In a few seconds the performance is over, for the unhappy "Scorpion," already paralysed by fear of the immersion, cannot hold his breath at all, and bobs up to the surface immediately, half asphyxiated. The Sorcerer, delighted at the result of his experiment, expresses his appreciation in a series of approving gestures.

The principle of the ordeal rests on the belief, prevalent among the great majority of half-civilized races, that the tutelary deity of any individual withdraws his protection and assistance if his "ward" has violated any of the fundamental principles of morality, or neglected the rites and ceremonies enjoined by his religion.

This notion of loss of protection of a higher power may possibly be associated with the vague idea of a conscience. It is certainly one of the most curious conceptions which research into the science of divination has brought to our notice. The submission of a suspected criminal to trial by ordeal is an invitation to the Spirits to give a manifestation of their desires.

There are many forms of this species of divine interrogatory, varying in number and character in different parts of the world. Fifty varieties at least are met with in Africa. It is not to be believed, however, that every ordeal is dangerous or even necessarily harmful. Many forms are known far less cruel than those which arrest the imagination of the traveller by virtue of their more inhuman incidents, such as the ordeal by boiling water, molten lead, or poison dropped into the eyes.

Thus, among the Moï, a favourite ordeal is to compel the accused to drink an excessive quantity of water or alcohol resulting in temporary discomfort without danger or permanent injury.

In Africa cases are known where an ordeal is carried through without the suspected criminal knowing of it. For example, it has been considered sufficient to observe the direction in which the smoke of a chimney is blown, or to set a trap in some place known to be frequented by rats. The innocence or guilt of the accused will be determined according to whether a rat is caught or not.

To judge by the enormous quantity of spirits consumed by the Moï I should have said that this form of ordeal was the most frequent incident of daily life. My flask of ammonia was in perpetual requisition after I had, in an evil moment, revealed to them the peculiar property of ammonia gas, which dissipates the fumes of alcohol.

Perhaps I am doing my friends an injustice. Perhaps there was a more edifying explanation of the run on my flask. May it not be that it furnished a magic potion to some lover of the "bottle" with which to renew his stock of dreams?

A psychologist friend of mine once said that man cannot do without his "dream-world."

The Moï is no exception. He, too, needs an artificial paradise and finds it in the bottle. He drinks to see life rosy!

CHAPTER V
RELIGIOUS BELIEFS AND RITES

A study of the general history of mankind reveals many striking resemblances between the crude ideas which pass for philosophical conceptions among nations in their infancy.

Whether the Moï is considered as an undeveloped or a degenerate being (and the consideration will be determined by the school of thought to which the inquirer adheres) it is beyond dispute that he must be classed among the half-civilized portion of mankind, if only because his ideas of the supernatural are those which the brain of the savage has evolved at all times and in all places. Unlike the civilized races, he has never been able to distinguish the natural from the supernatural. He still believes that the world is controlled by invisible forces set in motion by Spirits constituted like himself, susceptible to emotions and passions like his own, and ready to shape their actions at the dictates of humour or caprice.

This belief is the foundation of the multifarious rites which accompany the most trivial daily act of the group which we are now studying.

Since the invisible Beings who thus direct and sway the fortunes of men are susceptible of love, pity, and even, it seems, of fear, it is both possible and advisable to appeal to these emotions to secure their assistance, or, at least, their neutrality.

It will readily be accepted that experience of life does little or nothing to shake this belief in the perpetual intervention of the supernatural, for naturally it is seldom that the desired event does not follow, sooner or later, the particular ceremony in which that desire finds expression.

For example, a great sacrifice is celebrated to secure a cessation of drought. Even if there is no rain for several weeks afterwards, it will still be regarded as an answer to supplication.

The Moï is still in utter ignorance of the connection between cause and effect, largely because he has only the most elementary notions of time and space.

It is an almost universal rule that from the earliest times religion grew out of a belief in magic. Indeed it is worthy of remark at this point that most of the customs and traditions found among civilized races are in essence forms of ancient magical rites which have been adapted to changing conditions.

The most recent investigations by the most eminent ethnologists confirm the view that a great number of ritualistic ceremonies are founded on the principles of imitative or sympathetic magic. This fact must be kept in mind.

Imitative magic is based on a belief which obtains general currency that the effect resembles the cause which produces it. The rudimentary intelligence of the savage infers from this that it is possible to bring about the commission of some act merely by imitating it.

Suppose a Moï desires success in the chase. Before starting on his expedition he will prick himself with one of his arrows, or else he will go through a series of contortions resembling the struggles of an animal caught in his net. He never doubts for a moment that by imitating his action, his prey will become an easy victim to his toils.

"Sympathetic" magic is based on another equally prevalent belief that objects which have once been in contact will continue to influence each other after the contact has ceased and that such continuance of influence remains unaffected either by time or distance.

It follows as a logical conclusion from this belief that all that is necessary to obtain or maintain influence over any person or object is to get possession of some part of that person or object. Accordingly the Sorcerer's first task is to secure some portion of his intended victim, a few hairs, perhaps, or some blood, or a piece of nail. By tormenting the image he will inflict the same sufferings on the original. In the same way a rejected lover will dress a burnt-clay figure in a fragment of the robe of his mistress and by supplications addressed to her representative seek to turn her hard heart towards himself.

Thanks to the new light thrown on these fundamental principles by the untiring efforts of Frazer, van Gennep and other eminent ethnologists, analysis of the better known beliefs of the Moï has become both practicable and intelligible. We can at any rate distinguish their salient characteristics.

As the Spirits are susceptible to human passions their natural inclination is to be malevolent towards man, for passions excite to ill-will and ill-doing rather than to benevolence. To counteract this baneful tendency it is highly desirable to incite the supernatural powers to turn their anger upon one another, and this is the more easy of accomplishment because they are numerous, jealous, and have each their particular domain.

To this origin must we assign the idea of provoking a supernatural conflict—dualism—which inspires the accomplishment of certain rites.

Further, it is impossible to secure either the assistance or even the neutrality of the superior powers without a talisman. The Sorcerer supplies these indispensable instruments, of which he enjoys the monopoly. Their nature and appearance vary with the object which their wearer has in view. If a native fears the attack of some particular animal his talisman will be some part of the object of his fears. The teeth of wild animals, the claws of tigers, the tongues of serpents, figure frequently among the talismans of those who fear an encounter with these formidable enemies. As a rule they are enclosed in a small wallet and suspended round the neck.

In a sense this is as natural an instinct as that which prompts savages of all races to make a protective amulet of the object of their fears, for, by an analogous association of ideas, they have frequently found the remedy in the apprehended evil itself. Anyone who has lived in the bush knows that immunity from the ill effects of a scorpion's bite can be obtained by injecting under the skin a paste made from the tails of those venomous creatures.

Some of these talismans are valueless to all save their original owner, and sometimes even to him only so long as he remains attached to his tribe and village. They are, so to speak, personal and not transferable.

On the other hand there are what I may call "collective" talismans endowed with powers to protect a family, a community, or even a whole tribe. They are displayed in some prominent position, hung on the door-post, a sacred tree, the mast of a canoe, or the palisade of a village.

Others are endowed with medicinal properties and are alleged to cure fevers and dysentery. Our portable chemist's shop was regarded as a very sacred grove of the Spirits of Healing. These august deities consented to appear in the form of a white powder (quinine) or of fire-water (tincture of iodine) to allay human ills. A bottle of chlorodyne which I used frequently in the many cases of dysentery and cholera was elevated to the rank of a deity.

I must confess also that there were many occasions on which I took advantage of their credulity in these matters. There were times when my request for food and lodging for our party met with hesitation and even point-blank refusal. In such circumstances a simple threat to grind them all to powder produced a prompt compliance with our wishes.

The Moï apply the generic term of "Pi" to all the occult powers whose intervention in human affairs is a matter of daily terror. The word "Pi" roughly denotes the idea of supernatural action. It corresponds to the "Orenda" of the Iroquois and the "Mana" of the savage tribes of Polynesia.

The Spirits who claim sway over the region of the forest-clad mountains are both numerous and quarrelsome. Those whose intentions towards men are known to be beneficent are neglected while worship and sacrifice are concentrated on the propitiation of the malevolent ones.

The "Chicken-Devil" is an object of the greatest terror to women. Legend relates that once upon a time he was imprisoned within the body of an ogress by whose murder he was restored to liberty.

The malevolent disposition of this Spirit is displayed by his habit of poisoning the breath of all the women who cross his path. A woman thus contaminated poisons every particle of food with which she comes in contact.

No less dangerous are the Spirits which have been liberated from bondage by the violent death or suicide of their masters. Woe betide the traveller who encounters them on his journey. If his escort be not large and his weapons of the latest pattern he will go to swell the already lengthy list of victims of the powers of evil.

Farther on lurks a fresh horror.

The road is long, the sun overpowering, the earth a burning carpet. Suddenly a tree offers welcome rest and shelter to the weary traveller. He loses no time in seeking its grateful shade and, selecting a suitable branch for a fly-swish, prepares to cut it with his knife.

Heaven help him if he carries out his intention. The tree is haunted by the spirit of a chief slain in war. It will snatch up the sacrilegious criminal and bear him to the great Beyond.

It is a horrible catastrophe to meet with certain Ghouls, whose method of progression is a rolling motion like that of a barrel, and who devour all the refuse of the roads. If a woman is with you their vengeance will fall upon her. She will become barren and gradually rot away.

On moonlight nights young warriors often meet with ravishing nymphs who beckon them to follow into the depths of the forest. The loveliness and wiles of these mystic temptresses soon overpower the strongest will and the young men yield to the spell and disappear in the darkness. Soon the vision vanishes. The victims, terror-stricken, walk round in fruitless circles until dawn. Their tormentors are malignant spirits who assume the form of lovely nymphs solely to gratify their cunning spite by hindering and terrorizing their victims.

Among the numerous uncivilized groups of Indo-China it is curious that only one offers the peculiar characteristic of possessing a totem. The "Man" or "Yaos" believe that their first ancestor was a dog. Accordingly, their veneration for that animal is profound, and it is strictly forbidden to use its flesh for food.

If we are to believe one legend which at least has the sanction of general acceptance, about 525 B.C. Pen Hung, who was at that time ruler of the Chinese province of Su, promised his daughter's hand and the half of his kingdom to the hero who should rid him of the conquering marauder Cu-Hung, who was menacing his security. The invader's reputation for valour had preceded him and was such that no man dared cross swords with him. When all seemed lost a dog named Phan-Hu undertook the task of destroying the enemy, and, having succeeded in slaying Cu-Hung in mortal combat, he returned to claim from the King the fulfilment of his promise.

The King gave his daughter to the victor, but in order to keep to himself the more fertile portion of his kingdom, he assigned only the uncultivated mountain-tops as the dog's share. This unfairness was resented by the Dog-King, and to remedy it special concessions were granted to his descendants.

The copy of a charter in which these privileges are set forth is still preserved among what we may call the archives of the "Man." This apocryphal document has been translated by Colonel Bonifacy of the Colonial Infantry, who was the first to call the attention of Europeans to its existence. On the other hand, if we are to believe the twelfth-century historian Fan-Chi-Hu, the dog Phan-Hu was no other than a savage who took that name and did in fact marry a princess as the prize for a very remarkable triumph in a personal combat.

However that may be, it is incontestable that individuals are found in every country whose excessive hairiness suggests a striking resemblance to the dog, especially as regards the face. The Toda of India and the Birmans have recently furnished several striking examples of the freak which is popularly known as the "dog-faced man." But to return to the legend, we may at least conclude that the marriage took place at a much earlier period than that suggested.

The "Man," the issue of this union, have shown a marked tendency to expand. From the mountain-tops which formed their original kingdom they have penetrated into Tonkin, Annam and the region of the lakes. They seem to have made ample use of a provision in their ancient Charter which entitled them to set fire to any forest which impeded their progress. They claim that this authority is still valid and subsisting, and we had the greatest difficulty in enforcing obedience to our forest regulations. The most interesting feature of this ethnical group is that it shows undoubted traces of the existence of an alliance formed in immemorial times with some species of animal. Now the underlying idea of totemism is that of a compact between an aggregation (family, or group) of human beings and some animal species from which has sprung a relationship at once physical and social.

The recent controversy over the definition of totemism seems to make it both redundant and impertinent for me to enlarge on a subject which is still fresh in the memory of all. Nor is the matter of great moment, for I am convinced that, with few exceptions, if the peoples whom I am studying have any connection with these quite special phenomena, that connection is too remote to be regarded as a basis for any satisfactory deductions.

Besides, it is well known that competent observers have frequently confused totemic practices with certain customs whose origin is rather to be looked for in zoolatry or theriolatry (thēr, a wild beast).

Theriolatry embraces such curiosities as tiger and crocodile-worship, while zoolatry signifies the worship of the domestic animals. It must be admitted that when the totem of a group is a wild beast the totemism is probably theriolatric, but it is impossible to dispute van Gennep's statement that all theriolatry is not necessarily totemic.

Organization in groups or totemic clans is only found among races that are just emerging from barbarism, and proof is not lacking that several peoples in classical antiquity had passed through that stage of progress before the period of recorded history begins.

Sorcerers, among the Moï, fall into two categories, those who are gifted with the faculty of divination whereby the guilty can be detected, and those whose exorcisms are confined and directed to the healing of disease.

As a rule the Spirit himself selects the individual whom he proposes to endow with these divine functions.

The first intimation to the happy mortal on whom the choice of Heaven has thus fallen is a feeling of violent colic or sickness of a peculiar kind which leaves no doubt as to its message or mission. The sufferer suffers gladly.

It is by no means the rule that initiation is followed by an immediate assumption of the divine functions. In most cases a prolonged interval elapses, for a candidate who feels unequal to the rôle thus suddenly thrust upon him will prefer exile rather than a return to the ranks of common mortals, a set-back which would make him a public laughing-stock.

Among the Djarai, one of the most important of the Indo-Chinese groups, there are two sorcerers of the greatest renown, known as the "King of Fire" and the "King of Water."

It is probable that these mythological names originally personified the incarnation of Agni, God of Fire, and Varouna, God of Water, and are themselves traces of Brahminism which at one time exercised immense influence over the southern Indo-Chinese peoples and which cannot be said to be entirely defunct to-day.

The Hindu god Agni is always represented as armed with a lance. The "King of Fire" carries, not a lance, but a sword, to which an extraordinary magical power is attributed. If its guardian were to draw it merely an inch or two from its scabbard the sun would cease to illumine the earth. If he drew it out altogether a paralysing lethargy would settle upon his subjects.

Hardly less astonishing are the powers ascribed to the two fetishes which are in the official keeping of the "King of Water." One is the fruit of a creeper which shows not the slightest trace of decay though it was plucked at the time of the Deluge. The other is a sacred rattan which, though of immemorial antiquity, looks as fresh as on its first day of existence. The owner of these talismans has only to utter a word and the universe will disappear beneath the celestial cataracts.

The Cambodians and the Cham assert that these talismans formerly belonged to their kings and were stolen from them by treachery. More than once they have organized expeditions to recover their treasure, but the Spirits have willed otherwise, and the Djarai have never had any difficulty in repelling the invaders.

The predecessors of Norodom, as long as they held sway and directed the destinies of Cambodia, brought presents each year to their cousins, the Kings of the Savage Lands. These gifts took the form of an elephant gorgeously caparisoned, a quantity of brass and some superb pieces of silk destined for the sheath of the sacred sword. As a fitting reply to this act of homage, the King of Fire condescended to leave the imprint of his august finger on a cake of wax, which was then sent to Pnom-Penh, and on two gourds filled with rice.

India, as well as Cambodia, is familiar with the custom of preserving the print of the foot or hand of anyone who has become an object of veneration. Oil of sesame figures frequently in ritual sacrifices, especially when offered by those guilty of intemperance. It is said to purify the worshipper and be grateful to the outraged Spirit.

Wax and corn are alleged to have a remarkably soothing effect on Spirits with a tendency to active malevolence.

But to return to the two Potentates, it must be admitted that they have no effective political authority, though their influence in the sphere of religion is unchallenged.

Their residences lie at a distance of several miles from each other on opposite sides of the watershed between the rivers of Annam and the lakes.

Their offices are hereditary and, if we are to believe the current legend, the family are always present at the death of a pontiff to assist his passage to the next world. This is not from any urgent desire to succeed him but to accomplish a traditional rite. The next step in the proceedings is remarkable. The individual on whom the mantle of the deceased has fallen by hereditary right takes refuge in flight. He is pursued and caught, and in spite of his repeated refusals is compelled to continue the dynasty.

This solemn mockery, parading as a custom, is by no means confined to the group of which I am speaking. In all lands and all periods men are to be found who meet their appointment to places of high honour with sincere or insincere refusals. For one case of genuine apprehension of unfitness there are ten of mock-modesty.

In many cases, it must be admitted, the office of Chief is both onerous and precarious. Sometimes the Chief is only the titular head of the tribe, bound hand and foot by custom and tradition and held responsible for all the misfortunes that overtake his country during his reign. In these circumstances it is hardly to be wondered at that there is some misgiving among those elected to the burdensome office. The Princes of Loango, the Sheik of Gardaia, and the King of the Hobbé in Central Nigeria all take to ignominious flight when their turn comes to assume the reins of government.

In most cases, however, the refusal has become a tradition, whether spontaneous in its origin or not. The Moslem is doing no more than to imitate Mahomet's modest denials when the angel Gabriel came to announce his selection as the prophet of Allah. Even in our days, how many times have we not seen the good citizen professing his unworthiness of a proffered honour and accepting under the pretence of compulsion that on which his heart has long been set!

We have an interesting account of a visit to the "King of Fire" from the lips of Commandant Cupet of the Pavie mission. The Potentate put every conceivable obstacle in the way of the expedition and spared no pains to make their residence in the country as uncomfortable as possible. Having surmounted these obstacles, however, the explorers were faced with a flat refusal to allow them to depart. The situation was becoming extremely strained when a happy accident relieved it. The Pontiff chanced to see a compass, and was so impressed by the movements of the magnetic needle, which he attributed to some magic power, that he withdrew his opposition and allowed the expedition to proceed unmolested.

Tragically otherwise was the experience of my friend Prosper Odend' Hal, Director of the Indo-Chinese Civil Service, during the archæological and ethnographical mission of 1904.

Some days before the departure of his expedition under the auspices of the French School in the Far East, he came to ask me if I would lend him my Moï vocabularies, which he wished to complete during the journey. In the course of our conversation he told me of his intention to dispense with an escort other than an interpreter and a few boys, with a view to facilitating movement and saving time. I had already had sufficient experience of the insecurity of the regions he proposed to explore to know the danger of such a course, and I exhausted every argument to turn him from his purpose. The country was far from pacified and the guerilla warfare which detached bodies of the Moï carried on against us seemed likely at any moment to break out in open conflict. Nothing appeared to me more foolhardy than to go among them defenceless at a time when force was the only argument they could appreciate. Unhappily Odend' Hal remained firm in his conviction that a mark of confidence would fire their imaginations and touch their hearts. He professed a high regard for these unregenerate savages and endowed them, quite gratuitously, with all manner of virtues.

This blind confidence was the cause of his undoing. He started from Phan-Rang at the end of March, crossed the Annamite range, the mountains of Langbian and the plateau of the Darlac, then penetrated into the interior of Phuyen (Annam), the land of the "King of Fire."

It seems that from the first he had made up his mind to see the renowned sacred sword. After much negotiation, its royal owner had intimated his pleasure to gratify the desire and invited the explorer to a great banquet to be given in his house.

On the seventh of April Odend' Hal attended, accompanied only by his interpreter and unarmed, to demonstrate his confidence in the loyalty of his host. Some hours later his servants were aroused by a report of fire. In an isolated hut, already wrapped in flames, they found the bodies of the two victims pierced through and through with spears.

Odend' Hal was a senior officer of the same standing as myself. He had taken part in our earliest expeditions at the time of the conquest, and lived more than twenty years in the country, where his kindness and outstanding ability had won universal respect.

More than one punitive expedition had to be sent out after this outrage, and some of them met with open and unremitting hostility from detached bodies of the Moï. I have mentioned before that even during the mission on which I was engaged MM. Canivey and Barbu, who were in command of the Militia, had to organize a flying column to operate to the north of Langbian, where we were then engaged on a topographical survey. These two officers themselves commanded the force, which was composed of fifty militiamen and the same number of coolies.

They left Dalat, where we had made our headquarters, and marched in the direction of the Darlac. Within a few days they were in touch with the rebels, who pursued the policy of retiring before their advance, abandoning their villages and attempting to draw the column into the forest-clad mountains, where numerous defiles offered special advantages for guerilla warfare. Captain Canivey was not to be deceived by such tactics, and advisedly gave the order for retreat, leaving the subjugation of the rebels to a later occasion.

When the first stage of the return journey was almost completed the advance-guard reported towards evening that their progress was impeded by small bamboo stakes fixed into the ground. Rifle in hand Canivey at once went forward, suspecting an ambush. Behind the palisade of thorny bamboo he thought he detected several dark dots moving hither and thither. Suddenly two arrows, then a third, struck him, and a fourth followed. Captain Barbu, who rushed to the rescue, was received by a shower of missiles.

The Linhs, or native soldiers, threw themselves flat on the ground and fired volley after volley in the direction of the attack. The Moï replied with an avalanche of arrows and javelins, but the rapidity of our fire soon proved too much for them and, after their ranks had been seriously depleted, they gave way and fled, leaving all but a few of their wounded. We made prisoners of all the rebels thus left to their fate and buried the corpses in an effective, if summary, manner.

It was long before MM. Canivey and Barbu recovered from their wounds, but after many anxious moments their natural vitality triumphed, and within a short time a new expedition was organized which proved a complete success.

CHAPTER VI
RITES AND SUPERSTITIONS (continued)

Most of the barbarous races of all countries seek to preserve their identity and distinguish themselves from their neighbours by some marked peculiarity either of dress, jewels and ornaments, or even by some particular mutilation of the body.

Africa shows a wonderful variety of tribal symbols. Among the most general of these are the elliptical or concentric marks of a red-hot iron on the face and breast which are considered such an embellishment by the Bangendi of the Belgian Congo. Another common form is the artificial elongation of the breasts caused by cords or the weight of heavy ropes of pearls. This fashion is in vogue mainly among the Isambo of the same region. Then again it is quite usual for certain classes to dye their hair red, shave off their eyebrows and tear out their eye-lashes and moustaches. The most widely practised form of mutilation, however, is that of the jaw. The Bushongo, also of the Belgian Congo, extract the two incisors of the upper jaw, and some of the women have the lower incisors cut in such a way as to form a hollow in the centre.

Some of these practices are found among the Moï and more particularly the elongation of the ears and breasts and the extraction or pointing of the teeth. This last mutilation takes place at the age of puberty, a fact which suggests that it forms part of the complex of rites which mark the passing of the young from one state to another, or which celebrate their initiation into the full status of membership of the group. If so, it merely follows a custom which is encountered in all latitudes.

Among the Moï the operation of filing lasts from ten to fifteen days. The instrument employed is a hard stone, which is found in the bed of certain rivers, notably the river of Phanrang. It is the subject of a flourishing export trade to the tribes of the interior. The incisors of the lower jaw are filed to resemble a triangle, or perhaps the teeth of a cat, those of the upper jaw are cut in the form of a semicircle or filed down to the level of the gums. Although this mutilation is extremely painful, so great is the influence of tradition that no man would dream of dispensing with it. For as the piercing of the lobe of the ear devotes a woman to perpetual spinsterhood, so the neglect to be filed deprives a man of the right to found a family.

In Australia the young men submit to the extraction of several of their teeth at the moment of initiation. Sometimes the teeth thus removed are hidden under the bark of a tree unknown to their late owner. If he dies the tree is dried by fire and becomes a monument to perpetuate the memory of the deceased. This is a striking example of sympathetic magic, of which I have spoken before.

In Africa the village blacksmith is the appointed minister to perform the rite of dressing the teeth. He places a small iron ring against the tooth and strikes it with a light hammer. It would be natural to suppose that this process would be even more painful than the filing. What matter! In the eyes of the savage the suffering involved is the most meritorious part of the operation. Our coolies could hardly contain their indignation at the suggestion that an anæsthetic should first be administered. Painless filing would be a stigma to man, an outrage to Heaven!

In Africa the practice is extended to women as well as men in several groups, though only after marriage, but in Indo-China I never met any women who had undergone the treatment.

It is well known that mutilations of this kind are not the only badge of race which distinguishes one group from another, for it seems plain that tattooing also originated in a desire to serve the same purpose.

The islanders of Timor employ hereditary marks tattooed on the cheeks, the chin, or the breasts of the women, to distinguish the different families. The same custom is followed in New Guinea. Most of these symbols are compounded of an ideograph and a letter of the alphabet. Their use is extended to distinguish owners of such things as shields and weapons. Here they form a kind of trade-mark of which the owner alone knows the meaning, and which all others are prohibited from infringing. (If I had known of this peculiarity during my travels among the Moï, I should have been more careful in noting the tattoo marks which are to be met with among the dwellers by the lakes and also the signs which are engraved on various objects. As it was I merely observed the blue markings which adorned the legs of the men and the curious red hieroglyphics inscribed in rectangles on their arms and backs. It is very likely that these were also the symbols of relationship or ownership.)

It is well to remind ourselves that the custom exists even in Europe to-day. Some of the Catholic women of Bosnia still practise the tattooing of the forearm or chest with the form of a Latin cross. The practice seems to date from the twelfth century and to be inspired by a desire for a visible sign of their religious isolation, for they live among a Mohammedan population which has never been distinguished for its tolerance.

In whatever manner the custom came into being there is little variety in the substance used in the process. The skin is firmly stretched and the figure lightly sketched upon it. Then a number of punctures very close together are made with a needle dipped in the staining matter and wrapped in cotton almost up to the point. The part is then bandaged until the lapse of a fixed period, after which all covering is taken off and the indelible traces, changed in colour to a Prussian blue, remain on the skin.

Of course the operation is attended with all manner of prayers and ceremonial. It may not take place on certain days which are regarded as unfavourable, and never without the approval and assistance of the Sorcerer. This again recalls the custom of the Catholics of Bosnia, who invariably select Sunday or some other holy day for the ceremony of engraving the sacred sign.

Like the Moï, the youths of the lower Congo reside in a specially reserved dwelling when the time has come for them to undergo the rites associated with initiation into full citizenship. In Africa, however, this residence is always outside the village and the profane are prohibited from entering under pain of death. Further, its principal function is to accommodate those who intend to enter the sect of the "Nkimba" (meaning "initiation"), members of which take the name of "Nkissi" ("enchanted"). Sometimes this voluntary retirement lasts as long as a year.

A widespread, but unfounded, belief prevails that races in a rudimentary state of civilization enjoy greater licence than those which have advanced further along the path of progress. On the contrary, the savage is subject to all manner of restrictions which make freedom of will almost a mockery. Not alone his acts but even his feelings and desires are hedged about with repressive regulations. The simple explanation is that he sees the supernatural in a very different light from us and brings it into the smallest action of his daily life. Once granted that he is not a free agent, and that unseen powers have to be consulted at every end and turn, it follows logically that a number of prohibitions arise which it is convenient to refer to in this book as "Taboos," a generic term which has been used by the Polynesians and now adopted almost universally by ethnologists.

Taboos are of every conceivable kind, royal, sacerdotal, sexual, proprietary, and they all spring from the fundamental notion that it is necessary to regulate every action in accordance with the probability of arousing or conciliating divine displeasure. Some of them follow as a corollary to the belief in the effect of magic by imitation or contact.

Thus, since in time of drought rain can be caused by spilling water on the ground, it is taboo to perform that operation at a period when a cessation from rain is required.

Other taboos are prophylactic. Thus certain persons, contact with whom is considered to be prejudicial to morals, are isolated to preserve the virtue of the others.

I have already recounted the prohibitions of every kind which regulate the behaviour of a woman during pregnancy. Here again the motive is the same. The rules as to isolation and the restriction of diet have no other object than to preserve her from dangers which are ever hovering around.

Other taboos are directed towards the preservation of health and physical strength, and apply largely to kings, chiefs and officials. Thus in Japan princes were never permitted to put their feet on the ground. The Mikado was compelled to spend several hours motionless on the throne. He violated the injunction if he even turned his head. The sun must never shine on his face, and on no account must he cut his nails, hair, or beard. Even to-day the King of Cambodia is not allowed to be in a house of more than one story lest some human being should pass over his head. Accordingly the ceilings of his palace are made of glass so that no one shall commit such an act of treason unobserved.

These curious regulations become more intelligible when we remember that the chief of a savage tribe is regarded as the depository of the health and strength of the whole group, which is thus directly interested in the preservation of its ruler from every form of malady and mischance. It is possible that this very ancient idea is the origin of many of the rules of etiquette which are so punctiliously observed by the Courts of certain States.

An explanation of many of these taboos may also be sought in an examination of the religious systems on which they are based. For example, in totemic groups unions between persons who have entered into a compact with the same totem are invariably prohibited. Accordingly we should expect to find, and do in fact find, that exogamy is the rule among members of the same clan.

The most superficial observation of the religious systems of all nations reveals the existence of taboos in some form or another. They appear in Christianity as in Buddhism, Brahminism, and others which dispute among themselves the title of the true faith.

Even outside the sphere of religious observance we know that certain acts, insignificant in themselves, are habitually avoided. This can only be attributed to a traditional prohibition dating from ancient times. I myself know many devout Christians who would gaze at me in astonishment if I told them that many of their most cherished beliefs can trace their descent from the precepts of pagans. But I spare them any such inward perplexity and merely smile to myself when I see them hasten to put out one of three lights burning in a room, or ostentatiously separate two forks which some clumsy servant has put crosswise on the table.

But besides all these taboos which apply without distinction to all the members of a group, there are others which concern one or other of the sexes, such as the regulation which appoints certain occupations and pursuits as proper for women only, and vice versâ.

Thus, among the Moï the women do all the work about the farms and in the fields, though this would seem to be the natural province of the men. It is easy to suggest laziness as the reason for this reversal of the natural order, but probably the origin is to be sought in some ancestral tradition long since forgotten. More noble occupations, such as war and the chase, are reserved to the men, and their wives, proud of their husbands' glorious duties, are quite content to play the part of beast of burden. The difference is illustrated in many humble actions. A woman must carry a burden on her head or her back. A man submits to no such indignity. He divides the load into two parts, hangs one on each end of a bamboo pole and balances them across his shoulder. It is again necessary to recall that Europe shows traces of this conception which have hitherto remained unexplained. Why is it natural for a woman in Austria to act as a mason's labourer, while in France it would be deemed an outrage to impose such laborious duties? Why is the office of lemonade-seller confined to men in France, while in Austria that rôle is invariably played by women? The list of these anomalies is lengthy and would furnish evidence for a plausible argument that the feminist movement is no more than the belated revenge of a sex whose activities have been too long checked by the arbitrary prohibitions of man.

We have now seen that certain persons, natural and supernatural, certain objects, and even actions, are deemed harmful and to be avoided at all costs. It is therefore not altogether surprising that the truly righteous avoid even referring to those persons, objects, or actions.

The Moï, for example, will never utter the word "Tiger," an animal he regards with a kind of holy awe, and which has been raised to the rank of a deity. If he must refer to the creature he calls it "The Master" or "The Lofty One," or else uses some obvious paraphrase the sense of which escapes no one.

Hunting one day in the forest, I happened to meet a little girl who was gathering bamboo shoots for the family meal. I chanced to ask her whether peacocks and heath-cocks were to be found in those regions.

"Oh, yes," she replied, "there were several here just now, but they have gone.... There is no peace among us," and a few moments after, "We fear."

I had little difficulty in guessing the object of her terror though she dared not put it into words, but to convince myself, and partly, I fear, from an unmannerly enjoyment of her confusion, I feigned ignorance and asked again:

"But what do you fear?"

She hesitated a moment, half paralysed with fear at the thought of uttering the dread name, then recovered her composure and with sly malice replied:

"We fear Heaven."

Heaven, that was the Tiger without doubt! The following week I learnt with tragic force how natural were her fears, for she fell a victim, by no means the first, to the terrible enemy.

The incident remains engraved on my memory both for the melancholy interest attaching to it, and also because it was the first time I had come into actual contact with the taboo which forbids certain names to be uttered or requires the employment of a special language when prohibited subjects are to be referred to.

Explanations have often been attempted of the belief commonly held by savages in the incarnation of Spirits in forms other than that of a human being. The most natural theory is probably the most obvious. Since the world began all peoples have noticed that man is one of the most perishable of the objects about them. Is it likely, they ask, that the Spirits would choose so destructible a home for their earthly habitation? Surely they would select a place with greater chances of permanence, a stone, for example, or a tree? Hence the worship of these objects, not for any intrinsic value, but because they are housing Spirits.

Among the Bahnar, a Moï group, certain flints of immense age are objects of the greatest veneration. Frequently one of these stones is raised on high on a pedestal of bamboos and the more curious they are in appearance, the more reverence is bestowed upon them. The conception of the incarnation of a deity in an animal must be traced back to the same idea. Primitive man naturally attributed to animals, which sometimes preyed upon him, powers superior to his own. He was far from thinking himself the lord of creation and ascribed that superiority to the presence of a Spirit incarnated in the animal and directing its actions. The Egyptians worshipped the crocodile under various names, such as "Lord of the Waters," and "The Devourer." If such a belief prevailed among an advanced people such as these, it is hardly surprising that the barbarous races of Indo-China should fall into the same error.

We find, in fact, among these races clear traces of litholatry (from the Greek lithos, a stone), dendrolatry (dendron, a tree), and theriolatry (thēr, a wild beast).

It is quite usual to find some hoary guardian, such as a fig-tree or ebony tree, stationed at the entrance of a village. It shelters with its spreading foliage a minute house raised on piles and dedicated to the Genius of the Soil or the Master of the Earth. Within this pagoda is a brazier from which the fumes of incense are always rising. The offerings which are brought will call down the blessing of Heaven on the harvest, and in particular will inspire the Genius to wreak vengeance on thieves who attempt to rob the public granary. A few canes hung on the walls of this little building serve to put a holy fear in the less imaginative visitors. They are the symbol of the punishment which will be meted out to robbers.

Unfortunately, the harvest has to encounter not merely the depredations of the evilly-disposed, but also the attacks of animal enemies such as the boar and the deer. To ward off this class of mischance a stretched bow is hung on the roof, threatening with its arrow any animal bold enough to approach, I may add that the farmers frequently use this hut as a lair from which to shoot the marauders. By thus doing the work of the Genius they augment his reputation and benefit themselves, a very satisfactory arrangement.

Similar rites are to be found in every part of the world from the earliest times. In ancient Egypt the festival of Sokari (the hawk-headed Osiris) at Memphis always concluded with the erection of a pillar called "Tat" or "Ded" in the form of a tree without foliage. The same custom obtains among the Siamese, the Cambodians, and the Laotians, where the "Tat" is often to be seen. Its origin is plainly ritual. In the region of the lakes the "Tats" are to be found placed so close together as to look like a nursery garden. As a rule these monuments are made of simple hewn masonry and vary greatly in size. The same variety is to be observed in their form and design, which seems to be determined by the individual caprice of the architect rather than by any conformity to established custom. They generally resemble a pyramid in shape, the base being either circular or square, the apex assuming the form sometimes of a Byzantine roof or that of a spire. Their erection is usually the fulfilment of a vow or the commemoration of some fortunate occurrence in the family. Among the Laotians the number of "Tats" which a man raises is considered the measure of his piety.

In Europe the same conception appears in the familiar festivities of the maypole.

It sometimes happened in the course of our geodetical survey that we were compelled to cut down a tree which interrupted the field of view of our instruments. A most interesting scene preceded the act of destruction. The "foreman" of our Moï coolies approached the condemned tree and addressed it much as follows:

"Spirit who hast made thy home in this tree, we worship thee and are come to claim thy mercy. The white mandarin, our relentless master, whose commands we cannot but obey, has bidden us to cut down thy habitation, a task which fills us with sadness and which we only carry out with regret. I adjure thee to depart at once from the place and seek a new dwelling-place elsewhere, and I pray thee to forget the wrong we do thee, for we are not our own masters."

This harangue, accompanied by spitting and an immense obeisance, being concluded, the foreman addressed another in very similar terms to the Lord Tiger, which in its character of undisputed King of the Forest has jurisdiction over every tree within it.

The tiger, indeed, thanks to its fearful ravages in this land of hilly jungle, is easily first among the animals which popular superstition has endowed with supernatural powers. Nor is this to be wondered at, for Europeans who live in the country are frequently obliged to confess themselves thwarted and even driven away by the depredations of this ferocious beast. I have already mentioned an occasion on which, after fourteen nights of inactivity, I was compelled to withdraw and abandon the place to a tiger which had carried off one of my natives before my very eyes. It was during this same fruitless attempt to get rid of the pest that I learnt from my escort the popular superstitions concerning the powers of this formidable foe.

In the first place their beliefs are determined by terror. Everything concerning the creature is fantastic, mysterious, marvellous.