Chapter XXVI (5)

On your first entering the church, you put off your shoes: but you must leave a servant there with them, or else they will be stolen, if good for anything, by the priests and monks, before you come out of the church. At entering you kiss the threshold and the two door-posts, go in and say what prayer you please; that finished you come out again, and your duty is over. The churches are full of pictures, painted on parchment, and nailed upon the walls a little less slovenly than you see paltry prints in beggarly country ale-houses. There has been always a sort of painting known among the scribes, a daubing much inferior to the worst of our sign-painters. Sometimes, for a particular church, they get a number of pictures of saints, on skins of parchment, ready finished from Cairo, in a style very little superior to these performances of their own. They are placed like a frieze, and hung in the upper part of the wall. St. George is generally there with his dragon, and St. Demetrius fighting a lion. There is no choice in their saints; they are both of the Old and New Testament, and those that might be dispensed with from both. There is St. Pontius Pilate and his wife; there is St. Balaam and his ass; Samson and his jawbone; and so of the rest. But the thing that surprised Mr. Bruce most was a kind of square miniature upon the head-piece or mitre of the priest, administering the sacrament at Adowa, representing Pharaoh on a white horse plunging in the Red Sea, with many guns and pistols swimming upon the surface of it around him.

Nothing embossed, or in relief, ever appears in any of their churches; all this would be reckoned idolatry, so much so that they do not wear a cross, as has been represented, on the top of the ball of the sendick or standard, because it casts a shade; but there is no doubt that pictures have been used in their churches from the very earliest ages of Christianity.

The primate or patriarch of the Abyssinian Church is styled Abuna. The first of these prelates mentioned in history is Tecla Haimanout, who distinguished himself by the restoration of the royal family, and the regulations which he made both in church and state. A wise ordinance was then enacted that the Abyssinians should not have it in their power to raise one of their own countrymen to the dignity of Abuna. As this dignitary of the church very seldom understands the language of the country, he has no share in the government. His chief employment is in ordinations, which ceremony is thus performed:--A number of men and children present themselves at a distance, and there stand from humility, not daring to approach him. He then asks who these are, and they tell him that they wish to be deacons. On this he makes two or three signs with a small cross in his hand, and blows with his mouth twice or thrice upon them, saying, “Let them be deacons.” Mr. Bruce once saw the whole army of Begemder, when just returned from shedding the blood of 10,000 men, made deacons by the Abuna, who stood about a quarter of a mile distant from them.

The Abyssinians neither eat nor drink with strangers, though they have no reason for this; and it is now a mere prejudice, because the old occasion for this regulation is lost. They break, or purify, however, every vessel a stranger of any kind shall have eaten or drunk out of. The custom, then, is copied from the Egyptians; and they have preserved it, though the Egyptian reason does no longer hold.

The Egyptians made no account of the mother what her state was; if the father was free, the child followed the condition of the father. This is strictly so in Abyssinia. The king’s child by a negro-slave, bought with money, or taken in war, is as near in succeeding to the crown as any one of twenty children that he has older than that one, and born of the noblest women of the country.

In Abyssinia, once every year they baptize all grown people, or adults. Mr. Bruce here relates what he himself saw on the spot, and what is nothing more than the celebration of our Saviour’s baptism:--“The small river, running between the town of Adowa and the church, had been dammed up for several days; the stream was scanty, so that it scarcely overflowed. It was in places three feet deep, in some perhaps four, or little more. Three large tents were pitched the morning before the feast of the Epiphany; one on the north for the priests to repose in during the intervals of the service, and, besides this, one to communicate in: on the south there was a third tent for the monks and priests of another church to rest themselves in their turn. About twelve o’clock at night the monks and priests met together, and began their prayers and psalms at the water-side, one party relieving each other. At dawn of day, the governor, Welleta Michael, came thither, with some soldiers, to raise men for Ras Michael, then on his march against Waragna Fasil, and sat down on a small hill by the water-side, the troops all skirmishing on foot and on horseback around them.

“As soon as the sun began to appear, three large crosses of wood were carried by three priests dressed in their sacerdotal vestments, and who, coming to the side of the river, dipped the cross into the water, and all this time the firing, skirmishing, and praying, went on together. The priests with their crosses returned, one of their number before them carrying something less than an English quart of water in a silver cup or chalice; when they were about fifty yards from Welleta Michael, that general stood up, and the priest took as much water as he could hold in his hands, and sprinkled it upon his head holding the cup at the same time to Welleta Michael’s mouth to taste; after which the priest received it back again, saying at the same time, “Gzier y’barak,” which is simply, “May God bless you.” Each of the three crosses was then brought forward to Welleta Michael, and he kissed them. The ceremony of sprinkling the water was then repeated to all the great men in the tent, all cleanly dressed as in gala. Some of them, not contented with aspersion, received it in the palms of their hands joined, and drank it there; more water was brought for those that had not partaken of the first; and after the whole of the governor’s company was sprinkled, the crosses returned to the river, their bearers singing _hallelujahs_, and the skirmishing and firing continuing.”

Mr. Bruce observed, that, a very little time after the governor had been sprinkled, two horses and two mules, belonging to Ras Michael and Ozoro Esther, came and were washed. Afterwards the soldiers went in and bathed their horses and guns; those who had wounds bathed them also. Heaps of platters and pots, that had been used by Mahometans or Jews, were brought thither likewise to be purified; and thus the whole ended.

The men in Egypt neither bought nor sold; the same is the case in Abyssinia to this day. It is infamy for a man to go to market to buy any thing. He cannot carry water or bake bread; but he must wash the clothes belonging to both sexes; and, in this function, the women cannot help him. In Abyssinia the men carried their burdens on their heads, the women on their shoulders: and this difference, we are told, obtained in Egypt. It is plain that this buying in the public market by women must have ended whenever jealousy or sequestration of that sex began. For this reason it ended early in Egypt; but, for the opposite reason, it subsists in Abyssinia to this day. It was a sort of impiety in Egypt to eat a calf; and the reason was plain, they worshipped the cow. In Abyssinia, to this day, no man eats veal, although every one very willingly eats beef. The Egyptian reason no longer subsists, as in the former case, but the prejudice remains, though they have forgotten their reason.

The Abyssinians eat no wild or water-fowl, not even the goose, which was a great delicacy in Egypt. The reason of this is, that, upon their conversion to Judaism, they were forced to relinquish their ancient municipal customs, as far as they were contrary to the Mosaical law, and the animals in their country not corresponding in form, kind, or name with those mentioned in the Septuagint, or original Hebrew, it has followed that there are many of each class that know not whether they are clean or not, and a wonderful confusion and uncertainty has followed through ignorance or mistake, being unwilling to violate the law in any one instance, though not understanding it.

Among the Gallas of Abyssinia, the Kalijas (magicians) and the Lubas (priests) reign supreme. It is the business of the latter to determine whether any impending war will be successful, and for this purpose the entrails of a goat are consulted. With his long hair streaming wildly, a bright copper circlet decorating his brow, and with a sonorous bell, which he beats to enjoin the silence and attention of the assembled multitude, he plunges his naked arm into the bowels of the freshly-slaughtered animal, and withdrawing part of the intestines, according to their colour declares the prospects of the savage army. In such matters, however, the Kalijas never interferes. His business is to cast out from sick men the evil spirits that torment them. There are eighty-eight evil spirits, say the Kalijas, divided into two bands of forty-three each and ruled and directed by a chief. The Kalijas is untiring in his efforts to hunt out this formidable army of eighty-eight. He goes about with a bell in one hand and a whip in the other, and with a festoon of dried goat’s entrails about his neck. Sent for by a patient he rubs him well with grease, smokes him with aromatic herbs, cries out at the top of his voice, rings his bell with a deafening din, and then lays into the sick person with the whipthong. If all these powerful remedies fail to drive out the Sao or evil spirit, why, the Kalijas resignedly takes his fee and goes away, leaving the victory to the doughty soldier of the eighty six.

In debating on the ills the Abyssinian is heir to the Bouda and Zar must not be forgotten, since they occupy a most prominent place in the catalogue of evils which torture the brown-skinned children of the sun. Of the two the _Bouda_, or sorcerer, as the word signifies, is the most dreaded. His powers in the black art are reported to be of a most varied character. At one time he will enslave the objects of his malice, at another he will subject them to nameless tortures, and not unfrequently his vengeance will even compass their death. Like the genii and egrets of the Arabian Nights the Bouda invariably selects those possessed of youth and talent, beauty and wit, on whom to work his evil deeds.

A variety of charms have been invented to counteract the Bouda’s power, but the most potent are the amulets written by the pious _deleteras_ and worn round the neck. The dread of the sorcerer has introduced a whole tribe of exorcists who pretend both to be able to conjure the evil spirit and also to detect his whereabout; and these are accordingly held in great awe by the people. Their traffic resembles that of the highwayman; with this difference only--that the one in bold and unblushing language calls on his victim to stand and deliver, the other stealthily creeps into the midst of a troop of soldiers, or amongst a convivial party of friends, and pronounces the mystical word _Bouda_. The uncouth appearance and sepulchral voice of the exorcist everywhere produce the deepest sensation, and young and old, men and women, gladly part with some article to get rid of his hated and feared presence. If, as sometimes happens, one or two less superstitious individuals object to these wicked exactions, the exorcist has a right to compel every one present to smell an abominable concoction of foul herbs and decayed bones which he carries in his pouch; those who unflinchingly inhale the offensive scent are declared innocent, but those who have not such strong olfactory nerves are declared _Boudas_ and shunned as allies of the evil one.

“During the rainy season,” says Mr. Stern, the most recent of Abyssinian travellers, “when the weather, like the mind, is cheerless and dull, the _Boudas_, as if in mockery of the universal gloom, celebrate their saturnalia. In our small settlement at _Gaffat_ the monotony of our existence was constantly diversified by a Bouda scene. Towards the close of August, when every tree and shrub began to sprout and blossom, the disease degenerated into a regular epidemic; and in the course of an evening two, three, and not unfrequently every hut occupied by the natives would ring with that familiar household cry. A heavy thunderstorm by some mysterious process seemed invariably to predispose the people to the Bouda’s torturing influence.

“I remember one day about the end of August we had a most tremendous tempest: it commenced a little after mid-day and lasted till nearly five o’clock. During its continuance the air was completely darkened, except when the lightning’s blaze flashed athwart the sky and relieved for a few seconds the almost midnight gloom. No human voice could be heard amidst the thunder’s deafening crash and the torrent’s impetuous rage.

“The noise and tumult of the striving elements had scarcely subsided when one of the servants, a stout, robust, and masculine woman, began to exhibit the Bouda symptoms. She had been complaining the whole noon of langour, faintness, and utter incapacity for all physical exertion. About sunset her lethargy increased, and she gradually sank into a state of apparent unconsciousness. Her fellow servants who were familiar with the cause of her complaint at once pronounced her to be possessed. To outwit the conjuror I thought it advisable to try the effect of strong liquid ammonia on the nerves of the evil one. The place being dark, faggots were ignited; and in their bright flickering light we beheld a mass of dark figures squatted on the wet floor around a rigid and apparently dead woman. I instantly applied my bottle to her nose; but although the potent smell made all near raise a cry of terror, it produced no more effect on the passive and insensible patient than if it had been clear water.

“The owner of Gaffat, an amateur exorcist, almost by instinct, as if anticipating something wrong in that part of his dominion occupied by the Franks, made his appearance in the very nick of time, and no sooner had the bloated and hideous fellow hobbled into the hut, than the possessed woman, as if struck by a magnetic wire, burst into loud fits of laughter and the paroxysms of a maniac.

“Half-a-dozen stalwart fellows caught hold of her, but frenzy imparted vigour to her frame which even the united strength of these athletics was barely sufficient to keep under control. She tried to bite, kick, and tear every one within reach; and when she found herself foiled in all these mischievous attempts she convulsively grasped the unpaved wet floor and, in imitation of the hyæna, gave forth the most discordant sounds. Manacled and shackled with leather thongs, she was now partly dragged, and partly carried, to an open grassy spot; and there in the presence of a considerable number of people the conjuror, in a business-like manner, began his exorcising art.

“The poor sufferer, as if conscious of the dreaded old man’s presence struggled frantically to escape his performance; but the latter disregarding her entreaties and lamentations, her fits of unnatural gaiety and bursts of thrilling anguish, with one hand laid an amulet on her heaving bosom, whilst with the other he made her smell a rag in which the root of a strong-scented plant, a bone of a hyæna, and some other abominable unguents, were bound up. The mad rage of the possessed woman being instantly hushed by this operation, the conjuror addressed himself to the _Bouda_, and in language unfit for polite ears, requested him to give him his name. The _Bouda_, speaking through the medium of the possessed, replied:

“‘Hailu Miriam.’

“‘Where do you reside?’

“‘In Damot.’

“‘What is the name of your father and confessor?’

“‘My father’s name is _Negouseye_, and my _Abadre’s_, _Oubie_.’

“‘Why did you come to this district?’

“‘I took possession of this person on the plain of Wadela, where I met her on the road from _Magdala_.’

“‘How many persons have you already killed?

“‘Six.’

“‘I command thee, in the name of the blessed Trinity, the twelve apostles, and the three hundred and eighteen bishops at the council of Nicæa, to leave this woman and never more to molest her.’

“The Bouda did not feel disposed to obey the conjuror; but on being threatened with a repast of glowing coals, he became docile, and in a sulky voice promised to obey the request.

“Still anxious, however, to delay his exit, he demanded something to eat; and to my utter disgust his taste was as coarse as the torments inflicted on the young woman were ungallant. Filth and dirt of the most revolting description, together with an admixture of water, were the choice delicacies he selected for his supper. This strange fare, which the most niggardly hospitality could not refuse, several persons hastened to prepare; and when all was ready, and the earthen dish had been hidden in the centre of a leafy shrub, the conjuror called to the Bouda, ‘As thy father did, so do thou.’ These words had scarcely escaped the lips of the exorcist when the possessed person leapt up and, crawling on all fours, sought the dainty repast, which she lapped up with a sickening avidity and greediness. She now laid hold of a stone which three strong men could scarcely lift, and raising it aloft in the air, whirled it round her head, and then fell senseless to the ground. In half an hour she recovered, but was quite unconscious of what had transpired.

“Next in importance to the _Bouda_ is the _Zar_. This malady is exclusively confined to unmarried women, and has the peculiar feature, that during the violence of the paroxysm it prompts the patient to imitate the sharp discordant growl of the leopard. I recollect that the first time I saw a case of this description it gave me a shock that made my blood run cold. The sufferer was a handsome, gay and lively girl of fifteen. In the morning she was engaged, as usual, with her work, when a quarrel ensued between her and the other domestics. The fierce dispute, though of a trifling character, roused the passions of the fiery Ethiopian to such a pitch that it brought on an hysterical affection. Her companions cried out, ‘She is possessed;’ and certainly her ghastly smile, nervous tremor, wild stare, and unnatural howl, justified the notion. To expel the Zar, a conjuror, as in the Bouda complaint, was formerly considered indispensable; but, by dint of perseverance, the medical faculty of the country, to their infinite satisfaction, have at length made the discovery that a sound application of the whip is quite as potent an antidote against this evil as the necromancer’s spell.”

Turning from Abyssinia to Dahomey we find, as might be expected from all that one hears of that most sanguinary spot on earth, that religion is at a very low ebb. Leopards and snakes are the chief gods worshipped by the Dahomans, and surely the mantle of these deities must have descended to their worshippers, who possess all the cunning of the one and the bloodthirstiness of the other. Besides these, the Dahoman worships thunder and lightning, and sundry meaningless wooden images. The sacrifices are various. If of a bullock it is thus performed: the priests and priestesses (the highest of the land, for the Dahoman proverb has it that the poor are never priests) assemble within a ring in a public square, a band of discordant music attends, and, after arranging the emblems of their religion and the articles carried in religious processions, such as banners, spears, tripods, and vessels holding bones, skulls, congealed blood, and other barbarous trophies, they dance, sing, and drink until sufficiently excited. The animals are next produced and decapitated by the male priests with large chopper knives. The altars are washed with the blood caught in basins; the rest is taken round by the priests and priestesses, who strike the lintel and two side posts of all the houses of the devotees with the blood that is in the basin. The turkey buzzards swarm in the neighbourhood, and with the familiarity of their nature gorge on the mangled carcass as it is cut in pieces. The meat is next cooked and distributed among the priests, portions being set aside to feed the spirits of the departed and the fetishes. After the sacrifice the priesthood again commence dancing, singing, and drinking, men, women, and children grovelling in the dirt, every now and then receiving the touch and blessing of these enthusiasts. Among the priesthood are members of the royal family, wives and children. The mysteries are secret, and the revelation of them is punished with death. Although different fetishes are as common as the changes of language in Central Africa, there is a perfect understanding between all fetish people. The priests of the worship of the leopard, the snake, and the shark, are initiated into the same obscure forms. Private sacrifices of fowls, ducks, and even goats, are very common, and performed in a similar manner: the heads are taken off by the priests, and the altars washed with the blood, and the lintels and sides of the door posts are sprinkled; the body of the animal or bird is eaten or exposed for the sacred turkey buzzards to devour. The temples are extremely numerous, each having one altar of clay. There is no worship within these temples, but small offerings are daily given by devotees and removed by the priests.

Sickness is prevalent among the blacks, small-pox and fever being unattended, except by bad practitioners in medicine. And here let me remark that, after teachers of the Gospel and promoters of education, there is no study that would so well ensure a good reception in Africa as that of medicine. The doctor is always welcome, and, as in most barbarous countries, all white men were supposed to be doctors. If an African sickens, he makes a sacrifice first, a small one of some palm oil food. Dozens of plates of this mixture are to be seen outside the town, and the turkey buzzards horribly gorged, scarcely able to fly from them. If the gods are not propitiated, owls, ducks, goats, and bullocks are sacrificed; and if the invalid be a man of rank, he prays the king to permit him to sacrifice one or more slaves, paying a fee for each. Should he recover, he in his grateful joy liberates one or more slaves, bullocks, goats, fowls, etc., giving them for ever, to the fetish, and henceforward they are fed by the fetish-men. But should he die, he invites with his last breath his principal wives to join him in the next world, and according to his rank, his majesty permits a portion of his slaves to be sacrificed on the tomb.

Should any one by design or accident--the former is scarcely likely--hurt either a leopard or snake fetish, he is a ruined man. But a very few years ago a cruel and lingering death was the penalty; but Dahoman princes of modern times are more tender-hearted than their predecessors, and are content with visiting the culprit with a thorough scorching. Mr. Duncan instances such a case:

“May 1st.--Punishment was inflicted for accidentally killing two fetish snakes, while clearing some rubbish in the French fort. This is one of the most absurd as well as savage customs I ever witnessed or heard of. Still it is not so bad as it was in the reign of the preceding King of Dahomey, when the law declared the head of the unfortunate individual forfeited for killing one of these reptiles, even by accident. The present king has reduced the capital punishment to that about to be described. On this occasion three individuals were sentenced as guilty of the murder of the fetish snakes. A small house is thereupon made for each individual, composed of dry faggots for walls, and it is thatched with dry grass. The fetish-men then assemble, and fully describe the enormity of the crime committed. Each individual is then smeared over, or rather has a quantity of palm-oil and yeast poured over him, and then a bushel basket is placed on each of their heads. In this basket are placed small calabashes, filled to the brim, so that the slightest motion of the body spills both the oil and the yeast, which runs through the bottom of the basket on to the head. Each individual carries a dog and a kid, as well as two fowls, all fastened together, across his shoulders. The culprits were then marched slowly round their newly-prepared houses, the fetish-men haranguing them all the time. Each individual is then brought to the door of his house, which is not more than four feet high. He is then freed from his burthen, and compelled to crawl into his house on his belly, for the door is only eighteen inches high. He is then shut into this small space with the dog, kid, and two fowls. The house is then fired, and the poor wretch is allowed to make his escape through the flames to the nearest running water. During his journey there he is pelted with sticks and clods by the assembled mob; but if the culprit has any friends, they generally contrive to get nearest to him during his race to the water, and assist him, as well as hinder the mob in their endeavours to injure him. When they reach the water they plunge themselves headlong into it, and are then considered to be cleansed of all the sin or crime of the snake-murder. After the lapse of thirteen days, “custom” or holiday is held here for the deceased snakes.

“The superstitions of the Bonny People are very extraordinary. Whatever animal or other thing they consider sacred they term a “jewjew,” and most common and apparently the principal of these jewjews is the guana, a reptile which in their country obtains a very large size. Several which I saw exceeded three feet and a half in length, and in their appearance were particularly disgusting, being of an unvaried dirty tawny hue. Those which live in the towns are very tame, and several as I passed through the narrow alleys approached and amused themselves in licking the blacking from my shoes. The masses of filth scraped and deposited in corners appeared to be their favourite haunts when no pools were near. There they were observed watching the flies carousing and darting at them their long slender tongues with extraordinary quickness and dexterity. For these, as well as snakes, which are likewise jewjews, small spaces are enclosed and diminutive huts erected in various parts near the sea and in the interior of the country. To kill either is considered by the natives as a capital offence and punished with death; yet towards whites so offending they do not resort to such a severe measure, but merely content themselves by strongly censuring them for their profane conduct. When, however, a very flagrant instance occurs, and the white man is not individually known by those of the natives witnessing the act, it is likely that in the first transport of their anger he may be made to atone for his offence with his life; for though the whites themselves are termed jewjews, this, in all probability, is merely a nominal title confered as a compliment.”

The king of Bonny, though often invited, will never venture on board a man-of-war, but sometimes visits the merchant vessels, proceeding from the shore in a war canoe in great form, but as he approaches he always keeps aloof till the compliment of a heavy salute is paid him. He then goes close to the ship’s side and breaks a new-laid hen’s egg against it, after which he ascends the deck fully persuaded that by the performance of this ceremony he has fortified himself against any act of treachery. For other reasons, or perhaps none that he can explain, he likewise takes with him a number of feathers and his father’s arm bone, which, on sitting down to dinner, he places on the table beside his plate. He also has at the same time a young chicken dangling by one leg (the other being cut off) from his neck.

The bar of the river Bonny has sometimes proved fatal to vessels resorting thither, and being therefore injurious to the trade of the place, the inhabitants, considering it as an evil deity, endeavour to conciliate its good will by sacrificing at times a human victim upon it. The last ceremony of this sort took place not a very long time before our arrival. The handsomest and finest lad that could be procured was chosen for the purpose, and for several months before the period fixed for the close of his existence he was lodged with the king, who on account of his mild demeanour and pleasing qualities soon entertained a great affection for him, yet, swayed by superstitious fanaticism, he made no attempt to save him, but on the contrary regarded the fate to which the unfortunate lad was destined as the greatest honour that could be conferred upon him. From the time that he was chosen to propitiate by his death the forbearance of the bar he was considered as a sacred person; whatever he touched, even while casually passing along, was thenceforth his, and therefore when he appeared abroad the inhabitants fled before him to save the apparel which they had on or any articles which at the time they might be carrying. Unconscious, as it was affirmed, of the fate intended for him, he was conveyed in a large canoe to the bar and there persuaded to jump overboard to bathe, while those who took him out immediately turned their backs upon him and paddled away with the utmost haste, heedless of the cries of the wretched victim, at whom, pursuant to their stern superstition, not even a look was allowed to be cast back.

In Abo, says Mr. Bakie, every man and every woman of any consequence keeps as “dju-dju,” or jewjew, the lower jaw of a pig, or, until they can procure this, a piece of wood fashioned like one. This is preserved in their huts, and produced only when worshipped or when sacrifices are made to it, which are at certain times, at intervals of from ten days to three weeks. The particular days are determined by the dju-dju, with palm wine and touching it with a kola-nut; they speak to it and ask it to be good and propitious towards them. It is named _Agba_, meaning pig, or _Agba-Ezhi_, pig’s jaw; but when as dju-dju, it is also termed _Ofum_, or “my image.” People also select particular trees near their huts, or if there are none in the neighbourhood, they transplant one; these they worship, and call _Tuhukum_, or “my God.” They hang on these, bits of white baff (calico) as signs of a dju-dju tree, and as offerings to the deity. No one ever touches these, and if they rot off they are replaced. Little wooden images are also used, and are styled _Ofo Tuhuku_, “talk and pray.” When a man is suspected of falsehood, one of these is placed in his right hand, and he is made to swear by it, and if he does so falsely, it is believed that some evil will speedily befall him. Sacrifices, principally of fowls, are made to these latter as to the former. At Abo one large tree is held as dju-dju for the whole district; it is covered with offerings, and there is an annual festival in honour of it, when sacrifices of fowls, sheep, goats, and bullocks are made. When a man goes to Aro to consult Tshuku he is received by some of the priests outside of the town, near a small stream. Here he makes an offering; after which a fowl is killed, and if it appears unpropitious, a quantity of a red dye, probably camwood, is spilt into the water, which the priest tells the people is blood, and on this the votary is hurried off by the priests and is seen no more, it being given out that Tshuku has been displeased, and has taken him. The result of this preliminary ceremony is determined in general by the amount of the present given to the priests; and those who are reported to have been carried off by Tshuku are usually sold as slaves. Formerly they were commonly sent by canoes to Old Kalabar, and disposed of there. One of Mr. Bakie’e informants met upwards of twenty such unfortunates in Cuba, and another had also fallen in with several at Sierra Leone. If, however, the omen be pronounced to be favourable, the pilgrim is permitted to draw near to the shrine, and after various rites have been gone through, the question, whatever it may be, is propounded of course through the priests, and by them also the reply is given. A yellow powder is given to the devotee, who rubs it round his eyes. Little wooden images are also issued as tokens of a person having actually consulted the sacred oracle, and these are known as _Ofo Tshuku_, and are afterwards kept as dju-dju. A person who has been at Aro, after returning to his home is reckoned dju-dju, or sacred, for seven days, during which period he must stay in his house, and people dread to approach him. The shrine of _Tshuku_ is said to be situated nearly in the centre of the town, and the inhabitants of Aro are often styled _Omo Tshuku_, or “God’s children.”

_Mondzo_ is a bad or evil spirit in this country. The worst of evil spirits is named Kamallo, possibly equivalent with Satan. His name is frequently bestowed on children, and in some parts of Igbo, especially in Isuama, Kamallo is worshipped. No images are made, but a hut is set apart in which are kept bones, pieces of iron, etc., as sacred. Persons make enquiries of this spirit, if they wish to commit any wicked action, such as murder, when they bring presents of cowries and cloth to propitiate this evil being and render him favourable to their designs. If the individual intended as the victim suspects anything, or gets a hint of his adversary’s proceedings, he also comes to worship, bringing with him, if possible, more valuable offerings to try to avert the impending danger, and this is called _Erise nao_, or “I cut on both sides.” In Isuama, if a man is sick, the doctor often tells the friends to consult an evil spirit called _Igwikalla_, and he is also worshipped by persons wishing to injure others. His supposed abode is generally in a bush, which has been well cleared all round; but occasionally huts are dedicated to him, and priests execute his decrees.

Among savages who have no conception of the existence of a Supreme Being must be enumerated the “Sambos,” a race of Indians residing on the shores of the Mosquito River. The only person who is dreaded as a priestess, or “medicine-woman,” is the _Sukia_. This woman possesses more power than the king or chiefs. Her orders, even though of the most brutal and inhuman kind (as often they are), are never disputed nor neglected. When Mr. Bard visited the Sambos he saw a Sukia, whom he describes as a person hideous and disgusting in the extreme. “Her hair was long and matted, and her shrivelled skin appeared to adhere like that of a mummy to her bones; for she was emaciated to the last degree. The nails of her fingers were long and black, and caused her hands to look like the claws of some unclean bird. Her eyes were bloodshot, but bright and intense, and were constantly fixed upon me, like those of some wild beast of prey.” These women, before they assume the office, wander away into the forest and live for a considerable time, without arms or clothing of any kind as a defence against the wild beasts and still wilder elements of the tropics. It is during their residence in the woods that they become initiated into the mysteries of nature, and doubtless obtain their antidotes for serpent charming and other wonderful performances for which they are so famous, such as standing in the midst of flames uninjured. The author of “Waikna” gives a very interesting and amusing account of one of these ceremonies as witnessed by him. “The Sukia made her appearance alone, carrying a long thick wand of bamboo, and with no dress except the _ule tourno_. She was only inferior to her sister of Sandy Bay in ugliness, and stalked into the house like a spectre, without uttering a word. He cut off a piece of calico and handed it to her as her recompense. She received it in perfect silence, walked into the yard, and folded it carefully on the ground. Meanwhile a fire had been kindled of pine splints and branches, which was now blazing high. Without any hesitation the Sukia walked up to it and stepped in its very centre. The flames darted their forked tongues as high as her waist; the coals beneath and around her naked feet blackened, and seemed to expire; while the _tourno_ which she wore about her loins cracked and shivered with the heat. There she stood, immovable and apparently as insensible as a statue of iron, until the blaze subsided, when she commenced to walk around the smouldering embers, muttering rapidly to herself in an unintelligible manner. Suddenly she stopped, and placing her foot on the bamboo staff, broke it in the middle, shaking out, from the section in her hand, a full-grown _tamagesa_ snake, which on the instant coiled itself up, flattened its head, and darted out its tongue, in an attitude of defiance and attack. The Sukia extended her hand, and it fastened on her wrist with the quickness of light, where it hung dangling and writhing its body in knots and coils, while she resumed her mumbling march around the embers. After awhile, and with the same abruptness which had marked all her previous movements, she shook off the serpent, crushed its head in the ground with her heel, and taking up the cloth which had been given to her, stalked away, without having exchanged a word with any one present.”

Perhaps the secret of it lies in the non-existence of the sting, which may be extracted, as is frequently done by the Arab serpent-charmer. Anyhow, such powers are greatly dreaded by the simple and superstitious savage, who regard the Sukia as a supernatural person.

The Tinguians of the Phillipine Islands are in an almost equally benighted condition. They have no veneration for the stars; they neither adore the sun, nor moon, nor the constellations; they believe in the existence of a soul, and pretend that after death it quits the body, and remains in the family of the defunct.

As to the god that they adore, it varies and changes form according to chance and circumstances. And here is the reason: “When a Tinguian chief has found in the country a rock, or a trunk of a tree, of a strange shape--I mean to say, representing tolerably well either a dog, cow, or buffalo--he informs the inhabitants of the village of his discovery, and the rock, or trunk of a tree, is immediately considered as a divinity--that is to say, as something superior to man. Then all the Indians repair to the appointed spot, carrying with them provisions and live hogs. When they have reached their destination they raise a straw roof above the new idol, to cover it, and make a sacrifice by roasting hogs; then, at the sound of instruments, they eat, drink, and dance until they have no provisions left. When all is eaten and drank, they set fire to the thatched roof, and the idol is forgotten, until the chief, having discovered another one, commands a new ceremony.”

It has been already noticed in these pages, that the Malagaseys are utterly without religion. Their future state is a matter that never troubles them; indeed, they have no thought or hope beyond the grave, and are content to rely on that absurd thing “sikidy” for happiness on this side of it. Thanks, however, to Mr. Robert Drury (whom the reader will recollect as the player of a neat trick on a certain Malagasey Umossee), we are informed that a century or so back there prevailed in this gloomy region a sort of religious rite known as the “Ceremony of the Bull,” and which was performed as follows:

The infant son of a great man called Dean Mevarrow was to be presented to the “lords of the four quarters of the earth,” and like many other savage rite began and ended with an enormous consumption of intoxicating liquor. In this case the prime beverage is called _toak_, and, according to Mr. Drury, “these people are great admirers of toak, and some of the vulgar sort are as errant as sots and as lazy as any in England; for they will sell their Guinea corn, carravances--nay, their very spades and shovels--and live upon what the woods afford them. Their very lamber (a sort of petticoat) must go for toak, and they will go about with any makeshift to cover their nakedness.”

Now for the ceremony. “The toak was made for some weeks beforehand by boiling the honey and combs together as we in England make mead. They filled a great number of tubs, some as large as a butt and some smaller; a shed being built for that purpose, which was thatched over, to place them in. On the day appointed, messengers were despatched all round the country to invite the relations and friends. Several days before the actual celebration of the ceremony there were visible signs of its approach. People went about blowing of horns and beating of drums, both night and day, to whom some toak was given out of the lesser vessels as a small compensation for their trouble. They who came from a long distance took care to arrive a day or two before, and were fed and entertained with toak to their heart’s content. On the evening preceding the feast I went into the town and found it full of people, some wallowing on the ground, and some staggering; scarcely one individual sober, either man, woman, or child. And here one might sensibly discern the sense of peace and security, the people abandoning themselves without fear or reserve to drinking and all manner of diversions. My wife” (Mr. Drury got so far reconciled to his state as to marry a fellow slave) “I found had been among them indeed, but had the prudence to withdraw in time, for she was fast asleep when I returned home.

“On the morning of the ceremony I was ordered to fetch in two oxen and a bull that had been set aside for the feast, to tie their legs, and to throw them along upon the ground. A great crowd had by this time collected around the spot where the child was, decked with beads, and a skin of white cotton thread wound about his head. The richest of the company brought presents for the child--beads, hatchets, iron shovels, and the like, which, although of no immediate value to him, would doubtless be saved from rusting by his parents. Every one was served once with toak, and then the ceremony began.

“For some time the umossee had been, to all appearance, measuring his shadow on the ground, and presently finding its length to his mind, he gave the word. Instantly one of the child’s relatives caught him up and ran with him to the prostrate bull, and putting the child’s right hand on the bull’s right horn, repeated a form of words of which the following is as nigh a translation as I can render: ‘Let the great God above, the lords of the four quarters of the world, and the demons, prosper this child and make him a great man. May he prove as strong as this bull and overcome all his enemies.’ If the bull roars while the boy’s hand is on his horn they look upon it as an ill omen portending either sickness or some other misfortune in life. All the business of the umossee is nothing more than that above related; for as to the religious part of the ceremony he is in nowise concerned in it, if there be any religion intended by it, which is somewhat to be questioned.

“The ceremony being over the child is delivered to its mother, who all this time is sitting on a mat, with the women round her; and now the merriment began: the thatch was all pulled off the toak house, and I was ordered to kill the bull and the oxen; but these not being sufficient my master sent for three more which had been brought by his friends, for there was abundance of mouths to feed. Before they began to drink he took particular care to secure all their weapons, and no man was permitted to have so much as a gun or a lance; and then they indulged themselves in boiling, broiling and roasting of meat, drinking of toak, singing, hollowing, blowing of shells, and drumming with all their might and main; and so the revel continued through that night and the next day.”

It is very curious, and were it not so serious a matter, could scarcely fail to excite the risible faculties of the reader, to read the outrageous notions entertained by African savages concerning religion generally. Take the case of King Peppel, a potentate of “Western Africa, and the descendant of a very long line of kings of that name (originally “Pepper” or “Pepperal,” and so named on account of the country’s chief trade being, in ancient times, nearly limited to pepper). Thanks to the missionaries, King Peppel had been converted from his heathen ways and brought to profess Christianity. As to the quality of the monarch’s religious convictions, the following conversation between him and a well-known Christian traveller may throw a light:

“What have you been doing, King Peppel?”

“All the same as you do--I tank God.”

“For what?”

“Every good ting God sends me.”

“Have you seen God?”

“Chi! No; suppose man see God he must die one minute” (He would die in a moment).

“When you die won’t you see God?”

With great warmth, “I know no savvy (I don’t know). How should I know? Never mind, I no want to hear more for that palaver” (I want no more talk on that subject).

“What way?” (Why?)

“It no be your business; you come here for trade palaver.”

I knew, says the missionary in question, it would be of no use pursuing the subject at that time, so I was silent, and it dropped for the moment.

In speaking of him dying I had touched a very tender and disagreeable chord, for he looked very savage and sulky, and I saw by the rapid changes in his countenance that he was the subject of some internal emotion. At length he broke out using most violent gesticulations, and exhibiting a most inhuman expression of countenance, “Suppose God was here I must kill him, one minute.”

“You what? You kill God?” exclaimed I, quite taken aback and almost breathless with the novel and diabolical notion, “You kill God? why you talk all some fool (like a fool); you cannot kill God; and suppose it possible that He could die, everything would cease to exist. He is the Spirit of the Universe. But he can kill you.”

“I know I cannot kill him; but suppose I could kill him I would.”

“Where does God live?”

“For top.”

“How?” He pointed to the zenith.

“And suppose you could, why would you kill him?”

“Because he makes men to die.”

“Why, my friend,” in a conciliatory manner, “you would not wish to live for ever, would you?”

“Yes; I want to stand” (remain for ever).

“But you will be old by-and-by, and if you live long enough will become very infirm, like that old man,” pointing to a man very old for an African, and thin, and lame, and almost blind, who had come into the court during the foregoing conversation to ask some favour, “and like him you will become lame, and deaf, and blind, and will be able to take no pleasure; would it not be better, then, for you to die when this takes place, and you are in pain and trouble, and so make room for your son as your father did for you?”

“No, it would not. I want to stand all same I stand now.”

“But supposing you should go to a place of happiness after death, and----”

“I no savvy nothing about that. I know that I now live and have too many wives and niggers (slaves) and canoes” (he did not mean it when he said he had too many wives, etc.; it is their way of expressing a great number), “and that I am king, and plenty of ships come to my country. I know no other ting, and I want to stand.”

I offered a reply, but he would hear no more, and so the conversation on that subject ceased, and we proceeded to discuss one not much more agreeable to him, the payment of a very considerable debt which he owed me.

Getting round to the south of Africa we find but little improvement in the matter of the religious belief of royalty, at least according to what may be gleaned from another “conversation,” this time between the missionary Moffat and an African monarch: