neck.” Other tribes of the same district

only scruple to mention certain animals in the morning. Thus, the

Kharwars, a Dravidian tribe, will not name a pig, squirrel, hare, jackal,

bear, monkey, or donkey in the morning hours; if they have to allude to

these animals at that time, they call them by special names. For instance,

they call the hare “the four-footed one” or “he that hides in the rocks”;

while they speak of the bear as _jigariya_, which being interpreted means

“he with the liver of compassion.” If the Bhuiyars are absolutely obliged

to refer to a monkey or a bear in the morning, they speak of the monkey as

“the tree-climber” and the bear as “the eater of white ants.” They would

not mention a crocodile. Among the Pataris the matutinal title of the bear

is “the hairy creature.”(1505) The Kols, a Dravidian race of northern

India, will not speak of death or beasts of prey by their proper names in

the morning. Their name for the tiger at that time of day is “he with the

claws,” and for the elephant “he with the teeth.”(1506) The forests of the

Sundarbans, the district at the mouth of the Ganges, are full of

man-eating tigers and the annual loss of life among the woodcutters is

heavy. Here accordingly the ferocious animal is not called a tiger but a

jackal (_çial_).(1507)

(M246) In Annam the fear inspired by tigers, elephants, and other wild

animals induces the people to address these creatures with the greatest

respect as “lord” or “grandfather,” lest the beasts should take umbrage

and attack them.(1508) The tiger reigns supreme in the forests of Tonquin

and Cochin-China, and the peasants honour him as a maleficent deity. In

talking of him they always call him _ong_, which means monsieur or

grandfather. They are convinced that if they dared to speak of him

disrespectfully, he would avenge the insult.(1509) In Siam there are many

people who would never venture to utter the words tiger or crocodile in a

spot where these terrible creatures might be in hiding, lest the sound of

their names should attract the attention of the beasts towards the

speakers.(1510) When the Malays of Patani Bay in Siam are in the jungle

and think there is a tiger near, they will either speak of him in

complimentary terms as the “grandfather of the woods” or only mention him

in a whisper.(1511) In Laos, while a man is out hunting elephants he is

obliged to give conventional names to all common objects, which creates a

sort of special language for elephant-hunters.(1512) So when the Chams and

Orang-Glaï of Indo-China are searching for the precious eagle-wood in the

forest, they must employ an artificial jargon to designate most objects of

everyday life; thus, for example, fire is called “the red,” a she-goat

becomes “a spider,” and so on. Some of the terms which compose the jargon

are borrowed from the dialects of neighbouring tribes.(1513) When the

Mentras or aborigines of Malacca are searching for what they call _gaharu_

(_lignum aloes_) they are obliged to use a special language, avoiding the

words in ordinary use. At such times they call _gaharu_ by the name of

_tabak_, and they speak of a snake as “the long animal” and of the

elephant as “the great animal.” They have also to observe a number of

other taboos, particularly in the matter of diet. If a man has found a

promising _gaharu_ tree, and on going home dreams that the guardian spirit

of the tree (_hantu gaharu_) demands a human victim as the price of his

property, the dreamer will try next day to catch somebody asleep and to

smear his forehead with lime. This is a sign to the guardian spirit of the

tree, who accordingly carries away the soul of the sleeper to the land of

the dead by means of a fever or other ailment, whereas the original

dreamer gets a good supply of aloes wood.(1514)

(M247) At certain seasons of the year parties of Jakuns and Binuas go out

to seek for camphor in the luxuriant forests of their native country,

which is the narrow southern extremity of the Malay Peninsula, the Land’s

End of Asia. They are absent for three or four months together, and during

the whole of this time the use of the ordinary Malay language is forbidden

to them, and they have to speak a special language called by them the

_bassa kapor_ (camphor language) or _pantang_(_1515_)_ kapur_. Indeed not

only have the searchers to employ this peculiar language, but even the men

and women who stay at home in the villages are obliged to speak it while

the others are away looking for the camphor. They believe that a spirit

presides over the camphor trees, and that without propitiating him they

could not obtain the precious gum; the shrill cry of a species of cicada,

heard at night, is supposed to be the voice of the spirit. If they failed

to employ the camphor language, they think that they would have great

difficulty in finding the camphor trees, and that even when they did find

them the camphor would not yield itself up to the collector. The camphor

language consists in great part of words which are either Malayan or of

Malay origin; but it also contains many words which are not Malayan but

are presumed to be remains of the original Jakun dialects now almost

extinct in these districts. The words derived from Malayan are formed in

many cases by merely substituting a descriptive phrase for the common

term. Thus instead of rice they say “grass fruit”; instead of gun they say

“far sounding”; the epithet “short-legged” is substituted for hog; hair is

referred to as “leaves,” and so on.(1516) So when the Battas or Bataks of

Sumatra have gone out to search for camphor, they must abandon the speech

of daily life as soon as they reach the camphor forest. For example, if

they wish to speak of the forest they may not use the ordinary word for it

(_hoetan_), but must call it _kerrengettetdoeng_. When they have fixed on

a spot in which to try their luck, they set up a booth and clear a space

in front of it to serve as a place of sacrifice. Here, after summoning the

camphor spirit (_berroe ni kapoer_) by playing on a flute, they offer

sacrifice to him repeatedly. Then they lie down to dream of the place

where camphor is to be found. If this succeeds, the leader goes and

chooses the tree. When it has been cut down to the accompaniment of

certain spells or incantations, one of the men runs and wraps the top of

the fallen tree in a garment to prevent the camphor from escaping from the

trunk before they have secured it. Then the tree is cleft and split up in

the search for the camphor crystals, which are to be found in the fibres

of the wood.(1517) Similarly, when the Kayans of Borneo are searching for

camphor, they talk a language invented solely for their use at this time.

The camphor itself is never mentioned by its proper name, but is always

referred to as “the thing that smells”; and all the tools employed in

collecting the drug receive fanciful names. Unless they conform to this

rule they suppose that the camphor crystals, which are found only in the

crevices of the wood, will elude them.(1518) The Malanau tribes of Borneo

observe the same custom very strictly, believing that the crystals would

immediately dissolve if they spoke anything but the camphor language. For

example, the common Malanau word for “return” is _muli_, but in presence

of a camphor tree they say _beteku_. Again, “to hide” is _palim_ in the

Malanau language, but when they are looking for camphor they say _krian_.

In like manner, all common names for implements and food are exchanged for

others. In some tribes the camphor-seekers may never mention the names of

chiefs and influential men; if they broke this rule, they would find no

camphor in the trees.(1519)

(M248) In the western states of the Malay Peninsula the chief industry is

tin-mining, and odd ideas prevail among the natives as to the nature and

properties of the ore. They regard it as alive and growing, sometimes in

the shape of a buffalo, which makes its way from place to place

underground. Ore of inferior quality is excused on the score of its tender

years; it will no doubt improve as it grows older. Not only is the tin

believed to be under the protection and command of certain spirits who

must be propitiated, but it is even supposed to have its own special likes

and dislikes for certain persons and things. Hence the Malays deem it

advisable to treat tin ore with respect, to consult its convenience, nay,

to conduct the business of mining in such a way that the ore may, as it

were, be extracted without its own knowledge. When such are their ideas

about the mineral it is no wonder that the miners scruple to employ

certain words in the mines, and replace them by others which are less

likely to give offence to the ore or its guardian spirits. Thus, for

example, the elephant must not be called an elephant but “the tall one who

turns himself about”; and in like manner special words, different from

those in common use, are employed by the miners to designate the cat, the

buffalo, the snake, the centipede, tin sand, metallic tin, and lemons.

Lemons are particularly distasteful to the spirits; they may not be

brought into the mines.(1520) Again, the Malay wizard, who is engaged in

snaring pigeons with the help of a decoy-bird and a calling-tube, must on

no account call things by their common names. The tiny conical hut, in

which he sits waiting for the wild pigeons to come fluttering about him,

goes by the high-sounding name of the Magic Prince, perhaps with a

delicate allusion to its noble inmate. The calling-tube is known as Prince

Distraction, doubtless on account of the extraordinary fascination it

exercises on the birds. The decoy-pigeon receives the name of the

Squatting Princess, and the rod with a noose at the end of it, which

serves to catch the unwary birds, is disguised under the title of Prince

Invitation. Everything, in fact, is on a princely scale, so far at least

as words can make it so. The very nooses destined to be slipped over the

necks or legs of the little struggling prisoners are dignified by the

title of King Solomon’s necklaces and armlets; and the trap into which the

birds are invited to walk is variously described as King Solomon’s

Audience Chamber, or a Palace Tower, or an Ivory Hall carpeted with silver

and railed with amalgam. What pigeon could resist these manifold

attractions, especially when it is addressed by the respectful title of

Princess Kapor or Princess Sarap or Princess Puding?(1521) Again, the

fisher-folk on the east coast of the Malay Peninsula, like their brethren

in Scotland, are reluctant to mention the names of birds or beasts while

they are at sea. All animals then go by the name of _cheweh_, a

meaningless word which is believed not to be understood by the creatures

to whom it refers. Particular kinds of animals are distinguished by

appropriate epithets; the pig is “the grunting _cheweh_,” the buffalo is

“the _cheweh_ that says _uak_,” the snipe is “the _cheweh_ that cries

_kek-kek_,” and so on.(1522) In this respect the fishermen of Patani Bay

class together sea spirits, Buddhist monks, beasts, and reptiles; these

are all _cheweh_ and their common names may not be mentioned at sea. But,

curiously enough, they lay no such embargo on the names of fish and birds,

except the vulture and domestic fowls and ducks. At sea the vulture is

named “bald head,” the tiger “striped,” the snake “weaver’s sword,” the

horse “fast,” and a species of monkey “long tail.” The human foot is

called “tortoise,” and a Buddhist monk “yellow” on account of the colour

of his robe. These Malay fishermen are at least as unwilling to speak of a

Buddhist monk at sea as Scotch fishermen are to mention a minister in

similar circumstances. If one of them mentions a monk, his mates will fall

on him and beat him; whereas for other slips of the tongue they think it

enough to throw a little bilge-water over the back of the transgressor and

to say, “May the ill-luck be dismissed!” The use of this special language

is even more obligatory by night than by day. On shore the fishermen make

very merry over those lubberly landsmen who cannot talk correctly at

sea.(1523) In like manner Achinese fishermen, in northern Sumatra, employ

a special vocabulary when they are at sea. Thus they may not call a

mountain a mountain, or mountain-high billows would swamp the boat; they

refer to it as “high ground.” They may not speak of an elephant by its

proper name of _gadjah_, but must call it _pò meurah_. If a man wishes to

say that something is clear, he must not use the ordinary word for clear

(_lheuëh_) because it bears the meaning also of “free,” “loose”; and the

utterance of such a word might enable the fish to get free from the net

and escape. Instead of _lheuëh_ he must therefore employ the less

dangerous synonym _leungka_. In like manner, we are told, among the

fishermen of the north coast of Java whole lists of words might be

compiled which are tabooed at sea and must be replaced by others.(1524)

(M249) In Sumatra the spirits of the gold mines are treated with as much

deference as the spirits of the tin-mines in the Malay Peninsula. Tin,

ivory, and the like may not be brought by the miners to the scene of their

operations, for at the scent of such things the spirits of the mine would

cause the gold to vanish. For the same reason it is forbidden to refer to

certain things by their proper names, and in speaking of them the miners

must use other words. In some cases, for example in removing the grains of

the gold, a deep silence must be observed; no commands may be given or

questions asked,(1525) probably because the removal of the precious metal

is regarded as a theft which the spirits would punish if they caught the

thieves in the act. Certainly the Dyaks believe that gold has a soul which

seeks to avenge itself on men who dig the precious metal. But the angry

spirit is powerless to harm miners who observe certain precautions, such

as never to bathe in a river with their faces turned up stream, never to

sit with their legs dangling, and never to tie up their hair.(1526) Again,

a Sumatran who fancies that there is a tiger or a crocodile in his

neighbourhood, will speak of the animal by the honourable title of

“grandfather” for the purpose of propitiating the creature.(1527) In the

forest a Karo-Batak refers to a tiger as “Grandfather to whom the wood

belongs,” “he with the striped coat,” or “the roving trap.”(1528) Among

the Gayos of Sumatra it is forbidden to mention the name of small-pox in

the house of a man who is suffering from the disease; and the words for

ugly, red, stinking, unlucky, and so forth are forbidden under the same

circumstances. The disease is referred to under the title of “prince of

the averters of misfortune.”(1529) So long as the hunting season lasts,

the natives of Nias may not name the eye, the hammer, stones, and in some

places the sun by their true names; no smith may ply his trade in the

village, and no person may go from one village to another to have smith’s

work done for him. All this, with the exception of the rule about not

naming the eye and the sun, is done to prevent the dogs from growing

stiff, and so losing the power of running down the game.(1530) During the

rice-harvest in Nias the reapers seldom speak to each other, and when they

do so, it is only in whispers. Outside the field they must speak of

everything by names different from those in common use, which gives rise

to a special dialect or jargon known as “field speech.” It has been

observed that some of the words in this jargon resemble words in the

language of the Battas of Sumatra.(1531) While these rice-reapers of Nias

are at work they may not address each other by their names; they must use

only such general terms as “man,” “woman,” “girl,” “old man,” and “old

woman.” The word for “fire” may not pass their lips; instead of it they

must use the word for “cold.” Other words tabooed to them during the

harvest are the words for “smoke” and “stone.” If a reaper wishes to ask

another for his whetstone to sharpen his knife, he must speak of it as a

“fowl’s egg.”(1532) In Java when people suspect that a tiger or crocodile

is near, they avoid the use of the proper name of the beast and refer to

him as “the old lord” or “grandfather.” Similarly, men who are watching a

plantation to protect it from wild boars speak of these animals as

“handsome men” (_wong bagus_). When after harvest the unhusked rice is to

be brought into the barn, the barn is not called a barn but “the dark

store-house.” Serious epidemics may not be mentioned by their true names;

thus smallpox is called the “pretty girl” (_lara bagus_). The Javanese are

particularly careful to eschew certain common words at evening or night.

Thus the snake is then called a “tree-root”; the venomous centipede is

referred to as the “red ant”; oil is spoken of as “water”; and so forth.

And when leaves and herbs are being gathered for use in medicine they are

regularly designated by other than their ordinary names.(1533)

(M250) The Alfoors or Toradjas of Poso, in Celebes, are forbidden by

custom to speak the ordinary language when they are at work in the

harvest-field. At such times they employ a secret language which is said

to agree with the ordinary one only in this, that in it some things are

designated by words usually applied in a different sense, or by

descriptive phrases or circumlocutions. Thus instead of “run” they say

“limp”; instead of “hand” they say “that with which one reaches”; instead

of “foot” they say “that with which one limps”; and instead of “ear” they

say “that with which one hears.” Again, in the field-speech “to drink”

becomes “to thrust forward the mouth”; “to pass by” is expressed by “to

nod with the head”; a gun is “a fire-producer”; and wood is “that which is

carried on the shoulder.” The writer who reports the custom was formerly

of opinion that this secret language was designed to avoid attracting the

attention of evil spirits to the ripe rice; but further enquiry has

satisfied him that the real reason for adopting it is a wish not to

frighten the soul of the rice by revealing to it the alarming truth that

it is about to be cut, carried home, boiled, and eaten. It is just the

words referring to these actions, he tells us, which are especially

tabooed and replaced by others. Beginning with a rule of avoiding a

certain number of common words, the custom has grown among people of the

Malay stock till it has produced a complete language for use in the

fields. In Minahassa also this secret field-speech consists in part of

phrases or circumlocutions, of which many are said to be very

poetical.(1534) But it is not only on the harvest field that the Toradja

resorts to the use of a secret language from superstitious motives. In the

great primaeval forest he feels ill at ease, for well he knows the

choleric temper of the spirits who inhabit the giant trees of the wood,

and that were he to excite their wrath they would assuredly pay him out in

one way or other, it might be by carrying off his soul and so making him

ill, it might be by crushing him flat under a falling tree. These touchy

beings particularly dislike to hear certain words pronounced, and

accordingly on his way through the forest the Toradja takes care to avoid

the offensive terms and to substitute others for them. Thus he will not

call a dog a dog, but refers to it as “the hairy one”; a buffalo is spoken

of as “thick hide”; a cooking pot becomes “that which is set down”; the

hair of the head is alluded to as “betel”; goats and pigs are “the folk

under the house”; a horse is “long nose”; and deer are “denizens of the

fell.” If he is rash or careless enough to utter a forbidden word in the

forest, a short-tempered tree-spirit will fetch him such a bang on the

head that the blood will spout from his nose and mouth.(1535) Again, when

the weather is fine and the Toradja wishes it to continue so, he is

careful not to utter the word “rain,” for if he did so the rain would

fancy he was called for and would obligingly present himself. Indeed, in

the district of Pakambia, which is frequently visited by heavy storms, the

word “rain” may not be mentioned throughout the year lest it should

provoke a tempest; the unmentionable thing is there delicately alluded to

as “tree-blossoms.”(1536)

(M251) When a Bugineese or Macassar man is at sea and sailing past a place

which he believes to be haunted by evil spirits, he keeps as quiet as he

can; but if he is obliged to speak he designates common things and

actions, such as water, wind, fire, cooking, eating, the rice-pot, and so

forth, by peculiar terms which are neither Bugineese nor Macassar, and

therefore cannot be understood by the evil spirits, whose knowledge of

languages is limited to these two tongues. However, according to another

and later account given by the same authority, it appears that many of the

substituted terms are merely figurative expressions or descriptive phrases

borrowed from the ordinary language. Thus the word for water is replaced

by a rare word meaning “rain”; a rice-pot is called a “black man”; boiled

rice is “one who is eaten”; a fish is a “tree-leaf”; a fowl is “one who

lives in a poultry hatch”; and an ape is a “tree-dweller.”(1537) Natives

of the island of Saleyer, which lies off the south coast of Celebes, will

not mention the name of their island when they are making a certain

sea-passage; and in sailing they will never speak of a fair wind by its

proper name. The reason in both cases is a fear of disturbing the evil

spirits.(1538) When natives of the Sapoodi Archipelago, to the north-east

of Java, are at sea they will never say that they are near the island of

Sapoodi, for if they did so they would be carried away from it by a head

wind or by some other mishap.(1539) When Galelareese sailors are crossing

over to a land that is some way off, say one or two days’ sail, they do

not remark on any vessels that may heave in sight or any birds that may

fly past; for they believe that were they to do so they would be driven

out of their course and not reach the land they are making for. Moreover,

they may not mention their own ship, or any part of it. If they have to

speak of the bow, for example, they say “the beak of the bird”; starboard

is named “sword,” and larboard “shield.”(1540) The inhabitants of Ternate

and of the Sangi Islands deem it very dangerous to point at distant

objects or to name them while they are at sea. Once while sailing with a

crew of Ternate men a European asked one of them the name of certain small

islands which they had passed. The man had been talkative before, but the

question reduced him to silence. “Sir,” he said, “that is a great taboo;

if I told you we should at once have wind and tide against us, and perhaps

suffer a great calamity. As soon as we come to anchor I will tell you the

name of the islands.” The Sangi Islanders have, besides the ordinary

language, an ancient one which is only partly understood by some of the

people. This old language is often used by them at sea, as well as in

popular songs and certain heathen rites.(1541) The reason for resorting to

it on shipboard is to hinder the evil spirits from overhearing and so

frustrating the plans of the voyagers.(1542) The Nufoors of Dutch New

Guinea believe that if they were to mention the name of an island to which

the bow of their vessel was pointing, they would be met by storm, rain, or

mist which would drive them from their course.(1543)

(M252) In some parts of Sunda it is taboo or forbidden to call a goat a

goat; it must be called a “deer under the house.” A tiger may not be

spoken of as a tiger; he must be referred to as “the supple one,” “the one

there,” “the honourable,” “the whiskered one,” and so on. Neither a wild

boar nor a mouse may be mentioned by its proper name; a boar must be

called “the beautiful one” (masculine) and the mouse “the beautiful one”

(feminine). When the people are asked what would be the consequence of

breaking a taboo, they generally say that the person or thing would suffer

for it, either by meeting with a mishap or by falling ill. But some say

they do not so much fear a misfortune as experience an indefinite feeling,

half fear, half reverence, towards an institution of their forefathers.

Others can assign no reason for observing the taboos, and cut enquiry

short by saying that “It is so because it is so.”(1544) When the Kenyahs

of Borneo are about to poison the fish of a section of the river with the

_tuba_ root, they always speak of the matter as little as possible and use

the most indirect and fanciful modes of expression. Thus they will say,

“There are many leaves fallen here,” meaning that there are many fish in

the river. And they will not breathe the name of the _tuba_ root; if they

must refer to it, they call it _pakat abong_, where _abong_ is the name of

a strong-smelling root something like _tuba_, and _pakat_ means “to agree

upon”; so that _pakat abong_ signifies “what we have agreed to call

_abong_.” This concealment of the truth deceives all the bats, birds, and

insects, which might otherwise overhear the talk of the men and inform the

fish of the deep-laid plot against them.(1545) These Kenyahs also fear the

crocodile and do not like to mention it by name, especially if one be in

sight; they refer to the beast as “the old grandfather.”(1546) When

small-pox invades a village of the Sakarang Dyaks in Borneo, the people

desert the place and take refuge in the jungle. In the daytime they do not

dare to stir or to speak above a whisper, lest the spirits should see or

hear them. They do not call the small-pox by its proper name, but speak of

it as “jungle leaves” or “fruit” or “the chief,” and ask the sufferer,

“Has he left you?” and the question is put in a whisper lest the spirit

should hear.(1547) Natives of the Philippines were formerly prohibited

from speaking of the chase in the house of a fisherman and from speaking

of fishing in the house of a hunter; journeying by land they might not

talk of marine matters, and sailing on the sea they might not talk of

terrestrial matters.(1548)

(M253) When we survey the instances of this superstition which have now

been enumerated, we can hardly fail to be struck by the number of cases in

which a fear of spirits, or of other beings regarded as spiritual and

intelligent, is assigned as the reason for abstaining in certain

circumstances from the use of certain words.(1549) The speaker imagines

himself to be overheard and understood by spirits, or animals, or other

beings whom his fancy endows with human intelligence; and hence he avoids

certain words and substitutes others in their stead, either from a desire

to soothe and propitiate these beings by speaking well of them, or from a

dread that they may understand his speech and know what he is about, when

he happens to be engaged in that which, if they knew of it, would excite

their anger or their fear. Hence the substituted terms fall into two

classes according as they are complimentary or enigmatic; and these

expressions are employed, according to circumstances, for different and

even opposite reasons, the complimentary because they will be understood

and appreciated, and the enigmatic because they will not. We can now see

why persons engaged in occupations like fishing, fowling, hunting, mining,

reaping, and sailing the sea, should abstain from the use of the common

language and veil their meaning in strange words and dark phrases. For

they have this in common that all of them are encroaching on the domain of

the elemental beings, the creatures who, whether visible or invisible,

whether clothed in fur or scales or feathers, whether manifesting

themselves in tree or stone or running stream or breaking wave, or

hovering unseen in the air, may be thought to have the first right to

those regions of earth and sea and sky into which man intrudes only to

plunder and destroy. Thus deeply imbued with a sense of the all-pervading

life and intelligence of nature, man at a certain stage of his

intellectual development cannot but be visited with fear or compunction,

whether he is killing wild fowl among the stormy Hebrides, or snaring

doves in the sultry thickets of the Malay Peninsula; whether he is hunting

the bear in Lapland snows, or the tiger in Indian jungles, or hauling in

the dripping net, laden with silvery herring, on the coast of Scotland;

whether he is searching for the camphor crystals in the shade of the

tropical forest, or extracting the red gold from the darksome mine, or

laying low with a sweep of his sickle the yellow ears on the harvest

field. In all these his depredations on nature, man’s first endeavour

apparently is by quietness and silence to escape the notice of the beings

whom he dreads; but if that cannot be, he puts the best face he can on the

matter by dissembling his foul designs under a fair exterior, by

flattering the creatures whom he proposes to betray, and by so guarding

his lips, that, though his dark ambiguous words are understood well enough

by his fellows, they are wholly unintelligible to his victims. He pretends

to be what he is not, and to be doing something quite different from the

real business in hand. He is not, for example, a fowler catching pigeons

in the forest; he is a Magic Prince or King Solomon himself(1550) inviting

fair princesses into his palace tower or ivory hall. Such childish

pretences suffice to cheat the guileless creatures whom the savage intends

to rob or kill, perhaps they even impose to some extent upon himself; for

we can hardly dissever them wholly from those forms of sympathetic magic

in which primitive man seeks to effect his purpose by imitating the thing

he desires to produce, or even by assimilating himself to it. It is hard

indeed for us to realise the mental state of a Malay wizard masquerading

before wild pigeons in the character of King Solomon; yet perhaps the

make-believe of children and of the stage, where we see the players daily

forgetting their real selves in their passionate impersonation of the

shadowy realm of fancy, may afford us some glimpse into the workings of

that instinct of imitation or mimicry which is deeply implanted in the

constitution of the human mind.