CXLIII. VANCOUVER’S ISLAND--Continued…

CXLIII. VANCOUVER’S ISLAND--Continued

THE AHTS AND NEIGHBORING TRIBES--Continued.

MANUFACTURE OF CANOES -- CORRECT EYE OF THE NATIVE BUILDERS -- MATERIAL AND SHAPE OF THE PADDLE -- MODE OF USING IT -- PATTERN WITH WHICH IT IS DECORATED -- “CUTTING” THE WAVES -- SKILL AND ENDURANCE OF THE PADDLERS -- ESCAPE OF A NATIVE -- FEASTS AMONG THE AHT TRIBES -- METHOD OF COOKING -- THE WOODEN POTS AND HEATED STONES -- HOW “THE INDIANS DIED” -- DISTRIBUTION OF PROPERTY, AND ITS CONSEQUENT DESTRUCTION -- SACRED CHARACTER OF A FEAST -- THE SACRED MARKS -- THE ARTIFICIAL SNOW-STORM -- THE DOCTOR’S DANCE -- ADMIRABLE ACTING -- SIMULATED MURDER AND RECOVERY OF THE CORPSE -- THE ROOF DANCE.

The canoes in which the Aht tribes make their expeditions are carved out of solid wood. The tree which is employed for this purpose is a kind of cedar (Thuja gigantea), which flourishes by the sea. When a native wishes to make a canoe, he looks out for a good tree as near as possible to the water, and, with the assistance of a comrade, cuts it down. Now that he has European tools, he can fell a tree with some rapidity, but in the olden times, when his sole tool was a sort of chisel made of wapiti horn, it was a very slow process indeed. The only way of using this primitive instrument was by placing the edge of the chisel against the tree, and striking the butt with a heavy stone, shaped something like a dumb-bell.

The tree being felled, the bark is stripped off, and the trunk split lengthwise by wedges. The next process is to hollow out the inside, which is done entirely by hand, fire not being employed, as is the case with many savage tribes. The outside is then dubbed down to the proper thickness by means of an adze formed of a large mussel-shell fixed in a handle. In this work the natives use no measuring tools, but trust entirely to the eye; yet their work is so true that, when the boat is completed, it sits lightly on the water, and is well balanced. Any of my readers who have made even a toy boat will appreciate the difficulty of this task.

In about three weeks or so the canoe is roughly hewn and hollowed, and then comes a more difficult business, namely, the bringing it into the peculiar shape which the Ahts think to be the best. This is done by filling the canoe with water, and throwing redhot stones into it till the water boils. This part of the process is continued for a considerable time, until the wood is quite soft, and then a number of crosspieces are driven into the interior, so as to force the canoe into its proper shape, which it retains ever afterward.

While the canoe is still soft and comparatively pliant, several slight crosspieces are inserted, so as to counteract any tendency toward warping. The outside of the vessel is next hardened by fire, so as to enable it to resist the attacks of insects, and also to prevent it from cracking when exposed to the sun. Lastly, the bow and stem pieces are fixed to the canoe, and the interior is painted of some brilliant color, usually red. The outside is generally quite black and highly polished, this effect being produced by rubbing it plentifully with oil after the fire has done its work. Lastly, a pattern of some kind is generally painted on the bow and stern.

The figure on page 1361 will give the reader a good idea of the form of this canoe. It is drawn from a large model brought from Vancouver’s Island by Lieut. Pusey, and added by him to my collection. In this specimen the patterns at the bow and stem are red and blue. As is mostly the case with canoes made by savages, there is no keel to the boat.

The paddle by which the canoe is propelled is a singularly ingenious one, combining the three qualities of lightness, elasticity, and strength to a really remarkable extent. The paddle represented in fig. 1 of illustration No. 6, on page 1357, is one of the specimens in my collection. It is four feet six inches in length, and the blade is about six inches wide at the broadest part. It is shaped with the greatest accuracy, the part where it is grasped by the left hand being nearly cylindrical, and then widening gradually until it forms the blade. At this part it is very thin--so thin, in fact, that it seems scarcely able to bear the strain that is put upon it when the paddler urges his canoe swiftly over the water.

The lightness of such a paddle is wonderful. The specimen which is figured in the illustration only weighs eighteen ounces, being hardly half the weight of a similarly sized New Zealand paddle. The reader will notice the peculiar handle. This is made in order to suit the mode of paddling. When the Aht gets into his canoe, he grasps the paddle with his left hand about eighteen inches from the end, and places his right hand upon the crosspiece that serves as a handle. The left hand thus acts as a fulcrum; upon the right hand works the leverage of the paddle. Beside this paddle is figured another from the Solomon Islands, in order to show how two totally distinct races of mankind have hit upon the same invention. There is even a similarity in the form of their canoes, as well as in the shape of their paddles.

The reader will observe that the blade of the paddle is covered with a pattern which extends some way up the handle. This is the work of the women, who take upon themselves the decoration of the paddles after their husbands have shaped them. The colors employed are generally black and red, the latter hue being obtained by a preparation of annatto. In this particular specimen, red is the chief color, the large oval marks on the side of the blade and on the handle being red, while the more intricate pattern on the blade is drawn in black.

No matter what may be the color of the paddle, the pattern is always of the same character. I have no doubt in my mind that it is really a conventional mode of depicting the human face, such as is seen upon the work of many extinct races of mankind; and although at a first glance the semblance may not be seen, it is evident to a practised observer, and is, moreover, quite in character with other works of art found of these people.

The broad, flat, sharp-edged blade of the paddle is often used for other purposes besides propelling the canoe. It has already been mentioned that the Ahts will not throw overboard their cargo of fish, no matter how high the waves may roll, or how deeply the canoe may be loaded. They watch carefully for the waves, and if one of them comes in such a manner that it would dash inboard, they have the art of cutting it in two with a blow from the edge of the paddle, and causing it to fly harmlessly over the little vessel.

Both in making canoes and in other work where holes have to be bored, the Ahts make use of a simple drill, formed from the bone of a bird, fixed in a wooden handle. When it is used, the shaft is taken between the two hands, the point placed on the object to be bored, and the hands moved swiftly backward and forward until the hole is made. In the same manner, by using a stick instead of a drill, fire is produced, precisely as is done by the Kaffirs.

The skill of the paddlers is wonderful. Mr. Sproat mentions the escape of an Aht Indian who had committed several murders, and had contrived to escape from custody. Finding the place where he had concealed himself, a party set out to recapture him, and discovered him running across the snow to gain the shelter of a wood. Had he reached it he would have been safe, so one of the pursuers chased him, and, notwithstanding the disadvantage of wearing shoes, which soon became clogged by the snow, succeeded in gaining on him, the Ahts being, as has already been remarked, very poor runners.

The man soon perceived that he was no match for his pursuer in running, and so, abandoning his intention of reaching the wood, he turned sharply off toward the river, flung off his blanket, and leaped into the stream. Presently he was seen making his way toward a canoe which was made fast to a drift tree in the river, and in a short time he reached it, looked eagerly into it to see if there were a paddle, scrambled into the boat, cast it off, and paddled away. Meanwhile two of his pursuers had got into a canoe, and were paddling after him, so that when he cast the boat loose they were not more than twenty yards from him. It was, however, quite enough for the fugitive, who forced his canoe up the stream with a power and rapidity which soon increased the distance between the two boats, and, in spite of all the efforts of his pursuers, he made his way to the bank nearly fifty yards ahead of them. As soon as he reached the shore, he jumped out of the canoe, and dashed into the wood, where it was useless to follow him.

Several times during the struggle Mr. Sproat had the man covered with his revolver, but the skill, grace, and strength of the fugitive were so admirable, that, much to the discontent of his companions, he would not fire. He remarks that in such a chase as this a white man has no chance with an Aht, but that in a long race on the sea the white man will win, his powers of endurance exceeding those of the savage.

The possession of a canoe is an object of much ambition among the Ahts, as it confers upon them a sort of distinction, and is looked upon much as is the possession of a carriage among ourselves. Each canoe is furnished with a baling instrument, which is always made of wood. It is, in fact, a large spoon, the bowl being angular, and shaped something like the gable of a house.

* * * * *

The domestic manners of the Ahts are, from Mr. Sproat’s account, very interesting, and, as he remarks, if any one only knew their strange language well, and had the stomach and the nose to live among them during the winter months, he would obtain copious information respecting them.

Winter is the time mentioned, because during the summer the men are generally dispersed in their pursuit of game, especially of salmon, which they dry and preserve for winter use. But about November they return to their homes, and a time of general feasting and enjoyment sets in. Cooking goes on all day, and the revellers are perpetually feasting, while during times of work they only eat twice in the day, namely, in the morning and evening, and even then do not eat much at each meal. Fish is the principal article of their diet, and dried salmon is the food which is most plentiful, though they also eat the flesh of the seal and the whale when they can get it. Of late years the Ahts have obtained rice and molasses, and apparently with a bad effect upon their health.

The pots in which the food is cooked are made of wood, the water being boiled, not by placing the pots on the fire, but by heating stones red hot and throwing them into it. Rude as this mode of boiling water may seem, it is much more rapid and effectual than might be imagined, which will account for the wide spreading of the custom. In more than one place, when the white man visited the natives for the first time, nothing impressed them so strongly as the fact that, when he boiled water, he put the vessel on the fire. The capability of making a vessel that would endure such treatment had, in their eyes, something of the supernatural.

An old native illustrated well the astonishment which they themselves felt when they saw a kettle placed on the fire for the first time. He narrated the story to Mr. Duncan in the following quaint but forcible language:--“The strangers landed, and beckoned the Indians to come to them and bring them some fish. One of them had over his shoulder what was supposed to be only a stick. Presently he pointed it at a bird that was flying past--a violent ‘poo’ went forth--down came the bird to the ground. The Indians died! As they revived, they questioned each other as to their state, whether any were dead, and what each had felt.

“The whites then made signs for a fire to be lighted. The Indians proceeded at once according to their tedious practice of rubbing two sticks together. The strangers laughed, and one of them, snatching up a handful of dry grass, struck a spark into a little powder placed under it. Instantly, another ‘poo’ and a blaze! The Indians died! After this, the new-comers wanted some fish boiled. The Indians therefore put the fish and some water into one of their square wooden buckets, and set some stones in the fire, intending, when they were hot, to cast them into the vessel, and thus boil the food. The whites were not satisfied with this way. One of them fetched a tin kettle out of the boat, put the fish and some water into it, and then, strange to say, set it on the fire. The Indians looked on with astonishment. However, the kettle did not consume, the water did not run into the fire. Then again the Indians died!”

Sometimes a man of consequence issues invitations for a solemn feast, and on such an occasion he seizes the opportunity of showing his wealth by the liberal distribution of presents, every individual present receiving a share of the property. Consequently, a feast always affords a scene of destruction. For example, Captain Mayne mentions that at one feast which he witnessed, he recognized three sea-otter skins, for one of which thirty blankets had been offered and refused. Yet, valuable as they were, they were cut up into little pieces about three inches by one, so that every guest might have a piece. As each blanket is to the Aht the equivalent of a sovereign among ourselves, the amount of waste may be imagined. Mr. Duncan, the successful missionary among these people, relates several instances of the waste of property which takes place both on these and other occasions. For example, a chief had just built a house, and issued invitations for a great feast. “After feasting, I heard he was to give away property to the amount of four hundred and eighty blankets, of which one hundred and eighty were his own property, and the three hundred were to be subscribed by his people.

“On the first day of the feast, as much as possible of the property to be given to him was exhibited in the camp. Hundreds of yards of cotton were flapping in the breeze, hung from house to house, or on lines put up for the occasion. Furs, too, were nailed up on the fronts of houses. Those who were going to give away blankets or elk-skins managed to get a bearer for every one, and exhibited them by making the persons walk in single file to the house of the chief. On the next day, the cotton which had been hung out was now brought on the beach, at a good distance from the chief’s house, and there run out at full length, and a number of bearers, about three yards apart, bore it triumphantly away from the giver to the receivers. I suppose that about six to eight hundred yards were thus disposed of.

“After all the property the chief is to receive has been thus openly handed to him, a day or two is taken up in apportioning it for fresh owners. When this is done, all the chiefs and their families are called together, and each receives according to his or her position. If, however, a chief’s wife is not descended from a chief, she has no share in this distribution, nor is she ever invited to the same feasts as her husband. Thus do the chiefs and their people go on reducing themselves to poverty. In the case of the chiefs, however, this poverty lasts but a short time; they are soon replenished from the next giving away, but the people only grow rich again according to their industry. One cannot but pity them, while one laments their folly.

“All the pleasure these poor Indians seem to have in their property is in hoarding it up for such an occasion as I have described. They never think of appropriating what they can gather to enhance their comforts, but are satisfied if they can make a display like this now and then; so that the man possessing but one blanket seems to be as well off as the one who possesses twenty; and thus it is that there is a vast amount of dead stock accumulated in the camp, doomed never to be used, but only now and then to be transferred from hand to hand for the mere vanity of the thing.

“There is another way, however, in which property is disposed of even more foolishly. If a person be insulted, or meet with an accident, or in any way suffers an injury, real or supposed, either of mind or body, property must at once be sacrificed to avoid disgrace. A number of blankets, shirts, or cotton, according to the rank of the person, is torn into small pieces, and carried off.”

Sometimes a feast assumes a sacred character, and such festivals are held during the latter half of the last month in the year, their object being to induce the demons who have charge of the weather to give them rain instead of snow. In one of these feasts, witnessed by Mr. Garrett, the principal part was performed by a female chief, who lay on her back in the middle of the house as if dead, while all the people assembled were making a hideous noise, howling, wailing, and beating with sticks the bench on which they sat, while a young man added to the hubbub by drumming upon a wooden box. After a while the prostrate woman began to show signs of life, and gradually assumed a sitting posture. In this attitude she contrived to jump round the room, and exhibited some extraordinary vagaries, the other occupants of the room alternating dead silence with deafening uproar at signals from her hand.

The costumes that are worn at such feasts are very remarkable articles, especially the head-dresses that are worn by the chiefs. They take the form of masks, and are cut out of solid wood, generally imitating the heads of various birds and beasts, though they sometimes are carved in the semblance of a grotesque human face. The specimens which are shown in the illustrations on page 1357 will give a good idea of these strange headdresses. One of them, which was presented to me by Lieut. Pusey, is carved in imitation of a beaver’s head, and is tied on the wearer’s head with strings. There are holes bored through the eyes, by means of which the wearer is enabled to see, and these holes are cleverly bored in a slanting direction, so as to coincide with the pupil of the eye. Some of these masks are made with great goggle eyes and large jaws. Both the eyes and the jaws are movable, and are worked by strings that pass down the back, so that the wearer can make the eyes roll and the jaws open and close without any apparent cause.

Sometimes the masks are made in the form of birds, and by a similar arrangement of cords, the birds can be made to turn their heads from side to side, and to flap their wings while the wearer speaks. There is a very remarkable specimen of these masks in the museum at Maidstone. It is double, one mask within another. The outer mask is divided by lines drawn from forehead to chin, down the centre of the nose, and across the face, so that it is in four distinct pieces. The pieces all work on hinges, and are so well fitted to each other that a spectator could not suspect that they were not one solid piece. Suddenly, while the wearer is dancing, he will fling all the pieces open, and discover a second and more hideous mask beneath.

When the chief wishes to pay an extraordinary compliment to a visitor, he puts on a mask that is fitted with a number of porcupine quills. Upon this head-dress he heaps a vast quantity of swan’s down, which is retained in its position by the quills. He then dances up to the visitor, and, as he retreats backward in the dance, gives a jerk with his head, and sends the down flying over him. It is a point of honor that the visitor should be kept enveloped in a shower of down, as if he were in a snow-storm, and this can only be done by perpetually dancing and nodding the head, which is kept well supplied with down by attendants.

White feathers and down always signify peace, and hence, when a man sets off on a mission of peace to a neighboring tribe with whom there has been a quarrel, he puts white down on his head, and knows that his person will be as sacred as that of the bearer of a flag of truce in civilized warfare.

One of the dances practised by the Ahts displays a really wonderful amount of ingenuity, and must take no little time to practise. It was witnessed by Mr. Sproat, who describes it in the following terms. The different dances are called Nooks in Aht language. This might be called the “Doctor’s (Ooshtukyu) Nook.” A fine representation of it by the artist is given on the following page.

“During the song and dance, which at first seemed to present nothing peculiar, a well-known slave (one, however, who was in a comparatively independent position, being employed as a sailor on board the steamer Thames), suddenly ceased dancing, and fell down on the ground apparently in a dying state, and having his face covered with blood. He did not move or speak, his head fell on one side, his limbs were drawn up, and he certainly presented a ghastly spectacle. While the dance raged furiously around the fallen man, the doctor, with some others, seized and dragged him to the other side of the fire round which they were dancing, placing his naked feet very near the flames.

“After this a pail of water was brought in, and the doctor, who supported the dying man on his arm, washed the blood from his face; the people beat drums, danced, and sang, and suddenly the patient sprang to his feet and joined in the dance, none the worse for the apparently hopeless condition of the moment before. While all this was going on, I asked the giver of the feast whether it was real blood upon the man’s face, and if he were really wounded. He told me so seriously that it was, that I was at first inclined to believe him, until he began to explain that the blood which came from the nose and mouth was owing to the incantations of the medicine man, and that all the people would be very angry if he did not afterward restore him.

“I then recalled to mind that in the early part of the day, before the feast, I had seen the doctor and the slave holding very friendly conferences; and the former had used his influence to get a pass for the latter to be present at the entertainment, to which, probably, he had no right to come. I feel sure that many of the Indians really believed in this exhibition of the doctor’s power. When the affair was over, many of the natives asked me what I thought of it, and referred to it as if it must set at rest for ever any possible doubts with regard to the abilities of their native doctors. The Indian, who explained this and other performances to me, said that the cure was not entirely owing to the doctor, but to the large body of dancers and singers, who all ‘exerted their hearts’ to desire the recovery of the sick man, and so procured the desired effect.”

This simulated production of blood forms an element in several of the Aht dances. In one of them a man, stripped even of his blanket, is bound with his hands behind him, and driven about at the end of long cords, while the spectators yell, shout, and hammer with sticks upon wooden dishes and drums made of bear-skin.

Suddenly the chief dashes among the people, brandishing a knife, and, on seeing the bound man, gives chase to him, and to all appearance drives the knife deeply into his back. Blood pours abundantly from the wound, and the man rushes wildly about in search of shelter, followed by the chief, who plunges his bloody weapon repeatedly into the man’s back. Exhausted by his wounds and loss of blood, the victim staggers, falls, and dies. His friends gather round the dead body, and carry it outside the house, when it washes itself, and puts on its blanket.

Mr. Sproat remarks of this dance that the illusion is absolutely perfect, and the acting so lifelike, that the performers would make the fortune of a minor theatre in London. The red liquid which simulates blood is a mixture of red gum, resin, oil, and water; and is, indeed, the material which is used for painting the inside of the canoes.

Another of these “nooks” is called the seal dance. The performers take off their blankets, and, though in the depth of winter, go into the sea, and crawl upon the shore, imitating the movements of the seals as they flounder along the ground. They proceed in the same manner until they reach the houses, which they enter, and crawl about the fires, which are purposely kept brightly blazing by being fed with oil. The dance is finished by jumping up and dancing round the house until the performers are tired.

There is one dance which belongs specially to the Sesaht tribe, and, absurd as it may seem, appears to have in it something of a religious nature. It is peculiar to that tribe, and may not be omitted. While the people are singing and dancing within the house, a number of the performers clamber up the posts, push some of the roof-boards aside, get on the roof, and dance there, making a noise like thunder. As the dancers become fatigued, they descend from the roof and others take their places, so that there is a constant stream of men ascending and descending the roof.

After the dance is over, an old man makes a speech to the owner of the house, saying that he is aware that the roof-boards are damaged by the dance, but at the same time the ceremony may not be omitted. A number of men then come forward, and each presents the owner of the house with a small stick, which is a token that the owner will redeem it with a new roof-board as soon as possible.

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CXLIV. VANCOUVER’S ISLAND--Concluded

THE AHTS AND NEIGHBORING TRIBES--Concluded.

ARCHITECTURE OF THE AHTS -- SEMI-NOMADIC CHARACTER OF THE PEOPLE -- THE PERMANENT FRAMEWORK, AND MOVABLE WALLS AND ROOF -- DIVISION OF THE HOUSE -- RANK OF THE OCCUPANTS -- OBJECT AND MODE OF MIGRATION -- PIPES OF THE AHT TRIBES -- LABOR EXPENDED IN THEIR MANUFACTURE -- RELIGIOUS SYSTEM OF THE TRIBES -- AN AHT PROMETHEUS -- SOCIETY OF THE “ALLIED” -- THE MEDICINE MEN AND THEIR EDUCATION -- THE CANNIBALS AND DOG-EATERS -- REVOLTING SCENES -- THE TWO CANNIBALS -- SACRED RATTLES -- TERROR INSPIRED BY THE MEDICINE MEN -- DISPOSAL OF THE DEAD -- RESPECT FOR THE CEMETERY.

From the account of the Roof-dance in the preceding chapter, it is evident that the houses are built very strongly, or they would not be able to endure the violent stamping and jumping which constitute the principal charms of the dance. The houses of the Ahts are constructed after a very peculiar manner, the posts and framework being stationary, and the roof and sides movable. The effect of this arrangement is to enable the people to shift from one place to another. At each of the spots to which they migrate they find the framework of their houses ready for them, and all that they have to do is to carry with them the roofs and walls. The mode of migrating will be presently described.

The framework of the houses consists of stout posts about twelve feet in diameter, and twelve feet or so in height, placed at distances of twenty feet from each other. The top of the post is hollowed so as to receive the cross pieces which connect them. A house is some eighty feet in length, and the ridgepole which supports the roof is made of a single tree trunk. The roof, which is gabled-shaped, but slopes gently from the back to the front of the house, so as to throw off the rain, is made of cedar boards, about five feet long and nearly two inches thick. The walls are made of similar boards lashed to small upright posts driven into the ground.

Just below the roof a rude framework is extended, on which the inhabitants keep their stores of food, their weapons, and similar articles. About six feet from the walls, a strong stockade is erected, so that each house becomes a sort of fortress. There are no windows, and the only chimney is formed by removing one of the roof-boards above the fireplace. In many of these houses, the large inside posts are ornamented by having great faces carved upon them, face-carving being an art in which these tribes excel, just as is the case with the New Zealanders. Mr. Sproat mentions, that he has seen a row of such houses extending for the third of a mile along a river’s bank, and that the depth of the houses varied from twenty-five to forty feet.

Inside the house, the earth is dug away for a foot or so in depth, in order to give additional height to the interior. Every house is partitioned off into several divisions, each of which is occupied by a family, which is thus separated from the other inhabitants by a sort of bulkhead about four feet high. These partitions are movable, so that on occasion of a great festival they can be taken away, and the whole of the space kept clear. There is a fire in the middle of each division, and around it are placed wooden couches, about nine inches from the floor, and covered with a whole series of mats by way of bedding.

There is to each building one main entrance, and other small doors, which are always in a corner of one of the divisions. The rank of the different occupants is marked by the position which they occupy in the house. For example, the chief of the house occupies the extreme end on the left of the building, the next in rank lives in the corresponding place at the other end, while the common people occupy the space between the two great men.

These houses are much more agreeable to the eye than to the nostrils. Having no windows, and all the stores of salt fish and other provisions being kept in them, the interior atmosphere is close, fishy, rank, and pungent, the last quality being due to the wood smoke of the several fires. Neither is the exterior air better than that of the interior, for the ground is covered with heaps of putrefying heads, tails, and bones of fish, decaying mollusks, and refuse of all kinds, which is simply flung into heaps and never removed, the nostrils of the natives being incapable of feeling any annoyance from the horrible odor that arises from the decomposing heaps.

The ownership of these houses is rather a complicated question. The framework of the house is generally considered as being in several divisions, each division being called after the name of the owner, while the planks are the common property of the inhabitants.

When the Ahts wish to move to another spot, which is done for the purpose of changing to better fishing, hunting, and fruit grounds, according to the time of year, they always migrate by water. They place two large canoes about five or six feet apart, and connect them together with the planks of the roof and walls, which thus form a platform on which can be placed the stores and household goods. Mr. Sproat remarks that he has seen this platform heaped to a height of fourteen feet, only just enough space being left for the passengers. As soon as they arrive at their destination, the travellers unpack the boats, and, assisted by the slaves who have been sent forward in readiness, fix the boards on the already existing framework, so that in a very short time the house is ready for the occupants.

These migrations have one beneficial effect. While the people have deserted their villages, the birds, aided by the elements, the only scavengers of Vancouver’s Island, clear away a considerable portion of the heaps of putrefying rubbish, which would otherwise become too much even for native endurance.

In the meetings which are held within these houses the pipe naturally plays an important part; and, as the pipes made by these tribes differ from those of any other part of the world, a short description is here given of them. Both in shape and material these pipes are most remarkable. They seem to have been made for the express object of expending the greatest possible amount of labor upon the clumsiest possible pipe. I have seen and tried many of these pipes, and, except that they draw the smoke very well, there is not a redeeming point about them.

In the first place, they are carved--stem and bowl--out of solid stone, a sort of very dark slate. The upper figure in illustration No 2, on page 1357, which represents one of these pipes in my collection, shows the lightest and least cumbrous form of pipe. Although only eight inches in length, it weighs six ounces, no trifle for a pipe of that description. As is usually the case with these pipes, it is adorned with a human figure and a human head. The figure evidently represents a man seated in a canoe. On account of the details of dress, it seems likely that it is intended to represent a native--possibly the carver himself--in European costume, the features being of a strongly-marked Indian type, while the dress is European. This pipe was presented to me by Lieut. Pusey.

Sometimes the natives absolutely run riot in pipe making, and expend infinite labor in making pipes which look utterly unlike pipes, and which cannot be smoked without the very greatest inconvenience. The lower specimens represent two views of a pipe of this kind, belonging to T. W. Wood, Esq., which has apparently been made for the purpose of trying how many heads of men and birds could be compressed into a certain space. As the reader may observe, the whole character of this carving bears a very strong resemblance to the art of the ancient Mexicans, so strong, indeed, that it might almost be passed off as a specimen of that art.

In total length it is a very little more than eight inches, but from bowl to the mouth-piece it only measures five inches, the remaining three inches being simply superabundant material. The number of heads that the carver has contrived to introduce into this pipe is really wonderful, the ingenuity of combination, together with force of effect, being worthy of all praise, especially when the rudeness of the workmanship is considered. Taken as a work of art, it is admirable; taken as a pipe, it is detestable. It is so heavy that the mere exertion of holding it is fatiguing, and it is so thick and clumsy that it does not at all adapt itself to the lips. And, in so cold a climate, to grasp or to put to the lips such a piece of hard, cold stone, must involve very great inconvenience.

* * * * *

The religious ideas of the Aht tribes are, as may be expected, exceedingly vague, and are rendered still more so by the reticence which a savage always exhibits on such subjects. Mr. Sproat remarks that he lived for two years among the Ahts, with his mind constantly directed toward this subject, before he could discover whether the people believed in any overruling power, or had any idea of a future existence. He then proceeds to say that “a traveller must have lived for many years among savages, really as one of themselves, before his opinion as to their mental and spiritual condition is of any value at all.” How true this statement is, none know better than the missionaries, who find that even their most promising converts are almost as unwilling to give information on such subjects as they were during their state of heathenism.

It is, however, ascertained that the Ahts really have a belief in a deity and in a future state, and that they possess several legends on these subjects. Some of these legends treat of a certain Quawteaht, who made the earth and the animals, but would not give them fire, this being concealed in the body of the cuttle-fish. In those days they needed fire, because the Indians, who were afterward to people the earth, were hidden in their bodies. At last the deer succeeded in discovering the fire, and carried away some of it in the joint of his hind leg. The reader will doubtless perceive the similarity of this legend to the old myth of Prometheus.

As far as can be understood, this Quawteaht is the chief of their deities, but they have a whole host of minor divinities, who preside over the sea, the woods, and their inmates, as well as rule the elements. So, if a native sees a sudden breeze curl the surface of the sea, he thinks it signifies the approval of some spirit; and if he should hear a rustling in the woods for which he cannot account, or a sound which he does not recognize, he immediately puts it down to the presence of some demon or other.

As might be expected, there are plenty of medicine men, who have great power over the people, and are implicitly trusted by them. They have to go through a long and unpleasant ordeal before they can be admitted into the order of the “Allied,” as the medicine men call themselves. When their education is nearly finished, they go into the bush alone, and remain there for several days, fasting until they have received the spiritual gifts. The society of the Allied is encouraged by the chiefs, not from religious motives, but because they become enriched by it. No one can become an Allied unless he possesses considerable wealth, the whole of which he must give away before he can be admitted into the society. The act of giving away his property is done as ostentatiously as possible, the candidate being escorted by a large body of men, who shout and make as great a noise as they can. In front of them goes the candidate, with one end of a large rope round his waist, the other end being held by fifteen or twenty men, who pretend that all their strength is required in order to hold him back.

Captain Mayne relates a curious anecdote respecting the doings of these medicine men. He was called one evening to see a moon on the beach. On arriving at the spot he found that the men had made a flat disk of wax to represent the moon, and had painted a man upon it,--they having the belief, which is still prevalent among the illiterate of our own country, respecting a man who lives in the moon. They had lighted a torch and placed it behind the artificial moon, so as to illuminate it, and were supposed to be holding converse with its inhabitant, much to the awe of the surrounding crowd.

These medicine men seem to be divided into three parties, or sects. One of them does not appear to be particularly distinguished, but the other two gradually rise in circumstances of horror. The former sect is called the Dog-eaters, a portion of whose initiation is described by Mr. Duncan, and is illustrated on page 1367.

“Early in the morning the pupils would be out on the beach or on the rocks, in a state of nudity. Each had a place in front of his own tribe, nor did intense cold interfere in the slightest degree. After the poor creature had crept about, jerking his head and screaming for some time, a party of men would rush out, and, after surrounding him, would commence singing. The dog-eating party occasionally carried a dead dog to their pupil, who forthwith commenced to tear it in the most dog-like manner. The party of attendants kept up a low, growling noise, or a whoop, which was seconded by a screeching noise made from an instrument which they believe to be the abode of a spirit.

“In a little time the naked youth would start up again, and proceed a few more yards in a crouching posture, with his arms pushed out behind him, and tossing his flowing black hair. All the while he is earnestly watched by the group about him, and when he pleases to sit down, they again surround him and commence singing. This kind of thing goes on, with several little additions, for a time.

“Before the prodigy finally retires, he takes a run into every house belonging to his tribe, and is followed by his train. When this is done, in some cases he has a ramble on the tops of the same houses, during which he is anxiously watched by his attendants, as if they expected his flight. By and by he condescends to come down, and they then follow him to his den, which is signified by a rope made of red bark being hung over the doorway, so as to prevent any person from ignorantly violating its precincts. None are allowed to enter that house but those connected with the art: all I know, therefore, of their further proceedings is, that they keep up a furious hammering, singing, and screeching, for hours during the day.

Even this mode of initiation cannot be very pleasant, involving, as it does, the devouring of raw dog-flesh; but it is nothing in comparison to that of the most powerful and dreaded of the three sects, namely, the cannibals. Mr. Duncan was also a witness to part of the initiation of a cannibal Allied.

In order to give his assistance to the ceremony, a chief ordered one of his slaves, an old woman, to be killed, and her body flung into the sea. As soon as this was done, the whole of the uninitiated population left their houses and formed themselves into groups at a distance from the fatal spot, lest they should also become victims, a fear for which there was very good reason. Presently two bands of Allied men came rushing along, producing the most hideous sounds, each being headed by a candidate for membership.

The two candidates advanced with a long creeping step, waving their arms, and jerking their heads backward and forward, so as to make their long hair wave in the breeze. They pretended for some time to be seeking for the body, and at last they discovered it, and made a simultaneous rush at it. In a moment they were closely surrounded by their respective bands, but in a few minutes the crowd opened, and out passed the two men, each bearing half the body of the murdered woman, which they had actually torn in two with their hands and teeth alone. They then began devouring the body, when the spectator was unable to endure the sight any longer, and left the spot.

These cannibal medicine men are the dread of their country. At the cost of such revolting practices, as have been but very lightly touched, they gain such a complete influence over the people, that they can do exactly as they choose, no man daring to contradict them. Sometimes at a feast one of them will be taken with a fit of inspiration, and dash among the people, biting like a mad dog at every one whom he meets. On such occasions it is thought very manly and praiseworthy of the guests to welcome instead of repelling his attacks, and to offer their arms or shoulders for him to bite. The Allied cannibal responds to the invitation by biting at and swallowing a piece of the flesh, and the man who offers it thinks himself honored in proportion to the size of the piece that is removed. The wound thus made is not only productive of excruciating pain, but is also dangerous, many men having died from the effects of it. Yet they are willing to have both the pain and the danger for the sake of the honor which is conferred upon them.

The general public have very good reason for getting out of the way when one of these cannibals chooses to make an excursion in search of a human body. Should not one be found, the cannibal Allied who escort their companions would think themselves bound to provide a corpse for his eating, and would seize and kill the first person whom they might meet. Therefore, when the sound of the horrid cannibal songs is heard in the distance, the whole population of a village will desert their houses, take to their canoes, and remain at a distance from the shore until the danger is over for the time.

These medicine men are considered all-powerful in the cure of the sick, and are always called in when any one is ill. They almost invariably say that the malady is local, and that it is due to some object or other, which they can extract by their incantations. In the ceremonies which they employ, they make much use of a rattle, the material of which does not seem to be of much consequence, provided that it can only make a noise. For example, a favorite form is a hollow wooden case, carved like a bird or a frog, and containing a few stones. Some rattles, however, are made on totally different principles, and resemble the beetle-shell rattle of Guiana that is figured on page 1265. Captain Mayne saw one which was made of three or four dozen puffin-beaks strung loosely together.

Incisions are often made over the part affected, or the doctor uses the actual cautery by means of a moxa, made of a pledget of dried flax. These remedies often do have the effect of relieving pain, and when that is the case, the patient and his friends present the doctor with liberal gifts, all which, however, he is bound to return should a relapse come on and the patient die. They even say that, when they are violently excited by their incantations, they can see the soul of the patient, which they say is in the shape of a fly, with a long curved proboscis. One man, who had recovered from a dangerous illness, said that he had seen his own soul, which the medicine man had caught as it was escaping from the body, and had put back again.

The noise which these medicine men make at their incantations is almost indescribable. Mr. Sproat describes their howling as being perfectly demoniacal, and says that no wild beast could utter sounds so calculated to strike sudden horror into the heart. Even himself, though a white man, and in perfect security, has often shuddered at the savage yells of the mystery men. Indeed, their object is to keep up the dread in which they are held, and, in order to do this, they must ever be doing something to keep themselves before the eyes of the people.

Sometimes they will assemble together on the outskirts of the village, set up a furious howling, and then rush like a pack of wolves through the village, the cannibals and dog-eaters tearing to pieces with their teeth any corpses or dogs that they may find. Sometimes a single man will leave the place and bury himself in the woods, whence he will suddenly rush, quite naked, reduced to a skeleton through his long fast, with his body and limbs covered with wounds inflicted by himself in his mad violence, and with foam flying from his lips, while he utters wild yells and beats furiously his drum or shakes his magic rattle. As is the case in Africa, women as well as men can enter this sacred order, and exercise quite as powerful an influence over the people as do their male colleagues.

Sometimes a man will leap up in the night terrified, and crying that he sees a spirit. All within the house are at once in motion. The women begin to sing, while the visionary tears his blanket to pieces, snatches feathers from his pillow, eating some of them, and scattering the others over his head. His nearest relation then makes incisions in his legs and arms, receives the blood in a dish, and scatters it over the place where the spirit is supposed to be standing. Should the spirit withstand this exorcism, it is evident that he wants property. Accordingly the friends of the visionary throw his property on the fire; his clothes, his mats, and even the very boxes in which they were kept, go to make up the demands of the spirit, which will not take its leave until all the property has been destroyed.

* * * * *

The mode of disposal of the dead varies extremely among the different tribes, and even in the same tribe is not always uniform. The bodies of slaves and people of no consequence are simply taken to the burial-ground--which is usually a small island--wrapped in mats, and merely laid on the ground, covered with sticks and stones. The bodies of chiefs and young girls of rank are placed in boxes, and hoisted into the branches of trees, where they are allowed to remain. The rank of the person is indicated by the height to which the body is raised, that of a great chief or of his daughter being nearly at the top of the tree, while that of an inferior chief will be on one of the lowest branches.

Over the coffin are thrown blankets and mats, and similar articles are hung on the boughs of neighboring trees. They are always torn into strips, partly perhaps as a sign of mourning, and partly to guard them from being stolen. With the dead man is deposited all the property which he has not given away before his death, except his best canoe, his share of the roof and wall boards, his weapons, and his slaves, all of which belong by right to his eldest son. In some cases even his house is burned, and in others the posts are dug up, and the whole house transported to another position.

Near the bodies of chiefs are placed large wooden images intended to represent the dead man. One of them, seen by Mr. Sproat, held a skull in its hand, which it was grimly contemplating; another, which represented a deceased orator, had its hand outstretched as in the act of speaking; and a third was shown as if grasping a wolf. The relatives often visit their burial-places. They come about dark, light a great fire, and feed it with oil and other inflammable materials, while they wail loudly at intervals.

To the honor of these tribes, it may be said that they never disturb the relics of the departed, even if they occupy the burial-ground of a hostile tribe. In consequence of the mode of burial, nothing can have a more dreary or forlorn look than an island which has been selected as a burial-ground. On the branches of the trees are the mouldering bodies of the dead, and on their boughs flutter the tattered remains of their clothing. And on the ground the scene is no better, for it is occupied with decaying boards, broken boxes, shattered canoes, rotten paddles, and other emblems of decay.

When the dead chief has been a man of very great importance, his emblem or crest is either painted or carved. In the former case it is painted on the coffin, but in the latter it is generally placed on a post or a tree near the body. According to Mr. Duncan, if the crest should happen to be an eagle or a raven, it is carved as if in the act of flying, and fixed to the edge of the coffin with its wings spread, as if it were typical of the escaping and aspiring spirit of the dead chief.

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CXLV. ALASKA

MALEMUTES--INGELETES--CO-YUKONS.

LARGE STATURE -- THE TO-TOOK -- ORNAMENTS -- BAIDARRES -- UNDERGROUND HOUSES -- MALEMUTE DANCE -- CHIEF ALEUYANUK -- INGELETES -- HOUSES -- HONESTY -- CO-YUKONS -- DRESS -- MOURNING FOR THE DEAD -- WAKE -- DISPOSAL OF THE DEAD -- APPEARANCE OF THE WOMEN -- AFFECTION FOR CHILDREN -- COMMUNITY OF GOODS -- CHARACTER.

The United States Government having recently purchased the territory of Alaska, this work will be increased in value to the American public, by including some account of the uncivilized tribes which are its most numerous inhabitants.

At the mouth of the Unalachleet River is the most northern settlement on the coast, a Russian trading post. To the northwest of this post Mr. Whymper found a large village of Malemute and Kaveak Indians. They resemble the Esquimaux, except that they are a tall and stout race. It is not unusual to find men among them six feet in height, and some even taller than this. The men shave the crown of the head, and are fond of an ornament called the To-took. It is made by pieces of bone run through holes on either side of the face just below the mouth. The ornaments of the women, who are stout and good-humored, are a tattoo on the chin, beads hanging from their hair, and also leaden or iron bracelets. Both sexes wear skin clothing. The coat has a hood almost always, which is generally of wolf skin. Men and women alike wear pantaloons of seal or reindeer skin, the women having the socks attached and in one piece. The “baidarres” of these natives, similar to the Esquimaux kajak, are admirably made. The frames are light and strong, the skin covering being sewed with sinew, and the seams made water-tight by fat rubbed into them.

Their houses are usually underground, and have a tunnel, through which one must crawl to enter them. A hole in the roof--which is just above the surface of the ground--lets out the smoke. When there is no fire, this aperture is closely covered with a skin.

Mr. Whymper gives the following account of a dance to which he and his party were invited:--

“On arriving at the doorway, we found a subterranean passage, two and a half feet high, crawling through which we at last reached the room,--dimly lighted by blubber lamps. The Indians who were to take part in the dance, chiefly young men, were nude to the waist, and wore seal, deerskin or cotton pantaloons, with tails of wolves or dogs hanging behind, and feathers round their heads. The elders sat on a bench or shelf, running round the entire building, and looked on approvingly, while they consumed their own smoke, like the Tchuktchis, by swallowing it, and getting partially intoxicated thereby. The women brought in berries and fish in large ‘contogs,’ or wooden bowls.

“The performance commenced by the actors ranging themselves in a square, and raising these dishes of provisions to the four cardinal points successively, and once to the skies, with a sudden noise like ‘swish!’ or the flight of a rocket.

“Then came the feast; and that over, a monotonous chorus, with an accompaniment of gongs, was started. The words of the song commenced, ‘Yung i ya, i ya, i ya!’ and continued throughout, ‘Yung i ya!’ Then a boy sprang out on the floor; he was joined by a second, then a third, till a circle of twenty was formed. Now they appeared violently attracted together, and now as much repelled; now they were horrified at one another’s conduct, and held up their arms in warning gestures, and again all were friends and made pantomime of their happiness. In this performance there was nearly as much done by arms and bodies, as with feet. When there was a lull in the entertainment, small presents were given to all the strangers invited.”

The Malemutes and Kaveaks, though intermingling, and having similar habits, manners, and customs, yet speak different dialects and inhabit different parts of the territory. They are considered as superior to the other Indian tribes of that region. The Malemute chief “Aleuyanuk,” whom Mr. Whymper saw, “was a fine-looking old man, erect and soldierly, and, wearing a mustache and imperial, his manners would not have disgraced a civilized assembly.”

INGELETES.

The Ingeletes speak a dialect entirely different from that of the Malemutes,--one nearly allied to the Co-yukon. They are a stout, noble-looking race, good-natured, and having considerable intelligence.

Polygamy, though allowed, is not very common, and marriage is a permanent relation, except occasionally, when the wife is barren or has too many daughters. Female children not being prized so highly as sons, in such instances the wife is sometimes dismissed. They live in underground houses, such as have been described, and in mild, wet weather, the passage-way is nothing but a sewer. The entrance being covered with a skin, the mixture of foul smells inside, arising from stale fish and meat, old skins, dogs, dirt and smoke, is sickening and unendurable by any but an Indian. Mr. Whymper testifies to the good temper of the children and the honesty of the people. “At their villages our goods lay unguarded in our absence, and I cannot recall a single case of proved dishonesty among them, although we found them becoming more greedy in their demands for payment.”

THE CO-YUKONS.

The Co-yukons are an interior tribe, and the largest on the Yukon, which is the great river of the north, being 2,000 miles long, and navigable 1,000 miles. They may be found on the banks of the Co-yukuk, and other interior rivers. These Indians resemble the Ingeletes, already mentioned, but have a more ferocious countenance. Their dress is a double-tailed coat, one tail before, the other behind, and this style, with some modifications, prevails for a thousand miles on the Yukon.

The dress of the women is cut more squarely, and they wear an ornament of Hy-a-qua shells on the nose, which runs through a hole made in the cartilage between the nostrils. It is a singular fact that higher up the river it is the men only who wear this ornament.

Among these tribes the period of mourning for the dead is one year, the women during this time often gathering to talk and cry over the deceased. At the end of the year, they have a feast or “wake,” which is generally a queer compound of jollity and grief. One such scene, to commemorate the death of a child, was witnessed by Mr. Whymper at Nulato. “The poor old mother and some of her friends wept bitterly, while the guests were gayly dancing round a painted pole, on which strings of beads and some magnificent wolf skins were hung. They kept up singing and dancing to a fashionable hour of the morning, and one little savage, who had been shouting at the top of his lungs for hours, got up the next day without any voice at all, a case of righteous retribution. The decorations of the pole were divided among those who took part in the ‘wake.’”

Their method of disposing of the dead is not interment, but enclosure in oblong boxes, raised on posts. These are sometimes ornamented with strips of skin, and the possessions of the deceased, as the canoe, paddles, &c., are placed on the top of the box. Smaller articles are placed within the box. This four-post coffin is a custom also among the coast tribes already described. The women are quite prepossessing in appearance, are affectionate toward their children, and especially fond of their first-born. They are good-natured and playful, snowballing and rolling each other in the snow, sliding down hill on sledges or snow-shoes, with the enthusiasm of children.

There are other tribes, the names of which need only be mentioned, viz: the Kotch-a-Kutchins (or lowland people), the Au Kutchins, the Tatauchok Kutchins, Birch River and Rat River Indians. The Zanana Indians (or knoll people), Mr. Whymper thinks are the most unsophisticated of all the Indian tribes of the present day. Those he saw “were gay with painted faces, feathers in their long hair, patches of red clay at the back of their heads, covered with small fluffy feathers, double-tailed coats and pantaloons of buckskin, much adorned with fringes and beads, and elaborately worked fire-bags and belts.” Many of them, as in other Indian tribes, wore through the nose the Hy-a-qua shell as an ornament. The women of the upper tribes wear less ornament than the men, and are compelled to do more drudgery than those of the lower Yukon and coast of Alaska.

Among the coast tribes, and especially on the Yukon, there is, to some extent, a community of goods, the industrious hunter supplying the village crowd. This is a custom so much practised that the hunter gets no praise for his service. Some of the chiefs maintain their position by frequent distributions of their effects, and the game which they, being good hunters, have been able to take. “These chiefs are often the worst clothed and worst fed of all the tribe. Such generosity is expected as a matter of course. No man, woman, or child among them goes unfed, unhoused, or unwarmed, if there be food, dwelling, or fire in the settlement.”

Among the tribes of Alaska, a system of slavery exists that can hardly be surpassed for barbarism. They all buy and sell slaves. “Parents will sell their children for three or four blankets or a few dollars, and have no compunction of conscience for the use they may be put to in the future. When one tribe goes to war with another, all the prisoners taken by either tribe are called and used as slaves. When a chief or any of his family dies, it is the custom to kill one or more of these slaves, so that the chief or his deceased relative may have a servant in the other world to wait on him. In 1868 an old chief of the Sitka tribe died, and a few days before his death, when his relatives were satisfied that he could live but a short time, they selected as a victim for sacrifice a young, healthy, good-looking warrior, whom the Sitka tribe had taken prisoner while at war with one of the tribes down near Queen Charlotte’s Sound. The slave had been tied up two days about the time the old chief died, and by some means some of his friends were apprised of his condition, and immediately notified Gen. Davis that the Indian slave was liable to be killed at any moment. Gen. Davis had one of the chiefs brought before him, and after a long conversation about the foolishness of such sacrifices, he agreed to let the slave go free; and lest they might attempt to put into execution their original idea of killing him, the General permitted the Indian to remain in the city, where he would be protected.

“Recently one of the chiefs tried hard to get hold of a half-breed, named Evanoff, to sacrifice him. For the two preceding weeks this chief would go up every day to Gen. Davis, stating that he had a slave in the city, and wanting to know if he could not get him into Indiantown. The General, supposing the chief wanted one of his Indians, told him to go and get him, but it was not until the day in question that the effort was made to get this man. It seems that Evanoff’s mother was an Indian woman, but his father was a Russian, and when he was but three years of age a lady named Bengeman adopted and brought him up. The chief who claimed him had a child that was expected to die, and afterward did die. Having no slave but his claim on Evanoff, he made this effort to sacrifice him that he might be a servant for his child in the spirit world. When the general saw whom the chief claimed, in a very few well-timed words he taught him and several of his warriors more about civilization than ever they knew before. He asked the chief what he wanted with this man. Pointing to Evanoff, the Indian told him his child was sick, and he only wanted him for three hours, and then he would let him go free. The General told him that the best thing he could do was to look on Evanoff as a free man already, and warned the Indian if in the future he should ever attempt to trouble Evanoff again, he would put him in the guard-house and keep him there. The Indian went off well pleased, and stated that he would be a good Indian thereafter.

“The slaves are put to death as follows. As soon as a chief dies, the slave is compelled to wash the body of the corpse; and is then taken out and thrown flat on his back and held there, when a stick of wood is placed across his throat, and two Indians sit down on each end of it, and in this way strangle him to death. His body is then placed inside a large pile of wood and burned to ashes. It is customary when a big chief dies to put to death two or more slaves. All slaves taken in war have to act as servants for the chiefs who own them.”--(Sitka Times of Nov. 27, 1869.)

The Indian population of the whole territory of Alaska is estimated at about 30,000. They are peaceful and quite capable, learning quickly, and exhibiting considerable skill in their utensils and weapons.

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CXLVI. SIBERIA

THE TCHUKTCHI--JAKUTS--TUNGUSI.

HOME OF THE TCHUKTCHI -- INDEPENDENCE -- DISTRICT OF THE RUSSIANS -- CARAVANS -- INTOXICATION BY TOBACCO -- FAIR OF OSTROWNOJE -- GRAVITY OF THE TCHUKTCHI -- THEIR TENT -- MADAME LEÜTT -- HOSPITALITY -- SHAMANISM -- HUMAN SACRIFICE -- POLYGAMY -- MURDER OF THE AGED -- JAKUTS -- THEIR ENDURANCE -- RESERVE -- SUPERSTITION -- THE TUNGUSI -- DIFFERENT TRIBES -- CANNIBALISM -- ORNAMENTS -- BRAVERY -- DIET -- SHAMANISM -- DISPOSAL OF THE DEAD -- A NIGHT’S HALT WITH THE TUNGUSI IN THE FOREST -- SPORTS -- FAIRS.

Crossing Behring’s Straits into Asia, we find in Northern Siberia several peoples whose condition and character bring them within the scope of this work.

The home of the TCHUKTCHI is at the extreme north-eastern point of Asia; bounded by the Polar Ocean on one side, and by Behring Sea on the other. It is, as the few travellers who have visited it say, one of the dreariest regions of the earth. There is no indication of summer before July 20th, and winter begins about the 20th of August. The sea coasts abound with seals, sea-lions, and walruses; while the wolf, reindeer, and Arctic fox abound in the interior. In this cold, desolate region dwell the only aboriginal race of Northern Asia that has resisted all attempts of the Russian government to take away its independence. Dr. Hartwig, in his sketch of this tribe, says: “The rulers of Siberia have confined them within narrower limits, but they obey no foreign leader, and wander unmolested, with their numerous reindeer herds, over the naked tundras.”

A natural distrust of their powerful neighbors has rendered them long unwilling to enter into any commercial intercourse with the Russians, and to meet them at the fair of Ostrownoje, a small town, situated not far from their frontiers, on a small island of the Aninj, in 68° N. lat.

From the East Cape of Asia, where, crossing Behring’s Strait in boats covered with skins, they barter furs and walrus teeth with the natives of America, the Tchuktchi come with their goods and tents drawn on sledges to the fair of Ostrownoje. One of these caravans generally consists of fifty or sixty families, and one fair is scarcely at an end when they set off to make their arrangements for the next.

Tobacco is the primum mobile of the trade which centres in Ostrownoje. Their pipes are of a peculiar character, larger at the stem than the bowl, which holds a very small quantity of tobacco. In smoking, they swallow the fumes of the tobacco, and often, after six or eight whiffs, fall back, completely intoxicated for the time.

But Ostrownoje attracts not only Tchuktchi and Russians; a great number of the Siberian tribes, from a vast circuit of 1,000 or 1,500 versts,--Jukahiri, Lamutes, Tungusi, Tschuwanzi, Koriacks,--also come flocking in their sledges, drawn partly by dogs, partly by horses, for the purpose of bartering their commodities against the goods of the Tchuktchi. Fancy this barbarous assembly meeting every year during the intense cold and short days of the beginning of March. Picture to yourself the fantastic illumination of their red watch-fires blazing under the starry firmament, or mingling their ruddy glare with the aurora flickering through the skies, and add to the strange sight the hollow sound of the Shaman’s drum, and the howling of several hundreds of hungry dogs, and you will surely confess that no fair has a more original character than that of Ostrownoje.

The imperturbable gravity of the Tchuktch forms a remarkable contrast with the greedy eagerness of the Russian trader. Although the Tchuktchi have no scales with them, it is not easy to deceive them in the weight, for they know exactly by the feeling of the hand whether a quarter of a pound is wanting to the pound. The whole fair seldom lasts longer than three days, and Ostrownoje, which must have but very few stationary inhabitants indeed (as it is not even mentioned in statistical accounts, which cite towns of seventeen souls), is soon after abandoned for many months to its ultra-Siberian solitude.

But before we allow the Tchuktchi to retire to their deserts, we may learn something more of their habits by accompanying Mr. Matiuschkin Wrangell’s companion on a visit to the ladies of one of their first chiefs. “We enter the outer tent, or ‘wamet,’ consisting of tanned reindeer skins supported on a slender framework. An opening at the top to let out the smoke, and a kettle in the centre, announce that antechamber and kitchen are here harmoniously blended into one. But where are the inmates? Most probably in that large sack made of the finest skins of reindeer calves, which occupies, near the kettle, the centre of the ‘wamet.’ To penetrate into this sanctum sanctorum of the Tchuktch household, we raise the loose flap which serves as a door, creep on all-fours through the opening, cautiously re-fasten the flap by tucking it under the floor-skin, and find ourselves in the reception or withdrawing-room,--the ‘polog.’ A snug box, no doubt, for a cold climate, but rather low, as we cannot stand upright in it, and not quite so well ventilated as a sanitary commissioner would approve of, as it has positively no opening for light or air. A suffocating smoke meets us on entering. We rub our eyes, and when they have at length got accustomed to the biting atmosphere, we perceive, by the gloomy light of a train-oil lamp, the worthy family squatting on the floor in a state of almost complete nudity. Without being in the least embarrassed, Madame Leütt and her daughter receive us in their primitive costume. But, to show us that the Tchuktchi know how to receive company, and to do honor to their guests, they immediately insert strings of glass beads in their greasy hair. Their hospitality equals their politeness; for, instead of a cold reception, a hot dish of boiled reindeer flesh, copiously irrigated with rancid train-oil by the experienced hand of the mistress of the household, is soon after smoking before us. Unfortunately, our effeminate taste is not up to the haut goût of her culinary art, and while Mr. Leütt does ample justice to the artistic talent of his spouse, by rapidly bolting down pieces as large as a fist, we are hardly able to swallow a morsel.”

Though most of the Reindeer or nomadic Tchuktchi have been baptized, yet Wrangell supposes the ceremony to have been a mere financial speculation on their part, and is convinced that the power of the Shamans is still as great as ever. An epidemic had carried off a great number of persons, and also whole herds of reindeer. In vain the Shamans had recourse to their usual conjurations. The plague continued. They consulted together, and directed that one of their most respected chiefs, named Kotschen, must be sacrificed, to appease the irritated spirits. Kotschen was willing to submit to the sentence, but none could be found to execute it, until his own son, prevailed on by his father’s exhortations, and terrified by his threatened curse, plunged a knife into his heart, and gave his body to the Shamans.

Polygamy is general among the Tchuktchi, and they change their wives as often as they please. Still, though the women are certainly slaves, they are allowed more influence, and are subjected to less labor, than among many savages. Among other heathenish and detestable customs, is that of killing all deformed children, and all old people as soon as they become unfit for the hardships and fatigues of a nomad life. They do not indulge in any needless cruelty, but stupefy the aged victim, by putting some substance up the nostrils before opening a vein. Two years before Wrangell’s arrival at Kolyma there was an instance of this in the case of one of their richest chiefs. Waletka’s father became infirm and tired of life, and was put to death at his own express desire, by some of his nearest relations.

The number of the Tchuktchi is greater than one might expect to find in so sterile a country. According to the Russian missionaries, there were, some years back, 52 ulusses or villages of the Onkilon (or stationary Tchuktchi), with 1,568 tents, and 10,000 inhabitants, and Wrangell tells us that the Tennygk (or Reindeer Tchuktchi), are at least twice as numerous, so that the entire population of the land of the Tchuktchi may possibly amount to 30,000.

JAKUTS.

The Jakuts are the most energetic of these races, having reached a higher civilization than the others in the same latitude, with the exception of Iceland, Finland, and Norway. They are a pastoral people, hospitable, possess considerable mechanical skill, and are so shrewd and cunning that no Russian can compete with them.

“Even in Siberia,” Wrangell says, “they are called ‘men of iron.’ Often have I seen them sleeping at a temperature of 4° in the open air, and with a thick ice rind covering their almost unprotected bodies.”

Though reserved and unsocial, they are kind to strangers that need assistance. They are the universal carriers to the east of the Lena. Bidding defiance to the cold and the storm, fearing neither the gloom of the forest nor the dangers of the icy stream, yet they are not emancipated from the old belief in Schamanism--the dread of evil spirits. They number about 200,000, and form the principal part of the population of the vast and dreary province of Jakutsk.

THE TUNGUSI.

This race having spread over East Siberia, driving before them the Jakuts, Jukahiri, Tchuktchi, and other aboriginal tribes, were conquered by the Russians, and are now as ignorant and uncivilized as they were two hundred and fifty years ago. Dr. Hartwig, deriving his information from Wrangell, the Arctic explorer, thus sketches the traits of this people:--

“According to their occupations, and the various domestic animals employed by them, they are distinguished by the names of Reindeer, Horse, Dog, Forest, and River Tungusi; but, although they are found from the basins of the Upper, Middle, and Lower Tunguska, to the western shore of the sea of Ochotsk, and from the Chinese frontiers and the Baikal to the Polar Ocean, their whole number does not amount to more than 30,000, and diminishes from year to year, in consequence of the ravages of the small-pox and other epidemic disorders transmitted to them by the Russians. Only a few rear horses and cattle, the reindeer being generally their domestic animal; and the impoverished Tunguse, who has been deprived of his herd by some contagious disorder, or the ravages of the wolves, lives as a fisherman on the borders of a river, assisted by his dog, or retires into the forests as a promyschlenik, or hunter.”

Of the miseries which here await him, Wrangell relates a melancholy instance. In a solitary hut, in one of the dreariest wildernesses imaginable, he found a Tunguse and his daughter. While the father, with his long snow-shoes, was pursuing a reindeer for several days together, this unfortunate girl remained alone and helpless in the hut,--which even in summer afforded but an imperfect shelter against the rain and wind,--exposed to the cold, and frequently to hunger, and without the least occupation. No wonder that the impoverished Tungusi not seldom sink into cannibalism. Neither the reindeer nor the dogs, nor the wives and children of their more fortunate countrymen, are secure from the attacks and voracity of these outcasts, who, in their turn, are treated like wild beasts, and destroyed without mercy. A bartering trade is, however, carried on with them, but only at a distance, and by signs; each party depositing its goods, and following every motion of the other with a suspicious eye.

The Russian government, anxious to relieve the misery of the impoverished nomads, has given orders to settle them along the river banks, and to provide them with the necessary fishing implements; but only extreme wretchedness can induce the Tunguse to relinquish his free life of the forest. His careless temper, his ready wit, and sprightly manner, distinguish him from the other Siberian tribes,--the gloomy Samoïede, the uncouth Ostiak, the reserved Jakut,--but he is said to be full of deceit and malice. His vanity shows itself in the quantity of glass beads with which he decorates his dress of reindeer leather, from his small Tartar cap to the tips of his shoes. When chasing or travelling on his reindeer through the woods, he of course lays aside most of his finery, and puts on large water-tight boots, or sari, well greased with fat, to keep off the wet of the morass. His hunting apparatus is extremely simple. A small axe, a kettle, a leathern bag containing some dried fish, a dog, a short gun, or merely a bow and a sling, is all he requires for his expeditions into the forest. With the assistance of his long and narrow snow-shoes, he flies over the dazzling plains, and protects his eyes, like the Jakut, with a net made of black horse-hair. He never hesitates to attack the bear single-handed, and generally masters him. The nomad Tunguse naturally requires a movable dwelling. His tent is covered with leather, or large pieces of pliable bark, which are easily rolled up and transported from place to place. The yourt of the sedentary Tunguse resembles that of the Jakut, and is so small that it can be very quickly and thoroughly warmed by a fire kindled on the stone hearth in the centre. In his food the Tunguse is by no means dainty. One of his favorite dishes consists of the contents of a reindeer’s stomach mixed with wild berries, and spread out in thin cakes on the rind of trees, to be dried in the air or in the sun. Those who have settled on the Wiluj and in the neighborhood of Nertschinsk likewise consume large quantities of brick tea, which they boil with fat and berries into a thick porridge, and this unwholesome food adds, no doubt, to the yellowness of their complexion.

But few of the Tungusi have been converted to Christianity, the majority being still addicted to Shamanism. They do not like to bury their dead, but place them, in their holiday dresses, in large chests, which they hang up between two trees. The hunting apparatus of the deceased is buried beneath the chest. No ceremonies are used on the occasion, except when a Shaman happens to be in the neighborhood, when a reindeer is sacrificed, on whose flesh the sorcerer and the relatives regale themselves, while the spirits to whom the animal is supposed to be offered are obliged to content themselves with the smell of the burnt fat. As among the Samoïedes or the Ostiaks, woman is a marketable ware among the Tungusi. The father gives his daughter in marriage for twenty or a hundred reindeer, or the bridegroom is obliged to earn her hand by a long period of service.

In East Siberia the Tungusi divide with the Jakuts the task of conveying goods or travellers through the forests, and afford the stranger frequent opportunities for admiring their agility and good humor. On halting after a day’s journey, the reindeer are unpacked in an instant, the saddles and the goods ranged orderly on the ground, and the bridles collected are hung on branches of trees.

Comfortably seated on his reindeer saddle, the traveller may now amuse himself with the dances, which the Tungusi accompany with an agreeable song; or, if he choose to witness their agility in athletic exercises, it only costs him a word of encouragement and a small donation of brandy. Two of the Tungusi hold a rope, and swing it with all their might, so that it does not touch the ground. Meanwhile a third Tunguse skips over the rope, picks up a bow and arrow, spans the bow and shoots the arrow, without once touching the rope. Some particularly bold and expert Tungusi will dance over a sword which a person lying on his back on the ground is swinging about with the greatest rapidity. Should our traveller be a friend of chess, the Tungusi are equally at his service, as they are passionately fond of this noblest of games, especially in the Kolymsk district.

Like all other Siberian nomads, they visit, at least once a year, the various fairs which are held in the small towns scattered here and there over their immense territory, such as Kirensk, Olekminsk, Bargusin and Ochotsk, which, before the opening of Amoor to trade, was the chief port of East Siberia.

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CXLVII. SIBERIA--Concluded

THE SAMOÏEDES AND OSTIAKS.

THEIR BARBARISM -- NUM, OR JILIBEAMBAERTJE -- SHAMANISM -- SAMOÏEDE IDOLS -- SJADÆI -- HAHE -- THE TADEBTSIOS, OR SPIRITS -- THE TADIBES, OR SORCERERS -- THEIR DRESS -- THEIR INVOCATIONS -- THEIR CONJURING TRICKS -- REVERENCE PAID TO THE DEAD -- A SAMOÏEDE OATH -- APPEARANCE OF THE SAMOÏEDES -- THEIR DRESS -- A SAMOÏEDE BELLE -- CHARACTER OF THE SAMOÏEDES -- THEIR DECREASING NUMBERS -- TRADITIONS OF ANCIENT HEROES -- OSTIAKS -- WHAT IS THE OBI? -- A SUMMER YOURT -- POVERTY OF OSTIAK FISHERMEN -- A WINTER YOURT -- ATTACHMENT OF OSTIAKS TO THEIR ANCIENT CUSTOMS -- ARCHERY -- APPEARANCE AND CHARACTER OF THE OSTIAKS.

The Samoïedes, the neighbors of the Laplanders, are still farther removed from civilized society, and plunged in even deeper barbarism. The wildest tundras and woods of Northern Russia and Western Siberia are the home of the Samoïede. With his reindeer herds he wanders over the naked wastes, from the eastern coasts of the White Sea to the banks of the Chatanga, or hunts in the boundless forests between the Obi and the Jenissei. His intercourse with the Russians is confined to his annual visit at the fairs of such miserable settlements as Obdorsk and Pustosersk, where, far from improving by their company, he but too often becomes the prey of their avarice, and learns to know them merely as cheats and oppressors. Protestant missionaries have long since brought instruction to the Laplander’s hut, but the majority of the less fortunate Samoïedes still adhere to the gross superstitions of their fathers. They believe in a Supreme Being,--Num, or Jilibeambaertje,--who resides in the air, and, like the Jupiter of old, sends down thunder and lightning, rain and snow; and as a proof that something of a poetic fancy is to be found even among the most savage nations, they call the rainbow “the hem of his garment.” As this deity, however, is too far removed from them to leave them any hope of gaining his favor, they never think of offering him either prayer or sacrifice. But, besides Num, there are a great many inferior spirits, or idols, who directly interfere in human concerns,--capricious beings, who allow themselves to be influenced by offerings, or yield to magical incantations; and to these, therefore, the Samoïede has recourse when he feels the necessity of invoking the aid or averting the wrath of a higher power.

The chief of all Samoïede idols is in the island of Waygatz,--a cold and melancholy Delos,--where it was already found by old Barentz. This idol is a mere block of stone, with its head tapering to a point. It has thus been fashioned, not by a mortal artist, but by a play of nature. After this original the Samoïedes have formed many idols of stone or wood of various sizes, which they call “Sjadæi,” from their possessing a human physiognomy (sja). These idols they dress in reindeer skins, and ornament them with all sorts of colored rags. But a resemblance to the human form is not the necessary attribute of a Samoïede idol; any irregularly shaped stone or tree may be thus distinguished.

If the object is small, the savage carries it everywhere about with him, carefully wrapped up; if too cumbersome to be transported, it is reserved as a kind of national deity. As with the Ostiaks, each Samoïede tribe has in its train a peculiar sledge,--the Hahengan,--in which the household idols (or Hahe) are placed. One of these Penates protects the reindeer, another watches over the health of his worshippers, a third is the guardian of their connubial happiness, a fourth takes care to fill their nets with fish. Whenever his services are required, the Hahe is taken from his repository, and erected in the tent or on the pasture ground, in the wood or on the river’s bank.

His mouth is then smeared with oil or blood, and a dish with fish or flesh is set before him, in the full expectation that his good offices will amply repay the savory repast. When his aid is no longer necessary, he is put aside without any further ceremony, and as little noticed as the Madonna of the Neapolitan fisherman after the storm has ceased.

The Hahe, or idols, are very convenient objects of reverence to the Samoïede, as he can consult them, or ask their assistance, without being initiated in the secrets of magic; while the Tadebtsios, or invisible spirits, which everywhere hover about in the air, and are more inclined to injure than to benefit man, can only be invoked by a Tadibe, or sorcerer, who, like the Cumæan sibyl, works himself into a state of ecstatic frenzy. When his services are required, the first care of the Tadibe is to invest himself with his magical mantle,--a kind of shirt made of reindeer leather, and hemmed with red cloth. The seams are covered in a similar manner, and the shoulders are decorated with epaulettes of the same gaudy material. A piece of red cloth veils the eyes and face,--for the Tadibe requires no external organs of sight to penetrate into the world of spirits,--and a plate of polished metal shines upon his breast.

Thus accoutred, the Tadibe seizes his magical drum, whose sounds summon the spirits to his will. Its form is round, it has but one bottom, made of reindeer skin, and is more or less decorated with brass rings, and other ornaments, according to the wealth or poverty of its possessor. During the ceremony of invocation, the Tadibe is generally assisted by a disciple, more or less initiated in the magic art. They either sit down, or walk about in a circle. The chief sorcerer beats the drum, at first slowly, then with increasing violence, singing at the same time a few words to a mystic melody. The disciple immediately falls in, and both repeat the same monotonous chant.

At length the spirits appear, and the consultation is supposed to begin; the Tadibe from time to time remaining silent, as if listening to their answers, and but gently beating his drum, while the assistant continues to sing. Finally, this mute conversation ceases, the song changes into a wild howling, the drum is violently struck, the eye of the Tadibe glows with a strange fire, foam issues from his lips, when suddenly the uproar ceases, and the oracular sentence is pronounced. The Tadibes are consulted, not only for the purpose of recovering a strange reindeer, or to preserve the herd from a contagious disorder, or to obtain success in fishing. The Samoïede, when a prey to illness, seeks no other medical advice; and the sorcerer’s drum either scares away the malevolent spirits that cause the malady, or summons other to the assistance of his patient.

Besides dealing with the invisible world, the Tadibe does not neglect the usual arts of an expert conjurer, and knows by this means how to increase his influence over his simple-minded countrymen. One of his commonest tricks is similar to that which has been practised with so much success by the brothers Davenport. He sits down, with his hands and feet bound, on a reindeer skin stretched out upon the floor, and, the light being removed, begins to summon the ministering spirits to his aid. Strange, unearthly noises now begin to be heard; bears growl, snakes hiss, squirrels rustle about the hut. At length the tumult ceases, the audience anxiously awaits the end of the spectacle, when suddenly the Tadibe, freed from his bonds, steps into the hut, no one doubting that the spirits have set him free.

As barbarous as the poor wretches who submit to his guidance, the Tadibe is incapable of improving their moral condition, and has no wish to do so. Under various names,--Schamans among the Tungusi, Angekoks among the Esquimaux, medicine-men among the North American Indians,--we find similar magicians or impostors assuming a spiritual dictatorship over all the Arctic nations of the Old and the New World, wherever their authority has not been broken by Christianity or Buddhism. This dreary faith still extends its influence over at least half a million of souls, from the White Sea to the extremity of Asia, and from the Pacific to Hudson’s Bay.

Like the Ostiaks and other Siberian tribes, the Samoïedes honor the memory of the dead by sacrifices and other ceremonies. They believe that their deceased friends have still the same wants and pursue the same occupations as when in the land of the living; and thus they place in or about their graves a sledge, a spear, a cooking-pot, a knife, an axe, etc., to assist them in procuring and preparing their food. At the funeral, and for several years afterward, the relations sacrifice reindeer over the grave. When a person of note, a prince, a Starschina, the proprietor of numerous herds of reindeer, dies (for even among the miserable Samoïedes we find the social distinctions of rich and poor), the nearest relations make an image, which is placed in the tent of the deceased, and enjoys the respect paid to him during his lifetime. At every meal the image is placed in his former seat, and every evening it is undressed and laid down in his bed. During three years the image is thus honored, and then buried; for by this time the body is supposed to be decayed, and to have lost all sensation of the past. The souls of the Tadibes, and of those who have died a violent death, alone enjoy the privilege of immortality, and after their terrestrial life hover about in the air as unsubstantial spirits.

Like the Ostiaks, the Samoïedes consider the taking of an oath as an action of the highest religious importance. When a crime has been secretly committed against a Samoïede, he has the right to demand an oath from the suspected person.

If no wooden or stone Hahe is at hand, he manufactures one of earth or snow, leads his opponent to the image, sacrifices a dog, breaks the image, and then addresses him with the following words: “If thou hast committed this crime, then must thou perish like this dog.” The ill consequences of perjury are so much dreaded by the Samoïedes,--who, though they have but very faint ideas of a future state, firmly believe that crime will be punished in this life: murder with violent death, or robbery by losses of reindeer,--that the true criminal, when called upon to swear, hardly ever submits to the ceremony, but rather at once confesses his guilt, and pays the penalty.

The most effectual security for an oath is that it should be solemnized over the snout of a bear,--an animal which is highly revered by all the Siberian tribes, from the Kamschatkans to the Samoïedes, as well as by the Laplanders. Like the Laplanders, they believe that the bear conceals under his shaggy coat a human shape with more than human wisdom, and speak of him in terms of the highest reverence. Like the Lapps, also, they will drive an arrow or a bullet through his skin; but they preface the attack with so many compliments that they feel sure of disarming his anger.

The appearance of the Samoïedes is as wild as the country which they inhabit. The dwarfish stature of the Ostiak or the Lapp, thick lips, small eyes, a low forehead, a broad nose, so much flattened that the end is nearly upon a level with the bone of the upper jaw (which is strong and greatly elevated), raven-black, shaggy hair, a thin beard, and a yellow-brown complexion, are their characteristic features, and in general they do nothing to improve a form which has but little natural beauty to boast of. The Samoïede is satisfied if his heavy reindeer dress affords him protection against the cold and rain, and cares little if it be dirty or ill-cut; some dandies, however, wear furs trimmed with cloth of a gaudy color. The women, as long as they are unmarried, take some pains with their persons; and when a Samoïede girl, with her small and lively black eyes, appears in her reindeer jacket tightly fitting round the waist, and trimmed with dog-skin, in her scarlet moccasins, and her long, black tresses, ornamented with pieces of brass or tin, she may well tempt some rich admirer to offer a whole herd of reindeer for her hand. For among the Samoïedes no father ever thinks of bestowing a portion on his daughter; on the contrary, he expects from the bridegroom an equivalent for the services which he is about to lose by her marriage. The consequence of this degrading custom is that the husband treats his consort like a slave, or as an inferior being. A Samoïede, who had murdered his wife, was quite surprised at being summoned before a court of justice, for what he considered a trifling offence; “he had honestly paid for her,” he said, “and could surely do what he liked with his own.”

The senses and faculties of the Samoïedes correspond to their mode of life as nomads and hunters. They have a piercing eye, delicate hearing, and a steady hand; they shoot an arrow with great accuracy, and are swift runners.

The Samoïede is good-natured, melancholy, and phlegmatic. He has, indeed, but indistinct notions of right and wrong, of good and evil; but he possesses a grateful heart, and is ready to divide his last morsel with his friend. Cruelty, revenge, the darker crimes that pollute so many of the savage tribes of the tropical zone, are foreign to his character. Constantly at war with a dreadful climate, a prey to ignorance and poverty, he regards most of the things of this life with supreme indifference.

A common trait in the character of all Samoïedes is the gloomy view which they take of life and its concerns; their internal world is as cheerless as that which surrounds them. True men of ice and snow, they relinquish, without a murmur, a life which they can hardly love, as it imposes upon them many privations, and affords them but few pleasures in return.

The entire number of the European and Asiatic Samoïedes is estimated at no more than about 10,000, and this number, small as it is when compared to the vast territory over which they roam, is still decreasing from year to year. Before their subjugation by the Russians, the Samoïedes were frequently at war with their neighbors, the Ostiaks, the Woguls, and the Tartars, and the rude poems which celebrate the deeds of the heroes of old are still sung in the tents of their peaceful descendants. The minstrel, or troubadour,--if I may be allowed to use these names while speaking of the rudest of mankind,--is seated in the centre of the hut, while the audience squat around. His gesticulations endeavor to express his sympathy with his hero. His body trembles, his voice quivers, and during the more pathetic parts of his story, tears start to his eyes, and he covers his face with his left hand, while the right, holding an arrow, directs its point to the ground. The audience generally keep silence, but their groans accompany the hero’s death; or when he soars upon an eagle to the clouds, and thus escapes the malice of his enemies, they express their delight by a triumphant shout.

THE OSTIAKS.

What is the Obi? “One of the most melancholy rivers on earth,” say the few European travellers who have ever seen it roll its turbid waters through the wilderness; “its monotonous banks a dreary succession of swamps and dismal pine forests, and hardly a living creature to be seen, but cranes, wild ducks, and geese.” If you address the same question to one of the few Russians who have settled on its banks, he answers, with a devout mien, “Obi is our mother”; but if you ask the Ostiak, he bursts forth in a laconic but energetic phrase, “Obi is the god whom we honor above all other gods.”

To him the Obi is a source of life. With its salmon and sturgeon he pays his taxes and debts, and buys his few luxuries; while the fishes of inferior quality which get entangled in his net he keeps for his own consumption and that of his faithful dog, eating them mostly raw, so that the perch not seldom feels his teeth as soon as it is pulled out of the water. In spring, when the Obi and its tributaries burst their bonds of ice, and the floods sweep over the plains, the Ostiak is frequently driven into the woods, where he finds but little to appease his hunger. At length, however, the waters subside, the flat banks of the river appear above their surface, and the savage erects his summer hut close to its stream. This hovel has generally a quadrangular form, low walls, and a high-pointed roof, made of willow branches covered with large pieces of bark. These, having first been softened by boiling, are sewed together, so as to form large mats or carpets, easily rolled up and transported. The hearth, a mere hole inclosed by a few stones, is in the centre, and the smoke escapes through an aperture at the top. Close to the hut there is also, generally, a small store-house erected on high poles, as in Lapland; for the provisions must be secured against the attacks of the glutton, the wolf, or the owner’s dogs.

At the beginning of winter the Ostiaks retire into the woods, where they find, at least, some protection against the Arctic blasts, and are busy hunting the sable or squirrel; but as fishing affords them at all times their chief food, they take care to establish their winter huts on some eminence above the reach of the spring inundations, near some small river, which, through holes made in the ice, affords their nets and anglers a precarious supply. Their winter yourt is somewhat more solidly constructed than their summer residence, as it is not removed every year. It is low and small, and its walls are plastered with clay. Light is admitted through a piece of ice inserted in the wall or on the roof.

Besides those who live solely upon fishes and birds of passage, there are other Ostiaks who possess reindeer herds, and wander in summer to the border of the Polar Sea, where they also catch seals and fish. When winter approaches, they slowly return to the woods. Finally, in the more southerly districts, there are some Ostiaks who, having entirely adopted the Russian mode of life, cultivate the soil, keep cattle, or earn their livelihood as carriers.

In general, however, the Ostiak, like the Samoïede, obstinately withstands all innovations, and remains true to the customs of his forefathers. He has been so often deceived by the Russians that he is loth to receive the gifts of civilization from their hands. He fears that if his children learn to read and write, they will no longer be satisfied to live like their parents, and that the school will deprive him of the support of his age. He is no less obstinately attached to the religion of his fathers, which in all essential points is identical with that of the Samoïedes. In some of the southern districts, along the Irtysch, at Surgut, he has indeed been baptized, and hangs up the image of a saint in his hut, as his Russian pope or priest has instructed him to do; but his Christianity extends no further. Along the tributaries of the Obi, and below Obdorsk, he is still plunged in Schamanism.

Like the Samoïedes, the Ostiaks, whose entire number amounts to about 25,000, are subdivided into tribes, reminding one of the Highland clans. Each tribe consists of a number of families, of a common descent, and sometimes comprising many hundred individuals, who, however distantly related, consider it a duty to assist each other in distress.

The Ostiaks are excellent archers, and, like all the other hunting tribes of Siberia, use variously constructed arrows for the different objects of their chase.

They are generally of a small stature, and most of them are dark-complexioned, with raven-black hair like the Samoïedes; some of them, however, have a fairer skin and light-colored hair. They are a good-natured, indolent, honest race; and though they are extremely dirty, yet their smoky huts are not more filthy than those of the Norwegian or Icelandic fishermen.

As among the Samoïedes, the women are in a very degraded condition, the father always giving his daughter in marriage to the highest bidder. The price is very different, and rises or falls according to the circumstances of the parent; for while the rich man asks fifty reindeer for his child, the poor fisherman is glad to part with his daughter for a few squirrel-skins and dried sturgeon.

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CXLVIII. INDIA

THE SOWRAHS AND KHONDS.

LOCALITY OF THE SOWRAH TRIBE -- GENERAL APPEARANCE -- THE TARTAR CHARACTER OF THE FEATURES -- DRESS OF THE MEN, THEIR SCANTY COSTUME AND PLENTIFUL ORNAMENTS -- CURIOUS EAR-RINGS -- DRESS OF THE WOMEN -- MODE OF OBTAINING CLOTHES FOR WINTER USE -- WEAPONS OF THE SOWRAHS -- THEIR COURAGE, AND THE APPREHENSION WHICH THEY EXCITE -- A SOWRAH WEDDING -- RELIGIOUS SYSTEM OF THE SOWRAHS -- THEIR TRUTHFULNESS -- THE KHONDS -- DRESS AND APPEARANCE -- THE KHOND POCKET -- FEATURES OF THE WOMEN -- THE MERIAH SACRIFICE AND ITS OBJECT -- PROCURING OF THE VICTIM -- VARIOUS MODES OF PERFORMING THE SACRIFICE -- SUBSTITUTE FOR THE MERIAH -- STRANGE USE OF BRACELETS -- THE MERIAHS’ INDIFFERENCE TO THEIR FATE -- INFANTICIDE -- WEAPONS OF THE KHONDS -- DEATH OF A BEAR -- PRIDE OF THE KHONDS -- SUPERSTITION -- BELIEF IN THE POWER OF TRANSFORMATION -- A KHOND MARRIAGE.

The reader may remember that the Andaman Islands trench closely upon the shores of India, thus bringing closely together the two phases of utter savagery that never has advanced in the scale of humanity, and of a civilization which has advanced to the utmost limits of which it is capable. In the following pages I propose to give a brief account of various phases of Indian life, throwing most emphasis upon those which trench least upon civilization, as being most akin to the objects of this work.

From the figures which illustrate this country, and which are all taken from photographs, the reader will notice the very distinct type of man which is exhibited throughout India; and though in some of the tribes there is a facial resemblance to the Australian type, and in others to the Mongolian, it is impossible to mistake an entire figure in either instance. We will begin with those parts of India which are the least civilized, and in which the inhabitants retain most of their aboriginal manners and customs.

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There is a remarkable hill tribe of India which deserves a short description, as the people seem to have preserved the original characteristics of their race better than any other inhabitants of the country. They are called Sowrahs, and live in a tract of country about lat. 18° 30´ N., and long. 72° 30´ E.

The Sowrahs are a tolerably good-looking tribe, some of the girls being even handsome, were not their faces disfigured by the nose rings, of which one woman will often wear three. The men, as is the case with all the Indian tribes, are slenderly built, and appear to be devoid of muscles, especially in the legs. This apparent slightness, however, conceals great muscular power, as has often been shown in the skirmishes which their predatory habits constantly entail upon them. In one of these skirmishes, a Sowrah who had been taken prisoner suddenly snatched a bayonet out of the hands of his captor, and bent the blade double.

There is about the features of the Sowrahs a decidedly Tartar look, which increases with age, and is marked most strongly in the men. Some photographs of them now before me exhibit this characteristic very distinctly marked, and in one case so strongly that, but for color and the mode of dressing the hair, the face might easily be mistaken for those of a genuine Tartar. Indeed, Mr. Hooper, from whose paper this account is condensed, thinks that they may have a Tartar origin.

One remarkable point about the Sowrahs is, that they have no distinction of caste, though they are divided into two distinct classes, the Hill Sowrahs and the Sowrahs of the Plain. The latter are comparatively civilized, and live in villages, and it is only of the former that this work will treat.

The dress of the Sowrahs is primitive enough. The men wear nothing but the “languti,” i. e. a narrow strip of cloth passing round the waist, through the legs, and tucked into the waistband. They are, however, very fond of ornaments, though they care so little about dress, and have their necks loaded with beads, and their ears and nostrils filled with rings. A photograph of one of these men shows that he is wearing no less than twenty-seven bead necklaces, as well as a broad brass collar. Besides the ordinary ear-rings, he wears an ornament which seems rather popular among the Sowrahs. A hole is bored in the upper part of the ear, and through it is passed one end of a string almost four inches in length, to the other end of which is attached a glittering bead about as large as a walnut. Some of the Sowrahs also thread small beads upon the string.

The hair of the men is allowed to grow to a considerable length, and on festival days it is gathered into a knot at the back of the head, and adorned with feathers, mostly those of the peacock. This mode of dressing the hair gives a very effeminate look to the countenance, and on seeing a photograph of the face alone, especially if it be that of a young man, it is not very easy at a hasty glance to discover whether it is the portrait of a man or woman.

The dress of the women consists of a cloth wrapped round the waist. Those women who have been photographed wear long calico cloths wrapped round them from shoulder to knee after the ordinary Indian fashion; but it is evident that they have borrowed these cloths for the occasion, and so, after the custom of all uncivilized people, have contrived, through anxiety to look their best, to baffle the real object of the photographer, i. e. to represent them as they really appear. Like the men, they wear an abundance of necklaces, and also are fond of simple bracelets, consisting of broad metal bands wound spirally round the wrists. The hair is parted down the middle, but no particular care is expended upon it.

When the colder weather comes on, and the Sowrahs want more clothing, they do not make it, but have recourse to the simple plan of waylaying travellers, killing them, and taking their garments. In these robberies, as well as in the skirmishes to which they often tend, the Sowrahs chiefly use the bow and arrow. The bow is a comparatively weak one, only being a yard or so in length, and having a string made of the outer coating of the bamboo. The arrows are of reed, armed with a flat, many-barbed iron head. The Sowrahs always lie in wait for their victims, and direct their aim at the stomach and legs, so that the wounds are always dangerous, and generally mortal.

They also carry a kind of battle-axe. They are a brave as well as a warlike people, and are the terror of the inhabitants of the plains. Even the Khonds, who will be presently described, ready as they are to fight among each other, and skilled as they are in the use of the bow and the battle-axe, stand in awe of the Sowrahs, and do not like to be drawn into a quarrel with them. They are especially afraid of these enemies, because the favorite mode of attack with the Sowrahs is to make a raid under cover of night, and, after securing all the plunder they can seize, and doing all the harm in their power, to return to their hill fastnesses as rapidly as they issued from them.

General Campbell thinks that their mode of life may have something to do with this superiority, and that their more abstemious and less dissipated life renders them stronger and more enduring than their self-indulgent neighbors. In some places, Sowrahs and Khonds dwell together in tolerable amity, but both of the tribes, although they may derive their origin from the same source, and both assert themselves to be the aboriginal inhabitants of the land, and to have a right to its possession, preserve their own characteristic differences so rigidly that there is no difficulty in distinguishing a Sowrah from a Khond.

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The ceremony of marriage among the Sowrahs, illustrated on the following page, is thus described by Mr. Hooper: “A young man, or his friends for him, having selected a bride, messengers are sent to her parents, and finally the young man goes, bearing a pot of toddy, or other present. If the consent of the parents is obtained, the ceremony is commenced by fixing three posts in the ground, between which the bride and bridegroom, with their respective friends, assemble, and a feast is commenced at which nearly every person gets drunk upon toddy.

“The bride and bridegroom sit together, while turmeric water is poured on their heads. Presents of cloth, beads, rings, etc., are exchanged, fowls, and if possible sheep, are sacrificed to propitiate the demons, and the flesh is then cooked, made up into balls with some sort of grain, and distributed among the party. On these occasions they all join in a dance, which seems to consist principally in hopping from one leg to the other, at each movement snapping their fingers and uttering an ejaculation, while at intervals the whole of the dancers come bumping together, and then separate.

“If the parents of the bride refuse to consent to the marriage, it frequently happens that the friends of the bridegroom watch their opportunity, and if the girl is found alone, they seize and carry her off. The relatives of the girl then pursue and attack the opposite party, but, even though successful in retaking her, they are prohibited by their customs from giving her in marriage to any one else. Should such a thing be attempted, the parties would have to fight it out in a more serious manner with bows and arrows.”

The reader will doubtless recognize the similarity of these marriage rites to those which are practised by savage tribes in many parts of the world.

In the account of the wedding, the propitiation of the demons is mentioned. This is the key to their religious system, such as it is, and explains the reason for the absence of caste. The Sowrahs of the Plains seem to have a rather better religious system, but that of the Hill Sowrahs is simply demonolatry. They seem to have but little notion of worship, the only ceremonies which have been observed taking place at harvest time. When the crops reach maturity, the owners set small stones upright in the earth as emblems of the presiding demons, and lay before them little heaps of each crop. After the offerings have remained there for some little time, they are consumed at a feast to which the proprietor of the crops invites his relatives and friends.

When a Sowrah dies, his body is burned, the ashes buried, and a small building erected over the spot. Five days after the burial a pot of toddy is laid on the grave, round which are placed a number of leaves representing the ancestors of the deceased. A little toddy is poured upon each leaf, and the remainder is drunk by the people who have assisted at the ceremony. A somewhat similar rite, but accompanied with feasting, is celebrated at the end of the first and fourth years after burial.

According to General Campbell, they do not destroy their female infants, as is done by too many of the Indian tribes, neither do they practise human sacrifice. Yet they will sometimes participate in the remarkable Meriah sacrifice, which will presently be described, and will travel some distance to do so. They do not, however, seem to attach very great importance to the rite, and when General Campbell remonstrated with them on the subject, they at once promised to abandon it, and not even to be present as spectators.

Perhaps the most characteristic trait of the Sowrahs is their absolute truthfulness, which, according to Mr. Hooper, is the result from their want of capacity to invent a lie.

THE KHONDS.

In the now renowned district of Orissa live the remarkable tribes called Khonds, who, like the Sowrahs, appear to be immediately descended from the aboriginal inhabitants, and to have retained, though in a somewhat modified form, several of the customs of their savage forefathers, the chief of which will be briefly described.

The Khonds are active, wiry, and of much darker complexion than the inhabitants of the plains, and neither sex trouble themselves much about clothing. The men wear a few yards of coarse cotton round their waists, a separate piece dyed red hanging down behind like a tail. Their hair is allowed to grow to its full length, and is twisted round and round the head, and fastened in a knot in front, in which the Khond always keeps a few cigars made of tobacco rolled in a green leaf. He generally decorates this top-knot with a piece of red cloth and feathers.

The women wear a rather large cloth round their loins, and decorate themselves with vast quantities of beads and other ornaments, among which the most conspicuous are some heavy bracelets, which are little more than thick brass bands twined round their wrists. Among some of the tribes, these ornaments are put to a very tragical use, as we shall presently see. Slips of red cloth are considered very fashionable ornaments by the Khond women, and in some cases strings of copper coins are worn by way of necklaces. These, however, are mostly reserved for the children. There is some excuse for the anxiety of the Khond women to make the best of themselves, as they are very inferior to the men in appearance, being short, stumpy, and so plain in features, that they are pronounced by General Campbell to be absolutely repulsive. Some photographs, however, which are now before me, do not give this impression. Perhaps these women were selected for their good looks.

They are divided into many tribes, and as a rule live in villages varying in population from forty to ten times the number. We will now proceed to the manners and customs of the Khond tribes.

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Throughout the whole of Khondistan there is a system of human sacrifice, varying exceedingly in detail according to the locality, but agreeing in all principal points. There is one point especially which seems to be the very essence of the sacrifice, and which is common to all the tribes. The victim, or Meriah, must be bought with a price. Should a captive be taken in war, he may not be offered as a Meriah by his captor, but he may be sold for that purpose, and will then be accepted by the priests.

There is no restriction of age, sex, or caste, but adults are thought more acceptable because they are more costly, and the healthy more likely to propitiate the gods than the sick or feeble. That the Meriah should be sacrificed is thought an absolutely necessary condition for the prosperity of every undertaking, but especially for the growth of the crops, and the Khonds therefore use every endeavor to secure a succession of victims. Sometimes they purchase children from their parents or relations when they have fallen into poverty, but, as a rule, they are stolen by a set of robber tribes called Pannoos, who decoy them into the hills, seize them, and sell them to the Khonds. It is rather remarkable that although the Khonds avail themselves of the services of the Pannoos, and are very glad to purchase victims, they bear an intense hatred and contempt toward them, and, except in the way of business, will have no dealings with them.

The Meriah victims have no reason to complain of their lot, with the one exception that it must soon come to an end. They are well fed and kindly treated, and, with the ruling fatalism of the Oriental character, generally resign themselves to their fate, and make no efforts to escape. Often a Meriah girl is married to a Khond man, and allowed to live until she has borne children. These, as well as herself, are liable to be sacrificed, but must never be offered in the village wherein they were born. In order to avoid this difficulty, the various towns agree to exchange their Meriah children.

The mode of sacrificing the Meriah is so exceedingly variable that it will be necessary to give a short abstract of the various modes.

In the first place, the Meriah must always be sacrificed openly in the sight of the people, and this rule is absolute throughout all the land.

In Goomsur, the sacrifice is offered to the Earth-god, Tado Pennor, who is represented by the emblem of a peacock. When the time is fixed, the victim is selected, and for a month there is much rejoicing, feasting, and dancing round the Meriah, who is abundantly supplied with food and drink, and is in all appearance as merry and unconcerned as any of the people. On the day previous to the sacrifice a stout pole is set up, having on its top the peacock emblem of Tado Pennor, and to it is bound the Meriah. The people then dance round him, saying, in their chants, that they do not murder the victim, but sacrifice one who was bought with a price, and that therefore no sin rests with them. As the Meriah is previously intoxicated with toddy, he can give no answer, and his silence is taken as consent to his sacrifice.

Next day he is anointed with oil, and carried round the village, after which he is brought to the peacock post, at the foot of which is a small pit. A hog is then killed, and the blood poured into the pit and mixed with the soil, so as to form a thick mud. The Meriah, who has been previously made senseless from intoxication, is thrown into the pit, with his face pressed into the mire until he is dead. The officiating priest or zani then cuts off a small piece of the flesh of the victim and buries it near the pit, as an offering to the earth, and, as soon as he has done so, all the spectators rush upon the body, hack it to pieces, and carry off the fragments to bury them in their fields as a propitiation to the earth deities who produce the crops. Revolting as this custom is, it is much more merciful than most modes of Meriah sacrifice, inasmuch as suffocation is not a death involving much physical pain, and the victim has been previously deprived of his senses.

In Boad, the Meriah is taken round the village, when every one tries to procure one of his hairs, or to touch his lips with their fingers so that they may anoint their heads with the sacred moisture. After being drugged into insensibility, he is taken to the fatal spot, where he is strangled by placing his neck between the two halves of a split bamboo, the ends of which are then brought together by the priests. The head priest next breaks the bones of the arms and legs with his axe, and when he has done so, the body is cut to pieces as in Goomsur.

In Chinna Kimeday a grotesquely cruel mode of sacrifice is employed. In lieu of the peacock which is used at Goomsur, a large wooden figure of an elephant is placed on the post, and revolves on a pivot. The Meriah is tied to the extended proboscis of the elephant, and, amid the yells of the spectators, is whirled round as fast as the figure can be turned. In this case the Meriah is not drugged. At a signal from the officiating zani, the crowd rush on the Meriah with their knives, and in a few moments hack him to pieces as he is tied, still living, on the elephant.

General Campbell, while executing his mission of mercy in Khondistan, saw as many as fourteen of their elephant images, all of which he caused to be pulled down and destroyed by the baggage elephants attached to his force, so that the Khonds might see that those venerated emblems of a cruel worship were powerless even against the animals which they simulated. His task was naturally a difficult one, as it involved the abolition of a rite which had existed from time immemorial, and which no amount of reasoning could persuade them to be wrong, much less criminal. So deeply was it ingrained in their nature, that their only idea of his object in setting free so many hundred Meriahs was, that he might sacrifice them on his own account, in order to bring back water into a large tank which he was thought to have constructed for the use of his elephants.

In this very place, a most singular circumstance occurred. The English officer was told that a sacrifice was being actually performed, the victim being a young and handsome girl, only fifteen or sixteen years old. He instantly started off with an armed party, and found the offering of the Meriah already complete, and nothing wanting but the actual sacrifice. The aged priest was ready to give the signal, and the surrounding people were mad with excitement, when the armed party came to the rescue, and demanded the girl. The Khonds, furious as they were, found that they dared not risk a collision, and so the party retired with the rescued victim.

The remainder of the story has yet to be told. Scarcely were the English soldiers out of sight than the assembled Khonds broke out into loud murmurings at their disappointment. At last one of them hit upon a happy thought. “Why,” said he, “should we be debarred from our sacrifice? See our aged priest. Seventy summers have passed over his head--what further use is he? Let us sacrifice him.” And forthwith the old man was tied on the elephant, spun round, and cut to pieces.

In Maji Deso another mode of sacrifice is employed. They do not keep a large supply of Meriahs, as do most of the tribes, but buy them immediately before the sacrifice. The consequence is, that it is very difficult to detect them, except in the very act of offering the victim. Their mode of killing the Meriah is as follows. The Khonds surround the victim, and beat him on the head with the heavy metal bracelets, which they are in the habit of wearing. Mostly they kill him in this way, but if they fail in doing so, they strangle him with a split bamboo, as has already been described. The flesh of the back is then cut into long and narrow strips, and each person carries off a strip and suspends it on a pole, which he thrusts into the bed of the stream which waters his fields.

In Patna, the mode of sacrifice varies exceedingly. In some cases the victim is stoned, in others beaten to death with bamboos, together with other barbarous modes of putting to death. General Campbell remarks, that in this district there are places where sacrificing and non-sacrificing tribes inhabit the same village. They live harmoniously together until the time of sacrifice, when the non-sacrificing tribes retire to their houses, and never pass through the front door of their dwellings until seven days are over, and the remains of the Meriah buried. After that time, all goes on as usual, until the next sacrifice takes place.

Bundari appears to be the place where the people adhere most firmly to the Meriah system. When General Campbell visited this district, they refused to give up the Meriah, and on the near approach of his force, fled to their hiding-places in the mountains. As he approached Bundari, he found that the people had been actually offering a sacrifice, and that they had gone off in such haste that they had left behind them the sacrificial post with the head of a victim hanging to it by the hair, and the fatal knife suspended beside it. The mode of sacrifice employed in this district is thus described:--

“The sacrifice which had taken place, and which is called Junnah, is performed as follows, and is always succeeded by the sacrifice of three other human victims, two to the sun to the east and west, and one in the centre, with the usual barbarities. A stout wooden post is firmly fixed in the ground. At the foot of it a narrow grave is dug, and to the top of the post the victim is firmly fastened by the long hair of his head. Four assistants hold his outstretched arms and legs, the body being suspended horizontally over the grave, with the face toward the earth. The officiating zani, or priest, standing on the right side, repeats the following invocation, at intervals hacking with his sacrificing knife the back part of the shrieking victim’s neck:--

“‘O mighty Manicksoro, this is your festal day (to the Khonds the sacrifice is Meriah, to the Rajahs, Junnah). On account of this sacrifice you have given to Rajahs countries, guns, and swords. The sacrifice we now offer, you must eat; and we pray that our battle-axes may be turned into swords, and our bows and arrows into gunpowder and balls, and if we have any quarrels with other tribes, give us the victory, and preserve us from the tyranny of Rajahs, and other officers.’

“Then, addressing the victim, he added, ‘that we may enjoy prosperity, we offer you a sacrifice to our god Manicksoro, who will immediately eat you, so be not grieved at our slaying you. Your parents were aware when we purchased you from them for sixty gunties (articles) that we did it with intent to sacrifice you; there is, therefore, no sin on our heads, but on those of your parents. After you are dead, we shall perform your obsequies.’”

This speech being concluded, the head of the victim is severed from the body, and allowed to hang from the post until it is eaten by wild beasts. The knife is also suspended from the post, and allowed to remain there until the three additional sacrifices have been offered, when it is removed with many ceremonies. Eight of these posts were found in the village, and were all destroyed.

It is this mode of sacrifice which is shown in the illustration on page 1387. In the centre is seen the aged priest in the act of sacrificing the Meriah, which in this case is a young girl. Her head is supported by her long hair, which is tied to the top of the post, and her body is held horizontally by the four assistants, who each grasp a hand or a foot. On the right hand is shown a post, to which hangs the head of the first sacrificed Meriah, and on the other side is another victim bound by the hair to the post, waiting until the priest had completed the sacrifice in which he is engaged.

One circumstance connected with the Meriah sacrifice is rather remarkable, namely, the indifference to their fate that seems to possess the victims. One young man, a Meriah, said that it was better to be sacrificed among his own people, and to give them pleasure, than to live upon the plains. The natives believe that this indifference is caused by the Meriah food, a mixture of rice, turmeric, and other ingredients, prepared with certain magical ceremonies. Even the Meriahs themselves have this belief. For example, three young women were hired by a seller of salt fish to carry his goods among the Khonds, and when he got them there, the treacherous dealer sold not only the fish but the women. Twice the victims attempted to escape, but were recaptured, and after the second attempt, the Khonds fed them on Meriah food, when they became reconciled to their fate, and made no further efforts to escape.

Other ties seem to have their effect on the Meriahs. Sometimes a man wishes to buy a Meriah, that being a very meritorious act; but the cost is so great, amounting on an average to sixty-five rupees, that the Khond is almost reduced to poverty. Under such circumstances, he is unable to marry, inasmuch as he cannot pay the heavy price which is demanded of a bridegroom. Accordingly, he buys a Meriah girl, and takes her as his wife until the time when she may be required for sacrifice.

It has already been mentioned that children are sold by their parents as Meriahs. This seems so cruel and heartless a system, that some explanation ought to be offered. It is very seldom that such a purchase is made, unless the parents be very poor, and fear that they shall not be able to provide their children with food. In such cases they argue that it is better for the child to be nourished and kindly treated, and then to die as a sacrifice to the deities, than to perish by degrees of starvation. Moreover, it is considered rather a meritorious action for a parent to devote a child to the gods, and, when it is done, the parents are very proud of such children, and regard them with respect and admiration as belonging to the deities.

Another reason for the continuance of the Meriah sacrifice is the slight regard in which the Khonds hold human life, sacrificing that which we consider as priceless because they are indifferent to it, not only with regard to others, but with regard to themselves.

That the custom of propitiating the deities of agriculture with living sacrifices should be entirely abolished could not be expected, and General Campbell found that the best mode of extinguishing human sacrifice was to induce the Khonds to substitute that of a beast. This was done in many cases, the sacrificers apologizing to the god for the substitution, and begging him, if he should be angry, to vent his wrath, not upon them, but upon the foreigner who had suggested the alteration. He had no objection to this arrangement, and as the crops turned out well afterward, it was to be supposed that all parties, the gods included, were satisfied.

A very similar custom was once prevalent among certain tribes of the Lower Amazon. The name of these tribes was Tapuyos, but this title has now been given to all the inhabitants of the Lower Amazon district. Prisoners taken in war by them were reserved for sacrifice. They were treated with extreme kindness, fed in the most liberal manner, so that they might be plump and fat, and were provided with wives. They were generally allowed to live for several years, until their wives had borne children. They were then taken to the place of sacrifice, and killed with a single blow of a club; their children being carefully reared, for the purpose of undergoing a similar fate after they had grown up.

Even without reference to the Meriah system, the Khonds are in the habit of killing their female children. This custom has arisen partly from the fear of poverty, and partly from the system on which marriages are conducted. The Khonds dislike marrying among themselves, and seek their wives among distant tribes, alleging as a reason that they can purchase them at a cheaper rate. But General Campbell tried to show them that if they were to rear their own female children, they would find them much cheaper as wives, and recommended them, as a beginning, to marry their Meriah women, for whom a high price had already been paid.

In some of the hills of Chinna Kimedy, children of both sexes are put to death. As soon as a child is born, a priest is called to ascertain whether it is to live or die. To effect this purpose, he employs a plan very like the “Sortes Virgilianæ.” He produces a book, and, after some prayers, thrusts an iron style at random among the leaves. He then reads the passage to which the style points, and if it be unfavorable, the child must die, or the fields would bear no more crops.

The fatal edict having been pronounced, the child is placed in a new earthen vessel (which has been painted in red and black stripes), the cover is fastened down, and the jar is buried. Some flowers and rice are laid on the cover, and, after the earth is filled in, a fowl is sacrificed upon the poor little victim’s grave.

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Before leaving these remarkable tribes, we will glance slightly at one or two of their most characteristic customs.

Their weapons are very simple, consisting of a curious sword fixed to a gauntlet, the bow and arrow, and the axe. The last is the national weapon of the Khonds, and in its use they are wonderfully adroit. General Campbell mentions that a British officer was out in the evening for the purpose of shooting a bear, but only wounded the animal slightly, instead of killing it outright. The bear started for the hills, but was pursued by several Khonds, who overtook it, got between the hill and the bear, and then, armed only with their axes, attacked and hacked the animal to pieces. These axes are about four feet long in the handle, and have but small heads. These, however, are made of good steel, and in the practised hand of a Khond the axe is a weapon much more formidable than it looks. This exhibition of courage is the more remarkable, because the actors in it were Meriah men who had been rescued from sacrifice. The sword that has been mentioned is a comparatively rare weapon, and belongs rather to the Ooryahs than to the Khonds proper.

The Khond tribes seem to be rather fond of quarrelling among each other, and carry on a kind of desultory or guerilla warfare. Pitched battles they dislike, preferring to steal cattle from their opponents, and to kill them by stealth, to meeting them in open fight. Indeed, they pride themselves on doing as much injury as possible to their antagonists, while receiving the least possible harm themselves. Accordingly, when the delegates of two inimical tribes meet for the purpose of restoring peace, some very absurd scenes take place. The umpires call upon the representatives of the tribes to declare the number of cattle stolen and men killed; and it is generally found that the latter item is equally balanced, neither party caring to acknowledge that a man of their own tribe has been killed, unless the adversaries can prove it. They cannot but admit that the man was killed, but attribute his death to accident, such as being carried off by a tiger, or bitten by a snake.

Pride forms a great element in the Khond character. The people are fond of their land, and nothing can induce a Khond to sell one yard of ground to a foreigner, nor even to part with a single tree that grows on that soil. Generally, they are too proud to barter, but leave that business to the Pannoo tribes, by whom, as may be remembered, the Meriah victims are generally furnished. Among the Khonds there are but two employments worthy of their dignity, i. e. warfare and agriculture, and all persons are despised who carry on any other profession or business, even though they may profit by it themselves. Yet there is no system of caste among them, such as we find among the Hindoos, neither have they any prejudice in regard of diet, except perhaps a dislike to milk.

As to the religion of the Khonds, it is of the simplest description, and their worship is practically comprised in the Meriah sacrifice. There are certain very barbarous sacred images to be found in the hill districts, but no one seems to care or even to know much about them, and the priests, or medicine men, are as ignorant or careless on the subject as the people in general. It ought to be mentioned that very elaborate accounts have been published respecting the religion of the Khonds, their vast army of deities, and their quadruple souls. But there is now no doubt that the information upon which these accounts were based was simply invented by the narrators in order to suit their own purposes.

Putting aside the Meriah system, the Khonds have several superstitions in which they firmly believe, and the strangest of them is their idea that certain human beings can transform themselves into tigers. These persons are called “Pulta Bags,” and are very much dreaded by the people, upon whose fears they intentionally play for the purpose of extortion. Knowing that the ignorant people believe them to be possessed of such a power, they extort food, clothing, and other property from them at intervals, saying that they are poor, and unless supplied with the necessaries of life, they will be forced to transform themselves into tigers, and to carry off the cattle.

General Campbell mentions an instance where he was brought in contact with, or rather in opposition to, this superstition. An excited crowd came to him, accompanied by several armed men, who guarded two women. One of the men then said that he and his son were in the jungle cutting firewood, when a tiger sprang upon the lad and carried him off. The father pursued the animal, shouting after it until it turned the corner of the rock, when it disappeared, and on the top of the rock were then seen the two women. The case was clear. These two women were Pulta Bags. While in the tiger form they had carried off his son, but, alarmed by his shouts, had hidden the body of the lad and resumed their human shapes.

On being questioned, the women acknowledged that the story was true, and that they did possess the power attributed to them. General Campbell then offered to release them, provided that they would transform themselves into tigers in his presence. This, to his astonishment, they agreed to do, provided that he accompanied them to a neighboring jungle. Finding, however, that the English general was not so easily frightened as a Khond warrior, and that they would be taken at their word, they threw themselves at his feet, and acknowledged their imposture.

A remarkable instance of this belief is narrated by the same writer. A brave little Khond, belonging to the irregular force, was engaged in a conflict when several of the enemy were killed, among whom was one who was shot by his own hand. Instead of being proud of his exploit, he was seized with terror, declaring that the man whom he had killed was a Pulta Bag, and that he would assume the shape of a tiger and avenge himself. After the campaign was over, he obtained leave to visit his family, and, previous to his departure, he brought his uniform, asking that care might be taken of it, as he felt sure that he should never wear it again. He joined his family, and lived with them for some weeks, when, as he was watching his cattle, a tiger sprang on him, and wounded him so cruelly that he shortly died. Nothing could persuade him that the tiger was not the man whom he had shot, and the event only strengthened the hold which the superstition has on the native mind.

Marriage is generally celebrated at the hunting season, probably because the stores of food and drink are secured for that time, and there is always plenty of food for the marriage feast. Among them prevails the custom of carrying off the bride. The bridegroom snatches up the girl and runs off with her, pursued by a number of young women who try to snatch her from him, or at least pretend to do so. He, however, is protected by twenty or thirty young men, who keep him and his burden in their midst, and do their best to shield him from the bamboos, stones, and other missiles which are hurled at him by the women. When he reaches the boundaries of his own village, he is supposed to have won his bride, while the assailing party scamper at full speed to their own dwellings.

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CXLIX. INDIA--Continued

WEAPONS.

THE GHOORKA TRIBE AND THEIR FAVORITE WEAPON -- BLADE AND CURVED HANDLE OF THE “KOOKERY” -- MODE OF STRIKING WITH IT -- THE ADDITIONAL KNIVES -- MAKING “WOOTZ” STEEL -- FIGHTING A TIGER -- THE HUNTER’S NECKLACE -- ROBBERS OF INDIA -- THE BURGLAR, THE BURROWER -- THE PURSE CUTTER -- AN INGENIOUS THEFT -- STRANGE MODE OF ESCAPING OBSERVATION -- VARIOUS BOWS -- THE PELLET BOW AND ITS DOUBLE STRING -- THE REVERSED BOW AND MODE OF USING IT -- STRINGING THE BOW -- THE VARIOUS ARROWS -- ARMOR AND CHAIN MAIL -- SIR HOPE GRANT’S SPECIMEN -- INDIAN SWORDS AND MODE OF USING THEM -- VARIOUS DAGGERS -- THE “CHAKRA” OR QUOIT WEAPON.

One of the hill tribes, called the Ghoorka tribe, is worthy of notice, if only for the remarkable weapon which they use in preference to any other. It is called the “kookery,” and is of a very peculiar shape. One of the knives, drawn from a specimen in my collection, is given in illustration No. 2, on page 1403. As may be seen by reference to the drawing, both the blade and hilt are curved. The blade is very thick at the back, my own specimen, which is rather a small one, measuring a little more than a quarter of an inch in thickness. From the back it is thinned off gradually to the edge, which has a curve of its own, quite different to that of the back, so that the blade is widest as well as thickest in the middle, and tapers at one end toward the hilt, and at the other toward the point. The steel of which the blade is formed is of admirable temper, as is shown by the fact that my specimen, which, to my knowledge, has not been cleaned for thirty years, but has been hung upon the wall among other weapons, is scarcely touched with rust, and for the greater part of its surface is burnished like a mirror. Indeed, on turning it about, I can see reflected upon its polished surface the various objects of the room. The handle is made after a very remarkable fashion, and the portion which forms the hilt is so small that it shows the size of the hand for which it was intended. This smallness of hilt is common to all Indian swords, which cannot be grasped by an ordinary English soldier. My own hand is a small one, but it is too large even for the heavy sabre or “tulwar,” while the handle of the kookery looks as if the weapon were intended for a boy of six or seven years old. Indeed, the Ghoorkas are so small, that their hands, like those of all Indian races, are very delicate, about the same size as those of an English boy of seven. The point of the kookery is as sharp as a needle, so that the weapon answers equally well for cutting or stabbing. In consequence of the great thickness of the metal, the blade is exceedingly heavy, and it is a matter of much wonder how such tiny hands as those of the Ghoorkas can manage so weighty a weapon, which seems almost as much beyond their strength as does the Andamaner’s gigantic bow to the dwarfish man who wields it. It may be imagined that a blow from such a weapon as this must be a very terrible one. The very weight of the blade would drive it half through a man’s arm, if it were only allowed to fall from a little height. But the Ghoorkas have a mode of striking which resembles the “drawing” cut of the broadsword, and which urges the sharp edge through flesh and bone alike.

Before passing to the mode in which the kookery is used, I may mention that it is not employed for domestic purposes, being too highly valued by the owner. For such purposes two smaller knives are used, of very similar form, but apparently of inferior metal. These are kept in little cases attached to the side of the kookery-sheath, just as is the case with the knives attached to a Highlander’s dirk, or the arrangement of the Dyak sword, which has already been described in the article upon Borneo. There is also a little flat leathern purse, with a double flap. This is pointed like a knife-sheath, and is kept in a pocket of its own fastened upon the larger sheath.

In the illustration the kookery is shown with all its parts. Fig. 1 shows the kookery in its scabbard, the top of the purse and the handles of the supplementary knives being just visible as they project from the sheaths. At Fig. 2 the kookery itself is drawn, so as to show the peculiar curve of the blade and the very small handle. Fig. 3 represents the purse as it appears when closed, and Figs. 4 and 5 are the supplementary knives. My own specimen, which, as I have already mentioned, is a small one, measures fifteen inches from hilt to point in a straight line, and twenty-one inches if measured along the curve of the back. Its weight is exactly twelve ounces. The knife is a very plain one, no ornament of any kind being used, and the maker has evidently contented himself with expending all his care upon the blade, which is forged from the celebrated “wootz” steel.

This steel is made by the natives in a very simple but effectual manner. After smelting the iron out of magnetic ore, the Indian smith puts small pieces of it in a crucible, and mixes little bits of wood with them. He then covers the crucible with green leaves and plenty of clay, and puts it in his simple furnace. The furnace being lighted, a constant blast of air is driven through it for about three hours, at the expiration of which time the iron, now converted into cast-steel, is found in the form of a small cake at the bottom of the crucible. Wootz steel was at one time much used in England, and great numbers of these cakes were imported.

In the hands of an experienced wielder this knife is about as formidable a weapon as can be conceived. Like all really good weapons, its efficiency depends much more upon the skill than the strength of the wielder, and thus it happens that the little Ghoorka, a mere boy in point of stature, will cut to pieces a gigantic adversary who does not understand his mode of onset. The Ghoorka generally strikes upward with the kookery, possibly in order to avoid wounding himself should his blow fail, and possibly because an upward cut is just the one that can be least guarded against.

Years ago, when we were engaged in the many Indian wars which led at last to our Oriental empire, the Ghoorkas proved themselves most formidable enemies, as since they have proved themselves most invaluable allies. Brave as lions, active as monkeys, and fierce as tigers, the lithe, wiry little men came leaping over the ground to the attack, moving so quickly, and keeping so far apart from each other, that musketry was no use against them. When they came near the soldiers, they suddenly crouched to the ground, dived under the bayonets, struck upward at the men with their kookeries, ripping them open with a single blow, and then, after having done all the mischief in their power, darting off as rapidly as they had come. Until our men learned this mode of attack, they were greatly discomfited by their little opponents, who got under their weapons, cutting or slashing with knives as sharp as razors, and often escaping unhurt from the midst of bayonets. They would also dash under the bellies of the officers’ horses, rip them open with one blow of the kookery, and aim another at the leg of the officer as he and his horse fell together.

Perhaps no better proof can be given of the power of the weapon, and the dexterity of the user, than the fact that a Ghoorka will not hesitate to meet a tiger, himself being armed with nothing but his kookery. He stands in front of the animal (see the next page), and as it springs he leaps to the left, delivering as he does so a blow toward the tiger. As the reader is aware, all animals of the cat tribe attack by means of the paw; and so the tiger, in passing the Ghoorka, mechanically strikes at him.

The man is well out of reach of the tiger’s paw, but it just comes within the sweep of the kookery, and, what with the force of the tiger’s stroke, what with the blow delivered by the man, the paw is always disabled, and often fairly severed from the limb. Furious with pain and rage, the tiger leaps round, and makes another spring at his little enemy. But the Ghoorka is as active as the tiger, and has sprung round as soon as he delivered his blow, so as to be on the side of the disabled paw. Again the tiger attacks, but this time his blow is useless, and the Ghoorka steps in and delivers at the neck or throat of the tiger a stroke which generally proves fatal.

The favorite blow is one upon the back of the neck, because it severs the spine, and the tiger rolls on the ground a lifeless mass. For so fierce is the tiger’s fury, that, unless the animal is rendered absolutely powerless, rage supplies for a few moments the place of the ebbing life, and enables it to make a last expiring effort. All experienced hunters know and dread the expiring charge of a wounded lion or tiger, and, if possible, hide themselves as soon as they inflict the death wound. If they can do so, the animal looks round for its adversary, cannot see him, and at once succumbs; whereas, if it can espy its enemy, it flings all its strength into one effort, the result of which is frequently that the man and the tiger are found lying dead together.

Many of these little hunters are decorated with necklaces made from the teeth and claws of the animals which they kill. One of these necklaces is in my collection, and is figured in illustration No. 1, on page 1403. It is made of the spoils of various animals, arranged in the following way. The central and most prominent object is one of the upper canine teeth of a tiger. The man may well be proud of this, for it is a very fine specimen, measuring five inches and a half in length, and more than three inches in circumference. This tooth is shown at Fig. 5. At Fig. 1 is a claw from a fore-foot of a tiger, evidently the same animal; and at Fig. 9 is a claw of the hind-foot. Figs. 2, 3, 7, 8 are differently sized teeth of the crocodile; and Figs. 4 and 6 represent claws from the foot of the sloth-bear. The reader may remember that in all uncivilized countries such spoils are of the highest value, and play the same part with regard to them, that titles and decorations do among more civilized nations. Consequently, it is almost impossible to procure such ornaments, the natives having as strong objection to part with them as a holder of the Victoria Cross would have to resign at the same time his badge and a right to wear it.

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Among men of such a stamp, leading a half-savage existence, with ideas necessarily limited to their own range of thought, it is likely that a strange sort of morality should prevail. We have already seen that there is one existing system in which treacherous murder, instead of being regarded as a capital offence, is exalted into a religion, and we may therefore expect that robbery may in some cases be considered as a virtue. Certain it is that there are no more accomplished thieves in the world than those of India.

The natives are justly celebrated for their wonderful powers of posture making and conjuring, and it is to be expected that, when they turn those powers to an evil use, they must be most dangerous opponents. Lately a most valuable report has been issued by the Inspector-General of Prisons, relating to the thieves of Lower Bombay, in the perusal of which it is impossible to restrain a smile, so wonderfully ingenious are the devices of the thieves, and so astonishing is the skill with which they are employed.

For example, there are the regular burglars, who completely carry out the description of the Scriptures, “breaking through the wall and stealing.” Two of these burglars work together. One acts as sentinel, while the other gently bores a hole through the wall, large enough to admit the passage of his person. When he has completed the breach, he pushes through it a stick, with a piece of grass wrapped round it, so as to look like a human head. This is done to ascertain whether the inmates are alarmed, for it sometimes happens that the owner of the house hears the miner at work, and quietly stands by the side of the hole, armed with a sword or cudgel, with which he strikes at the head of the robber, as soon as it appears through the wall. Should the sham head be smashed by a blow from the inside, the thieves escape as fast as they can. If not, one of them crawls through the breach, steals all the property on which he can lay his hands, and returns to his comrade, who has been keeping careful watch, and will alarm him, should danger appear.

Other thieves appear to be more harmless, though they probably steal as much money as the burglars. They carry in their mouths a tiny knife, with a blade as sharp as that of a razor. They frequent the bazaars, mix with the crowd, and contrive to feel for the money which is wrapped up in the girdle. With their little knives, they gently cut the cloth, noiselessly extract the money, and slink off into the midst of the crowd, where they can scarcely be detected. In short, they act precisely after the manner of our European cut-purses.

The most ingenious of all the thieves are those who get into the zenanas, or women’s apartments, and steal their jewelry. As the reader is probably aware, the women’s apartments are in the most central portion of the house, and are so carefully guarded that little precaution is taken with respect to the costly jewels with which the women deck themselves so abundantly. The Indian burglar knows of this wealth, and sometimes manages to steal it. He digs a hole in the ground outside the walls of the house, and burrows under the foundation until he comes beneath the floor of the zenana. He then cautiously works his way upward, and so obtains admission into the apartment. But even when there his task is not completed, as a large portion of the jewelry consists of nose rings and bangles, or bracelets. The skill of these thieves is now shown, for they will contrive to cut the rings and bangles, remove them from the wearers, and make good their escape without disturbing the sleeping women.

These adroit burglars often commit the most daring robberies in the very midst of an army. Knowing the position of the tents, they mark out that which is the residence of a great man, and creep silently toward it. Arrived at the tent, their sharp knife cuts a hole and they glide into the interior without making the slightest noise. Indeed, so wonderfully adroit are they, that even the very watch-dogs do not discover them, and a thief has been known actually to step over the body of a dog without disturbing the animal. They take an extraordinary pride in their skill, and have not the least objection to boasting of it. Once, an English officer, who had been robbed of all his valuables, his clothing included, in the course of a night, was talking to a robber, who made very light of the exploit, and boasted that if he chose he could steal the blanket from under him as he slept. Such a challenge as this could not but be accepted, and the officer laid a wager with the man that his blanket could not be stolen without arousing him.

Accordingly, one morning, when the officer awoke, he found his blanket missing. The thief came openly with the blanket, restored it, and told him how he had achieved the theft. It was done by gently tickling the face and hands of the sleeping man, so that he involuntarily turned on his bed. As he moved, the thief gave the blanket a slight pull, and so by degrees “coaxed” it away without fairly awaking the sleeper.

When these thieves set about their task of robbery, they remove all their clothes, and rub themselves with oil. Round their neck is a slight string, which holds their razor-bladed knife, so that, if they should be detected, the pursuer has no hold of them; and even should he succeed in grasping them, the ready knife is used to sever his wrist and to deal a fatal stab.

Then there are other thieves of altogether a sneaking and despicable character. The burglars have, at all events, the redeeming points of audacity and ingenuity. The Mooches exhibit neither of these qualities, but act in a way that exactly resembles the proceedings of the gipsy thieves as described by Mr. Borrow. They lay poison on plantain leaves, and drop them about at night among the cattle. The bait is sure to be taken, and the dead cattle are thrown away next morning. This is exactly what the Mooches have expected, and they flay the dead cattle and sell their skins.

Sometimes a band of these thieves is pursued, and then the robbers are often driven to use all their ingenuity in evading their pursuers. One stratagem is marvellously clever. Should a company of these men succeed in reaching the jungle, there is no hope of capturing them; but when they find that they must be overtaken on a level plain, they are not without a mode of avoiding detection. As is the case in many hot countries, the ground is often cleared by fire, which destroys all the coarse, dry, rank herbage, and leaves it free for the fresh green blades that at the first rains shoot through the surface. In those spots where the grass is short, the fire does but little damage; but where it is long, the flames are powerful enough to destroy the small trees which grow upon them, and to leave nothing but a number of blackened stumps.

If the thieves think that they cannot pass the plain without being observed, they put in practice a ruse which they may have borrowed from the habits of many insects. They strip off all their clothes, place them and their weapons under their little round shields, which they disperse so as to look like stones, and then dispose themselves in such strange attitudes that their slender and nearly fleshless limbs bear the most exact resemblance to the blackened branches of which their bodies represent the trunks. In these attitudes they will remain fixed until the enemy has passed them, when they slip off as fast as they can to the nearest jungle. An illustration on page 1397 shows with what rare ingenuity, even artistic verisimilitude these rascals simulate the charred trunks and branches of the trees.

Before the English had become used to these manœuvres, a very ludicrous incident occurred. An officer, with a party of horse, was chasing a small body of Bheel robbers, and was fast overtaking them. Suddenly the robbers ran behind a rock or some such obstacle, which hid them for a moment, and, when the soldiers came up, the men had mysteriously disappeared. After an unavailing search, the officer ordered his men to dismount beside a clump of scorched and withered trees, and, the day being very hot, he took off his helmet and hung it on a branch by which he was standing. The branch in question turned out to be the leg of a Bheel, who burst into a scream of laughter, and flung the astonished officer to the ground. The clump of scorched trees suddenly became metamorphosed into men, and the whole party dispersed in different directions before the soldiers could recover from their surprise, carrying with them the officer’s helmet by way of a trophy.

This stratagem is not confined to one tribe, or even one race, but is practised in many parts of the world where the country is cleared by means of fire.

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We will now examine some of the weapons used by the Indians. I intentionally omit any description of their fire-arms, as such weapons are of a modern date, and the use of gunpowder has been imported from other countries. In the following pages will be described some of the most characteristic weapons of India.

The reader will probably notice that whatever may be their form, there is a nameless something which designates the country in which they were produced. No matter whether the weapon has belonged to a rich or a poor man, whether it be plain wood and iron, or studded with jewels and inlaid with gold, the form remains the same, and there is about that form a graceful elegance which is peculiar to India. Take, for example, that simplest of weapons, the kookery, and see how beautiful are the curves of the blade and handle, and how completely they satisfy the eye. In the same manner we shall find that, with all the weapons that will be figured, there is always a graceful curve or a well-balanced arrangement of lines.

We will begin with the bow and arrows.

Many kinds of bows are used by the Hindoos, the most simple of which is made from a piece of male bamboo. Even this simple weapon is not complete in the eyes of an Indian without some ornament, and accordingly it is bound at intervals by belts of split reed drawn tightly round it, and tied up at the back of the bow in a sort of rosette form. This kind of bow is often used for shooting bullets or stones. For this purpose two strings are placed side by side, and kept apart by a little piece of wood near one end, so that in the middle there is an interval of a couple of inches between the strings. A strip of leather rather more than an inch in width is then sewed to the strings, so that when the bow is bent the leather is stretched tightly between them.

The bow is used in the following manner. A bullet or stone is placed on the leather, and the two strings are grasped by the forefinger and thumb of the right hand, so as to enclose the bullet in the leather. The bow is then drawn and aimed, and when the strings are released from the pressure of the fingers, they fly asunder and permit the bullet to escape. The precision that may be obtained by this weapon is really wonderful, and even Europeans soon learn to pride themselves on their skill with the “pellet-bow.” Squirrel shooting with this bow is a favorite amusement with many persons, and some of the natives of rank occasionally amuse themselves with shooting at the earthenware jars carried on the heads of the women, a successful shot smashing the jar to pieces, and deluging the women with the water which had been contained in it.

There is another kind of bow which is much used in different parts of Asia, varying somewhat in form and material, but smaller in principle. The bow is so formed that when it is unstrung it curves in exactly the opposite direction to the string. The amount of curvature varies considerably in different bows, the most perfect being that in which the two ends almost touch each other. The specimen which is shown in Fig. 1 of the illustration on page 1394, and which is drawn from a bow in my collection, is a singularly perfect example of this kind of weapon. It is made in the following manner:--

A horn of the buffalo is sawn longitudinally, so as to produce two tapering pieces of exactly the same size. These are then flattened by heat and pressure, and are trimmed until when bent they give exactly the same amount of curvature. The handle and the tips are made of very hard wood, and are fitted to the horn with the greatest care, the wood which forms the tips running for some distance along the under side of the horn. After the handle and tips are fitted in their places, a great number of sinews are laid wet over the back of the bow, and kneaded so carefully that the wood, the sinews, and the horn seem to be altogether one substance. After this part of the work is finished, the whole of the bow is covered with repeated layers of a kind of glue, which is very carefully smoothed and polished. The bow is practically complete, but the maker is not satisfied unless he adds plenty of ornament. This is always a sort of conventional flower pattern, gilt on a brilliantly colored background. I possess several such bows, in each of which there is a dissimilarity of color and pattern. In the bow now before us, the groundwork is vivid green and scarlet, on which are drawn the most elaborate patterns of flowers, leaves, and arabesques in gold. It is impossible, on looking at the surface, not to admire both the beauty of the patterns and the excellence of the paint and varnish, which can be subjected to such violent treatment as is caused by the bending of the bow and shooting the arrow, and yet not be cracked to pieces.

The elasticity of this bow is wonderful. I have often tried to string it, but without effect, and indeed I never saw but one man, the late Colonel Hutchinson, of the Indian Army, who could do so. It is strung by passing it under one leg, bending it back sharply over the other leg, at the same time slipping the loop of the string into its notch. A groove passes along the back of the bow, so as to guide the string. When strung it assumes quite a different shape, and looks something like the bow which the ancient sculptors placed in the hands of Cupid. I regret that the bow could not be strung, so as to give two illustrations of the same bow in its different aspects.

The classical reader may perhaps remember that this weapon is exactly similar to the ancient Scythian bow. Reference is made to this shape by Athenæus (book X.) when an unlearned shepherd, trying to describe the letters which formed a name, said that “the third (i. e. c) was like a Scythian bow.” This kind of bow was of horn, as indeed were most of the ancient bows.

The length of the bow above mentioned, measured along the back, is a little more than four feet, whereas the measurement across it as it appears when unbent is only nineteen inches. The reader will see how useful a bow of this description would be to a horseman, its peculiar curvature rendering it easy of carriage. It could even be carried along on the bridle arm, if required, so as to leave the sword hand at liberty, and in a moment could be strung when needed, by passing it under the leg as the rider sits on horseback. Small as this bow seems, almost indeed insignificant in appearance as a weapon, its performances in skilful hands are something marvellous. With one of these bows an arrow has been shot to a distance which was said to be six hundred yards, and was actually not much short of that measurement. And, although so powerful, it is wonderfully manageable. Colonel Hutchinson told me that he once saw an archer shoot an arrow along a corridor, and send the missile through a hole which a bullet had made in a pane of glass at the end of the corridor.

Next comes a form of bow which is much more common than the preceding. In this bow the reflex curvature is strongly marked, though not so strongly as in the case of the weapon just described.

Several of these bows are in my collection, the handsomest of which was presented to me by J. Allen, Esq. This bow, with its case, its quiver, and score of arrows, is shown in Fig. 2 of the illustration, on page 1394. Measuring along the back, the bow is four feet five inches in length, whereas the space between the two tips is only twenty-eight inches. The color with which the bow is painted is bright scarlet, profusely covered with gilt flowers and arabesques, so that it is a more showy weapon at a distance than the previous specimen, though it is not nearly so handsome when closely examined, the patterns being larger and more roughly executed. The bow-string is made of some vegetable fibre,--I think that of some species of aloe,--and is very thick, being composed of nine strands twisted very closely together.

The case, quiver, and straps by which they are held have been once very splendid, being crimson velvet, so covered with gold embroidery that scarcely any part of the velvet is visible. The arrows are two feet three inches in length, and are very carefully made. The shaft is of reed, and to either end is fixed a piece of hard wood four inches in length. On one end of the shaft is fixed the point, which is a heavy and solid quadrangular piece of steel brought to a sharp point. The hard wood at the end receives the feathers, and is enlarged at the extreme end, so as to allow space for the nock or notch in which the thick bow-string is received. Both the pieces of hard wood are colored, that in which the point is fixed being simply green, but that at the other end being gilt, and covered with patterns in blue and scarlet.

This is the most common kind of arrow, but there are many varieties, of which I possess specimens. Several varieties are in many collections, the chief distinction being in the shape of the point. In most of them it is more or less quadrangular; though in some it is leaf-shaped, like a spear head, in others it is conical, and in others round and blunt. In one of the arrows the place of the lower piece of hard wood is taken by a solid piece of steel nearly four inches in length, and weighing about three ounces, looking something like a rather elongated Whitworth bullet.

The most primitive form of Indian arrow is that which is made by the hill tribes. The shaft is of wood, not of reed, and the head is deeply barbed, and tied to the shaft with fibre, exactly as is done with the flint-headed arrows, which this weapon almost precisely resembles in form, though not in material. Instead of feathers, dry leaves are substituted, cut into the required shape, and passed through slits in the shaft of the arrow, these slits being afterward bound up. In one arrow the nock has been formed in a very strange manner, a piece of wood being lashed to each side of the shaft, and projecting a little beyond it.

Some very beautiful examples of the best kinds of weapons are shown in the illustration on page 1406. They belong to General Sir Hope Grant, G.C.B. etc., who kindly allowed them to be drawn for the use of this work. They are splendid instances of Indian art, one or two of them displaying a most elaborate ornamentation.

The first of the illustrations shows a suit of armor and weapons, which is made of steel most elaborately engraved and inlaid with gold, the patterns resembling those on the bow, and looking much as if they had been taken from the bow and sunk into the steel, the freedom and grace of the lines being quite as remarkable as the elaborate minuteness of the pattern.

In the centre (Fig. 1) is seen the martial looking helmet, with its slight feather plume. There are often several of these plumes in a helmet, their shafts being adorned with gold and jewels, and placed in sockets projecting from the helmet. In front is seen the flat bar which protects the nose and upper part of the face from a sword cut. This bar slides up and down through a groove for the convenience of the wearer. From the helmet depends a piece of very slight but very strong chain-mail, which falls behind and on either side of the face, and hangs as low as the shoulders, so that, however abruptly the wearer may move his head, the folds of the chain-mail protect his neck. In several of these helmets the links of the mail are gilt, and arranged so as to form patterns, mostly of a diamond shape.

By the side of the helmet (Fig. 3) is the curious gauntlet, which extends far up the arm, and has no joint at the wrist. The absence of the joint, unpleasant as it would be to an European swordsman, is no obstacle to the proper use of the sword by the Oriental warrior. If the reader will refer to the figure of the sword (Fig. 6), he will see that the hilt is terminated by a large circular plate of steel. In a specimen in my own collection, this plate is three inches in diameter, so that when the sword is grasped after the European fashion, the plate comes against the wrist, and acts as a fulcrum by which, when a blow is struck, the leverage of the blade forces the sword out of the grasp.

But the whole system of swordsmanship in India differs essentially from that which is employed in England, or indeed in Europe generally, strength not being used so much as dexterity. For the object of this weapon its curved form is essential. The stroke of the sword is done by a turn of the wrist more than by a direct blow, so that the curved edge of the weapon is drawn rapidly over the object of attack.

The mode of employing the Indian sword was illustrated to me by the same Colonel Hutchinson whose name has already been mentioned.

He took a large mangold-wurzel, and laid it on a table. He then placed the flat side of the sword upon the root, so that no blow could be dealt, and then, with a slight turn of the wrist, he drew the blade toward him, and the root fell apart, severed in two pieces. In the same manner he cut the whole of the root into slices. The feat looked so easy that I tried it on another root, but, instead of cutting it in two, the edge of the sword glided off it as if it had been a solid piece of glass, and jarred my arm to the shoulder. However, after a few lessons, the feat became tolerably easy.

The same effect can also be produced by pushing the blade from the swordsman instead of drawing it toward him. It is to this delicate, drawing cut that the Indian sword owes its efficiency, the steel of the blade not being nearly of so good a quality as that of our common dragoon swords, and not being capable of taking so fine an edge. But if in battle an Indian warrior meets or overtakes an enemy, he does not strike at him with the whole power of the arm, as is done by our swordsmen, but places the edge of his weapon against the neck of the enemy, and with a turn of his wrist nearly severs the head from the body.

In the same illustration is seen the circular shield or target. This is of no great size, measuring about eighteen inches in diameter, and sometimes even less. It is made of the hide of the rhinoceros, which, when properly dressed and dried, is of considerable thickness, as hard as horn, though not so brittle, and almost equally translucent. The shield is generally adorned with four circular plates of metal, which in an ordinary specimen are merely of iron, but in a peculiarly handsome one are covered with lacquered gilding. The reader will doubtless see the almost exact resemblance between the Indian shield and the target of the Scotch Highlander. The other portions of the armor are adorned with gold inlaying, like those parts which have been described.

Illustration No. 4, on page 1403, contains several articles used in warfare, all of which are drawn from specimens in Sir Hope Grant’s collection. In the centre is seen a coat of mail. This is one of the most beautiful pieces of armor I have ever seen, each of the links bearing upon it a sentence from the Koran. Three of the links are shown underneath the coat of mail, drawn of the size of the originals. If the reader will reflect upon the vast number of such links which are required to form a coat of mail, he will appreciate the amount of labor that must have been expended on it, the letters having to be formed after the links are put together, so that they may not be obliterated in the forging. The helmet belonging to this suit is seen by its side at Fig. 2.

Between the helmet and the coat of mail is a Coorg knife or dagger, and its sheath. This weapon is sometimes very plain, and sometimes blazes with gold and jewels on the hilt and sheath. A specimen in my collection is of the former kind, and, though the blade is of good quality, the handle is of wood, and is secured to the blade by a stout brass rivet which passes through the tang. A bold ridge runs along either side of the blade.

Two more characteristic forms of the Indian dagger are shown at Figs. 7 and 9 in the illustration. One, Fig. 7, with its sheath at Fig. 8, is in great favor, especially with the rich. It is made entirely of steel, the two cross-bars constituting the handle. The form of the blade varies somewhat in different specimens, but the general form is the same in all. A good specimen in my collection is altogether twenty inches in length, and weighs exactly a pound, so that it must be rather an awkward weapon for the girdle. The blade, if it can be so called, is nearly a foot in length, flat toward the handle, and within five inches of the tips welling suddenly into a sort of quadrangular bayonet, rather more than half an inch in thickness.

The reader will see that when this dagger is grasped, the steel continuations of the handle project on either side of the wrist, and effectually guard it and the lower part of the arm from a sword-blade. The weight of this instrument, as well as the force with which a thrust can be delivered by a straight blow as in boxing, render the weapon well calculated to drive its way through the folds of dress, or even between the joints of armor.

Next comes a weapon (Fig. 9) which would scarcely be recognized as a dagger. It is, however a dagger, made from the two horns of the Indian antelope. In the simplest form of this curious weapon, the horns are arranged with their bases crossing each other for about six inches. The curvature of the bases thus furnishes a sort of handle, which can be grasped in such a way that the holder of the weapon can strike right and left with it, and, among a number of people, could do a vast amount of damage in a very short time.

A dagger such as has been described could be made in half an hour, and, indeed, a temporary weapon might be made in a few minutes by lashing the horns together. But the Indians prefer to add ornament to the weapon, and so they often make a hollow steel hilt in the form of a cup, with the curved side outward. The hand passes into this cup as into the basket-hilt of a single-stick, and is effectually guarded from injury. The dagger shown in the illustration has one of these steel hilts. In some places this weapon is in such favor that, instead of making it of antelope horns, with a steel hilt, the entire dagger is of steel, the points made in imitation of the horns.

The last weapon (Fig. 10) is one which is used by the Afghans, and is a sort of compromise between a sword and a dagger. A weapon of a similar form and character is carried by the Moors.

There is one kind of sword which ought not to be passed without some notice. It is a most murderous looking weapon, and is made on precisely the opposite principle to that of the sword which has already been described. In that form of sword, the edge is on the outer curve of the blade, which narrows toward the point. In the other sword, the edge is on the inside curve, and the blade widens greatly at the tip, which is curved like a bill-hook. Indeed, the weapon bears some resemblance to a bill-hook with a greatly elongated blade. In a specimen in my collection the blade is very little more than an inch wide by the hilt, but at the point (or rather the tip, for this part of the blade is squared) it is just four inches in width. The weight of this sword is rather more than two pounds.

There is also the quoit, or chakra, a missile weapon, that bears some resemblance to the boomerang of Australia or the casting-knife of the Fan tribe, it being intended to cut and not to pierce, as is generally the case with missiles. It is made of thin steel, and is sharpened to a razor-like edge on the outside. The mode of casting it is to spin it on the forefinger and then to hurl it. The reader may imagine that such a missile, which not only strikes an object, but revolves rapidly at the time, must be a very formidable one. It is generally aimed at the face of the adversary, and a skilful warrior will hurl four or five in such rapid succession that it is scarcely possible to avoid being struck by one of them, and having the face laid open, or the nose or lip absolutely cut off. These quoit-like articles are carried upon a tall, conical head-dress worn by the natives, into the folds of which they also put several small knives, as Irish laborers stick their pipes in their hats. See illustration No. 3, on page 1403.

A similar weapon, made of brass instead of steel, is used by the cattle-poisoning Mooches, who have already been described. They call it by the name of “thâl.”

The chakra is the special weapon of Vishnu, and may be seen in the various representations of that deity, hanging in one of the hands. Reference is made to this by Southey in the “Curse of Kehama.” Other deities also hold the chakra in the many-armed images by which the Indian artists clumsily attempt to depict omnipotence. This takes us to another branch of the subject.

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CL. INDIA--Continued

SACRIFICIAL RELIGION.

PRINCIPLE OF HUMAN SACRIFICE -- THE SUTTEE, OR WIDOW BURNING -- HER FATE DESIRED BY HERSELF AND HER NEAREST RELATIVES -- REASONS FOR THE SACRIFICE -- CONTRAST BETWEEN THE LIFE OF A WIFE AND A WIDOW OF HIGH CASTE -- SOCIAL STATUS OF THE BRAHMINS -- HONOR IN WHICH THE SUTTEE IS HELD -- MODE OF CONDUCTING THE SACRIFICE -- STRUCTURE OF THE PILE -- COURAGEOUS CONDUCT OF THE VICTIM -- ATTEMPTED ESCAPE OF A SUTTEE -- BERNIER’S DESCRIPTION -- GRADUAL ABOLITION OF THE SUTTEE -- THE GODDESS KALI AND HER WORSHIPPERS -- THE THUGS AND THEIR CONSTITUTION -- THE SACRED “ROOMAL” OR NOOSE -- MODE OF OFFERING A VICTIM -- THE FESTIVAL OF JUGGERNAUT -- HARDSHIPS OF THE PILGRIMS -- FORM OF THE IDOL -- SELF-SACRIFICE IN THE GANGES -- SACRIFICE OF BEASTS -- THE GODDESS DOORGA OR KALI -- FAKIRS OR JOGIS -- THEIR VARIOUS MODES OF SELF-TORTURE -- THE SWINGING FESTIVAL -- THE MOTIONLESS FAKIR.

There is no part of the world, not even Africa itself, where the principle of human sacrifice is so widely spread, and is developed so variously, as in India. Several forms of human sacrifice, such as the Meriah, which has already been described, belong to definite districts, and even in them are carried out with certain limitations. Some forms of the same principle, such as the murders by Thugs or Phânsigars in their worship of the dread goddess Kali, are restricted to certain societies of men. Again, the victims annually crushed under the wheels of Juggernaut’s car are comparatively few, and can only be sacrified in a certain locality, and at certain times.

There is, however, one mode of human sacrifice which at no distant period prevailed over the whole of India, and has only been checked by the influence of England in those parts of the country which have been subject to British dominion. Even in those districts the task has been a very difficult one, and there is no doubt that if the strong hand of England were ever lifted, the practice would again prevail as it did before.

This form of human sacrifice is the dreadful Suttee, or the death of the widow on the funeral pyre of her dead husband. Both in Africa and Polynesia we have seen several instances where the widow is sacrificed on the grave of her husband, so that he may not find himself wifeless when he reaches the spirit land. But it is remarkable that even among the lowest of the savages, whose indifference to inflicting pain is well known, there are none who exercise such horrible cruelty toward the widow as do the highly civilized Hindoos. On referring to the former portions of this work, the reader will see that in some places the widows are strangled and laid in the grave, in others they are buried alive, and in others they are killed by a blow of a club (perhaps the most merciful death that can be inflicted), but that in no instance is the surviving wife burned alive, as is the case with the Hindoo.

At the first glance, it seems strange that not only should the relatives of the miserable wife desire her to be burned, but that she herself should wish it, and should adhere to her determination in spite of every opportunity of escaping so dreadful a death. Yet the calm, dispassionate cruelty of the Hindoo nature is shown by the fact that, painful as is a death by burning, the life of a widow who survives her husband is made so miserable that the short though sharp agony of the funeral pyre is infinitely preferable to life. She loses all caste, and a Brahmin widow who refuses to be burned is loathed and despised even by the very Pariahs, whose shadow would have been a contamination to her during the lifetime of her husband. The horror of such a life can scarcely be conceived by an European, even supposing a delicate girl, bred in the midst of all luxury and refinement, to be suddenly cast among the most debased of savages without possibility of rescue, and to be made an object of scorn and contempt even to them.

To realize the depths of utter degradation which a high-caste widow incurs, we must first see what is her opinion of her own status. The reader is doubtless aware that the Hindoos are divided into a number of distinct castes, the peculiarity of which is, that no one can ascend to a superior caste, though he may fall into a lower. Now, of all the castes, the Brahmins are immeasurably the highest, and the reverence which is paid to them by their countrymen is almost incredible. Wealth or secular rank have nothing to do with this reverential feeling. A Hindoo of inferior caste may be, and often is, a man of almost unbounded wealth, may possess almost unbounded power, and, in his own way, unbounded pride. But the very poorest of Brahmins is infinitely his superior, and should he meet one of these exalted beings, he bows before him, and pays divine honors to him. And, according to his belief, he is right in so doing, the Brahmin being an incarnation of Deity, sprung from the mouth of Vishnu, the Saviour God himself. He may be mounted on a magnificent elephant, covered with glittering trappings, he may be clothed in gorgeous robes and sparkle with costly gems, but before a Brahmin, with a single cloth round his waist, and bearing the solitary sign of his caste,--the slight cord hung over one shoulder and under the other,--he is an abject slave. Even if, as sometimes happens, he should employ a Brahmin as his cook, that Brahmin retains his rank, and receives the worship of the man by whom he is paid.

According to their sacred books, “when a Brahmin springs to light, he is born above the world; the chief of all creatures; assigned to guard the treasury of duties, religious and civil.” According to the same books, the very existence of mankind, and even of the world itself, depends upon the forbearance of the Brahmins whose power even exceeds that of the gods themselves. Should there be one who cannot be slain by the great god Indra, by Kali, the goddess of destruction, or even by Vishnu himself, he would be destroyed if a Brahmin were to curse him, as if he were consumed by fire. In the same spirit, princes were warned not to take the property of the Brahmins, however much in want of money, for that if these holy men were once enraged, they could by a word destroy them, their armies, elephants, and horses.

By them, under Brahma, were originally made the earth, the sun, the moon, and the fire, and by them they could be destroyed. “What prince could gain wealth by oppressing those who, if angry, could frame other worlds, and legions of worlds, could give being to new gods and mortals?” Just as these tremendous privileges are independent of the external circumstances of wealth and rank, so are they independent of individual character. The pure soul of a Brahmin is beyond all moral elevation, and above all moral pollution. He may be a man of the purest life and loftiest morality, but he is none the better Brahmin for that; he may be one of the vilest of debauchees, and be none the worse Brahmin for that, provided he does not commit any act which would forfeit his caste,--such, for example, as killing a cow, or eating food that had been cooked by an inferior.

To fall from such an estate as this, above humanity and equal to divinity, must be something almost too terrible to conceive, and we can easily imagine that any death would be preferable to such a life. But not even the horror of a life like this would be equivalent to the sufferings of the Indian widow, who believes that her very soul is contaminated beyond hope by the loss of her caste, and who feels herself degraded below the level of those on whom she had looked with an utter loathing that is almost incomprehensible to the Western mind. She has to cut off her hair, she has to live on the coarsest of food, she has to clothe herself in the coarsest of raiment, and altogether to lead a life utterly and hopelessly miserable in every hardship that can afflict the body, and every reproach that can torture the mind.

On the other side comes the belief, that if she follows the dictates of her religion, and suffers herself to be burned on the funeral pile of her husband, she qualifies herself for everlasting happiness. From the moment that the ceremonies of the sacrifice are begun, she becomes an absolutely sacred being, whose very touch sanctifies the objects on which she lays her hands; she renders herself a model to be imitated by all her sex, and her memory is forever venerated by her family. It is therefore no wonder that, swayed by such considerations, the Indian widow prefers death to life, and that the sacrifice of the Suttee has taken such hold upon the people.

Varying slightly in details according to the rank of the individual and the particular district in which the sacrifice takes place, the ceremony is conducted after the following manner.

A hole is dug in the ground, over which the funeral pile is raised. The object of the hole is to supply a current of air by which the fire may be fed. Sticks are then driven round the edge of the hole to support the materials of the pile, which are dry wood, rushes, and hemp. These are heaped carefully to a height of four feet or so, and resin and ghee (i. e. liquid butter) are thrown on the pile, so as to increase the vehemence of the flames. The body is then taken to the river, on whose bank the pyre is always erected, and is there washed by the relatives, and afterward wrapped in a new cloth and laid on the pile.

During this time the widow stands on the bank, uttering prayers, and waving in her hand a branch of mango. After the corpse is removed from the water, she descends into it herself, and, having washed, distributes to her friends all her ornaments, which are eagerly sought, as being sanctified by having been touched by the sacred hand of a suttee. She is then dressed in a new robe, and places herself by the side of the body, to which she is usually, though not always, lashed. Dry rushes and wood are next heaped over her, only her head being suffered to be uncovered, so that she may breathe for the short time she has to live. Two long bamboos are then laid across the pile, the ends being held by the relations, so as to press her down should she struggle to escape when the flames reach her. The fire is lighted by her nearest relation, and, if the pile has been properly constructed, the suttee is soon dead, being killed rather by suffocation from the smoke than by the flames.

Sometimes, however, when the building of the pile has been entrusted to inexperienced hands, a terrible scene takes place, the wretched victim trying to escape from the flames that torture her, and being ruthlessly held down by the bamboo poles across her body. Dr. Massie relates several instances of attempted escape. In one case, the mode of preparing the pile was evidently the cause of the poor victim’s sufferings. At each corner a stout pole was erected, and from this pole was suspended a second pile, like a canopy, elevated three or four feet above the surface of the principal pile. This canopy was chiefly made of logs of wood, and was exceedingly heavy.

After the suttee had been laid upon the pile, and covered with straw saturated with ghee, the fire was kindled, and the smoke rolled in thick volumes over the head of the victim. The flames began to blaze fiercely, and if they had been allowed to burn in their own way, the death of the poor woman would have been almost immediate. But just at this time four assistants severed with their swords the ropes which upheld the canopy, so that it fell with its whole weight upon her.

Possibly it was intended as an act of mercy, but its effect was anything but merciful. For the moment she was stunned by the blow, but the mass of billets checked the action of the fire, and caused it to burn slowly instead of rapidly. The creeping flames soon restored her to consciousness through the agony which they inflicted upon her, and she shrieked pitifully for the help that none would give her, until death at last put an end to her sufferings.

The same author quotes an account of a suttee who actually did succeed in escaping from the flames, in spite of the resistance offered by the officiating Brahmins and her relatives:--

“Another well-authenticated and brutal instance of this sacrifice occurred about the same time in a more northern province of India: ‘The unfortunate Brahminee, of her own accord, had ascended the funeral pile of her husband’s bones, but finding the torture of the fire more than she could bear, by a violent struggle she threw herself from the flames, and, tottering to a short distance, fell down. Some gentlemen, who were spectators, immediately plunged her into the river, which was close by, and thereby saved her from being much burnt. She retained her senses completely, and complained of the badness of the pile, which, she said, consumed her so slowly that she could not bear it; but expressed her willingness again to try it if they would improve it. They would not do so, and the poor creature shrunk with dread from the flames, which were now burning intensely, and refused to go on.

“‘When the inhuman relations saw this, they took her by the head and heels, and threw her into the fire, and held her there till they were driven away by the heat; they also took up large blocks of wood, with which they struck her, in order to deprive her of her senses; but she again made her escape, and, without any help, ran directly into the river. The people of her house followed her here, and tried to drown her by pressing her under the water, but an European gentleman rescued her from them, and she immediately ran into his arms and cried to him to save her.

“‘I arrived at the ground as they were bringing her the second time from the river, and I cannot describe to you the horror I felt on seeing the mangled condition she was in: almost every inch of skin on her body had been burnt off; her legs and thighs, her arms and back, were completely raw, her breasts were dreadfully torn, and the skin hanging from them in threads; the skin and nails of her fingers had peeled wholly off, and were hanging to the back of her hands. In fact, I never saw and never read of so entire a picture of misery as this poor woman displayed. She seemed to dread being again taken to the fire, and called out to “the Ocha Sahib” to save her. Her friends seemed no longer inclined to force, and one of her relations, at our instigation, sat down beside her, and gave her some clothes, and told her they would not. We had her sent to the hospital, where every medical assistance was immediately given her, but without hope of recovery. She lingered in the most excruciating pain for about twenty hours, and then died.’”

It is often said that the woman is stupefied with opium or Indian hemp before she is brought to the pile, and that the bystanders beat drums and shout in order to drown her shrieks. This, however, is not the case, the woman requiring the use of all her senses to enable her to go through the various ceremonies which precede the actual burning, and the pile being generally made so carefully that death is so rapid that the victim scarcely utters a cry or makes a single struggle to escape.

Additions to the mere burning of the widow have been mentioned by various travellers. Bernier, for example, says that, while travelling near Agra, he heard that a Suttee was about to take place. He went to the spot, and there saw a great pit, in the midst of which was a large pile of wood. On the pile lay the body of a man, and beside it sat a young and handsome woman, whose dress was almost saturated with oil, as was the wood of the pile. The fire being lighted, she sat on the pile, and as the flames wrapped her body, she exclaimed with a loud voice that, according to the Indian belief in the transmigration of souls, this was the fifth time that she had become a suttee, and that she would have to do so twice more in order to attain perfection.

Round the edge of the pit danced five women, holding each other by the hand, and appearing regardless of the fire. Presently the flames seized upon the dress of one of them; whereupon she detached herself from her companions, and flung herself headlong into the burning pit. The remaining four continued their dance, and, as the fire caught their garments, they one by one leaped into the flaming pit. These women, it appeared, had been slaves of the suttee. They were greatly attached to their mistress, and when they heard her offer the vow to die on the funeral pile, they determined to die with her.

The same traveller relates a very curious anecdote of a suttee who employed the dreadful ceremony for a strange purpose.

She was a widow by her own act, having poisoned her husband in order to carry on an intrigue with a young tailor, a Mohammedan, who was celebrated for his skill in playing the drum. He, however, was alarmed at her crime, and declined her society. On account of the caste to which she belonged, the death by burning was not a necessity, but on her lover’s refusal she went to her relations, reported the sudden death of her husband, and declared that she would be burned with him.

“Her kindred, well satisfied with so generous a resolution, and the great honor that she did to the whole family, presently had a pit made and filled with wood, exposing the corpse upon it, and kindling the fire. All being prepared, the woman goes to embrace and bid farewell to all her kindred that were there about the pit, among whom was also the tailor, who had been invited to play upon the tabor that day, with many others of that sort of men, according to the custom of the country. This fury of a woman, being also come to this young man, made sign as if she would bid him farewell with the rest, but, instead of gently embracing him, she taketh him with all her force about his collar, pull him to the pit, and tumbles him, together with herself, into the ditch, where they both were soon despatched.”

The date at which the Suttee was instituted is not known, but it was in operation at the time of Alexander the Great, and must have been established long before. Under the British rule the Suttee system has gradually been abolished, and we may hope that never again will the dread scene be repeated.

* * * * *

Reference has already been made to several other modifications of human sacrifice, and we will give a few pages to a description of them.

There is in the Indian mythology a certain dreadful goddess of destruction, named Kali. Her statues show her attributes, her many hands being filled with all kinds of weapons, and her person decorated with a huge necklace of human skulls. In order to propitiate this terrible divinity, a system has been developed which is perhaps the most remarkable, illogical, and best regulated system that is to be found upon the face of the earth. It is simply murder raised to the rank of a religious rite, and differs from all other human sacrifices in that blood is not shed, that the victim is always killed by stratagem, and that the worshippers need neither temple nor altar.

The members of the society call themselves THUGS, from a Hindoo word which signifies “deception,” and which is given to them in consequence of the mode in which the victims are entrapped. In some parts of India they are called PHÂNSIGARS, from a Sanscrit word which signifies “a noose.” Perhaps the strangest point, in this country of strict and separate caste, is that the Thugs do not belong to one caste, nor even to one religion. They all agree in worshipping Kali, but in other respects they admit among their numbers men and women of all castes, and a large number of them are Mahommedans, who have no caste at all. Indeed, the Mahommedan Thugs claim for themselves the origin of the system, though the Hindoos say that it was in existence long before the time of Mahommed.

They always go in companies, a complete band often consisting of several hundred persons of all ages and both sexes. As the very essence of the sacrifice is secrecy, they assume all kinds of disguises, the usual being that of travelling merchants. In this capacity they act their part to perfection, and endeavor to entice travellers into their clutches.

For this purpose they have a regular organization. At their head they have a chief, or Sirdar, who directs the operations of the band. Then an old experienced Thug acts as instructor, and teaches the younger men how to use the sacred noose by which the victims are strangled. This is not a cord with a running knot, but a sort of handkerchief, which is flung round the neck of the unsuspecting man, and suddenly drawn tight. This noose, or handkerchief, is called the “roomal.” Then come the men who are entrusted with the noose. These are called Bhuttotes, or stranglers, and are generally men possessing both strength and activity. Next are the entrappers, or Sothas, namely, those whose business it is to entrap the victim into a convenient spot for his assassination, and to engage his attention while preparations are being made for his death. Lastly come the Lughaees, or grave-diggers, who prepare the grave for the reception of the body.

The method in which the Thugs perform their sacrifices is almost exactly like that which is employed by the modern garroters, except that a noose is used instead of the arm, and that the victim is always killed, instead of being only made insensible for a time.

Having pitched upon a person whom they think will be a fit offering for Kali, the Sothas manage to induce him to come to the fatal spot. Several days are often spent in this endeavor; for, unless there is every probability that the murder will not be executed before any except members of their own society, the Thugs will not attempt the traveller’s life. The women and children attached to the band are usually employed as Sothas, inasmuch as they would excite less suspicion than if they were men. If the women be young and handsome, they are the more valuable as decoys; and, horrible to say, even young girls take the greatest interest in decoying travellers within the fatal noose.

When the party have arrived at the appointed spot, the attention of the traveller is adroitly directed to some object in front of him, while the Bhuttote who acts the part of executioner steals quietly behind him. Suddenly the noose is flung round the victim’s neck, the knee of the murderer is pressed into his back, and in a short time he ceases to live. Generally the executioner is so adroit at his dread office that the murdered man makes no resistance, but dies almost without a struggle, the first pressure of the noose causing insensibility.

The body of the murdered man is then stripped, and his property falls to the band. Sometimes a whole party of travellers is entrapped by a band of Thugs, and all are simultaneously murdered. This is generally the case when several wealthy men travel together, in which case they and their servants are all murdered in honor of Kali; who, on her part, yields to her servants the goods of the murdered men, by way of recompense for their piety.

The sacrifice over, the body is pierced in several places to prevent it from swelling, and is then laid in the grave. The soil is carefully filled in, and levelled with such ingenious care that scarcely any except those who dug the grave can discover it after the burial. In one case, when an English force was in chase after a band of Thugs, they passed over ground which was full of bodies, and never suspected it until one of the Thug prisoners exultingly pointed out grave after grave as proofs of their success.

After the body is buried, and all signs of the murder removed, the Thugs go through a sort of religious ceremony, sitting round a white cloth, on which are laid the sacred pickaxes with which the graves are dug, a piece of silver, and some sugar. The Sirdar then sits on the sheet, facing westward, with the most accomplished stranglers on either side of him, and distributes the sugar to all present, who eat it in solemn silence. The sheet is then put away, and to all appearance the Thugs are nothing more than a party of harmless travellers.

So secretly is the whole business conducted, that the system has only been discovered within late years. Numbers of persons had mysteriously disappeared; but in India the natives are singularly apathetic, and it is always easy to account for the disappearance of a traveller by saying that he has been carried off by a tiger. The Thugs take the greatest pride in their profession, and, when captured, do not attempt to disguise it, but openly boast of the number of victims whom they have slain, and describe with glee the method in which they destroyed them; and, when themselves led to the gallows, they treat the whole business with calm contempt, having no more care for their own lives than for those of their victims.

* * * * *

We now come to another ceremony, in which human life is sacrificed, though as an adjunct, and not as its essential feature. This is the celebrated procession of Juggernaut, or Jaganatha. The ceremonies connected with this idol, and indeed the invention of the idol itself, seem to be of comparatively modern date, and, except for the great annual procession of the car, are of little interest.

The great temple of the idol is situated in Orissa, rather more than three hundred miles southwest from Calcutta. It is a tall, pyramidal tower, some two hundred feet in height, built of a warm red sandstone, covered with the lime-cement called “chunam.” Being on the sea-coast, this tower is a most useful landmark to navigators in the Bay of Bengal.

Once in every year the great festival of Juggernaut takes place, and the huge idol-car is brought out for the procession. The car is an enormous edifice of wood, more than forty feet high, and thirty-five feet square. This mass of timber is supported on sixteen wheels, each more than six feet in diameter, some of the wheels being under the body of the car. The car itself is plentifully adorned with sculptures of the usual character, and it is conventionally supposed to be drawn by two great wooden horses, which are attached to it in readiness for the procession, and kept inside it during the rest of the year.

On the appointed day three idols are placed in the car. The central figure represents Krishna, and the others are his brother Bala Rama and his sister Sûbhadra. They are nothing but three enormous and hideous busts, not nearly so well carved as the tikis of New Zealand, and, in fact, much resemble the human figures scribbled on walls by little boys. Stout and long cables are attached to the car, by means of which the worshippers of the idol drag it along. The scene that takes place at the procession is most vividly described by Bruton:--

“In this chariot, on their great festal days, at night they place their wicked god, Jaggarnat; and all the Bramins, being in number nine thousand, attend this great idol, besides of ashmen and fackeeres (fakirs) some thousands, or more than a good many.

“The chariot is most richly adorned with most rich and costly ornaments; and the aforesaid wheels are placed very complete in a round circle, so artificially that every wheel doth its proper office without any impediment; for the chariot is aloft, and in the centre betwixt the wheels: they have also more than two thousand lights with them. And this chariot, with the idol, is also drawn with the greatest and best men of the town; and they are so greedy and eager to draw it, that whosoever, by shouldering, crowding, shoving, heaving, thrusting, or in any insolent way, can but lay a hand upon the rope, they think themselves blessed and happy; and when it is going along the city, there are many that will offer themselves as a sacrifice to this idol, and desperately lie down on the ground, that the chariot-wheels may run over them, whereby they are killed outright; some get broken arms, some broken legs, as that many of them are so destroyed; and by this means they think to merit heaven.”

Another of the earlier writers on this subject states that many persons lie down in the track of the car a few hours before it starts, and, taking a powerful dose of opium, or “bhang,” i. e. Indian hemp, meet death while still unconscious.

In former days the annual assemblage at the temple of Juggernaut, which is to the Hindoos what Mecca is to the Mahommedans, was astonishing, a million and a half of pilgrims having been considered as the average number. Putting aside the comparative few who perished under the wheels of the great car (for, indeed, had the whole road been paved with human bodies, they would have been but a few), the number that died from privation and suffering was dreadful.

We know by many a sad experience how difficult it is to feed a large army, even with the great advantage of discipline on the part of the commissariat and the recipients. It is therefore easy to see how terrible must be the privation when a vast multitude, quadruple the number of any army that ever took the field, arrives simultaneously from all directions at a place where no arrangements have been made to supply them with provisions, and where, even if the locality could furnish the requisite food, the greater number of the pilgrims are totally without money, and therefore unable to pay for food. In those days the pilgrims perished by thousands, as much victims to Juggernaut as those who were crushed under his chariot wheels, and, indeed, suffering a far more lingering and painful death. Still, according to their belief, they died in the performance of their duty, and by that death had earned a high place in the paradise of the Hindoos.

Such was the case before the English raj was established in India. Since that time a gradual but steady diminution has taken place in the number of the pilgrims to Juggernaut’s temple; and we have lately seen a most astonishing and portentous event. Formerly, the vast crowd of worshippers pressed and crowded round the cables by which the car was drawn, trying to lay but a hand upon the sacred rope. Of late years the Brahmins have found fewer and fewer devotees for this purpose, and on one occasion, in spite of all their efforts, the ropes were deserted, and the car left stationary, to get along as it could.

As to the idol Juggernaut itself, Bruton gives a curious description of it, saying that it is in shape like a serpent with seven heads, and that on the cheeks of each head there are wings which open and shut and flap about as the car moves along.

An idol in the form of a five-headed cobra is mentioned by Messrs. Tyerman and Bennett in their “Missionary Voyages”: “We happened to be visiting a very handsomely built stone temple (at Allahabad), covered with well executed sculptures of their idols, holy persons, etc., in stone of the highest relief. In the temple were several stone idols representing the serpent--the cobra capella, or hooded snake. The largest, which represents a serpent twelve feet long, with five heads, and the heads all expanded, coiled into a sort of Gordian knot, is the principal object of worship in this temple.

“While we were looking at this stone snake, a horrid-looking man, unclothed, rushed in (he was about twenty-five years old), being covered with ashes, and his huge quantity of hair matted with mud dust. His eyes appeared inflamed; he bowed before the serpent, then prostrated himself, afterward respectfully touched his head, looked fixedly upon the serpent, prostrated himself again, then touched it and rushed out, as if in a paroxysm of delight at the thought of having worshipped this thing. When he got out of the temple, he walked all round within the verandah, and, having once more bowed at the door of the temple, he departed with a hurried step. We cannot conceive of any human being having more the appearance of a demoniac than this miserable creature, who, nevertheless, is regarded by the poor Hindoos as one of the holiest of men.”

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Another form of human sacrifice was intended, like the prostration under Juggernaut’s car, to take the devotee to Paradise, though by a less painful and less revolting process.

The Ganges has always been reckoned as a most sacred stream, whose waters wash from the soul all taint of sin. There is, however, one spot, namely, the confluence of the Jumna with the Ganges, which is so very sacred, that any one who dies there must of necessity go straight to Paradise. It is evident, therefore, that the simplest plan of entering Paradise is to ensure death at the junction of the rivers. For this purpose the devotee entered a boat, and tied to each of his feet a chatty or earthenware jar filled with sand. The boat was rowed into mid-stream, and the devotee dropped overboard into the river. The boats used for this purpose were kept by Brahmins, who charged a fee for officiating at the sacrifice.

Sometimes the devotees managed to sacrifice themselves without the assistance of the Brahmins and their boat. They tied an empty chatty to their waists in front and behind, and, buoyed up by the empty vessels, paddled themselves with their hands until they reached the desired spot. They then scooped water into the chatties, until they were filled, and so sank, the weight of the vessels being sufficient to take them to the bottom. In like manner are corpses entrusted to the keeping of the holy river, when the relatives of the deceased are not able to afford the great expense of a funeral pile. The body is surrounded by lighted straw, so that it is scorched, and therefore considered to be purified by fire. Two chatties are then fastened to it, the relatives tow the body into mid-stream, fill the chatties with water, and allow the body to sink. What becomes of it afterward they care nothing, and though it be devoured by the many creatures of prey which haunt the rivers in search of their loathsome food, they are perfectly satisfied with their share in its disposal.

In many cases beasts are substituted for human sacrifices. A short, stout post is fixed in the ground, and on its top is cut a deep notch, in which is received the neck of the animal, the size of the notch and height of the post being suited to the size of the victim. Sacrifices are thus offered to Doorga, the goddess of nature, and it is of the utmost importance that the head of the victim should be severed at a single blow. This is easy enough with a lamb, or even a goat, but when a buffalo is to be sacrificed, the success of the blow is so doubtful that many ceremonies are employed to ensure its right performance. The sacrificial knife is a tremendous weapon, shaped something like a bill-hook, very broad, very heavy, and kept as sharp as a razor. When the sacrifice is to take place, the buffalo is brought to the post, which stands before the ten-armed image of Doorga, its horns are painted red, turmeric is poured over its head, water from the Ganges is sprinkled over it, and garlands of flowers are hung about its neck.

The animal is then placed so that its neck rests in the fork of the post, to which it is firmly secured by an iron bar which passes through holes in the fork, and presses its head downward. The body is supported on a mound of earth in front of the post, and the legs are drawn apart and held by ropes, so that a movement is impossible. The sacrificer, always a man of great muscular power, then comes forward and takes the sacrificial knife from the altar before Doorga’s statue, and, together with the assembled multitude, prays that strength may be given to enable him to fulfil his office.

Amid the breathless silence of the assembled worshippers, he raises the heavy blade, and with one blow drives it through the neck of the helpless victim. As the head falls to the ground, it is snatched up by the officiating Brahmins, who offer it to the goddess, while the people, in a frenzy of delight, dance round the sacrificer, embrace him, chant songs in his honor, and crown him with garlands of flowers. The body of the buffalo becomes the property of the spectators, who struggle for it until one party gains the superiority over the other, and carries off the prize. Around the blood, that lies in pools on the ground, the multitude crowd, dip their fingers in it, and daub it on their bodies and on the walls of the temple.

The goddess Doorga, to whom these sacrifices are made, is in fact Kali under another title; the former name meaning the Inaccessible, and the latter the Black One. She is represented as the wife of the Destroying God, Shiva, and as the mother of the God of War, Kartikeya. As Doorga, her many-armed figure is carved of wood, or modelled in pasteboard, and painted rose color. She is seated cross-legged on a peacock, and surrounded by many other deities of the multitudinous Hindoo mythology. Before her is represented a man being devoured by a nondescript beast, something like the heraldic griffin. As soon as the sacrifice is over, the goddess is supposed to depart from her image, which is then taken in procession to the Ganges, and amid the deafening shouts of the people, the blast of trumpets, and the beating of kettle-drums, is cast into the stream.

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The reader may remember that on page 1413 was given a short description of a holy man who came to worship the many-headed snake-god. He was one of the Fakirs, or Jogis, i. e. ascetics, who in India are wonderfully numerous, and submit themselves to the most dreadful tortures in honor of their deities. By rights the Fakirs are Mohammedans, though the English have been accustomed to call both the Mohammedan and Hindoo ascetics by the common title of Fakir. “Jogi” is the usual title for the Hindoo devotees, though they are divided into a number of sects, such as Bairágès, Sangasés, Gosárés, &c.

In all ages and in almost all countries, there have been religious enthusiasts, who have sought to gain the favor or propitiate the anger of the deity by voluntary suffering, but there is perhaps no country where we find so great a variety of this principle as we do in India. There are Mohammedan as well as Hindoo ascetics, and the latter have this advantage, that they need not belong to any particular caste. To describe fully the extraordinary proceedings of these men would occupy much more space than can be afforded, and we will therefore only take a few of the most characteristic examples.

One of the commonest, as well as one of the lightest, of these tortures is, to have the tongue bored with a red-hot iron. This practice used to prevail largely at Chinsurah, at the temple of the Bull-god. Under a clump of banyan trees the devotees assembled in order to inflict various tortures upon themselves, and by far the most common was that of tongue boring. The operation was performed by a native smith, who was reckoned very skilful at it, and at certain seasons he was completely beset by applicants, doubly clamorous in the first place to have their tongues bored, and in the next to have it done as cheaply as possible. At these seasons he used to range the applicants in regular lines, and take them in their turn, varying his fee according to their number, rank, and impatience.

A strange instance of self-torture is described by Colonel Campbell. At Colar, the birthplace of Tippoo Sultan, a man was seen marching up and down before a mosque, chanting a hymn. He was shod with a pair of wooden sandals, not tied but nailed to his feet by long iron spikes that had been driven through the sole and projected above the instep. Yet he walked with a firm, unconcerned step, and chanted his measured tune as if utterly unconscious of the horrible torture which each step must have cost him.

Sometimes these devotees show their piety by long pilgrimages to certain sacred spots, making the journey as difficult and fanciful as possible. Some will lie on the ground and roll the whole distance, while others measure the track by prostrating themselves on their faces, marking the spot where their heads lay, getting up, placing their feet on the marked spot, and then prostrating themselves again. Sometimes they will lie on their backs and push themselves along the road by their heels, thus cutting and bruising their backs terribly against the rough ground. Some of these men practise a most extraordinary penance in honor of the goddess Doorga, a penance which in some respects resembles the initiation of the Mandans. A stout pole, some twenty feet high, is fixed in the ground, and a long bamboo is placed horizontally over the top, on which it revolves by means of a pivot. Sometimes two or even three poles cross each other on the top of the post. Ropes hang from each end of the bamboos, and to half of them are fastened large unbarbed hooks of polished iron. The devotees having placed themselves under the bamboo, the hooks are run into their backs, and by persons hauling on the rope at the other end of the bamboo they are raised into the air. The men who hold the ropes then run in a circle, so as to swing the devotees round at a great pace, the whole weight of their bodies being borne by the hooks. While swinging they scatter flowers and other gifts among the spectators, who eagerly scramble for them, thinking they possess very great virtues.

Both men and women submit to this terrible torture, and do so for a variety of reasons. Some permit themselves to be swung in pure honor of the goddess, some do it in fulfilment of a vow, while many submit to the operation for pay, acting as substitutes of persons who have made the vow and are afraid to fulfil it personally, or who prefer honoring the goddess by deputy rather than in their own person. From one to two rupees, i. e. from two to four shillings, is considered a fair price to the substitute.

Sometimes the upright post is fastened upon an ordinary bullock wagon, and is shorter than when it is fixed in the ground. After the hooks have been inserted, the opposite end of the bamboo is drawn down, so as to elevate the devotee some thirty feet in the air, and made fast to the wagon. The cart is then drawn as fast as possible round the enclosure by six or eight bullocks, which are harnessed to it for the occasion, and selected for their speed.

In many instances, the Jogis (pronounced Yogees) perform their penance by keeping one or more of their limbs in one attitude, until after a time it becomes incapable of motion, and the muscles almost entirely waste away. Some of these men will hold one arm stretched upward to its fullest extent. This is done by supporting the arm by a cord when the wearied muscles refuse to uphold the limb any longer. In some instances, where the Jogi has clenched his hand, the nails have grown fairly through the hand, forced their way through the back, and hung nearly to the wrist.

A very common practice is to sit completely motionless, in which case the legs become in time totally incapable of moving, so that the man could not change his position even if he desired to do so. In some instances they even go beyond this, and manage to stand instead of sit, with scarcely any support for their bodies during sleep. One of these men is described by Mr. Williamson: “Within a few yards of the river on our left stood one of those horrid figures called a yogee, or Indian saint,--a gentleman beggar, who had placed himself in a certain attitude, from which he had vowed never to swerve during the remainder of his life, but to spend his life in mental abstraction.

“He appeared on a platform of earth raised about eighteen inches from the ground. At one end of this mound (which might be seven feet long by five broad) were erected two bamboos, seven or eight feet high, and sufficiently apart for him to stand between them. At elbow height a broad board was placed from one bamboo to the other, and upon the middle of this another piece of plank, two feet long by five inches wide, was fixed, sloping upward from him. He therefore, standing on the platform, and resting his arms upon the cross-bar, held with his hands on each side of the upright sloping board. He seemed to press equally on either foot, leaning a little forward, with his face turned rather aside, and raised toward the sun.

“His personal appearance was squalid and miserable. His body was daubed all over with blue mud; his hair--long, matted, discolored to a yellowish brown with exposure--dangled in all directions. His beard was bushy and black, and the rest of his face so disfigured with hair, that it might be said to be all beard.

“Not the slightest motion in one of his limbs, nor in a muscle of his countenance, was perceptible. He was altogether without clothing, except a slip of brown stuff about the loins. He wore the ‘poita,’ or sacred thread, indicating that he was a Brahmin. Night and day, it is understood, the wretched sufferer (if indeed his state can be called one of suffering) maintains without any variation this paralyzing position.”

Mr. Bennett then expresses some disbelief in the constant immobility of the devotee, and evidently suspects him to be an impostor, who, under cover of night, leaves his post, and refreshes himself with sleep in a recumbent position. This, however, was certainly not the case, and indeed the very language of the account shows that it could not be so. A very long period must have elapsed before the devotee in question could have trained his body to remain, as Mr. Bennett admits was the case, without the movement of a muscle during the whole time that his proceedings were watched. And, before such a consummation could have been attained, the limbs of the man must have been so entirely stiffened by non-usage, that they would be as inflexible as if they had been cut out of wood or stone, and whether he stood or lay would have been a matter of perfect indifference. As to sitting, or assuming any attitude that involved the flexion of a limb, it would have been utterly impossible.

We may see a similar phenomenon, if it may be so called, among ourselves. There is not one man in a thousand who preserves the normal flexibility of his limbs, unless he be a professional athlete. Naturally, the limbs of every man and woman are as flexible as those of the posture-masters, who can cross their feet over the back of their necks, pick up a coin with their mouths from the ground between their heels, or sit on the ground with their legs stretched straight at either side of their bodies. But, unless men preserve this flexibility by constant use, the limbs become stiff, and it is quite as difficult, not to say impossible, for an ordinary Englishman to perform the feats of the professional acrobat, as it is for the Jogi to bend the knees or ankles that have been unbent for a series of years.

Moreover, the spectators who assemble round such devotees, and who never leave him unwatched by day or night, would be very ready to detect any attempt at imposture, and would be excited by it to such a pitch of religious fury, that the man would be torn to pieces by the excited crowd. And the very fact that the man was a Brahmin was proof enough that he was no impostor. By virtue of his Brahminical rank, he was at the summit of humanity. Had he been a low-caste man, he might with reason have been suspected of imposture, in order to obtain respect from his countrymen. But, as the man was already a Brahmin, such imposture was totally needless, and his devotion, superstitious and fanatical as it might be, was undoubtedly sincere.

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