Chapter 3. Sympathetic Magic.
Section 1. The Principles of Magic.
IF we analyse the principles of thought on which magic is based, they
will probably be found to resolve themselves into two: first, that like
produces like, or that an effect resembles its cause; and, second, that
things which have once been in contact with each other continue to act
on each other at a distance after the physical contact has been severed.
The former principle may be called the Law of Similarity, the latter the
Law of Contact or Contagion. From the first of these principles, namely
the Law of Similarity, the magician infers that he can produce any
effect he desires merely by imitating it: from the second he infers that
whatever he does to a material object will affect equally the person
with whom the object was once in contact, whether it formed part of his
body or not. Charms based on the Law of Similarity may be called
Homoeopathic or Imitative Magic. Charms based on the Law of Contact or
Contagion may be called Contagious Magic. To denote the first of these
branches of magic the term Homoeopathic is perhaps preferable, for the
alternative term Imitative or Mimetic suggests, if it does not imply, a
conscious agent who imitates, thereby limiting the scope of magic too
narrowly. For the same principles which the magician applies in the
practice of his art are implicitly believed by him to regulate the
operations of inanimate nature; in other words, he tacitly assumes that
the Laws of Similarity and Contact are of universal application and are
not limited to human actions. In short, magic is a spurious system of
natural law as well as a fallacious guide of conduct; it is a false
science as well as an abortive art. Regarded as a system of natural law,
that is, as a statement of the rules which determine the sequence of
events throughout the world, it may be called Theoretical Magic:
regarded as a set of precepts which human beings observe in order to
compass their ends, it may be called Practical Magic. At the same time
it is to be borne in mind that the primitive magician knows magic only
on its practical side; he never analyses the mental processes on which
his practice is based, never reflects on the abstract principles
involved in his actions. With him, as with the vast majority of men,
logic is implicit, not explicit: he reasons just as he digests his food
in complete ignorance of the intellectual and physiological processes
which are essential to the one operation and to the other. In short, to
him magic is always an art, never a science; the very idea of science is
lacking in his undeveloped mind. It is for the philosophic student to
trace the train of thought which underlies the magician's practice; to
draw out the few simple threads of which the tangled skein is composed;
to disengage the abstract principles from their concrete applications;
in short, to discern the spurious science behind the bastard art. 1
If my analysis of the magician's logic is correct, its two great
principles turn out to be merely two different misapplications of the
association of ideas. Homoeopathic magic is founded on the association
of ideas by similarity: contagious magic is founded on the association
of ideas by contiguity. Homoeopathic magic commits the mistake of
assuming that things which resemble each other are the same: contagious
magic commits the mistake of assuming that things which have once been
in contact with each other are always in contact. But in practice the
two branches are often combined; or, to be more exact, while
homoeopathic or imitative magic may be practised by itself, contagious
magic will generally be found to involve an application of the
homoeopathic or imitative principle. Thus generally stated the two
things may be a little difficult to grasp, but they will readily become
intelligible when they are illustrated by particular examples. Both
trains of thought are in fact extremely simple and elementary. It could
hardly be otherwise, since they are familiar in the concrete, though
certainly not in the abstract, to the crude intelligence not only of the
savage, but of ignorant and dull-witted people everywhere. Both branches
of magic, the homoeopathic and the contagious, may conveniently be
comprehended under the general name of Sympathetic Magic, since both
assume that things act on each other at a distance through a secret
sympathy, the impulse being transmitted from one to the other by means
of what we may conceive as a kind of invisible ether, not unlike that
which is postulated by modern science for a precisely similar purpose,
namely, to explain how things can physically affect each other through a
space which appears to be empty. 2
It may be convenient to tabulate as follows the branches of magic
according to the laws of thought which underlie them: 3
I will now illustrate these two great branches of sympathetic magic by
examples, beginning with homoeopathic magic. 4
Section 2. Homoeopathic or Imitative Magic.
PERHAPS the most familiar application of the principle that like
produces like is the attempt which has been made by many peoples in many
ages to injure or destroy an enemy by injuring or destroying an image of
him, in the belief that, just as the image suffers, so does the man, and
that when it perishes he must die. A few instances out of many may be
given to prove at once the wide diffusion of the practice over the world
and its remarkable persistence through the ages. For thousands of years
ago it was known to the sorcerers of ancient India, Babylon, and Egypt,
as well as of Greece and Rome, and at this day it is still resorted to
by cunning and malignant savages in Australia, Africa, and Scotland.
Thus the North American Indians, we are told, believe that by drawing
the figure of a person in sand, ashes, or clay, or by considering any
object as his body, and then pricking it with a sharp stick or doing it
any other injury, they inflict a corresponding injury on the person
represented. For example, when an Ojebway Indian desires to work evil on
any one, he makes a little wooden image of his enemy and runs a needle
into its head or heart, or he shoots an arrow into it, believing that
wherever the needle pierces or the arrow strikes the image, his foe will
the same instant be seized with a sharp pain in the corresponding part
of his body; but if he intends to kill the person outright, he burns or
buries the puppet, uttering certain magic words as he does so. The
Peruvian Indians moulded images of fat mixed with grain to imitate the
persons whom they disliked or feared, and then burned the effigy on the
road where the intended victim was to pass. This they called burning his
soul. 1
A Malay charm of the same sort is as follows. Take parings of nails,
hair, eyebrows, spittle, and so forth of your intended victim, enough to
represent every part of his person, and then make them up into his
likeness with wax from a deserted bees' comb. Scorch the figure slowly
by holding it over a lamp every night for seven nights, and say:
"It is not wax that I am scorching,
It is the liver, heart, and spleen of So-and-so that I scorch."
After the seventh time burn the figure, and your victim will die. This
charm obviously combines the principles of homoeopathic and contagious
magic; since the image which is made in the likeness of an enemy
contains things which once were in contact with him, namely, his nails,
hair, and spittle. Another form of the Malay charm, which resembles the
Ojebway practice still more closely, is to make a corpse of wax from an
empty bees' comb and of the length of a footstep; then pierce the eye of
the image, and your enemy is blind; pierce the stomach, and he is sick;
pierce the head, and his head aches; pierce the breast, and his breast
will suffer. If you would kill him outright, transfix the image from the
head downwards; enshroud it as you would a corpse; pray over it as if
you were praying over the dead; then bury it in the middle of a path
where your victim will be sure to step over it. In order that his blood
may not be on your head, you should say:
"It is not I who am burying him,
It is Gabriel who is burying him."
Thus the guilt of the murder will be laid on the shoulders of the
archangel Gabriel, who is a great deal better able to bear it than you
are. 2
If homoeopathic or imitative magic, working by means of images, has
commonly been practised for the spiteful purpose of putting obnoxious
people out of the world, it has also, though far more rarely, been
employed with the benevolent intention of helping others into it. In
other words, it has been used to facilitate childbirth and to procure
offspring for barren women. Thus among the Bataks of Sumatra a barren
woman, who would become a mother, will make a wooden image of a child
and hold it in her lap, believing that this will lead to the fulfilment
of her wish. In the Babar Archipelago, when a woman desires to have a
child, she invites a man who is himself the father of a large family to
pray on her behalf to Upulero, the spirit of the sun. A doll is made of
red cotton, which the woman clasps in her arms, as if she would suckle
it. Then the father of many children takes a fowl and holds it by the
legs to the woman's head, saying, "O Upulero, make use of the fowl; let
fall, let descend a child, I beseech you, I entreat you, let a child
fall and descend into my hands and on my lap." Then he asks the woman,
"Has the child come?" and she answers, "Yes, it is sucking already."
After that the man holds the fowl on the husband's head, and mumbles
some form of words. Lastly, the bird is killed and laid, together with
some betel, on the domestic place of sacrifice. When the ceremony is
over, word goes about in the village that the woman has been brought to
bed, and her friends come and congratulate her. Here the pretence that a
child has been born is a purely magical rite designed to secure, by
means of imitation or mimicry, that a child really shall be born; but an
attempt is made to add to the efficacy of the rite by means of prayer
and sacrifice. To put it otherwise, magic is here blent with and
reinforced by religion. 3
Among some of the Dyaks of Borneo, when a woman is in hard labour, a
wizard is called in, who essays to facilitate the delivery in a rational
manner by manipulating the body of the sufferer. Meantime another wizard
outside the room exerts himself to attain the same end by means which we
should regard as wholly irrational. He, in fact, pretends to be the
expectant mother; a large stone attached to his stomach by a cloth wrapt
round his body represents the child in the womb, and, following the
directions shouted to him by his colleague on the real scene of
operations, he moves this make-believe baby about on his body in exact
imitation of the movements of the real baby till the infant is born. 4
The same principle of make-believe, so dear to children, has led other
peoples to employ a simulation of birth as a form of adoption, and even
as a mode of restoring a supposed dead person to life. If you pretend to
give birth to a boy, or even to a great bearded man who has not a drop
of your blood in his veins, then, in the eyes of primitive law and
philosophy, that boy or man is really your son to all intents and
purposes. Thus Diodorus tells us that when Zeus persuaded his jealous
wife Hera to adopt Hercules, the goddess got into bed, and clasping the
burly hero to her bosom, pushed him through her robes and let him fall
to the ground in imitation of a real birth; and the historian adds that
in his own day the same mode of adopting children was practised by the
barbarians. At the present time it is said to be still in use in
Bulgaria and among the Bosnian Turks. A woman will take a boy whom she
intends to adopt and push or pull him through her clothes; ever
afterwards he is regarded as her very son, and inherits the whole
property of his adoptive parents. Among the Berawans of Sarawak, when a
woman desires to adopt a grownup man or woman, a great many people
assemble and have a feast. The adopting mother, seated in public on a
raised and covered seat, allows the adopted person to crawl from behind
between her legs. As soon as he appears in front he is stroked with the
sweet-scented blossoms of the areca palm and tied to a woman. Then the
adopting mother and the adopted son or daughter, thus bound together,
waddle to the end of the house and back again in front of all the
spectators. The tie established between the two by this graphic
imitation of childbirth is very strict; an offence committed against an
adopted child is reckoned more heinous than one committed against a real
child. In ancient Greece any man who had been supposed erroneously to be
dead, and for whom in his absence funeral rites had been performed, was
treated as dead to society till he had gone through the form of being
born again. He was passed through a woman's lap, then washed, dressed in
swaddling-clothes, and put out to nurse. Not until this ceremony had
been punctually performed might he mix freely with living folk. In
ancient India, under similar circumstances, the supposed dead man had to
pass the first night after his return in a tub filled with a mixture of
fat and water; there he sat with doubled-up fists and without uttering a
syllable, like a child in the womb, while over him were performed all
the sacraments that were wont to be celebrated over a pregnant woman.
Next morning he got out of the tub and went through once more all the
other sacraments he had formerly partaken of from his youth up; in
particular, he married a wife or espoused his old one over again with
due solemnity. 5
Another beneficent use of homoeopathic magic is to heal or prevent
sickness. The ancient Hindoos performed an elaborate ceremony, based on
homoeopathic magic, for the cure of jaundice. Its main drift was to
banish the yellow colour to yellow creatures and yellow things, such as
the sun, to which it properly belongs, and to procure for the patient a
healthy red colour from a living, vigorous source, namely, a red bull.
With this intention, a priest recited the following spell: "Up to the
sun shall go thy heart-ache and thy jaundice: in the colour of the red
bull do we envelop thee! We envelop thee in red tints, unto long life.
May this person go unscathed and be free of yellow colour! The cows
whose divinity is Rohini, they who, moreover, are themselves red
(rohinih)-in their every form and every strength we do envelop thee.
Into the parrots, into the thrush, do we put thy jaundice, and,
furthermore, into the yellow wagtail do we put thy jaundice." While he
uttered these words, the priest, in order to infuse the rosy hue of
health into the sallow patient, gave him water to sip which was mixed
with the hair of a red bull; he poured water over the animal's back and
made the sick man drink it; he seated him on the skin of a red bull and
tied a piece of the skin to him. Then in order to improve his colour by
thoroughly eradicating the yellow taint, he proceeded thus. He first
daubed him from head to foot with a yellow porridge made of tumeric or
curcuma (a yellow plant), set him on a bed, tied three yellow birds, to
wit, a parrot, a thrush, and a yellow wagtail, by means of a yellow
string to the foot of the bed; then pouring water over the patient, he
washed off the yellow porridge, and with it no doubt the jaundice, from
him to the birds. After that, by way of giving a final bloom to his
complexion, he took some hairs of a red bull, wrapt them in gold leaf,
and glued them to the patient's skin. The ancients held that if a person
suffering from jaundice looked sharply at a stone-curlew, and the bird
looked steadily at him, he was cured of the disease. "Such is the
nature," says Plutarch, "and such the temperament of the creature that
it draws out and receives the malady which issues, like a stream,
through the eyesight." So well recognised among birdfanciers was this
valuable property of the stone-curlew that when they had one of these
birds for sale they kept it carefully covered, lest a jaundiced person
should look at it and be cured for nothing. The virtue of the bird lay
not in its colour but in its large golden eye, which naturally drew out
the yellow jaundice. Pliny tells of another, or perhaps the same, bird,
to which the Greeks gave their name for jaundice, because if a jaundiced
man saw it, the disease left him and slew the bird. He mentions also a
stone which was supposed to cure jaundice because its hue resembled that
of a jaundiced skin. 6
One of the great merits of homoeopathic magic is that it enables the
cure to be performed on the person of the doctor instead of on that of
his victim, who is thus relieved of all trouble and inconvenience, while
he sees his medical man writhe in anguish before him. For example, the
peasants of Perche, in France, labour under the impression that a
prolonged fit of vomiting is brought about by the patient's stomach
becoming unhooked, as they call it, and so falling down. Accordingly, a
practitioner is called in to restore the organ to its proper place.
After hearing the symptoms he at once throws himself into the most
horrible contortions, for the purpose of unhooking his own stomach.
Having succeeded in the effort, he next hooks it up again in another
series of contortions and grimaces, while the patient experiences a
corresponding relief. Fee five francs. In like manner a Dyak
medicine-man, who has been fetched in a case of illness, will lie down
and pretend to be dead. He is accordingly treated like a corpse, is
bound up in mats, taken out of the house, and deposited on the ground.
After about an hour the other medicine-men loose the pretended dead man
and bring him to life; and as he recovers, the sick person is supposed
to recover too. A cure for a tumour, based on the principle of
homoeopathic magic, is prescribed by Marcellus of Bordeaux, court
physician to Theodosius the First, in his curious work on medicine. It
is as follows. Take a root of vervain, cut it across, and hang one end
of it round the patient's neck, and the other in the smoke of the fire.
As the vervain dries up in the smoke, so the tumour will also dry up and
disappear. If the patient should afterwards prove ungrateful to the good
physician, the man of skill can avenge himself very easily by throwing
the vervain into water; for as the root absorbs the moisture once more,
the tumour will return. The same sapient writer recommends you, if you
are troubled with pimples, to watch for a falling star, and then
instantly, while the star is still shooting from the sky, to wipe the
pimples with a cloth or anything that comes to hand. Just as the star
falls from the sky, so the pimples will fall from your body; only you
must be very careful not to wipe them with your bare hand, or the
pimples will be transferred to it. 7
Further, homoeopathic and in general sympathetic magic plays a great
part in the measures taken by the rude hunter or fisherman to secure an
abundant supply of food. On the principle that like produces like, many
things are done by him and his friends in deliberate imitation of the
result which he seeks to attain; and, on the other hand, many things are
scrupulously avoided because they bear some more or less fanciful
resemblance to others which would really be disastrous. 8
Nowhere is the theory of sympathetic magic more systematically carried
into practice for the maintenance of the food supply than in the barren
regions of Central Australia. Here the tribes are divided into a number
of totem clans, each of which is charged with the duty of multiplying
their totem for the good of the community by means of magical
ceremonies. Most of the totems are edible animals and plants, and the
general result supposed to be accomplished by these ceremonies is that
of supplying the tribe with food and other necessaries. Often the rites
consist of an imitation of the effect which the people desire to
produce; in other words, their magic is homoeopathic or imitative. Thus
among the Warramunga the headman of the white cockatoo totem seeks to
multiply white cockatoos by holding an effigy of the bird and mimicking
its harsh cry. Among the Arunta the men of the witchetty grub totem
perform ceremonies for multiplying the grub which the other members of
the tribe use as food. One of the ceremonies is a pantomime representing
the fully-developed insect in the act of emerging from the chrysalis. A
long narrow structure of branches is set up to imitate the chrysalis
case of the grub. In this structure a number of men, who have the grub
for their totem, sit and sing of the creature in its various stages.
Then they shuffle out of it in a squatting posture, and as they do so
they sing of the insect emerging from the chrysalis. This is supposed to
multiply the numbers of the grubs. Again, in order to multiply emus,
which are an important article of food, the men of the emu totem paint
on the ground the sacred design of their totem, especially the parts of
the emu which they like best to eat, namely, the fat and the eggs. Round
this painting the men sit and sing. Afterwards performers, wearing
head-dresses to represent the long neck and small head of the emu, mimic
the appearance of the bird as it stands aimlessly peering about in all
directions. 9
The Indians of British Columbia live largely upon the fish which
abound in their seas and rivers. If the fish do not come in due season,
and the Indians are hungry, a Nootka wizard will make an image of a
swimming fish and put it into the water in the direction from which the
fish generally appear. This ceremony, accompanied by a prayer to the
fish to come, will cause them to arrive at once. The islanders of Torres
Straits use models of dugong and turtles to charm dugong and turtle to
their destruction. The Toradjas of Central Celebes believe that things
of the same sort attract each other by means of their indwelling spirits
or vital ether. Hence they hang up the jawbones of deer and wild pigs in
their houses, in order that the spirits which animate these bones may
draw the living creatures of the same kind into the path of the hunter.
In the island of Nias, when a wild pig has fallen into the pit prepared
for it, the animal is taken out and its back is rubbed with nine fallen
leaves, in the belief that this will make nine more wild pigs fall into
the pit, just as the nine leaves fell from the tree. In the East Indian
islands of Saparoea, Haroekoe, and Noessa Laut, when a fisherman is
about to set a trap for fish in the sea, he looks out for a tree, of
which the fruit has been much pecked at by birds. From such a tree he
cuts a stout branch and makes of it the principal post in his fish-trap;
for he believes that, just as the tree lured many birds to its fruit, so
the branch cut from that tree will lure many fish to the trap. 10
The western tribes of British New Guinea employ a charm to aid the
hunter in spearing dugong or turtle. A small beetle, which haunts
coco-nut trees, is placed in the hole of the spear-haft into which the
spear-head fits. This is supposed to make the spear-head stick fast in
the dugong or turtle, just as the beetle sticks fast to a man's skin
when it bites him. When a Cambodian hunter has set his nets and taken
nothing, he strips himself naked, goes some way off, then strolls up to
the net as if he did not see it, lets himself be caught in it, and
cries, "Hillo! what's this? I'm afraid I'm caught." After that the net
is sure to catch game. A pantomime of the same sort has been acted
within the living memory in our Scottish Highlands. The Rev. James
Macdonald, now of Reay in Caithness, tells us that in his boyhood when
he was fishing with companions about Loch Aline and they had had no
bites for a long time, they used to make a pretence of throwing one of
their fellows overboard and hauling him out of the water, as if he were
a fish; after that the trout or silloch would begin to nibble, according
as the boat was on fresh or salt water. Before a Carrier Indian goes out
to snare martens, he sleeps by himself for about ten nights beside the
fire with a little stick pressed down on his neck. This naturally causes
the fall-stick of his trap to drop down on the neck of the marten. Among
the Galelareese, who inhabit a district in the northern part of
Halmahera, a large island to the west of New Guinea, it is a maxim that
when you are loading your gun to go out shooting, you should always put
the bullet in your mouth before you insert it in the gun; for by so
doing you practically eat the game that is to be hit by the bullet,
which therefore cannot possibly miss the mark. A Malay who has baited a
trap for crocodiles, and is awaiting results, is careful in eating his
curry always to begin by swallowing three lumps of rice successively;
for this helps the bait to slide more easily down the crocodile's
throat. He is equally scrupulous not to take any bones out of his curry;
for, if he did, it seems clear that the sharp-pointed stick on which the
bait is skewered would similarly work itself loose, and the crocodile
would get off with the bait. Hence in these circumstances it is prudent
for the hunter, before he begins his meal, to get somebody else to take
the bones out of his curry, otherwise he may at any moment have to
choose between swallowing a bone and losing the crocodile. 11
This last rule is an instance of the things which the hunter abstains
from doing lest, on the principle that like produces like, they should
spoil his luck. For it is to be observed that the system of sympathetic
magic is not merely composed of positive precepts; it comprises a very
large number of negative precepts, that is, prohibitions. It tells you
not merely what to do, but also what to leave undone. The positive
precepts are charms: the negative precepts are taboos. In fact the whole
doctrine of taboo, or at all events a large part of it, would seem to be
only a special application of sympathetic magic, with its two great laws
of similarity and contact. Though these laws are certainly not
formulated in so many words nor even conceived in the abstract by the
savage, they are nevertheless implicitly believed by him to regulate the
course of nature quite independently of human will. He thinks that if he
acts in a certain way, certain consequences will inevitably follow in
virtue of one or other of these laws; and if the consequences of a
particular act appear to him likely to prove disagreeable or dangerous,
he is naturally careful not to act in that way lest he should incur
them. In other words, he abstains from doing that which, in accordance
with his mistaken notions of cause and effect, he falsely believes would
injure him; in short, he subjects himself to a taboo. Thus taboo is so
far a negative application of practical magic. Positive magic or sorcery
says, "Do this in order that so and so may happen." Negative magic or
taboo says, "Do not do this, lest so and so should happen." The aim of
positive magic or sorcery is to produce a desired event; the aim of
negative magic or taboo is to avoid an undesirable one. But both
consequences, the desirable and the undesirable, are supposed to be
brought about in accordance with the laws of similarity and contact. And
just as the desired consequence is not really effected by the observance
of a magical ceremony, so the dreaded consequence does not really result
from the violation of a taboo. If the supposed evil necessarily followed
a breach of taboo, the taboo would not be a taboo but a precept of
morality or common sense. It is not a taboo to say, "Do not put your
hand in the fire"; it is a rule of common sense, because the forbidden
action entails a real, not an imaginary evil. In short, those negative
precepts which we call taboo are just as vain and futile as those
positive precepts which we call sorcery. The two things are merely
opposite sides or poles of one great disastrous fallacy, a mistaken
conception of the association of ideas. Of that fallacy, sorcery is the
positive, and taboo the negative pole. If we give the general name of
magic to the whole erroneous system, both theoretical and practical,
then taboo may be defined as the negative side of practical magic. To
put this in tabular form: 12
I have made these remarks on taboo and its relations to magic because
I am about to give some instances of taboos observed by hunters,
fishermen, and others, and I wished to show that they fall under the
head of Sympathetic Magic, being only particular applications of that
general theory. Thus, among the Esquimaux boys are forbidden to play
cat's cradle, because if they did so their fingers might in later life
become entangled in the harpoon-line. Here the taboo is obviously an
application of the law of similarity, which is the basis of homoeopathic
magic: as the child's fingers are entangled by the string in playing
cat's cradle, so they will be entangled by the harpoonline when he is a
man and hunts whales. Again, among the Huzuls of the Carpathian
Mountains the wife of a hunter may not spin while her husband is eating,
or the game will turn and wind like the spindle, and the hunter will be
unable to hit it. Here again the taboo is clearly derived from the law
of similarity. So, too, in most parts of ancient Italy women were
forbidden by law to spin on the highroads as they walked, or even to
carry their spindles openly, because any such action was believed to
injure the crops. Probably the notion was that the twirling of the
spindle would twirl the corn-stalks and prevent them from growing
straight. So, too, among the Ainos of Saghalien a pregnant woman may not
spin nor twist ropes for two months before her delivery, because they
think that if she did so the child's guts might be entangled like the
thread. For a like reason in Bilaspore, a district of India, when the
chief men of a village meet in council, no one present should twirl a
spindle; for they think that if such a thing were to happen, the
discussion, like the spindle, would move in a circle and never be wound
up. In some of the East Indian islands any one who comes to the house of
a hunter must walk straight in; he may not loiter at the door, for were
he to do so, the game would in like manner stop in front of the hunter's
snares and then turn back, instead of being caught in the trap. For a
similar reason it is a rule with the Toradjas of Central Celebes that no
one may stand or loiter on the ladder of a house where there is a
pregnant woman, for such delay would retard the birth of the child; and
in various parts of Sumatra the woman herself in these circumstances is
forbidden to stand at the door or on the top rung of the house-ladder
under pain of suffering hard labour for her imprudence in neglecting so
elementary a precaution. Malays engaged in the search for camphor eat
their food dry and take care not to pound their salt fine. The reason is
that the camphor occurs in the form of small grains deposited in the
cracks of the trunk of the camphor tree. Accordingly it seems plain to
the Malay that if, while seeking for camphor, he were to eat his salt
finely ground, the camphor would be found also in fine grains; whereas
by eating his salt coarse he ensures that the grains of the camphor will
also be large. Camphor hunters in Borneo use the leathery sheath of the
leaf-stalk of the Penang palm as a plate for food, and during the whole
of the expedition they will never wash the plate, for fear that the
camphor might dissolve and disappear from the crevices of the tree.
Apparently they think that to wash their plates would be to wash out the
camphor crystals from the trees in which they are imbedded. The chief
product of some parts of Laos, a province of Siam, is lac. This is a
resinous gum exuded by a red insect on the young branches of trees, to
which the little creatures have to be attached by hand. All who engage
in the business of gathering the gum abstain from washing themselves and
especially from cleansing their heads, lest by removing the parasites
from their hair they should detach the other insects from the boughs.
Again, a Blackfoot Indian who has set a trap for eagles, and is watching
it, would not eat rosebuds on any account; for he argues that if he did
so, and an eagle alighted near the trap, the rosebuds in his own stomach
would make the bird itch, with the result that instead of swallowing the
bait the eagle would merely sit and scratch himself. Following this
train of thought the eagle hunter also refrains from using an awl when
he is looking after his snares; for surely if he were to scratch with an
awl, the eagles would scratch him. The same disastrous consequence would
follow if his wives and children at home used an awl while he is out
after eagles, and accordingly they are forbidden to handle the tool in
his absence for fear of putting him in bodily danger. 13
Among the taboos observed by savages none perhaps are more numerous or
important than the prohibitions to eat certain foods, and of such
prohibitions many are demonstrably derived from the law of similarity
and are accordingly examples of negative magic. Just as the savage eats
many animals or plants in order to acquire certain desirable qualities
with which he believes them to be endowed, so he avoids eating many
other animals and plants lest he should acquire certain undesirable
qualities with which he believes them to be infected. In eating the
former he practises positive magic; in abstaining from the latter he
practises negative magic. Many examples of such positive magic will meet
us later on; here I will give a few instances of such negative magic or
taboo. For example, in Madagascar soldiers are forbidden to eat a number
of foods lest on the principle of homoeopathic magic they should be
tainted by certain dangerous or undesirable properties which are
supposed to inhere in these particular viands. Thus they may not taste
hedgehog, "as it is feared that this animal, from its propensity of
coiling up into a ball when alarmed, will impart a timid shrinking
disposition to those who partake of it." Again, no soldier should eat an
ox's knee, lest like an ox he should become weak in the knees and unable
to march. Further, the warrior should be careful to avoid partaking of a
cock that has died fighting or anything that has been speared to death;
and no male animal may on any account be killed in his house while he is
away at the wars. For it seems obvious that if he were to eat a cock
that had died fighting, he would himself be slain on the field of
battle; if he were to partake of an animal that had been speared, he
would be speared himself; if a male animal were killed in his house
during his absence, he would himself be killed in like manner and
perhaps at the same instant. Further, the Malagasy soldier must eschew
kidneys, because in the Malagasy language the word for kidney is the
same as that for "shot"; so shot he would certainly be if he ate a
kidney. 14
The reader may have observed that in some of the foregoing examples of
taboos the magical influence is supposed to operate at considerable
distances; thus among the Blackfeet Indians the wives and children of an
eagle hunter are forbidden to use an awl during his absence, lest the
eagles should scratch the distant husband and father; and again no male
animal may be killed in the house of a Malagasy soldier while he is away
at the wars, lest the killing of the animal should entail the killing of
the man. This belief in the sympathetic influence exerted on each other
by persons or things at a distance is of the essence of magic. Whatever
doubts science may entertain as to the possibility of action at a
distance, magic has none; faith in telepathy is one of its first
principles. A modern advocate of the influence of mind upon mind at a
distance would have no difficulty in convincing a savage; the savage
believed in it long ago, and what is more, he acted on his belief with a
logical consistency such as his civilised brother in the faith has not
yet, so far as I am aware, exhibited in his conduct. For the savage is
convinced not only that magical ceremonies affect persons and things
afar off, but that the simplest acts of daily life may do so too. Hence
on important occasions the behaviour of friends and relations at a
distance is often regulated by a more or less elaborate code of rules,
the neglect of which by the one set of persons would, it is supposed,
entail misfortune or even death on the absent ones. In particular when a
party of men are out hunting or fighting, their kinsfolk at home are
often expected to do certain things or to abstain from doing certain
others, for the sake of ensuring the safety and success of the distant
hunters or warriors. I will now give some instances of this magical
telepathy both in its positive and in its negative aspect. 15
In Laos when an elephant hunter is starting for the chase, he warns
his wife not to cut her hair or oil her body in his absence; for if she
cut her hair the elephant would burst the toils, if she oiled herself it
would slip through them. When a Dyak village has turned out to hunt wild
pigs in the jungle, the people who stay at home may not touch oil or
water with their hands during the absence of their friends; for if they
did so, the hunters would all be "butter-fingered" and the prey would
slip through their hands. 16
Elephant-hunters in East Africa believe that, if their wives prove
unfaithful in their absence, this gives the elephant power over his
pursuer, who will accordingly be killed or severely wounded. Hence if a
hunter hears of his wife's misconduct, he abandons the chase and returns
home. If a Wagogo hunter is unsuccessful, or is attacked by a lion, he
attributes it to his wife's misbehaviour at home, and returns to her in
great wrath. While he is away hunting, she may not let any one pass
behind her or stand in front of her as she sits; and she must lie on her
face in bed. The Moxos Indians of Bolivia thought that if a hunter's
wife was unfaithful to him in his absence he would be bitten by a
serpent or a jaguar. Accordingly, if such an accident happened to him,
it was sure to entail the punishment, and often the death, of the woman,
whether she was innocent or guilty. An Aleutian hunter of sea-otters
thinks that he cannot kill a single animal if during his absence from
home his wife should be unfaithful or his sister unchaste. 17
The Huichol Indians of Mexico treat as a demi-god a species of cactus
which throws the eater into a state of ecstasy. The plant does not grow
in their country, and has to be fetched every year by men who make a
journey of forty-three days for the purpose. Meanwhile the wives at home
contribute to the safety of their absent husbands by never walking fast,
much less running, while the men are on the road. They also do their
best to ensure the benefits which, in the shape of rain, good crops, and
so forth, are expected to flow from the sacred mission. With this
intention they subject themselves to severe restrictions like those
imposed upon their husbands. During the whole of the time which elapses
till the festival of the cactus is held, neither party washes except on
certain occasions, and then only with water brought from the distant
country where the holy plant grows. They also fast much, eat no salt,
and are bound to strict continence. Any one who breaks this law is
punished with illness, and, moreover, jeopardises the result which all
are striving for. Health, luck, and life are to be gained by gathering
the cactus, the gourd of the God of Fire; but inasmuch as the pure fire
cannot benefit the impure, men and women must not only remain chaste for
the time being, but must also purge themselves from the taint of past
sin. Hence four days after the men have started the women gather and
confess to Grandfather Fire with what men they have been in love from
childhood till now. They may not omit a single one, for if they did so
the men would not find a single cactus. So to refresh their memories
each one prepares a string with as many knots as she has had lovers.
This she brings to the temple, and, standing before the fire, she
mentions aloud all the men she has scored on her string, name after
name. Having ended her confession, she throws the string into the fire,
and when the god has consumed it in his pure flame, her sins are
forgiven her and she departs in peace. From now on the women are averse
even to letting men pass near them. The cactus-seekers themselves make
in like manner a clean breast of all their frailties. For every
peccadillo they tie a knot on a string, and after they have "talked to
all the five winds" they deliver the rosary of their sins to the leader,
who burns it in the fire. 18
Many of the indigenous tribes of Sarawak are firmly persuaded that
were the wives to commit adultery while their husbands are searching for
camphor in the jungle, the camphor obtained by the men would evaporate.
Husbands can discover, by certain knots in the tree, when the wives are
unfaithful; and it is said that in former days many women were killed by
jealous husbands on no better evidence than that of these knots.
Further, the wives dare not touch a comb while their husbands are away
collecting the camphor; for if they did so, the interstices between the
fibres of the tree, instead of being filled with the precious crystals,
would be empty like the spaces between the teeth of a comb. In the Kei
Islands, to the southwest of New Guinea, as soon as a vessel that is
about to sail for a distant port has been launched, the part of the
beach on which it lay is covered as speedily as possible with palm
branches, and becomes sacred. No one may thenceforth cross that spot
till the ship comes home. To cross it sooner would cause the vessel to
perish. Moreover, all the time that the voyage lasts three or four young
girls, specially chosen for the duty, are supposed to remain in
sympathetic connexion with the mariners and to contribute by their
behaviour to the safety and success of the voyage. On no account, except
for the most necessary purpose, may they quit the room that has been
assigned to them. More than that, so long as the vessel is believed to
be at sea they must remain absolutely motionless, crouched on their mats
with their hands clasped between their knees. They may not turn their
heads to the left or to the right or make any other movement whatsoever.
If they did, it would cause the boat to pitch and toss; and they may not
eat any sticky stuff, such as rice boiled in coco-nut milk, for the
stickiness of the food would clog the passage of the boat through the
water. When the sailors are supposed to have reached their destination,
the strictness of these rules is somewhat relaxed; but during the whole
time that the voyage lasts the girls are forbidden to eat fish which
have sharp bones or stings, such as the sting-ray, lest their friends at
sea should be involved in sharp, stinging trouble. 19
Where beliefs like these prevail as to the sympathetic connexion
between friends at a distance, we need not wonder that above everything
else war, with its stern yet stirring appeal to some of the deepest and
tenderest of human emotions, should quicken in the anxious relations
left behind a desire to turn the sympathetic bond to the utmost account
for the benefit of the dear ones who may at any moment be fighting and
dying far away. Hence, to secure an end so natural and laudable, friends
at home are apt to resort to devices which will strike us as pathetic or
ludicrous, according as we consider their object or the means adopted to
effect it. Thus in some districts of Borneo, when a Dyak is out
head-hunting, his wife or, if he is unmarried, his sister must wear a
sword day and night in order that he may always be thinking of his
weapons; and she may not sleep during the day nor go to bed before two
in the morning, lest her husband or brother should thereby be surprised
in his sleep by an enemy. Among the Sea Dyaks of Banting in Sarawak the
women strictly observe an elaborate code of rules while the men are away
fighting. Some of the rules are negative and some are positive, but all
alike are based on the principles of magical homoeopathy and telepathy.
Amongst them are the following. The women must wake very early in the
morning and open the windows as soon as it is light; otherwise their
absent husbands will oversleep themselves. The women may not oil their
hair, or the men will slip. The women may neither sleep nor doze by day,
or the men will be drowsy on the march. The women must cook and scatter
popcorn on the verandah every morning; so will the men be agile in their
movements. The rooms must be kept very tidy, all boxes being placed near
the walls; for if any one were to stumble over them, the absent husbands
would fall and be at the mercy of the foe. At every meal a little rice
must be left in the pot and put aside; so will the men far away always
have something to eat and need never go hungry. On no account may the
women sit at the loom till their legs grow cramped, otherwise their
husbands will likewise be stiff in their joints and unable to rise up
quickly or to run away from the foe. So in order to keep their husbands'
joints supple the women often vary their labours at the loom by walking
up and down the verandah. Further, they may not cover up their faces, or
the men would not to be able to find their way through the tall grass or
jungle. Again, the women may not sew with a needle, or the men will
tread on the sharp spikes set by the enemy in the path. Should a wife
prove unfaithful while her husband is away, he will lose his life in the
enemy's country. Some years ago all these rules and more were observed
by the women of Banting, while their husbands were fighting for the
English against rebels. But alas! these tender precautions availed them
little; for many a man, whose faithful wife was keeping watch and ward
for him at home, found a soldier's grave. 20
In the island of Timor, while war is being waged, the high-priest
never quits the temple; his food is brought to him or cooked inside; day
and night he must keep the fire burning, for if he were to let it die
out, disaster would be fall the warriors and would continue so long as
the hearth was cold. Moreover, he must drink only hot water during the
time the army is absent; for every draught of cold water would damp the
spirits of the people, so that they could not vanquish the enemy. In the
Kei Islands, when the warriors have departed, the women return indoors
and bring out certain baskets containing fruits and stones. These fruits
and stones they anoint and place on a board, murmuring as they do so, "O
lord sun, moon, let the bullets rebound from our husbands, brothers,
betrothed, and other relations, just as raindrops rebound from these
objects which are smeared with oil." As soon as the first shot is heard,
the baskets are put aside, and the women, seizing their fans, rush out
of the houses. Then, waving their fans in the direction of the enemy,
they run through the village, while they sing, "O golden fans! let our
bullets hit, and those of the enemy miss." In this custom the ceremony
of anointing stones, in order that the bullets may recoil from the men
like raindrops from the stones, is a piece of pure homoeopathic or
imitative magic; but the prayer to the sun, that he will be pleased to
give effect to the charm, is a religious and perhaps later addition. The
waving of the fans seems to be a charm to direct the bullets towards or
away from their mark, according as they are discharged from the guns of
friends or foes. 21
An old historian of Madagascar informs us that "while the men are at
the wars, and until their return, the women and girls cease not day and
night to dance, and neither lie down nor take food in their own houses.
And although they are very voluptuously inclined, they would not for
anything in the world have an intrigue with another man while their
husband is at the war, believing firmly that if that happened, their
husband would be either killed or wounded. They believe that by dancing
they impart strength, courage, and good fortune to their husbands;
accordingly during such times they give themselves no rest, and this
custom they observe very religiously." 22
Among the Tshi-speaking peoples of the Gold Coast the wives of men who
are away with the army paint themselves white, and adorn their persons
with beads and charms. On the day when a battle is expected to take
place, they run about armed with guns, or sticks carved to look like
guns, and taking green paw-paws (fruits shaped somewhat like a melon),
they hack them with knives, as if they were chopping off the heads of
the foe. The pantomime is no doubt merely an imitative charm, to enable
the men to do to the enemy as the women do to the paw-paws. In the West
African town of Framin, while the Ashantee war was raging some years
ago, Mr. Fitzgerald Marriott saw a dance performed by women whose
husbands had gone as carriers to the war. They were painted white and
wore nothing but a short petticoat. At their head was a shrivelled old
sorceress in a very short white petticoat, her black hair arranged in a
sort of long projecting horn, and her black face, breasts, arms, and
legs profusely adorned with white circles and crescents. All carried
long white brushes made of buffalo or horse tails, and as they danced
they sang, "Our husbands have gone to Ashanteeland; may they sweep their
enemies off the face of the earth!" 23
Among the Thompson Indians of British Columbia, when the men were on
the war-path, the women performed dances at frequent intervals. These
dances were believed to ensure the success of the expedition. The
dancers flourished their knives, threw long sharp-pointed sticks
forward, or drew sticks with hooked ends repeatedly backward and
forward. Throwing the sticks forward was symbolic of piercing or warding
off the enemy, and drawing them back was symbolic of drawing their own
men from danger. The hook at the end of the stick was particularly well
adapted to serve the purpose of a life-saving apparatus. The women
always pointed their weapons towards the enemy's country. They painted
their faces red and sang as they danced, and they prayed to the weapons
to preserve their husbands and help them to kill many foes. Some had
eagle-down stuck on the points of their sticks. When the dance was over,
these weapons were hidden. If a woman whose husband was at the war
thought she saw hair or a piece of a scalp on the weapon when she took
it out, she knew that her husband had killed an enemy. But if she saw a
stain of blood on it, she knew he was wounded or dead. When the men of
the Yuki tribe in California were away fighting, the women at home did
not sleep; they danced continually in a circle, chanting and waving
leafy wands. For they said that if they danced all the time, their
husbands would not grow tired. Among the Haida Indians of the Queen
Charlotte Islands, when the men had gone to war, the women at home would
get up very early in the morning and pretend to make war by falling upon
their children and feigning to take them for slaves. This was supposed
to help their husbands to go and do likewise. If a wife were unfaithful
to her husband while he was away on the war-path, he would probably be
killed. For ten nights all the women at home lay with their heads
towards the point of the compass to which the war-canoes had paddled
away. Then they changed about, for the warriors were supposed to be
coming home across the sea. At Masset the Haida women danced and sang
war-songs all the time their husbands were away at the wars, and they
had to keep everything about them in a certain order. It was thought
that a wife might kill her husband by not observing these customs. When
a band of Carib Indians of the Orinoco had gone on the war-path, their
friends left in the village used to calculate as nearly as they could
the exact moment when the absent warriors would be advancing to attack
the enemy. Then they took two lads, laid them down on a bench, and
inflicted a most severe scourging on their bare backs. This the youths
submitted to without a murmur, supported in their sufferings by the firm
conviction, in which they had been bred from childhood, that on the
constancy and fortitude with which they bore the cruel ordeal depended
the valour and success of their comrades in the battle. 24
Among the many beneficent uses to which a mistaken ingenuity has
applied the principle of homoeopathic or imitative magic, is that of
causing trees and plants to bear fruit in due season. In Thüringen
the man who sows flax carries the seed in a long bag which reaches from
his shoulders to his knees, and he walks with long strides, so that the
bag sways to and fro on his back. It is believed that this will cause
the flax to wave in the wind. In the interior of Sumatra rice is sown by
women who, in sowing, let their hair hang loose down their back, in
order that the rice may grow luxuriantly and have long stalks.
Similarly, in ancient Mexico a festival was held in honour of the
goddess of maize, or "the long-haired mother," as she was called. It
began at the time "when the plant had attained its full growth, and
fibres shooting forth from the top of the green ear indicated that the
grain was fully formed. During this festival the women wore their long
hair unbound, shaking and tossing it in the dances which were the chief
feature in the ceremonial, in order that the tassel of the maize might
grow in like profusion, that the grain might be correspondingly large
and flat, and that the people might have abundance." In many parts of
Europe dancing or leaping high in the air are approved homoeopathic
modes of making the crops grow high. Thus in Franche-Comté they say
that you should dance at the Carnival in order to make the hemp grow
tall. 25
The notion that a person can influence a plant homoeopathically by his
act or condition comes out clearly in a remark made by a Malay woman.
Being asked why she stripped the upper part of her body naked in reaping
the rice, she explained that she did it to make the rice-husks thinner,
as she was tired of pounding thick-husked rice. Clearly, she thought
that the less clothing she wore the less husk there would be on the
rice. The magic virtue of a pregnant woman to communicate fertility is
known to Bavarian and Austrian peasants, who think that if you give the
first fruit of a tree to a woman with child to eat, the tree will bring
forth abundantly next year. On the other hand, the Baganda believe that
a barren wife infects her husband's garden with her own sterility and
prevents the trees from bearing fruit; hence a childless woman is
generally divorced. The Greeks and Romans sacrificed pregnant victims to
the goddesses of the corn and of the earth, doubtless in order that the
earth might teem and the corn swell in the ear. When a Catholic priest
remonstrated with the Indians of the Orinoco on allowing their women to
sow the fields in the blazing sun, with infants at their breasts, the
men answered, "Father, you don't understand these things, and that is
why they vex you. You know that women are accustomed to bear children,
and that we men are not. When the women sow, the stalk of the maize
bears two or three ears, the root of the yucca yields two or three
basketfuls, and everything multiplies in proportion. Now why is that?
Simply because the women know how to bring forth, and know how to make
the seed which they sow bring forth also. Let them sow, then; we men
don't know as much about it as they do." 26
Thus on the theory of homoeopathic magic a person can influence
vegetation either for good or for evil according to the good or the bad
character of his acts or states: for example, a fruitful woman makes
plants fruitful, a barren woman makes them barren. Hence this belief in
the noxious and infectious nature of certain personal qualities or
accidents has given rise to a number of prohibitions or rules of
avoidance: people abstain from doing certain things lest they should
homoeopathically infect the fruits of the earth with their own
undesirable state or condition. All such customs of abstention or rules
of avoidance are examples of negative magic or taboo. Thus, for example,
arguing from what may be called the infectiousness of personal acts or
states, the Galelareese say that you ought not to shoot with a bow and
arrows under a fruit-tree, or the tree will cast its fruit even as the
arrows fall to the ground; and that when you are eating water-melon you
ought not to mix the pips which you spit out of your mouth with the pips
which you have put aside to serve as seed; for if you do, though the
pips you spat out may certainly spring up and blossom, yet the blossoms
will keep falling off just as the pips fell from your mouth, and thus
these pips will never bear fruit. Precisely the same train of thought
leads the Bavarian peasant to believe that if he allows the graft of a
fruit-tree to fall on the ground, the tree that springs from that graft
will let its fruit fall untimely. When the Chams of Cochinchina are
sowing their dry rice fields and desire that no shower should fall, they
eat their rice dry in order to prevent rain from spoiling the crop. 27
In the foregoing cases a person is supposed to influence vegetation
homoeopathically. He infects trees or plants with qualities or
accidents, good or bad, resembling and derived from his own. But on the
principle of homoeopathic magic the influence is mutual: the plant can
infect the man just as much as the man can infect the plant. In magic,
as I believe in physics, action and reaction are equal and opposite. The
Cherokee Indians are adepts in practical botany of the homoeopathic
sort. Thus wiry roots of the catgut plant are so tough that they can
almost stop a plowshare in the furrow. Hence Cherokee women wash their
heads with a decoction of the roots to make the hair strong, and
Cherokee ball-players wash themselves with it to toughen their muscles.
It is a Galelareese belief that if you eat a fruit which has fallen to
the ground, you will yourself contract a disposition to stumble and
fall; and that if you partake of something which has been forgotten
(such as a sweet potato left in the pot or a banana in the fire), you
will become forgetful. The Galelareese are also of opinion that if a
woman were to consume two bananas growing from a single head she would
give birth to twins. The Guarani Indians of South America thought that a
woman would become a mother of twins if she ate a double grain of
millet. In Vedic times a curious application of this principle supplied
a charm by which a banished prince might be restored to his kingdom. He
had to eat food cooked on a fire which was fed with wood which had grown
out of the stump of a tree which had been cut down. The recuperative
power manifested by such a tree would in due course be communicated
through the fire to the food, and so to the prince, who ate the food
which was cooked on the fire which was fed with the wood which grew out
of the tree. The Sudanese think that if a house is built of the wood of
thorny trees, the life of the people who dwell in that house will
likewise be thorny and full of trouble. 28
There is a fruitful branch of homoeopathic magic which works by means
of the dead; for just as the dead can neither see nor hear nor speak, so
you may on homoeopathic principles render people blind, deaf and dumb by
the use of dead men's bones or anything else that is tainted by the
infection of death. Thus among the Galelareese, when a young man goes
a-wooing at night, he takes a little earth from a grave and strews it on
the roof of his sweetheart's house just above the place where her
parents sleep. This, he fancies, will prevent them from waking while he
converses with his beloved, since the earth from the grave will make
them sleep as sound as the dead. Burglars in all ages and many lands
have been patrons of this species of magic, which is very useful to them
in the exercise of their profession. Thus a South Slavonian housebreaker
sometimes begins operations by throwing a dead man's bone over the
house, saying, with pungent sarcasm, "As this bone may waken, so may
these people waken"; after that not a soul in the house can keep his or
her eyes open. Similarly, in Java the burglar takes earth from a grave
and sprinkles it round the house which he intends to rob; this throws
the inmates into a deep sleep. With the same intention a Hindoo will
strew ashes from a pyre at the door of the house; Indians of Peru
scatter the dust of dead men's bones; and Ruthenian burglars remove the
marrow from a human shin-bone, pour tallow into it, and having kindled
the tallow, march thrice round the house with this candle burning, which
causes the inmates to sleep a death-like sleep. Or the Ruthenian will
make a flute out of a human leg-bone and play upon it; whereupon all
persons within hearing are overcome with drowsiness. The Indians of
Mexico employed for this maleficent purpose the left fore-arm of a woman
who had died in giving birth to her first child; but the arm had to be
stolen. With it they beat the ground before they entered the house which
they designed to plunder; this caused every one in the house to lose all
power of speech and motion; they were as dead, hearing and seeing
everything, but perfectly powerless; some of them, however, really slept
and even snored. In Europe similar properties were ascribed to the Hand
of Glory, which was the dried and pickled hand of a man who had been
hanged. If a candle made of the fat of a malefactor who had also died on
the gallows was lighted and placed in the Hand of Glory as in a
candlestick, it rendered motionless all persons to whom it was
presented; they could not stir a finger any more than if they were dead.
Sometimes the dead man's hand is itself the candle, or rather bunch of
candles, all its withered fingers being set on fire; but should any
member of the household be awake, one of the fingers will not kindle.
Such nefarious lights can only be extinguished with milk. Often it is
prescribed that the thief's candle should be made of the finger of a
new-born or, still better, unborn child; sometimes it is thought needful
that the thief should have one such candle for every person in the
house, for if he has one candle too little somebody in the house will
wake and catch him. Once these tapers begin to burn, there is nothing
but milk that will put them out. In the seventeenth century robbers used
to murder pregnant women in order thus to extract candles from their
wombs. An ancient Greek robber or burglar thought he could silence and
put to flight the fiercest watchdogs by carrying with him a brand
plucked from a funeral pyre. Again, Servian and Bulgarian women who
chafe at the restraints of domestic life will take the copper coins from
the eyes of a corpse, wash them in wine or water, and give the liquid to
their husbands to drink. After swallowing it, the husband will be as
blind to his wife's peccadilloes as the dead man was on whose eyes the
coins were laid. 29
Further, animals are often conceived to possess qualities of
properties which might be useful to man, and homoeopathic or imitative
magic seeks to communicate these properties to human beings in various
ways. Thus some Bechuanas wear a ferret as a charm, because, being very
tenacious of life, it will make them difficult to kill. Others wear a
certain insect, mutilated, but living, for a similar purpose. Yet other
Bechuana warriors wear the hair of a hornless ox among their own hair,
and the skin of a frog on their mantle, because a frog is slippery, and
the ox, having no horns, is hard to catch; so the man who is provided
with these charms believes that he will be as hard to hold as the ox and
the frog. Again, it seems plain that a South African warrior who twists
tufts of rat's hair among his own curly black locks will have just as
many chances of avoiding the enemy's spear as the nimble rat has of
avoiding things thrown at it; hence in these regions rats' hair is in
great demand when war is expected. One of the ancient books of India
prescribes that when a sacrifice is offered for victory, the earth out
of which the altar is to be made should be taken from a place where a
boar has been wallowing, since the strength of the boar will be in that
earth. When you are playing the one-stringed lute, and your fingers are
stiff, the thing to do is to catch some long-legged field spiders and
roast them, and then rub your fingers with the ashes; that will make
your fingers as lithe and nimble as the spiders' legs-at least so think
the Galelareese. To bring back a runaway slave an Arab will trace a
magic circle on the ground, stick a nail in the middle of it, and attach
a beetle by a thread to the nail, taking care that the sex of the beetle
is that of the fugitive. As the beetle crawls round and round, it will
coil the thread about the nail, thus shortening its tether and drawing
nearer to the centre at every circuit. So by virtue of homoeopathic
magic the runaway slave will be drawn back to his master. 30
Among the western tribes of British New Guinea, a man who has killed a
snake will burn it and smear his legs with the ashes when he goes into
the forest; for no snake will bite him for some days afterwards. If a
South Slavonian has a mind to pilfer and steal at market, he has nothing
to do but to burn a blind cat, and then throw a pinch of its ashes over
the person with whom he is higgling; after that he can take what he
likes from the booth, and the owner will not be a bit the wiser, having
become as blind as the deceased cat with whose ashes he has been
sprinkled. The thief may even ask boldly, "Did I pay for it?" and the
deluded huckster will reply, "Why, certainly." Equally simple and
effectual is the expedient adopted by natives of Central Australia who
desire to cultivate their beards. They prick the chin all over with a
pointed bone, and then stroke it carefully with a magic stick or stone,
which represents a kind of rat that has very long whiskers. The virtue
of these whiskers naturally passes into the representative stick or
stone, and thence by an easy transition to the chin, which,
consequently, is soon adorned with a rich growth of beard. The ancient
Greeks thought that to eat the flesh of the wakeful nightingale would
prevent a man from sleeping; that to smear the eyes of a blear-sighted
person with the gall of an eagle would give him the eagle's vision; and
that a raven's eggs would restore the blackness of the raven to silvery
hair. Only the person who adopted this last mode of concealing the
ravages of time had to be most careful to keep his mouth full of oil all
the time he applied the eggs to his venerable locks, else his teeth as
well as his hair would be dyed raven black, and no amount of scrubbing
and scouring would avail to whiten them again. The hair-restorer was in
fact a shade too powerful, and in applying it you might get more than
you bargained for. 31
The Huichol Indians admire the beautiful markings on the backs of
serpents. Hence when a Huichol woman is about to weave or embroider, her
husband catches a large serpent and holds it in a cleft stick, while the
woman strokes the reptile with one hand down the whole length of its
back; then she passes the same hand over her forehead and eyes, that she
may be able to work as beautiful patterns in the web as the markings on
the back of the serpent. 32
On the principle of homoeopathic magic, inanimate things, as well as
plants and animals, may diffuse blessing or bane around them, according
to their own intrinsic nature and the skill of the wizard to tap or dam,
as the case may be, the stream of weal or woe. In Samaracand women give
a baby sugar candy to suck and put glue in the palm of its hand, in
order that, when the child grows up, his words may be sweet and precious
things may stick to his hands as if they were glued. The Greeks thought
that a garment made from the fleece of a sheep that had been torn by a
wolf would hurt the wearer, setting up an itch or irritation in his
skin. They were also of opinion that if a stone which had been bitten by
a dog were dropped in wine, it would make all who drank of that wine to
fall out among themselves. Among the Arabs of Moab a childless woman
often borrows the robe of a woman who has had many children, hoping with
the robe to acquire the fruitfulness of its owner. The Caffres of
Sofala, in East Africa, had a great dread of being struck with anything
hollow, such as a reed or a straw, and greatly preferred being thrashed
with a good thick cudgel or an iron bar, even though it hurt very much.
For they thought that if a man were beaten with anything hollow, his
inside would waste away till he died. In eastern seas there is a large
shell which the Buginese of Celebes call the "old man" (kadjâwo). On
Fridays they turn these "old men" upside down and place them on the
thresholds of their houses, believing that whoever then steps over the
threshold of the house will live to be old. At initiation a Brahman boy
is made to tread with his right foot on a stone, while the words are
repeated, "Tread on this stone; like a stone be firm"; and the same
ceremony is performed, with the same words, by a Brahman bride at her
marriage. In Madagascar a mode of counteracting the levity of fortune is
to bury a stone at the foot of the heavy house-post. The common custom
of swearing upon a stone may be based partly on a belief that the
strength and stability of the stone lend confirmation to an oath. Thus
the old Danish historian Saxo Grammaticus tells us that "the ancients,
when they were to choose a king, were wont to stand on stones planted in
the ground, and to proclaim their votes, in order to foreshadow from the
steadfastness of the stones that the deed would be lasting." 33
But while a general magical efficacy may be supposed to reside in all
stones by reason of their common properties of weight and solidity,
special magical virtues are attributed to particular stones, or kinds of
stone, in accordance with their individual or specific qualities of
shape and colour. For example, the Indians of Peru employed certain
stones for the increase of maize, others for the increase of potatoes,
and others again for the increase of cattle. The stones used to make
maize grow were fashioned in the likeness of cobs of maize, and the
stones destined to multiply cattle had the shape of sheep. 34
In some parts of Melanesia a like belief prevails that certain sacred
stones are endowed with miraculous powers which correspond in their
nature to the shape of the stone. Thus a piece of water-worn coral on
the beach often bears a surprising likeness to a bread-fruit. Hence in
the Banks Islands a man who finds such a coral will lay it at the root
of one of his bread-fruit trees in the expectation that it will make the
tree bear well. If the result answers his expectation, he will then, for
a proper remuneration, take stones of less-marked character from other
men and let them lie near his, in order to imbue them with the magic
virtue which resides in it. Similarly, a stone with little discs upon it
is good to bring in money; and if a man found a large stone with a
number of small ones under it, like a sow among her litter, he was sure
that to offer money upon it would bring him pigs. In these and similar
cases the Melanesians ascribe the marvellous power, not to the stone
itself, but to its indwelling spirit; and sometimes, as we have just
seen, a man endeavours to propitiate the spirit by laying down offerings
on the stone. But the conception of spirits that must be propitiated
lies outside the sphere of magic, and within that of religion. Where
such a conception is found, as here, in conjunction with purely magical
ideas and practices, the latter may generally be assumed to be the
original stock on which the religious conception has been at some later
time engrafted. For there are strong grounds for thinking that, in the
evolution of thought, magic has preceded religion. But to this point we
shall return presently. 35
The ancients set great store on the magical qualities of precious
stones; indeed it has been maintained, with great show of reason, that
such stones were used as amulets long before they were worn as mere
ornaments. Thus the Greeks gave the name of tree-agate to a stone which
exhibits tree-like markings, and they thought that if two of these gems
were tied to the horns or necks of oxen at the plough, the crop would be
sure to be plentiful. Again, they recognised a milkstone which produced
an abundant supply of milk in women if only they drank it dissolved in
honey-mead. Milk-stones are used for the same purpose by Greek women in
Crete and Melos at the present day; in Albania nursing mothers wear the
stones in order to ensure an abundant flow of milk. Again, the Greeks
believed in a stone which cured snake-bites, and hence was named the
snake-stone; to test its efficacy you had only to grind the stone to
powder and sprinkle the powder on the wound. The wine-coloured amethyst
received its name, which means "not drunken," because it was supposed to
keep the wearer of it sober; and two brothers who desired to live at
unity were advised to carry magnets about with them, which, by drawing
the twain together, would clearly prevent them from falling out. 36
The ancient books of the Hindoos lay down a rule that after sunset on
his marriage night a man should sit silent with his wife till the stars
begin to twinkle in the sky. When the pole-star appears, he should point
it out to her, and, addressing the star, say, "Firm art thou; I see
thee, the firm one. Firm be thou with me, O thriving one!" Then, turning
to his wife, he should say, "To me Brihaspati has given thee; obtaining
offspring through me, thy husband, live with me a hundred autumns." The
intention of the ceremony is plainly to guard against the fickleness of
fortune and the instability of earthly bliss by the steadfast influence
of the constant star. It is the wish expressed in Keats's last sonnet:
Bright star! would I were steadfast as thou art-
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night. 37
Dwellers by the sea cannot fail to be impressed by the sight of its
ceaseless ebb and flow, and are apt, on the principles of that rude
philosophy of sympathy and resemblance which here engages our attention,
to trace a subtle relation, a secret harmony, between its tides and the
life of man, of animals, and of plants. In the flowing tide they see
not merely a symbol, but a cause of exuberance, of prosperity, and of
life, while in the ebbing tide they discern a real agent as well as a
melancholy emblem of failure, of weakness, and of death. The Breton
peasant fancies that clover sown when the tide is coming in will grow
well, but that if the plant be sown at low water or when the tide is
going out, it will never reach maturity, and that the cows which feed on
it will burst. His wife believes that the best butter is made when the
tide has just turned and is beginning to flow, that milk which foams in
the churn will go on foaming till the hour of high water is past, and
that water drawn from the well or milk extracted from the cow while the
tide is rising will boil up in the pot or saucepan and overflow into the
fire. According to some of the ancients, the skins of seals, even after
they had been parted from their bodies, remained in secret sympathy with
the sea, and were observed to ruffle when the tide was on the ebb.
Another ancient belief, attributed to Aristotle, was that no creature
can die except at ebb tide. The belief, if we can trust Pliny, was
confirmed by experience, so far as regards human beings, on the coast of
France. Philostratus also assures us that at Cadiz dying people never
yielded up the ghost while the water was high. A like fancy still
lingers in some parts of Europe. On the Cantabrian coast they think that
persons who die of chronic or acute disease expire at the moment when
the tide begins to recede. In Portugal, all along the coast of Wales,
and on some parts of the coast of Brittany, a belief is said to prevail
that people are born when the tide comes in, and die when it goes out.
Dickens attests the existence of the same superstition in England.
"People can't die, along the coast," said Mr. Pegotty, "except when the
tide's pretty nigh out. They can't be born, unless it's pretty nigh
in-not properly born till flood." The belief that most deaths happen at
ebb tide is said to be held along the east coast of England from
Northumberland to Kent. Shakespeare must have been familiar with it,
for he makes Falstaff die "even just between twelve and one, e'en at the
turning o' the tide." We meet the belief again on the Pacific coast of
North America among the Haidas. Whenever a good Haida is about to die he
sees a canoe manned by some of his dead friends, who come with the tide
to bid him welcome to the spirit land. "Come with us now," they say,
"for the tide is about to ebb and we must depart." At Port Stephens, in
New South Wales, the natives always buried their dead at flood tide,
never at ebb, lest the retiring water should bear the soul of the
departed to some distant country. 38
To ensure a long life the Chinese have recourse to certain complicated
charms, which concentrate in themselves the magical essence emanating,
on homoeopathic principles, from times and seasons, from persons and
from things. The vehicles employed to transmit these happy influences
are no other than grave-clothes. These are provided by many Chinese in
their lifetime, and most people have them cut out and sewn by an
unmarried girl or a very young woman, wisely calculating that, since
such a person is likely to live a great many years to come, a part of
her capacity to live long must surely pass into the clothes, and thus
stave off for many years the time when they shall be put to their proper
use. Further, the garments are made by preference in a year which has an
intercalary month; for to the Chinese mind it seems plain that
grave-clothes made in a year which is unusually long will possess the
capacity of prolonging life in an unusually high degree. Amongst the
clothes there is one robe in particular on which special pains have been
lavished to imbue it with this priceless quality. It is a long silken
gown of the deepest blue colour, with the word "longevity" embroidered
all over it in thread of gold. To present an aged parent with one of
these costly and splendid mantles, known as "longevity garments," is
esteemed by the Chinese an act of filial piety and a delicate mark of
attention. As the garment purports to prolong the life of its owner, he
often wears it, especially on festive occasions, in order to allow the
influence of longevity, created by the many golden letters with which it
is bespangled, to work their full effect upon his person. On his
birthday, above all, he hardly ever fails to don it, for in China common
sense bids a man lay in a large stock of vital energy on his birthday,
to be expended in the form of health and vigour during the rest of the
year. Attired in the gorgeous pall, and absorbing its blessed influence
at every pore, the happy owner receives complacently the congratulations
of friends and relations, who warmly express their admiration of these
magnificent cerements, and of the filial piety which prompted the
children to bestow so beautiful and useful a present on the author of
their being. 39
Another application of the maxim that like produces like is seen in
the Chinese belief that the fortunes of a town are deeply affected by
its shape, and that they must vary according to the character of the
thing which that shape most nearly resembles. Thus it is related that
long ago the town of Tsuen-cheu-fu, the outlines of which are like those
of a carp, frequently fell a prey to the depredations of the
neighbouring city of Yung-chun, which is shaped like a fishing-net,
until the inhabitants of the former town conceived the plan of erecting
two tall pagodas in their midst. These pagodas, which still tower above
the city of Tsuen-cheu-fu, have ever since exercised the happiest
influence over its destiny by intercepting the imaginary net before it
could descend and entangle in its meshes the imaginary carp. Some forty
years ago the wise men of Shanghai were much exercised to discover the
cause of a local rebellion. On careful enquiry they ascertained that the
rebellion was due to the shape of a large new temple which had most
unfortunately been built in the shape of a tortoise, an animal of the
very worst character. The difficulty was serious, the danger was
pressing; for to pull down the temple would have been impious, and to
let it stand as it was would be to court a succession of similar or
worse disasters. However, the genius of the local professors of
geomancy, rising to the occasion, triumphantly surmounted the difficulty
and obviated the danger. By filling up two wells, which represented the
eyes of the tortoise, they at once blinded that disreputable animal and
rendered him incapable of doing further mischief. 40
Sometimes homoeopathic or imitative magic is called in to annul an
evil omen by accomplishing it in mimicry. The effect is to circumvent
destiny by substituting a mock calamity for a real one. In Madagascar
this mode of cheating the fates is reduced to a regular system. Here
every man's fortune is determined by the day or hour of his birth, and
if that happens to be an unlucky one his fate is sealed, unless the
mischief can be extracted, as the phrase goes, by means of a substitute.
The ways of extracting the mischief are various. For example, if a man
is born on the first day of the second month (February), his house will
be burnt down when he comes of age. To take time by the forelock and
avoid this catastrophe, the friends of the infant will set up a shed in
a field or in the cattle-fold and burn it. If the ceremony is to be
really effective, the child and his mother should be placed in the shed
and only plucked, like brands, from the burning hut before it is too
late. Again, dripping November is the month of tears, and he who is born
in it is born to sorrow. But in order to disperse the clouds that thus
gather over his future, he has nothing to do but to take the lid off a
boiling pot and wave it about. The drops that fall from it will
accomplish his destiny and so prevent the tears from trickling from his
eyes. Again, if fate has decreed that a young girl, still unwed, should
see her children, still unborn, descend before her with sorrow to the
grave, she can avert the calamity as follows. She kills a grasshopper,
wraps it in a rag to represent a shroud, and mourns over it like Rachel
weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted. Moreover, she
takes a dozen or more other grasshoppers, and having removed some of
their superfluous legs and wings she lays them about their dead and
shrouded fellow. The buzz of the tortured insects and the agitated
motions of their mutilated limbs represent the shrieks and contortions
of the mourners at a funeral. After burying the deceased grasshopper she
leaves the rest to continue their mourning till death releases them from
their pain; and having bound up her dishevelled hair she retires from
the grave with the step and carriage of a person plunged in grief.
Thenceforth she looks cheerfully forward to seeing her children survive
her; for it cannot be that she should mourn and bury them twice over.
Once more, if fortune has frowned on a man at his birth and penury has
marked him for her own, he can easily erase the mark in question by
purchasing a couple of cheap pearls, price three halfpence, and burying
them. For who but the rich of this world can thus afford to fling pearls
away? 41
Section 3. Contagious Magic.
THUS far we have been considering chiefly that branch of sympathetic magic which may be called homoeopathic or imitative. Its leading principle, as we have
seen, is that like produces like, or, in other words, that an effect resembles its cause. The other great branch of sympathetic magic, which I have called
Contagious Magic, proceeds upon the notion that things which have once been conjoined must remain ever afterwards, even when quite dissevered from each
other, in such a sympathetic relation that whatever is done to the one must similarly affect the other. Thus the logical basis of Contagious Magic, like that of
Homoeopathic Magic, is a mistaken association of ideas; its physical basis, if we may speak of such a thing, like the physical basis of Homoeopathic Magic, is a
material medium of some sort which, like the ether of modern physics, is assumed to unite distant objects and to convey impressions from one to the other. The
most familiar example of Contagious Magic is the magical sympathy which is supposed to exist between a man and any severed portion of his person, as his hair
or nails; so that whoever gets possession of human hair or nails may work his will, at any distance, upon the person from whom they were cut. This superstition
is world-wide; instances of it in regard to hair and nails will be noticed later on in this work. 1
Among the Australian tribes it was a common practice to knock out one or more of a boy's front teeth at those ceremonies of initiation to which every male
member had to submit before he could enjoy the rights and privileges of a full-grown man. The reason of the practice is obscure; all that concerns us here is the
belief that a sympathetic relation continued to exist between the lad and his teeth after the latter had been extracted from his gums. Thus among some of the
tribes about the river Darling, in New South Wales, the extracted tooth was placed under the bark of a tree near a river or water-hole; if the bark grew over
the tooth, or if the tooth fell into the water, all was well; but if it were exposed and the ants ran over it, the natives believed that the boy would suffer from a
disease of the mouth. Among the Murring and other tribes of New South Wales the extracted tooth was at first taken care of by an old man, and then passed
from one headman to another, until it had gone all round the community, when it came back to the lad's father, and finally to the lad himself. But however it was
thus conveyed from hand to hand, it might on no account be placed in a bag containing magical substances, for to do so would, they believed, put the owner of
the tooth in great danger. The late Dr. Howitt once acted as custodian of the teeth which had been extracted from some novices at a ceremony of initiation,
and the old men earnestly besought him not to carry them in a bag in which they knew that he had some quartz crystals. They declared that if he did so the
magic of the crystals would pass into the teeth, and so injure the boys. Nearly a year after Dr. Howitt's return from the ceremony he was visited by one of the
principal men of the Murring tribe, who had travelled some two hundred and fifty miles from his home to fetch back the teeth. This man explained that he had
been sent for them because one of the boys had fallen into ill health, and it was believed that the teeth had received some injury which had affected him. He was
assured that the teeth had been kept in a box apart from any substances, like quartz crystals, which could influence them; and he returned home bearing the
teeth with him carefully wrapt up and concealed. 2
The Basutos are careful to conceal their extracted teeth, lest these should fall into the hands of certain mythical beings who haunt graves, and who could harm
the owner of the tooth by working magic on it. In Sussex some fifty years ago a maid-servant remonstrated strongly against the throwing away of children's
cast teeth, affirming that should they be found and gnawed by any animal, the child's new tooth would be, for all the world, like the teeth of the animal that had
bitten the old one. In proof of this she named old Master Simmons, who had a very large pig's tooth in his upper jaw, a personal defect that he always averred
was caused by his mother, who threw away one of his cast teeth by accident into the hog's trough. A similar belief has led to practices intended, on the
principles of homoeopathic magic, to replace old teeth by new and better ones. Thus in many parts of the world it is customary to put extracted teeth in some
place where they will be found by a mouse or a rat, in the hope that, through the sympathy which continues to subsist between them and their former owner,
his other teeth may acquire the same firmness and excellence as the teeth of these rodents. For example, in Germany it is said to be an almost universal maxim
among the people that when you have had a tooth taken out you should insert it in a mouse's hole. To do so with a child's milk-tooth which has fallen out will
prevent the child from having toothache. Or you should go behind the stove and throw your tooth backwards over your head, saying "Mouse, give me your
iron tooth; I will give you my bone tooth." After that your other teeth will remain good. Far away from Europe, at Raratonga, in the Pacific, when a child's tooth
was extracted, the following prayer used to be recited:
"Big rat! little rat!
Here is my old tooth.
Pray give me a new one."
Then the tooth was thrown on the thatch of the house, because rats make their nests in the decayed thatch. The reason assigned for invoking the rats on
these occasions was that rats' teeth were the strongest known to the natives. 3
Other parts which are commonly believed to remain in a sympathetic union with the body, after the physical connexion has been severed, are the navel-string
and the afterbirth, including the placenta. So intimate, indeed, is the union conceived to be, that the fortunes of the individual for good or evil throughout life
are often supposed to be bound up with one or other of these portions of his person, so that if his navel-string or afterbirth is preserved and properly
treated, he will be prosperous; whereas if it be injured or lost, he will suffer accordingly. Thus certain tribes of Western Australia believe that a man swims well or
ill, according as his mother at his birth threw the navel-string into water or not. Among the natives on the Pennefather River in Queensland it is believed that a
part of the child's spirit (cho-i) stays in the afterbirth. Hence the grandmother takes the afterbirth away and buries it in the sand. She marks the spot by a
number of twigs which she sticks in the ground in a circle, tying their tops together so that the structure resembles a cone. When Anjea, the being who causes
conception in women by putting mud babies into their wombs, comes along and sees the place, he takes out the spirit and carries it away to one of his haunts,
such as a tree, a hole in a rock, or a lagoon where it may remain for years. But sometime or other he will put the spirit again into a baby, and it will be born once
more into the world. In Ponape, one of the Caroline Islands, the navel-string is placed in a shell and then disposed of in such a way as shall best adapt the child
for the career which the parents have chosen for him; for example, if they wish to make him a good climber, they will hang the navel-string on a tree. The Kei
islanders regard the navel-string as the brother or sister of the child, according to the sex of the infant. They put it in a pot with ashes, and set it in the
branches of a tree, that it may keep a watchful eye on the fortunes of its comrade. Among the Bataks of Sumatra, as among many other peoples of the Indian
Archipelago, the placenta passes for the child's younger brother or sister, the sex being determined by the sex of the child, and it is buried under the house.
According to the Bataks it is bound up with the child's welfare, and seems, in fact, to be the seat of the transferable soul, of which we shall hear something
later on. The Karo Bataks even affirm that of a man's two souls it is the true soul that lives with the placenta under the house; that is the soul, they say, which
begets children. 4
The Baganda believe that every person is born with a double, and this double they identify with the afterbirth, which they regard as a second child. The mother
buries the afterbirth at the root of a plantain tree, which then becomes sacred until the fruit has ripened, when it is plucked to furnish a sacred feast for the
family. Among the Cherokees the navel-string of a girl is buried under a corn-mortar, in order that the girl may grow up to be a good baker; but the
navel-string of a boy is hung up on a tree in the woods, in order that he may be a hunter. The Incas of Peru preserved the navel-string with the greatest care,
and gave it to the child to suck whenever it fell ill. In ancient Mexico they used to give a boy's navel-string to soldiers, to be buried by them on a field of battle,
in order that the boy might thus acquire a passion for war. But the navel-string of a girl was buried beside the domestic hearth, because this was believed to
inspire her with a love of home and taste for cooking and baking. 5
Even in Europe many people still believe that a person's destiny is more or less bound up with that of his navel-string or afterbirth. Thus in Rhenish Bavaria
the navel-string is kept for a while wrapt up in a piece of old linen, and then cut or pricked to pieces according as the child is a boy or a girl, in order that he or
she may grow up to be a skilful workman or a good sempstress. In Berlin the midwife commonly delivers the dried navel-string to the father with a strict
injunction to preserve it carefully, for so long as it is kept the child will live and thrive and be free from sickness. In Beauce and Perche the people are careful to
throw the navel-string neither into water nor into fire, believing that if that were done the child would be drowned or burned. 6
Thus in many parts of the world the navel-string, or more commonly the afterbirth, is regarded as a living being, the brother or sister of the infant, or as the
material object in which the guardian spirit of the child or part of its soul resides. Further, the sympathetic connexion supposed to exist between a person and
his afterbirth or navel-string comes out very clearly in the widespread custom of treating the afterbirth or navel-string in ways which are supposed to influence
for life the character and career of the person, making him, if it is a man, a nimble climber, a strong swimmer, a skilful hunter, or a brave soldier, and making her,
if it is a woman, a cunning sempstress, a good baker, and so forth. Thus the beliefs and usages concerned with the afterbirth or placenta, and to a less extent
with the navel-string, present a remarkable parallel to the widespread doctrine of the transferable or external soul and the customs founded on it. Hence it is
hardly rash to conjecture that the resemblance is no mere chance coincidence, but that in the afterbirth or placenta we have a physical basis (not necessarily the
only one) for the theory and practice of the external soul. The consideration of that subject is reserved for a later part of this work. 7
A curious application of the doctrine of contagious magic is the relation commonly believed to exist between a wounded man and the agent of the wound, so
that whatever is subsequently done by or to the agent must correspondingly affect the patient either for good or evil. Thus Pliny tells us that if you have
wounded a man and are sorry for it, you have only to spit on the hand that gave the wound, and the pain of the sufferer will be instantly alleviated. In
Melanesia, if a man's friends get possession of the arrow which wounded him, they keep it in a damp place or in cool leaves, for then the inflammation will be
trifling and will soon subside. Meantime the enemy who shot the arrow is hard at work to aggravate the wound by all the means in his power. For this purpose
he and his friends drink hot and burning juices and chew irritating leaves, for this will clearly inflame and irritate the wound. Further, they keep the bow near the
fire to make the wound which it has inflicted hot; and for the same reason they put the arrow-head, if it has been recovered, into the fire. Moreover, they are
careful to keep the bow-string taut and to twang it occasionally, for this will cause the wounded man to suffer from tension of the nerves and spasms of
tetanus. "It is constantly received and avouched," says Bacon, "that the anointing of the weapon that maketh the wound will heal the wound itself. In this
experiment, upon the relation of men of credit (though myself, as yet, am not fully inclined to believe it), you shall note the points following: first, the ointment
wherewith this is done is made of divers ingredients, whereof the strangest and hardest to come by are the moss upon the skull of a dead man unburied, and
the fats of a boar and a bear killed in the act of generation." The precious ointment compounded out of these and other ingredients was applied, as the
philosopher explains, not to the wound but to the weapon, and that even though the injured man was at a great distance and knew nothing about it. The
experiment, he tells us, had been tried of wiping the ointment off the weapon without the knowledge of the person hurt, with the result that he was presently
in a great rage of pain until the weapon was anointed again. Moreover, "it is affirmed that if you cannot get the weapon, yet if you put an instrument of iron or
wood resembling the weapon into the wound, whereby it bleedeth, the anointing of that instrument will serve and work the effect." Remedies of the sort which
Bacon deemed worthy of his attention are still in vogue in the eastern counties of England. Thus in Suffolk if a man cuts himself with a bill-hook or a scythe he
always takes care to keep the weapon bright, and oils it to prevent the wound from festering. If he runs a thorn or, as he calls it, a bush into his hand, he oils or
greases the extracted thorn. A man came to a doctor with an inflamed hand, having run a thorn into it while he was hedging. On being told that the hand was
festering, he remarked, "That didn't ought to, for I greased the bush well after I pulled it out." If a horse wounds its foot by treading on a nail, a Suffolk groom
will invariably preserve the nail, clean it, and grease it every day, to prevent the foot from festering. Similarly Cambridgeshire labourers think that if a horse has
run a nail into its foot, it is necessary to grease the nail with lard or oil and put it away in some safe place, or the horse will not recover. A few years ago a
veterinary surgeon was sent for to attend a horse which had ripped its side open on the hinge of a farm gatepost. On arriving at the farm he found that
nothing had been done for the wounded horse, but that a man was busy trying to pry the hinge out of the gatepost in order that it might be greased and put
away, which, in the opinion of the Cambridge wiseacres, would conduce to the recovery of the animal. Similarly Essex rustics opine that, if a man has been
stabbed with a knife, it is essential to his recovery that the knife should be greased and laid across the bed on which the sufferer is lying. So in Bavaria you are
directed to anoint a linen rag with grease and tie it on the edge of the axe that cut you, taking care to keep the sharp edge upwards. As the grease on the axe
dries, your wound heals. Similarly in the Harz Mountains they say that if you cut yourself, you ought to smear the knife or the scissors with fat and put the
instrument away in a dry place in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. As the knife dries, the wound heals. Other people, however, in
Germany say that you should stick the knife in some damp place in the ground, and that your hurt will heal as the knife rusts. Others again, in Bavaria,
recommend you to smear the axe or whatever it is with blood and put it under the eaves. 8
The train of reasoning which thus commends itself to English and German rustics, in common with the savages of Melanesia and America, is carried a step
further by the aborigines of Central Australia, who conceive that under certain circumstances the near relations of a wounded man must grease themselves,
restrict their diet, and regulate their behaviour in other ways in order to ensure his recovery. Thus when a lad has been circumcised and the wound is not yet
healed, his mother may not eat opossum, or a certain kind of lizard, or carpet snake, or any kind of fat, for otherwise she would retard the healing of the boy's
wound. Every day she greases her digging-sticks and never lets them out of her sight; at night she sleeps with them close to her head. No one is allowed to
touch them. Every day also she rubs her body all over with grease, as in some way this is believed to help her son's recovery. Another refinement of the same
principle is due to the ingenuity of the German peasant. It is said that when one of his pigs or sheep breaks its leg, a farmer of Rhenish Bavaria or Hesse will
bind up the leg of a chair with bandages and splints in due form. For some days thereafter no one may sit on that chair, move it, or knock up against it; for to
do so would pain the injured pig or sheep and hinder the cure. In this last case it is clear that we have passed wholly out of the region of contagious magic and
into the region of homoeopathic or imitative magic; the chair-leg, which is treated instead of the beast's leg, in no sense belongs to the animal, and the
application of bandages to it is a mere simulation of the treatment which a more rational surgery would bestow on the real patient. 9
The sympathetic connexion supposed to exist between a man and the weapon which has wounded him is probably founded on the notion that the blood on
the weapon continues to feel with the blood in his body. For a like reason the Papuans of Tumleo, an island off New Guinea, are careful to throw into the sea
the bloody bandages with which their wounds have been dressed, for they fear that if these rags fell into the hands of an enemy he might injure them magically
thereby. Once when a man with a wound in his mouth, which bled constantly, came to the missionaries to be treated, his faithful wife took great pains to collect
all the blood and cast it into the sea. Strained and unnatural as this idea may seem to us, it is perhaps less so than the belief that magic sympathy is maintained
between a person and his clothes, so that whatever is done to the clothes will be felt by the man himself, even though he may be far away at the time. In the
Wotjobaluk tribe of Victoria a wizard would sometimes get hold of a man's opossum rug and roast it slowly in the fire, and as he did so the owner of the rug
would fall sick. If the wizard consented to undo the charm, he would give the rug back to the sick man's friends, bidding them put it in water, "so as to wash the
fire out." When that happened, the sufferer would feel a refreshing coolness and probably recover. In Tanna, one of the New Hebrides, a man who had a grudge
at another and desired his death would try to get possession of a cloth which had touched the sweat of his enemy's body. If he succeeded, he rubbed the cloth
carefully over with the leaves and twigs of a certain tree, rolled and bound cloth, twigs, and leaves into a long sausage-shaped bundle, and burned it slowly in
the fire. As the bundle was consumed, the victim fell ill, and when it was reduced to ashes, he died. In this last form of enchantment, however, the magical
sympathy may be supposed to exist not so much between the man and the cloth as between the man and the sweat which issued from his body. But in other
cases of the same sort it seems that the garment by itself is enough to give the sorcerer a hold upon his victim. The witch in Theocritus, while she melted an
image or lump of wax in order that her faithless lover might melt with love of her, did not forget to throw into the fire a shred of his cloak which he had
dropped in her house. In Prussia they say that if you cannot catch a thief, the next best thing you can do is to get hold of a garment which he may have shed in
his flight; for if you beat it soundly, the thief will fall sick. This belief is firmly rooted in the popular mind. Some eighty or ninety years ago, in the neighbourhood
of Berend, a man was detected trying to steal honey, and fled, leaving his coat behind him. When he heard that the enraged owner of the honey was mauling
his lost coat, he was so alarmed that he took to his bed and died. 10
Again, magic may be wrought on a man sympathetically, not only through his clothes and severed parts of himself, but also through the impressions left by his
body in sand or earth. In particular, it is a world-wide superstition that by injuring footprints you injure the feet that made them. Thus the natives of
South-eastern Australia think that they can lame a man by placing sharp pieces of quartz, glass, bone, or charcoal in his footprints. Rheumatic pains are often
attributed by them to this cause. Seeing a Tatungolung man very lame, Mr. Howitt asked him what was the matter. He said, "some fellow has put bottle in my
foot." He was suffering from rheumatism, but believed that an enemy had found his foot-track and had buried it in a piece of broken bottle, the magical
influence of which had entered his foot. 11
Similar practices prevail in various parts of Europe. Thus in Mecklenburg it is thought that if you drive a nail into a man's footprint he will fall lame; sometimes it
is required that the nail should be taken from a coffin. A like mode of injuring an enemy is resorted to in some parts of France. It is said that there was an old
woman who used to frequent Stow in Suffolk, and she was a witch. If, while she walked, any one went after her and stuck a nail or a knife into her footprint in
the dust, the dame could not stir a step till it was withdrawn. Among the South Slavs a girl will dig up the earth from the footprints of the man she loves and
put it in a flower-pot. Then she plants in the pot a marigold, a flower that is thought to be fadeless. And as its golden blossom grows and blooms and never
fades, so shall her sweetheart's love grow and bloom, and never, never fade. Thus the love-spell acts on the man through the earth he trod on. An old Danish
mode of concluding a treaty was based on the same idea of the sympathetic connexion between a man and his footprints: the covenanting parties sprinkled
each other's footprints with their own blood, thus giving a pledge of fidelity. In ancient Greece superstitions of the same sort seem to have been current, for it
was thought that if a horse stepped on the track of a wolf he was seized with numbness; and a maxim ascribed to Pythagoras forbade people to pierce a man's
footprints with a nail or a knife. 12
The same superstition is turned to account by hunters in many parts of the world for the purpose of running down the game. Thus a German huntsman will
stick a nail taken from a coffin into the fresh spoor of the quarry, believing that this will hinder the animal from escaping. The aborigines of Victoria put hot
embers in the tracks of the animals they were pursuing. Hottentot hunters throw into the air a handful of sand taken from the footprints of the game, believing
that this will bring the animal down. Thompson Indians used to lay charms on the tracks of wounded deer; after that they deemed it superfluous to pursue the
animal any further that day, for being thus charmed it could not travel far and would soon die. Similarly, Ojebway Indians placed "medicine" on the track of the
first deer or bear they met with, supposing that this would soon bring the animal into sight, even if it were two or three days' journey off; for this charm had
power to compress a journey of several days into a few hours. Ewe hunters of West Africa stab the footprints of game with a sharp-pointed stick in order to
maim the quarry and allow them to come up with it. 13
But though the footprint is the most obvious it is not the only impression made by the body through which magic may be wrought on a man. The aborigines of
South-eastern Australia believe that a man may be injured by burying sharp fragments of quartz, glass, and so forth in the mark made by his reclining body; the
magical virtue of these sharp things enters his body and causes those acute pains which the ignorant European puts down to rheumatism. We can now
understand why it was a maxim with the Pythagoreans that in rising from bed you should smooth away the impression left by your body on the bed-clothes.
The rule was simply an old precaution against magic, forming part of a whole code of superstitious maxims which antiquity fathered on Pythagoras, though
doubtless they were familiar to the barbarous forefathers of the Greeks long before the time of that philosopher. 14
Section 4. The Magician's Progress.
WE have now concluded our examination of the general principles of sympathetic magic. The examples by which I have illustrated them have been drawn for the
most part from what may be called private magic, that is from magical rites and incantations practised for the benefit or the injury of individuals. But in savage
society there is commonly to be found in addition what we may call public magic, that is, sorcery practised for the benefit of the whole community. Wherever
ceremonies of this sort are observed for the common good, it is obvious that the magician ceases to be merely a private practitioner and becomes to some
extent a public functionary. The development of such a class of functionaries is of great importance for the political as well as the religious evolution of society.
For when the welfare of the tribe is supposed to depend on the performance of these magical rites, the magician rises into a position of much influence and
repute, and may readily acquire the rank and authority of a chief or king. The profession accordingly draws into its ranks some of the ablest and most ambitious
men of the tribe, because it holds out to them a prospect of honour, wealth, and power such as hardly any other career could offer. The acuter minds perceive
how easy it is to dupe their weaker brother and to play on his superstition for their own advantage. Not that the sorcerer is always a knave and impostor; he is
often sincerely convinced that he really possesses those wonderful powers which the credulity of his fellows ascribes to him. But the more sagacious he is, the
more likely he is to see through the fallacies which impose on duller wits. Thus the ablest members of the profession must tend to be more or less conscious
deceivers; and it is just these men who in virtue of their superior ability will generally come to the top and win for themselves positions of the highest dignity
and the most commanding authority. The pitfalls which beset the path of the professional sorcerer are many, and as a rule only the man of coolest head and
sharpest wit will be able to steer his way through them safely. For it must always be remembered that every single profession and claim put forward by the
magician as such is false; not one of them can be maintained without deception, conscious or unconscious. Accordingly the sorcerer who sincerely believes in his
own extravagant pretensions is in far greater peril and is much more likely to be cut short in his career than the deliberate impostor. The honest wizard always
expects that his charms and incantations will produce their supposed effect; and when they fail, not only really, as they always do, but conspicuously and
disastrously, as they often do, he is taken aback: he is not, like his knavish colleague, ready with a plausible excuse to account for the failure, and before he can
find one he may be knocked on the head by his disappointed and angry employers. 1
The general result is that at this stage of social evolution the supreme power tends to fall into the hands of men of the keenest intelligence and the most
unscrupulous character. If we could balance the harm they do by their knavery against the benefits they confer by their superior sagacity, it might well be found
that the good greatly outweighed the evil. For more mischief has probably been wrought in the world by honest fools in high places than by intelligent rascals.
Once your shrewd rogue has attained the height of his ambition, and has no longer any selfish end to further, he may, and often does, turn his talents, his
experience, his resources, to the service of the public. Many men who have been least scrupulous in the acquisition of power have been most beneficent in the
use of it, whether the power they aimed at and won was that of wealth, political authority, or what not. In the field of politics the wily intriguer, the ruthless
victor, may end by being a wise and magnanimous ruler, blessed in his lifetime, lamented at his death, admired and applauded by posterity. Such men, to take
two of the most conspicuous instances, were Julius Caesar and Augustus. But once a fool always a fool, and the greater the power in his hands the more
disastrous is likely to be the use he makes of it. The heaviest calamity in English history, the breach with America, might never have occurred if George the Third
had not been an honest dullard. 2
Thus, so far as the public profession of magic affected the constitution of savage society, it tended to place the control of affairs in the hands of the ablest
man: it shifted the balance of power from the many to the one: it substituted a monarchy for a democracy, or rather for an oligarchy of old men; for in general
the savage community is ruled, not by the whole body of adult males, but by a council of elders. The change, by whatever causes produced, and whatever the
character of the early rulers, was on the whole very beneficial. For the rise of monarchy appears to be an essential condition of the emergence of mankind from
savagery. No human being is so hide-bound by custom and tradition as your democratic savage; in no state of society consequently is progress so slow and
difficult. The old notion that the savage is the freest of mankind is the reverse of the truth. He is a slave, not indeed to a visible master, but to the past, to the
spirits of his dead forefathers, who haunt his steps from birth to death, and rule him with a rod of iron. What they did is the pattern of right, the unwritten law
to which he yields a blind unquestioning obedience. The least possible scope is thus afforded to superior talent to change old customs for the better. The ablest
man is dragged down by the weakest and dullest, who necessarily sets the standard, since he cannot rise, while the other can fall. The surface of such a society
presents a uniform dead level, so far as it is humanly possible to reduce the natural inequalities, the immeasurable real differences of inborn capacity and temper,
to a false superficial appearance of equality. From this low and stagnant condition of affairs, which demagogues and dreamers in later times have lauded as the
ideal state, the Golden Age, of humanity, everything that helps to raise society by opening a career to talent and proportioning the degrees of authority to
men's natural abilities, deserves to be welcomed by all who have the real good of their fellows at heart. Once these elevating influences have begun to
operate-and they cannot be for ever suppressed-the progress of civilisation becomes comparatively rapid. The rise of one man to supreme power enables him
to carry through changes in a single lifetime which previously many generations might not have sufficed to effect; and if, as will often happen, he is a man of
intellect and energy above the common, he will readily avail himself of the opportunity. Even the whims and caprices of a tyrant may be of service in breaking
the chain of custom which lies so heavy on the savage. And as soon as the tribe ceases to be swayed by the timid and divided counsels of the elders, and yields
to the direction of a single strong and resolute mind, it becomes formidable to its neighbours and enters on a career of aggrandisement, which at an early stage
of history is often highly favourable to social, industrial, and intellectual progress. For extending its sway, partly by force of arms, partly by the voluntary
submission of weaker tribes, the community soon acquires wealth and slaves, both of which, by relieving some classes from the perpetual struggle for a bare
subsistence, afford them an opportunity of devoting themselves to that disinterested pursuit of knowledge which is the noblest and most powerful instrument
to ameliorate the lot of man. 3
Intellectual progress, which reveals itself in the growth of art and science and the spread of more liberal views, cannot be dissociated from industrial or
economic progress, and that in its turn receives an immense impulse from conquest and empire. It is no mere accident that the most vehement outbursts of
activity of the human mind have followed close on the heels of victory, and that the great conquering races of the world have commonly done most to advance
and spread civilisation, thus healing in peace the wounds they inflicted in war. The Babylonians, the Greeks, the Romans, the Arabs are our witnesses in the
past: we may yet live to see a similar outburst in Japan. Nor, to remount the stream of history to its sources, is it an accident that all the first great strides
towards civilisation have been made under despotic and theocratic governments, like those of Egypt, Babylon, and Peru, where the supreme ruler claimed and
received the servile allegiance of his subjects in the double character of a king and a god. It is hardly too much to say that at this early epoch despotism is the
best friend of humanity and, paradoxical as it may sound, of liberty. For after all there is more liberty in the best sense-liberty to think our own thoughts and to
fashion our own destinies-under the most absolute despotism, the most grinding tyranny, than under the apparent freedom of savage life, where the
individual's lot is cast from the cradle to the grave in the iron mould of hereditary custom. 4
So far, therefore, as the public profession of magic has been one of the roads by which the ablest men have passed to supreme power, it has contributed to
emancipate mankind from the thraldom of tradition and to elevate them into a larger, freer life, with a broader outlook on the world. This is no small service
rendered to humanity. And when we remember further that in another direction magic has paved the way for science, we are forced to admit that if the black
art has done much evil, it has also been the source of much good; that if it is the child of error, it has yet been the mother of freedom and truth. 5