Chapter VI: Tabooed Words (4)

(M244) The Arabs call a man who has been bitten by a snake “the sound one”; leprosy or the scab they designate “the blessed disease”; the left side they name “the lucky side”; they will not speak of a lion by his right name, but refer to him as for example “the fox.”(1484) In Africa the lion is alluded to with the same ceremonious respect as the wolf and the bear in northern Europe and Asia. The Arabs of Algeria, who hunt the lion, speak of him as Mr. John Johnson (Johan-ben-el-Johan), because he has the noblest qualities of man and understands all languages. Hence, too, the first huntsman to catch sight of the beast points at him with his finger and says, “He is not there”; for if he were to say “He is there,” the lion would eat him up.(1485) Except under dire necessity the Waziguas of eastern Africa never mention the name of the lion from fear of attracting him. They call him “the owner of the land” or “the great beast.”(1486) The negroes of Angola always use the word _ngana_ (“sir”) in speaking of the same noble animal, because they think that he is “fetish” and would not fail to punish them for disrespect if they omitted to do so.(1487) Bushmen and Bechuanas both deem it unlucky to speak of the lion by his proper name; the Bechuanas call him “the boy with the beard.”(1488) During an epidemic of smallpox in Mombasa, British East Africa, it was noticed that the people were unwilling to mention the native name (_ndui_) of the disease. They referred to it either as “grains of corn” (_tete_) or simply as “the bad disease.”(1489) So the Chinese of Amoy are averse to speak of fever by its proper name; they prefer to call it “beggar’s disease,” hoping thereby to make the demons of fever imagine that they despise it and that therefore it would be useless to attack them.(1490) Some of the natives of Nigeria dread the owl as a bird of ill omen and are loth to mention its name, preferring to speak of it by means of a circumlocution such as “the bird that makes one afraid.”(1491) The Herero think that if they see a snake and call it by its name, the reptile will sting them, but that if they call it a strap (_omuvia_) it will lie still.(1492) When Nandi warriors are out on an expedition, they may not call a knife a knife (_chepkeswet_); they must call it “an arrow for bleeding cattle” (_loñget_); and none of the party may utter the usual word employed in greeting males.(1493) In Madagascar there seems to be an aversion to pronouncing the word for lightning (_vàratra_); the word for mud (_fòtaka_) is sometimes substituted for it.(1494) Again, it is strictly forbidden to mention the word for crocodile (_màmba_) near some rivers of Madagascar; and if clothes should be wetted in certain other rivers of the island, you may not say that they are wet (_lèna_); you must say that they are on fire (_may_) or that they are drinking water (_misòtro ràno_).(1495) A certain spirit, who used to inhabit a lake in Madagascar, entertained a rooted aversion to salt, so that whenever the thing was carried past the lake in which he resided it had to be called by another name, or it would all have been dissolved and lost. The persons whom he inspired had to veil their references to the obnoxious article under the disguise of “sweet peppers.”(1496) In a West African story we read of a man who was told that he would die if ever the word for salt was pronounced in his hearing. The fatal word was pronounced, and die he did sure enough, but he soon came to life again with the help of a magical wooden pestle of which he was the lucky possessor.(1497)

(M245) In India the animals whose names are most commonly tabooed are the snake and the tiger, but the same tribute of respect is paid to other beasts also. Sayids and Mussulmans of high rank in northern India say that you should never call a snake by its proper name, but always describe it either as a tiger (_sher_) or a string (_rassi_).(1498) In Telingana the euphemistic name for a snake, which should always be employed, is worm or insect (_purugu_); if you call a cobra by its proper name, the creature will haunt you for seven years and bite you at the first opportunity.(1499) Ignorant Bengalee women will not mention a snake or a thief by their proper names at night, for fear that one or other might appear. When they have to allude to a serpent, they call it “the creeping thing”; when they speak of a thief, they say “the unwelcome visitor.”(1500) Other euphemisms for the snake in northern India are “maternal uncle” and “rope.” They say that if a snake bites you, you should not mention its name, but merely observe “A rope has touched me.”(1501) Natives of Travancore are careful not to speak disrespectfully of serpents. A cobra is called “the good lord” (_nalla tambiran_) or “the good snake” (_nalla pambu_). While the Malayalies of the Shervaray Hills are hunting the tiger, they speak of the beast only as “the dog.”(1502) The Canarese of southern India call the tiger either “the dog” or “the jackal”; they think that if they called him by his proper name, he would be sure to carry off one of them.(1503) The jungle people of northern India, who meet the tiger in his native haunts, will not pronounce his name, but speak of him as “the jackal” (_gídar_), or “the beast” (_janwar_), or use some other euphemistic term. In some places they treat the wolf and the bear in the same fashion.(1504) The Pankas of South Mirzapur will not name the tiger, bear, camel, or donkey by their proper names; the camel they call “long neck.” Other tribes of the same district only scruple to mention certain animals in the morning. Thus, the Kharwars, a Dravidian tribe, will not name a pig, squirrel, hare, jackal, bear, monkey, or donkey in the morning hours; if they have to allude to these animals at that time, they call them by special names. For instance, they call the hare “the four-footed one” or “he that hides in the rocks”; while they speak of the bear as _jigariya_, which being interpreted means “he with the liver of compassion.” If the Bhuiyars are absolutely obliged to refer to a monkey or a bear in the morning, they speak of the monkey as “the tree-climber” and the bear as “the eater of white ants.” They would not mention a crocodile. Among the Pataris the matutinal title of the bear is “the hairy creature.”(1505) The Kols, a Dravidian race of northern India, will not speak of death or beasts of prey by their proper names in the morning. Their name for the tiger at that time of day is “he with the claws,” and for the elephant “he with the teeth.”(1506) The forests of the Sundarbans, the district at the mouth of the Ganges, are full of man-eating tigers and the annual loss of life among the woodcutters is heavy. Here accordingly the ferocious animal is not called a tiger but a jackal (_çial_).(1507)

(M246) In Annam the fear inspired by tigers, elephants, and other wild animals induces the people to address these creatures with the greatest respect as “lord” or “grandfather,” lest the beasts should take umbrage and attack them.(1508) The tiger reigns supreme in the forests of Tonquin and Cochin-China, and the peasants honour him as a maleficent deity. In talking of him they always call him _ong_, which means monsieur or grandfather. They are convinced that if they dared to speak of him disrespectfully, he would avenge the insult.(1509) In Siam there are many people who would never venture to utter the words tiger or crocodile in a spot where these terrible creatures might be in hiding, lest the sound of their names should attract the attention of the beasts towards the speakers.(1510) When the Malays of Patani Bay in Siam are in the jungle and think there is a tiger near, they will either speak of him in complimentary terms as the “grandfather of the woods” or only mention him in a whisper.(1511) In Laos, while a man is out hunting elephants he is obliged to give conventional names to all common objects, which creates a sort of special language for elephant-hunters.(1512) So when the Chams and Orang-Glaï of Indo-China are searching for the precious eagle-wood in the forest, they must employ an artificial jargon to designate most objects of everyday life; thus, for example, fire is called “the red,” a she-goat becomes “a spider,” and so on. Some of the terms which compose the jargon are borrowed from the dialects of neighbouring tribes.(1513) When the Mentras or aborigines of Malacca are searching for what they call _gaharu_ (_lignum aloes_) they are obliged to use a special language, avoiding the words in ordinary use. At such times they call _gaharu_ by the name of _tabak_, and they speak of a snake as “the long animal” and of the elephant as “the great animal.” They have also to observe a number of other taboos, particularly in the matter of diet. If a man has found a promising _gaharu_ tree, and on going home dreams that the guardian spirit of the tree (_hantu gaharu_) demands a human victim as the price of his property, the dreamer will try next day to catch somebody asleep and to smear his forehead with lime. This is a sign to the guardian spirit of the tree, who accordingly carries away the soul of the sleeper to the land of the dead by means of a fever or other ailment, whereas the original dreamer gets a good supply of aloes wood.(1514)

(M247) At certain seasons of the year parties of Jakuns and Binuas go out to seek for camphor in the luxuriant forests of their native country, which is the narrow southern extremity of the Malay Peninsula, the Land’s End of Asia. They are absent for three or four months together, and during the whole of this time the use of the ordinary Malay language is forbidden to them, and they have to speak a special language called by them the _bassa kapor_ (camphor language) or _pantang_(_1515_)_ kapur_. Indeed not only have the searchers to employ this peculiar language, but even the men and women who stay at home in the villages are obliged to speak it while the others are away looking for the camphor. They believe that a spirit presides over the camphor trees, and that without propitiating him they could not obtain the precious gum; the shrill cry of a species of cicada, heard at night, is supposed to be the voice of the spirit. If they failed to employ the camphor language, they think that they would have great difficulty in finding the camphor trees, and that even when they did find them the camphor would not yield itself up to the collector. The camphor language consists in great part of words which are either Malayan or of Malay origin; but it also contains many words which are not Malayan but are presumed to be remains of the original Jakun dialects now almost extinct in these districts. The words derived from Malayan are formed in many cases by merely substituting a descriptive phrase for the common term. Thus instead of rice they say “grass fruit”; instead of gun they say “far sounding”; the epithet “short-legged” is substituted for hog; hair is referred to as “leaves,” and so on.(1516) So when the Battas or Bataks of Sumatra have gone out to search for camphor, they must abandon the speech of daily life as soon as they reach the camphor forest. For example, if they wish to speak of the forest they may not use the ordinary word for it (_hoetan_), but must call it _kerrengettetdoeng_. When they have fixed on a spot in which to try their luck, they set up a booth and clear a space in front of it to serve as a place of sacrifice. Here, after summoning the camphor spirit (_berroe ni kapoer_) by playing on a flute, they offer sacrifice to him repeatedly. Then they lie down to dream of the place where camphor is to be found. If this succeeds, the leader goes and chooses the tree. When it has been cut down to the accompaniment of certain spells or incantations, one of the men runs and wraps the top of the fallen tree in a garment to prevent the camphor from escaping from the trunk before they have secured it. Then the tree is cleft and split up in the search for the camphor crystals, which are to be found in the fibres of the wood.(1517) Similarly, when the Kayans of Borneo are searching for camphor, they talk a language invented solely for their use at this time. The camphor itself is never mentioned by its proper name, but is always referred to as “the thing that smells”; and all the tools employed in collecting the drug receive fanciful names. Unless they conform to this rule they suppose that the camphor crystals, which are found only in the crevices of the wood, will elude them.(1518) The Malanau tribes of Borneo observe the same custom very strictly, believing that the crystals would immediately dissolve if they spoke anything but the camphor language. For example, the common Malanau word for “return” is _muli_, but in presence of a camphor tree they say _beteku_. Again, “to hide” is _palim_ in the Malanau language, but when they are looking for camphor they say _krian_. In like manner, all common names for implements and food are exchanged for others. In some tribes the camphor-seekers may never mention the names of chiefs and influential men; if they broke this rule, they would find no camphor in the trees.(1519)

(M248) In the western states of the Malay Peninsula the chief industry is tin-mining, and odd ideas prevail among the natives as to the nature and properties of the ore. They regard it as alive and growing, sometimes in the shape of a buffalo, which makes its way from place to place underground. Ore of inferior quality is excused on the score of its tender years; it will no doubt improve as it grows older. Not only is the tin believed to be under the protection and command of certain spirits who must be propitiated, but it is even supposed to have its own special likes and dislikes for certain persons and things. Hence the Malays deem it advisable to treat tin ore with respect, to consult its convenience, nay, to conduct the business of mining in such a way that the ore may, as it were, be extracted without its own knowledge. When such are their ideas about the mineral it is no wonder that the miners scruple to employ certain words in the mines, and replace them by others which are less likely to give offence to the ore or its guardian spirits. Thus, for example, the elephant must not be called an elephant but “the tall one who turns himself about”; and in like manner special words, different from those in common use, are employed by the miners to designate the cat, the buffalo, the snake, the centipede, tin sand, metallic tin, and lemons. Lemons are particularly distasteful to the spirits; they may not be brought into the mines.(1520) Again, the Malay wizard, who is engaged in snaring pigeons with the help of a decoy-bird and a calling-tube, must on no account call things by their common names. The tiny conical hut, in which he sits waiting for the wild pigeons to come fluttering about him, goes by the high-sounding name of the Magic Prince, perhaps with a delicate allusion to its noble inmate. The calling-tube is known as Prince Distraction, doubtless on account of the extraordinary fascination it exercises on the birds. The decoy-pigeon receives the name of the Squatting Princess, and the rod with a noose at the end of it, which serves to catch the unwary birds, is disguised under the title of Prince Invitation. Everything, in fact, is on a princely scale, so far at least as words can make it so. The very nooses destined to be slipped over the necks or legs of the little struggling prisoners are dignified by the title of King Solomon’s necklaces and armlets; and the trap into which the birds are invited to walk is variously described as King Solomon’s Audience Chamber, or a Palace Tower, or an Ivory Hall carpeted with silver and railed with amalgam. What pigeon could resist these manifold attractions, especially when it is addressed by the respectful title of Princess Kapor or Princess Sarap or Princess Puding?(1521) Again, the fisher-folk on the east coast of the Malay Peninsula, like their brethren in Scotland, are reluctant to mention the names of birds or beasts while they are at sea. All animals then go by the name of _cheweh_, a meaningless word which is believed not to be understood by the creatures to whom it refers. Particular kinds of animals are distinguished by appropriate epithets; the pig is “the grunting _cheweh_,” the buffalo is “the _cheweh_ that says _uak_,” the snipe is “the _cheweh_ that cries _kek-kek_,” and so on.(1522) In this respect the fishermen of Patani Bay class together sea spirits, Buddhist monks, beasts, and reptiles; these are all _cheweh_ and their common names may not be mentioned at sea. But, curiously enough, they lay no such embargo on the names of fish and birds, except the vulture and domestic fowls and ducks. At sea the vulture is named “bald head,” the tiger “striped,” the snake “weaver’s sword,” the horse “fast,” and a species of monkey “long tail.” The human foot is called “tortoise,” and a Buddhist monk “yellow” on account of the colour of his robe. These Malay fishermen are at least as unwilling to speak of a Buddhist monk at sea as Scotch fishermen are to mention a minister in similar circumstances. If one of them mentions a monk, his mates will fall on him and beat him; whereas for other slips of the tongue they think it enough to throw a little bilge-water over the back of the transgressor and to say, “May the ill-luck be dismissed!” The use of this special language is even more obligatory by night than by day. On shore the fishermen make very merry over those lubberly landsmen who cannot talk correctly at sea.(1523) In like manner Achinese fishermen, in northern Sumatra, employ a special vocabulary when they are at sea. Thus they may not call a mountain a mountain, or mountain-high billows would swamp the boat; they refer to it as “high ground.” They may not speak of an elephant by its proper name of _gadjah_, but must call it _pò meurah_. If a man wishes to say that something is clear, he must not use the ordinary word for clear (_lheuëh_) because it bears the meaning also of “free,” “loose”; and the utterance of such a word might enable the fish to get free from the net and escape. Instead of _lheuëh_ he must therefore employ the less dangerous synonym _leungka_. In like manner, we are told, among the fishermen of the north coast of Java whole lists of words might be compiled which are tabooed at sea and must be replaced by others.(1524)

(M249) In Sumatra the spirits of the gold mines are treated with as much deference as the spirits of the tin-mines in the Malay Peninsula. Tin, ivory, and the like may not be brought by the miners to the scene of their operations, for at the scent of such things the spirits of the mine would cause the gold to vanish. For the same reason it is forbidden to refer to certain things by their proper names, and in speaking of them the miners must use other words. In some cases, for example in removing the grains of the gold, a deep silence must be observed; no commands may be given or questions asked,(1525) probably because the removal of the precious metal is regarded as a theft which the spirits would punish if they caught the thieves in the act. Certainly the Dyaks believe that gold has a soul which seeks to avenge itself on men who dig the precious metal. But the angry spirit is powerless to harm miners who observe certain precautions, such as never to bathe in a river with their faces turned up stream, never to sit with their legs dangling, and never to tie up their hair.(1526) Again, a Sumatran who fancies that there is a tiger or a crocodile in his neighbourhood, will speak of the animal by the honourable title of “grandfather” for the purpose of propitiating the creature.(1527) In the forest a Karo-Batak refers to a tiger as “Grandfather to whom the wood belongs,” “he with the striped coat,” or “the roving trap.”(1528) Among the Gayos of Sumatra it is forbidden to mention the name of small-pox in the house of a man who is suffering from the disease; and the words for ugly, red, stinking, unlucky, and so forth are forbidden under the same circumstances. The disease is referred to under the title of “prince of the averters of misfortune.”(1529) So long as the hunting season lasts, the natives of Nias may not name the eye, the hammer, stones, and in some places the sun by their true names; no smith may ply his trade in the village, and no person may go from one village to another to have smith’s work done for him. All this, with the exception of the rule about not naming the eye and the sun, is done to prevent the dogs from growing stiff, and so losing the power of running down the game.(1530) During the rice-harvest in Nias the reapers seldom speak to each other, and when they do so, it is only in whispers. Outside the field they must speak of everything by names different from those in common use, which gives rise to a special dialect or jargon known as “field speech.” It has been observed that some of the words in this jargon resemble words in the language of the Battas of Sumatra.(1531) While these rice-reapers of Nias are at work they may not address each other by their names; they must use only such general terms as “man,” “woman,” “girl,” “old man,” and “old woman.” The word for “fire” may not pass their lips; instead of it they must use the word for “cold.” Other words tabooed to them during the harvest are the words for “smoke” and “stone.” If a reaper wishes to ask another for his whetstone to sharpen his knife, he must speak of it as a “fowl’s egg.”(1532) In Java when people suspect that a tiger or crocodile is near, they avoid the use of the proper name of the beast and refer to him as “the old lord” or “grandfather.” Similarly, men who are watching a plantation to protect it from wild boars speak of these animals as “handsome men” (_wong bagus_). When after harvest the unhusked rice is to be brought into the barn, the barn is not called a barn but “the dark store-house.” Serious epidemics may not be mentioned by their true names; thus smallpox is called the “pretty girl” (_lara bagus_). The Javanese are particularly careful to eschew certain common words at evening or night. Thus the snake is then called a “tree-root”; the venomous centipede is referred to as the “red ant”; oil is spoken of as “water”; and so forth. And when leaves and herbs are being gathered for use in medicine they are regularly designated by other than their ordinary names.(1533)

(M250) The Alfoors or Toradjas of Poso, in Celebes, are forbidden by custom to speak the ordinary language when they are at work in the harvest-field. At such times they employ a secret language which is said to agree with the ordinary one only in this, that in it some things are designated by words usually applied in a different sense, or by descriptive phrases or circumlocutions. Thus instead of “run” they say “limp”; instead of “hand” they say “that with which one reaches”; instead of “foot” they say “that with which one limps”; and instead of “ear” they say “that with which one hears.” Again, in the field-speech “to drink” becomes “to thrust forward the mouth”; “to pass by” is expressed by “to nod with the head”; a gun is “a fire-producer”; and wood is “that which is carried on the shoulder.” The writer who reports the custom was formerly of opinion that this secret language was designed to avoid attracting the attention of evil spirits to the ripe rice; but further enquiry has satisfied him that the real reason for adopting it is a wish not to frighten the soul of the rice by revealing to it the alarming truth that it is about to be cut, carried home, boiled, and eaten. It is just the words referring to these actions, he tells us, which are especially tabooed and replaced by others. Beginning with a rule of avoiding a certain number of common words, the custom has grown among people of the Malay stock till it has produced a complete language for use in the fields. In Minahassa also this secret field-speech consists in part of phrases or circumlocutions, of which many are said to be very poetical.(1534) But it is not only on the harvest field that the Toradja resorts to the use of a secret language from superstitious motives. In the great primaeval forest he feels ill at ease, for well he knows the choleric temper of the spirits who inhabit the giant trees of the wood, and that were he to excite their wrath they would assuredly pay him out in one way or other, it might be by carrying off his soul and so making him ill, it might be by crushing him flat under a falling tree. These touchy beings particularly dislike to hear certain words pronounced, and accordingly on his way through the forest the Toradja takes care to avoid the offensive terms and to substitute others for them. Thus he will not call a dog a dog, but refers to it as “the hairy one”; a buffalo is spoken of as “thick hide”; a cooking pot becomes “that which is set down”; the hair of the head is alluded to as “betel”; goats and pigs are “the folk under the house”; a horse is “long nose”; and deer are “denizens of the fell.” If he is rash or careless enough to utter a forbidden word in the forest, a short-tempered tree-spirit will fetch him such a bang on the head that the blood will spout from his nose and mouth.(1535) Again, when the weather is fine and the Toradja wishes it to continue so, he is careful not to utter the word “rain,” for if he did so the rain would fancy he was called for and would obligingly present himself. Indeed, in the district of Pakambia, which is frequently visited by heavy storms, the word “rain” may not be mentioned throughout the year lest it should provoke a tempest; the unmentionable thing is there delicately alluded to as “tree-blossoms.”(1536)

(M251) When a Bugineese or Macassar man is at sea and sailing past a place which he believes to be haunted by evil spirits, he keeps as quiet as he can; but if he is obliged to speak he designates common things and actions, such as water, wind, fire, cooking, eating, the rice-pot, and so forth, by peculiar terms which are neither Bugineese nor Macassar, and therefore cannot be understood by the evil spirits, whose knowledge of languages is limited to these two tongues. However, according to another and later account given by the same authority, it appears that many of the substituted terms are merely figurative expressions or descriptive phrases borrowed from the ordinary language. Thus the word for water is replaced by a rare word meaning “rain”; a rice-pot is called a “black man”; boiled rice is “one who is eaten”; a fish is a “tree-leaf”; a fowl is “one who lives in a poultry hatch”; and an ape is a “tree-dweller.”(1537) Natives of the island of Saleyer, which lies off the south coast of Celebes, will not mention the name of their island when they are making a certain sea-passage; and in sailing they will never speak of a fair wind by its proper name. The reason in both cases is a fear of disturbing the evil spirits.(1538) When natives of the Sapoodi Archipelago, to the north-east of Java, are at sea they will never say that they are near the island of Sapoodi, for if they did so they would be carried away from it by a head wind or by some other mishap.(1539) When Galelareese sailors are crossing over to a land that is some way off, say one or two days’ sail, they do not remark on any vessels that may heave in sight or any birds that may fly past; for they believe that were they to do so they would be driven out of their course and not reach the land they are making for. Moreover, they may not mention their own ship, or any part of it. If they have to speak of the bow, for example, they say “the beak of the bird”; starboard is named “sword,” and larboard “shield.”(1540) The inhabitants of Ternate and of the Sangi Islands deem it very dangerous to point at distant objects or to name them while they are at sea. Once while sailing with a crew of Ternate men a European asked one of them the name of certain small islands which they had passed. The man had been talkative before, but the question reduced him to silence. “Sir,” he said, “that is a great taboo; if I told you we should at once have wind and tide against us, and perhaps suffer a great calamity. As soon as we come to anchor I will tell you the name of the islands.” The Sangi Islanders have, besides the ordinary language, an ancient one which is only partly understood by some of the people. This old language is often used by them at sea, as well as in popular songs and certain heathen rites.(1541) The reason for resorting to it on shipboard is to hinder the evil spirits from overhearing and so frustrating the plans of the voyagers.(1542) The Nufoors of Dutch New Guinea believe that if they were to mention the name of an island to which the bow of their vessel was pointing, they would be met by storm, rain, or mist which would drive them from their course.(1543)

(M252) In some parts of Sunda it is taboo or forbidden to call a goat a goat; it must be called a “deer under the house.” A tiger may not be spoken of as a tiger; he must be referred to as “the supple one,” “the one there,” “the honourable,” “the whiskered one,” and so on. Neither a wild boar nor a mouse may be mentioned by its proper name; a boar must be called “the beautiful one” (masculine) and the mouse “the beautiful one” (feminine). When the people are asked what would be the consequence of breaking a taboo, they generally say that the person or thing would suffer for it, either by meeting with a mishap or by falling ill. But some say they do not so much fear a misfortune as experience an indefinite feeling, half fear, half reverence, towards an institution of their forefathers. Others can assign no reason for observing the taboos, and cut enquiry short by saying that “It is so because it is so.”(1544) When the Kenyahs of Borneo are about to poison the fish of a section of the river with the _tuba_ root, they always speak of the matter as little as possible and use the most indirect and fanciful modes of expression. Thus they will say, “There are many leaves fallen here,” meaning that there are many fish in the river. And they will not breathe the name of the _tuba_ root; if they must refer to it, they call it _pakat abong_, where _abong_ is the name of a strong-smelling root something like _tuba_, and _pakat_ means “to agree upon”; so that _pakat abong_ signifies “what we have agreed to call _abong_.” This concealment of the truth deceives all the bats, birds, and insects, which might otherwise overhear the talk of the men and inform the fish of the deep-laid plot against them.(1545) These Kenyahs also fear the crocodile and do not like to mention it by name, especially if one be in sight; they refer to the beast as “the old grandfather.”(1546) When small-pox invades a village of the Sakarang Dyaks in Borneo, the people desert the place and take refuge in the jungle. In the daytime they do not dare to stir or to speak above a whisper, lest the spirits should see or hear them. They do not call the small-pox by its proper name, but speak of it as “jungle leaves” or “fruit” or “the chief,” and ask the sufferer, “Has he left you?” and the question is put in a whisper lest the spirit should hear.(1547) Natives of the Philippines were formerly prohibited from speaking of the chase in the house of a fisherman and from speaking of fishing in the house of a hunter; journeying by land they might not talk of marine matters, and sailing on the sea they might not talk of terrestrial matters.(1548)

(M253) When we survey the instances of this superstition which have now been enumerated, we can hardly fail to be struck by the number of cases in which a fear of spirits, or of other beings regarded as spiritual and intelligent, is assigned as the reason for abstaining in certain circumstances from the use of certain words.(1549) The speaker imagines himself to be overheard and understood by spirits, or animals, or other beings whom his fancy endows with human intelligence; and hence he avoids certain words and substitutes others in their stead, either from a desire to soothe and propitiate these beings by speaking well of them, or from a dread that they may understand his speech and know what he is about, when he happens to be engaged in that which, if they knew of it, would excite their anger or their fear. Hence the substituted terms fall into two classes according as they are complimentary or enigmatic; and these expressions are employed, according to circumstances, for different and even opposite reasons, the complimentary because they will be understood and appreciated, and the enigmatic because they will not. We can now see why persons engaged in occupations like fishing, fowling, hunting, mining, reaping, and sailing the sea, should abstain from the use of the common language and veil their meaning in strange words and dark phrases. For they have this in common that all of them are encroaching on the domain of the elemental beings, the creatures who, whether visible or invisible, whether clothed in fur or scales or feathers, whether manifesting themselves in tree or stone or running stream or breaking wave, or hovering unseen in the air, may be thought to have the first right to those regions of earth and sea and sky into which man intrudes only to plunder and destroy. Thus deeply imbued with a sense of the all-pervading life and intelligence of nature, man at a certain stage of his intellectual development cannot but be visited with fear or compunction, whether he is killing wild fowl among the stormy Hebrides, or snaring doves in the sultry thickets of the Malay Peninsula; whether he is hunting the bear in Lapland snows, or the tiger in Indian jungles, or hauling in the dripping net, laden with silvery herring, on the coast of Scotland; whether he is searching for the camphor crystals in the shade of the tropical forest, or extracting the red gold from the darksome mine, or laying low with a sweep of his sickle the yellow ears on the harvest field. In all these his depredations on nature, man’s first endeavour apparently is by quietness and silence to escape the notice of the beings whom he dreads; but if that cannot be, he puts the best face he can on the matter by dissembling his foul designs under a fair exterior, by flattering the creatures whom he proposes to betray, and by so guarding his lips, that, though his dark ambiguous words are understood well enough by his fellows, they are wholly unintelligible to his victims. He pretends to be what he is not, and to be doing something quite different from the real business in hand. He is not, for example, a fowler catching pigeons in the forest; he is a Magic Prince or King Solomon himself(1550) inviting fair princesses into his palace tower or ivory hall. Such childish pretences suffice to cheat the guileless creatures whom the savage intends to rob or kill, perhaps they even impose to some extent upon himself; for we can hardly dissever them wholly from those forms of sympathetic magic in which primitive man seeks to effect his purpose by imitating the thing he desires to produce, or even by assimilating himself to it. It is hard indeed for us to realise the mental state of a Malay wizard masquerading before wild pigeons in the character of King Solomon; yet perhaps the make-believe of children and of the stage, where we see the players daily forgetting their real selves in their passionate impersonation of the shadowy realm of fancy, may afford us some glimpse into the workings of that instinct of imitation or mimicry which is deeply implanted in the constitution of the human mind.