Chapter IX: Witchcraft: Sympathetic Magic (1)

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There are certain common folktale incidents we must first of all notice, though it is unnecessary to do so at any great length. One of them is found in a group of tales which I have elsewhere ventured to classify under the name of _The Teacher and his Scholar_. A Greek variant of these, from the island of Syra, referred to in an earlier chapter, runs thus: A disguised demon promises children to a childless king on condition of his repaying him with the eldest. The demon thereupon gives the king an apple, to be eaten, one half by himself and the other half by the queen. Three sons are born; and the eldest is, notwithstanding all precautions, carried off by the demon. After some time he finds means to escape from his master’s clutches, accompanied by a princess whom the demon has held captive. During his term of service he has learned how to transform himself at will; and on parting for a while from the princess he takes lodgings with an old woman. To make money, he changes into a mule, which his hostess offers for sale; but he charges her to retain the halter. Afterwards he changes into a bath-house, whereof she is to keep the key. By this precaution he is able to return to his own form. Finally he changes into a pomegranate, {56} which his father plucks; but the demon by a trick nearly succeeds in getting possession of it. It falls in pieces, and the seeds are scattered. The demon then takes the shape of a hen and chickens; whereupon the hero becomes a fox and kills the hen and chickens, but loses his eyes, for the hen has eaten two of the seeds. He afterwards recovers his sight and marries the princess.[56.1]

The incident, here found, of the Transformation-fight occurs all over Europe, and as far to the east as India. Its best-known variant is embodied in the story of the Second Calender in the _Arabian Nights_; but the _Siddhi-Kür_ contains one far more ancient, if we have regard to the time when it was written down, though more modern in form than many of the most recently collected folktales. Welsh tradition, as we have seen, identifies the incident with the name of Taliessin. Ovid describes metamorphoses undergone by Metra, daughter of Erisichthon, in her flight from the successive masters to whom her ravenous father sold her in order to procure himself food.[56.2] But all these tales ignore the point which is important for our present inquiry, namely, the divisibility of the hero’s person. It comes out, however, quite clearly in the story just quoted, {57} and is exhibited in a twofold manner. There is, first, the halter, or bridle, which must be retained by the vendor, else the horse, or mule, will not be able to escape and return to human form. Here the halter is probably the external soul. So long as it is free its owner cannot be held within the purchaser’s power. Secondly, there is the pomegranate, which falls into a thousand pieces. In northern and western Europe, where the pomegranate grows not, a heap of grain takes its place.[57.1] In Cashmere it becomes a rose. In the Turkish romance of _The Forty Vezirs_, the rose, in falling, changes to millet.[57.2] The pomegranate bursts, and its seeds are scattered; the petals of the rose drop in a shower; the grains of corn or millet are shed abroad. But the hero is still in existence although divided thus. He cannot be destroyed until every seed, every petal, every grain has been devoured. So long as a single seed, petal, or grain escapes he can be restored to his pristine form. In the same way in a North American tale the hero in the shape of an eagle is killed, and repeatedly restored from a single feather. The power of self-reconstitution from a fragment is frequently attributed to wizards, not merely in tales but in living superstitions, and in both tales and superstitions affords a reason for the entire destruction of a magical foe.[57.3] For this cause, too, the hero of the Greek story kills the hen and all the chickens into which the demon transforms himself--a third example in the same tale of personal divisibility.

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The Helpful Beasts, to whom so many adventurers are indebted in our Nursery Tales, furnish another incident illustrative of the same faculty. In the Transformation-fight it is not necessary to manifest the continued sympathy of the divided personality; but it is different when a Helpful Beast offers one of its own limbs as the summons for aid. Thus an ant will give one of its legs, a bird will give a feather, or a lion one of its hairs, to be burnt, or fumigated, or simply rubbed. On this being done the owner forthwith appears and performs the necessary services.[58.1] In a Tirolese tale the power is extended to a human being. A merchant’s daughter having fallen in love with a golden-haired prince, is advised by a great sorceress to procure three hairs from his head and beard, lay them in a jar with warm ashes, and boil the contents a little. The prince would then change into a dove, and fly hurriedly through the window into her room, where she must have a basin of water ready for him. In this he would dip himself and return to his proper form. The spell is successful; but we need not follow the lady’s further fortunes.[58.2]

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Nor is the incident restricted to _märchen_. A Pomeranian saga records that a supernatural boar which haunted a pool in the forest of Kehrberg once fell into a wolf-pit and could not get out. A courageous man, hearing its grunting, approached; and the monster begged for help. When it was released it tore three bristles from its hide, and, giving them to its deliverer, said: “When thou art in deadly peril, rub these three bristles between thy fingers, and I will be with thee forthwith and save thee.” The man was the lord of a manor. He might have been an Irish landlord for harshness; and this promise made him worse than ever. Many of his serfs in desperation joined the robber-bands that infested the forest; and one day they caught him in an ambush. Nor would he have escaped the punishment of his misdeeds, had he not quickly rubbed the bristles between his fingers. The boar was at his side in an instant, and not one of his enemies escaped. I wish I could add that the adventure made him repent of his evil ways. His godless, frantic life continued to the end; and after death he naturally found no rest in the grave. Wherefore, ever since, in company with his friend the boar, he dwells in the pool and ranges the forest, to the no small terror and danger of wayfarers.[59.1]

A belief of the kind of which these are the remains is put to a practical use by the natives of Borneo, where it is said that the gift of a tiger’s tooth to a chief of the Kinah tribe will make him a friend for life. He will not dare to {60} fail the giver, or to turn false to him, for fear of being devoured by the beast.[60.1] Here, and in the stories, the portion of the animal’s body given away is still linked by sympathy with the rest. What happens to it is felt by the bulk. The apparent severance is continuous and real union.

A third incident found in European folktales endows the heroine’s saliva with consciousness like her own. In a Danish tale, when Maiden Misery is about to elope with Prince Wanderer from the Kobold who has them both in his power, she heats the oven and puts two pieces of wood to stand, one on either side. Then she spits on each of them and whispers something to it. After she and the prince have started, the Kobold wakes up and inquires: “Is the oven hot, Maiden Misery?” “No, not yet,” answers one of the pieces of wood, but it sounded as if it were she who answered. The Kobold turned over and went to sleep again. After a while he awoke again and repeated the question. He got the same answer and went to sleep once more. When he called out again there was no reply. He got up and found the oven quite cold; but Maiden Misery and Prince Wanderer had vanished, and so had the Kobold’s wonderful steed.[60.2] The same device for delaying pursuit appears in the Polish _märchen_ of Prince Unexpected. There the maiden spits on one of the window-panes, and her spittle freezes. Then she {61} locks up the room and escapes with the prince. When they are well on their way King Bony awakes, and sends his servants for the prince. The spittle answers in his voice: “Anon.” They are thus put off twice before the door is broken open, and the spittle on the window splits with laughter at the disappointed messengers.[61.1] In another story from Poland, a brother desires to wed his sister, and makes her various presents of robes, and a magical car. She shuts herself in her room, puts on the dresses, and mounts the car. She spits on the ground and commands the saliva to answer with the voice of her maid, whom she has secretly sent away. The earth then opens at her request and swallows her up. When the brother sends to know if she be ready, the saliva replies: “She has just drawn one stocking on.” The next time it answers: “She has just put her dress on: she will be quite ready directly.” When the impatient brother himself comes, the spittle taunts him in the most intelligent way:--

“Thy sister is far beneath; This message did she bequeath: Earth, open wide! When a sister is bride To her brother, ’tis sin.”[61.2]

In a story from Hesse, Hänsel and Grethel are in a witch’s power. They run away, but before going Grethel spits in front of the hearth. So when the sleepy witch cries out to ask whether the water will soon be hot, to cook Hänsel in, the saliva replies: “I am just fetching it”; and to subsequent inquiries: “It’s boiling now,” {62} and “I am just bringing it.” At last the spittle is dried up; and, receiving no further answer, the witch gets out of bed, discovers the real state of the case, and follows the children.[62.1] Among the Kaffirs, an equivalent incident represents the misleading agent as tufts of hair. The hero, rescuing his sister and her child from a band of cannibals, directed her to pluck the hair from her head and scatter it about in different directions. When the cannibals, coming to look for her, called out, the tufts of hair answered; and the fugitives gained time while the seekers were thus confused. Another Kaffir tale represents a single feather of a certain magical bird as endowed with the entire power of the bird after the latter has been swallowed by the heroine.[62.2] The Cegihas of North America, a branch of the Sioux, have a legend of a rabbit who overcame the black bears. He visited their lodge; and at night on departing he left his fœces all round the door, with instructions to give the scalp-yell as soon as it was day. The fœces accordingly yelled as if a large number of persons were attacking the lodge. The black bear rushed out and was killed by the rabbit.[62.3]

In this case, too, we are fortunate in being able to produce evidence that the belief on which the tale is grounded is still living. When a Hungarian Gipsy is pursued as a thief, he scratches his left hand as he runs, and smearing the spurting blood on any convenient object, {63} exclaims: “Speak for me!” In this way he hopes to escape; and the more scars a Gipsy has upon his left hand from this cause the more he is honoured for his dexterity in stealing and evading pursuit.[63.1]

In Grimm’s tale of _The Goose-girl_, which belongs to the cycle of _The Substituted Bride_, the maiden’s mother, on parting with her, cuts her own finger, and, letting three drops of blood fall upon a handkerchief, hands it to her daughter as a protection. The drops of blood speak to her from time to time on the way, though it must be owned their observations are not very helpful. When she loses them she becomes powerless, and her waiting-maid ousts her from her place as the bride.[63.2] It is impossible to misapprehend the meaning of the three drops of blood. So long as the maiden keeps them she retains her mother’s presence and protection, of which they are more than a symbol.

The folktales I have just cited present in an ascending series, first, the divisibility of a person, secondly, the continued sympathy of the severed portions with the bulk, and thirdly, the endowment of each of the severed portions with speech and power--in other words, with consciousness and reason. The identification of the severed portions with the whole is thus complete in the stories. Nor are we without illustrations in practical superstition of this belief. The two examples already given afford a striking exhibition of the truth which I may perhaps be pardoned for insisting on with wearisome iteration, that, namely, of the dependence of folktales on custom and belief. It is, however, in the practices of witchcraft that we find the severed portions of a person most frequently and completely {64} identified with the whole. To some of these practices we will accordingly now turn our attention.

Witchcraft is usually wrought in one or more of three ways--by incantations or curses, by symbolic actions, or (and it is this only with which we are now concerned) by acts done upon objects identified with the person intended to be affected. Among these objects severed portions of his body take the first rank.

In the old trials for witchcraft in this country we have full accounts of the proceedings then regarded as effectual in causing injury by witches. It is quite likely that some at least of the means mentioned in the confessions of the accused were at times actually adopted. But whether actually adopted or not, they are equally valuable for our present purpose, since their efficacy was undoubted. On the 11th March, 1618-9, two women named Margaret and Philippa Flower were burnt alive at Lincoln for sorcery. They had been, with Joan Flower, their mother, confidential servants of the Earl and Countess of Rutland, at Belvoir Castle. If we might credit their own confession under torture, they had become dissatisfied with their employers, and had employed the Black Art in order to gratify their spite. The mother had a familiar spirit in the form of a cat, named Rutterkin. Their procedure was to procure a lock of the hair of a member of the Earl’s family, or to steal one of his gloves. The hair they burnt; the glove was thrown by Joan Flower into boiling water, then repeatedly pricked with a knife, and afterwards rubbed on the cat. These performances were accompanied with words, bidding Rutterkin go and do some hurt to the owner of the glove. Finally, the glove was burnt, and its owner fell sick and died. Joan Flower vehemently protested her innocence, {65} and asked for bread. Taking a piece, the unfortunate woman wished that if she were guilty it might choke her. Immediately, so says the tale, she fell stark dead. Other women were associated in the accusation, and their confessions confirmed those of the sisters Margaret and Philippa.[65.1]

The results of the practices of which these poor girls were convicted were terrible enough to them, if not to their supposed victim. Yet if their depositions exhausted their knowledge of the modes of witchcraft they cannot have penetrated far into its mysteries. A jealous Italian woman or a mischievous Gipsy, a North American Indian or an Australian savage, could have given them points.

A Sienese or Tuscan maiden, for example, deserted by her lover, will take some of his hair and put it into a toad’s mouth, or round a toad’s legs. The animal is then imprisoned in a covered pot, or else it is placed under a potsherd and bound to a tree. While the creature lives in this torment, the faithless lover will pine away; and when it dies, he will die also.[65.2] Wherefore a lock of hair is the most precious gift, the mark of the highest confidence, a lover or friend can bestow. In the province of Lucca, {66} indeed, it is almost always refused; for even an imprecation uttered over it would render bald the head whereon it had grown; and the women, when they comb their hair, never throw the combings out of window, lest they be bewitched by some one passing by.[66.1] Nor is less care taken elsewhere in Italy--not to say throughout Europe--to burn the combings of the hair oneself or to put them in a place of safety. Dr. Pitrè remembers a woman at Palermo, who, when she was lying sick, having seen a man pick up one of her hairs--as she thought, with malicious intent--jumped out of bed and followed him in her shift, weeping and begging him to give it back to her and not to do her any harm.[66.2] In Tuscany the hair is occasionally boiled with a peppercorn and some other substance, the operator repeating an incantation consigning the foe to death and the society of witches. In Friuli the hair and blood of the victim are boiled with nails, needles, knives and other pieces of iron.[66.3] Even in some parts of England a girl forsaken by her lover is advised to get a lock of his hair and boil it. Whilst it is simmering in the pot he will have no rest.[66.4] In Belgium, as also about Mentone, it is {67} possible to bewitch an enemy by putting one of his hairs into an egg, and leaving it there to rot; so that one must burn any hairs that fall out or are cut off, or at least spit or blow upon them as a protection against witchcraft before throwing them away.[67.1] In certain parts of Germany and Transylvania the clippings of the hair or nails, as well as broken pieces of the teeth, are buried beneath the elder tree which grows in the courtyard, or are burnt, or carefully hidden, for fear of witches.[67.2] In Poland it is thought possible to blind an enemy by threading one of his hairs in a needle which has sewed three shrouds, and then passing it through a toad’s eyes, and letting the poor brute go.[67.3] In Livonia, if you desire to bewitch a girl to the extent of preventing her marriage, all that need be done is to get hold of one of the pins with which her shift is fastened over her breast, wind round it three hairs torn by the roots from her head, and stick the pin in a corner in a northerly direction, or on the first paling of the house, saying: “As long as this sticks here the girl shall have no suitor.”[67.4] In Hungary and Transylvania continual strife between a married pair can be secured by laying a hair from each of their heads on the head of a corpse. They will have no peace until {68} the hairs have decayed away.[68.1] On the other hand, if a Magyar suspect another of an intention to injure him secretly, he will possess himself of some hairs belonging to the suspected person, and hang them in the chimney until they disappear in the smoke: the enemy will then have abandoned his evil purpose.[68.2] So likewise among the Pennsylvanian Germans a witch can be disabled by securing a hair of her head, wrapping it in a piece of paper, and firing a silver bullet into it.[68.3]

We pay European peoples the compliment of calling them civilised: among savages the same methods are adopted. It was the belief of the Clal-lum, a tribe of British Columbia, that if they could procure the hair of an enemy and confine it with a frog in a hole, the head whence it came would suffer the torments of the frog.[68.4] And a lock of hair in the hands of certain women of the Chilcotin tribe would give them power over the person from whose head the lock was severed.[68.5] Any part of the body answers the same purpose among the Greenlanders.[68.6] At the opposite extremity of the American continent the Patagonians burn the hairs brushed out from their heads, and all the parings of their nails, for they believe that spells may be wrought upon them by any one who can obtain a {69} piece of either.[69.1] In Central Brazil the Bakaïrí of one village fear the medicine-men of another, holding that if they can get any portion of their hair or blood, they will put it into a poison-calabash and so cause illness to the original owner.[69.2] What the inhabitants of the isle of Chiloe fear is that a foe will fasten a lock in the seaweed where the tide flows: hence they often keep their hair very short.[69.3] In the South Sea Islands it was necessary to the success of any sorcery to secure something connected with the body of the victim, such as the parings of his nails, a lock of his hair, saliva or other secretions, or else a portion of his food. Accordingly, a spittoon was always carried by the confidential servant of a chief of the Sandwich Islands to receive his expectorations, which were carefully buried every morning. And the Tahitians used to burn or bury the hair they cut off; and every individual among them had his distinct basket for food.[69.4] Among the Maoris “the usual way of obtaining power over another was to obtain (European fashion) some of the nail-parings, hair, etc., anything of a personal nature to act as a medium between the bewitched person and the demon. Spells would be muttered over these relics, then they were buried, and as they decayed the victim perished.”[69.5] In the Banks’ Islands “there are three principal kinds of charms by which evil was believed to be inflicted through the power of ghosts.” One of these called _garata_ operated through fragments of food, bits of hair or nail, “or anything closely connected {70} with the person to be injured. For this reason great care was used to hide or safely dispose of all such things.”[70.1] Similar beliefs and practices obtain in the New Hebrides and the New Marquesas.[70.2] At Matuku in Fiji, the priest of the god Tokalau, the wind, “promises the destruction of any hated person in four days, if those who wish his death bring a portion of his hair, dress or food which he has left.” Happily the doom can be averted by bathing before the fourth day. Most natives take the precaution of hiding the hair they cut off in the thatch of their own huts.[70.3] Some of the Papuan inhabitants of Timor-laut were delighted to make use of Mr. Forbes’ scissors to cut their hair; but they declined to allow the traveller to retain any specimens, for they said they would die; and they gathered up every scrap they could find.[70.4] Among the Australian aborigines of Western Victoria an unsuccessful lover who can get a lock of the lady’s hair covers it with fat and red clay and carries it about with him for a year. The knowledge of this so depresses her that she pines away and often actually dies. When a husband has, or imagines, a grievance against his wife he cuts a lock of her hair while she sleeps, and tying it to the bone hook of his spear-thrower he covers it with a coating of gum. Then he goes away to a neighbouring tribe and stays with them. At the first great meeting of the tribes he gives the spear-thrower to a friend, who sticks it upright before the camp-fire every night, and when it falls over, the husband considers it a sign that his wife is dead. This process, and the taunts to which the {71} deserted wife is subjected, seldom fail to bring her to a sense of her duty of going to seek her husband, apologising for her conduct and bringing him home. The natives are very careful to burn their superfluous hair; and locks are only exchanged by friends as a mark of affection. If a lock thus obtained be lost it is a very serious matter. The loser of the lock will die; and so strong is the belief, that he sometimes does die, unless the person who holds the lock of his hair given in exchange be willing to return it, and so undo the exchange.[71.1] Other tribes have the like superstitions. Mr. Howitt records it as a general practice among the natives of the south-east of Australia, and particularly of the Wotjobaluk tribe, to procure a piece of the victim’s hair, “some of his fæces, a bone picked by him and dropped, a shred of his opossum rug, or at the present time of his clothes,” for the purpose of injuring him. “If nothing else can be got, he may be watched until he is seen to spit, when his saliva is carefully picked up with a piece of wood and made use of for his destruction.” And the writer, a keen observer, adds: “There is evidently a belief that doing an act to something which is part of a person, or which even only belongs to him, is in fact doing it to him. This is very clearly brought out by the remark of one of the Wirajuri, who said to me: ‘You see, when a black-fellow doctor gets hold of something belonging to a man and roasts it with things, and sings over it, the fire catches hold of the smell of the man, and that settles the poor fellow.’” Indeed, all over Australia sorcery by means of hair is practised, or at least feared; and the same is asserted of the now exterminated Tasmanians.[71.2] In Sumatra {72} Mr. Forbes once noted a man carefully burying the scraps after paring his finger-nails.[72.1] The approved method of killing a foe at Amboyna is to take some of his hair or clothing, his quid of betel chewed and ejected, or the measure of his footprint, and put it into three bamboo cylinders, one of which is laid beneath a coffin, another buried under the steps of the house, and the third flung into the sea. To injure him it is apparently sufficient to put some of his hair into a coffin, or a grave, or to bind it to the tail of a living fish and return the creature to the water, or to stuff it into a cranny in a house or boat.[72.2] In the Panjáb some wizards are reputed to have the power of killing a woman by cutting off a lock of her hair, and afterwards bringing her to life again even though she had been buried.[72.3] And in Sindh no woman will give a lock of her hair, even to her husband, for fear of the power he would thus obtain.[72.4] Arab women are very careful to bury the parings of their nails for fear of witchcraft.[72.5] The Rautiás, a caste of Chota Nagpur in Bengal, partly Aryan and partly Dravidian, on the other hand, while convinced that witches can act upon their victims through bits of cut hair or nails, are guilty of the suicidal conduct of neglecting to preserve or destroy such articles.[72.6] They seem, however, exceptional in this respect among races in the lower culture. On the Slave Coast of Africa, “anything that has belonged {73} to a man, especially anything that has formed part of, or has come out of, his body, such as hair-clippings, nail-parings, saliva, or the fæces, can be used” to his detriment. “Hence it is usual for pieces of hair and nails to be carefully buried or burned, in order that they may not fall into the hands of sorcerers”; and the saliva of a chief is gathered up and hidden or buried.[73.1] The Makololo used to burn or bury their hair, lest, in the hands of a witch, it should be used as a charm to afflict the owner with headache.[73.2] Among the Basuto hairs or nail-parings of the person aimed at, or drops of his blood which he had not taken the precaution of effacing with his foot where they fell, were used by sorcerers in the manufacture of their charms. And without prolonging the list it may safely be said that this superstition is rife all over the continent.[73.3] Naturally the Negro has carried it to America. A lady writing half a century ago relates an incident which happened on the island of Antigua. A Negro boy had been drowned; and one of his kinswomen contrived to cut off some hair from the head of an acquaintance with whom she had a quarrel. This hair she placed in the dead boy’s hand just before his coffin was screwed down, at the same time pronouncing the word “Remember.” The ghastly result was thus described by the Negro who told the tale: “De pic’nee jumby trouble he [namely, the lady who had lost her hair] so dat he no know war for do, till at last he go out of he head, an’ he neber been no good since.”[73.4] Among the Negroes of the {74} United States the recipe for driving an enemy mad is to get one of his hairs and slip it inside the bark of a tree. When the bark grows over it his intellect is gone for ever. But in fact everything “that pertains to the body, such as nails, teeth, hair, saliva, tears, perspiration, dandruff, scabs of sores even, and garments worn next the person,” is employed in charms. A powerful conjurer told Miss Owen: “I could save or ruin you if I could get hold of so much as one eye-winker or the peeling of one freckle.”[74.1]

Prominent in the magical superstitions of some nations is blood. All Europe holds that the pact with the devil must be signed with one’s own blood. It is by handing over a portion of his blood that the unhappy mortal puts himself in the power of the Father of Evil. Without this gage his covenant would be voidable. A popular allegation against the Freemasons in some places is that the candidate for initiation is required to paint his own figure on the wall of the lodge with blood taken from his finger. If thereafter he betray the secrets he has sworn to keep, he can be slain by stabbing the portrait thus made.[74.2] A German saying advises that blood let out of a vein should always be thrown into running water.[74.3] There, of course, it will always be free, it will speedily be lost, and no witchcraft can be wrought upon it. The Transylvanian Saxons declare that if any blood, saliva, or suchlike of a living person be put into a coffin with the dead, the former will slowly languish and die.[74.4] The blood or saliva, corrupting and decaying with the corpse, reacts upon the living body {75} whence it has been derived. Similar is a Magyar prescription for causing barrenness in a woman, namely, by rubbing a dead man’s organ with her menses. In Hungary, too, if you wish to render a bridegroom indifferent to his bride, take some of his blood, or saliva, and with it smear the soles of the bride’s shoes before the wedding, or write his name in his blood on a pigeon’s egg and contrive that she shall tread unawares upon it. In either of these ways she will tread out her husband’s love.[75.1] In Ireland, when a child is vaccinated, the medical man is not allowed to take lymph from its arm without giving some present, however trifling, in return; and Dr. C. R. Browne records that when he was vaccinated in county Tipperary, his arm, as the nurse reported, was kept inflamed because the doctor did not put silver in his hand when taking the lymph.[75.2] The ground of the superstition appears to be the belief in witchcraft. Payment is always held to neutralise a witch’s power over a person through something received from him, probably because what she gives in exchange would confer a like power over her, and hence becomes a hostage for her good faith.[75.3]

When a shaman among the Cherokees wishes to destroy a man, he hides, and follows his victim about until the latter spits upon the ground. Then he collects on the end of a stick a little of the dust moistened with the saliva. “The possession of the man’s spittle gives him power over the life of the man himself.” He puts it into a tube consisting of a joint of the wild parsnip, “a poisonous plant {76} of considerable importance in life-conjuring ceremonies,” together with seven earthworms beaten into a paste, and some splinters from a tree struck by lightning. With the tube thus prepared he goes to a tree which has been lightning-struck. At its base he digs a hole, in the bottom of which he lays a large yellow stone slab. Upon this he places the tube and seven yellow pebbles. Then, filling up the hole with earth, he builds a fire over it. The fire, we are told, is for the purpose of destroying all trace of his work; but it may well be done with another object. The yellow stones are said to represent trouble, and to be substitutes for black stones, not so easily found, which represent death. The shaman and his employer fast until after the ceremony. The victim is expected to feel the effects at once: “his soul begins to shrivel up and dwindle, and within seven days he is dead.”[76.1] A traveller in Oregon relates how some Kwakiutl who were exasperated against him took up his saliva when he spat, intending, as they subsequently told him, to give it to the medicine-man, who would charm his life away.[76.2] The custom, everywhere practised, of obliterating all trace of the saliva after spitting, doubtless originated in the desire to prevent such use of it.[76.3]

Sweat has been mentioned as one of the means of witchcraft among the American Negroes. The Melanesians hold a leaf wherewith a man has wiped the perspiration from his face an effective instrument for doing him mischief.[76.4] The {77} fouler _excreta_ are quite as potent; and this belief has been one of the most beneficial of superstitions. To it is due the extreme cleanliness in the disposal of fæcal matter which is almost universally a characteristic of savages. I shall content myself with throwing into a footnote references to a few passages of various authorities bearing on this means of witchcraft.[77.1]

Sorcery may be wrought upon a foe through any of his teeth which have been extracted. Wherefore the aborigines of Australia, among whom the loss of a front tooth is the sign of admission to the privileges of manhood, are very careful of the teeth which are knocked out. About the river Darling in New South Wales, “the youth’s companions take the tooth when it is extracted, and return it to him later with a present of weapons, rugs, nets, and suchlike. The youth places the tooth under the bark of a tree, near a creek, water-hole, or river: if the bark grows over it, or it falls into the water, all is well; but should it be exposed, and the ants run over it, it is believed that the youth will suffer from a disease in the mouth.”[77.2] Of other tribes in south-eastern Australia it is recorded that the extracted tooth is taken care of by one of the old men. It {78} is passed from one head-man to another, until it has made the complete circuit of the community. It then returns to the youth’s father, and finally to himself. He carries it always about with him; but it must on no account be placed in his bag of magical substances, else great danger will accrue to him.[78.1] In England and elsewhere children are commonly told to burn their milk-teeth when taken out. In Belgium about Liége the reason assigned is to obtain a tooth of gold. In fact, the fear is that a witch may find it if thrown away, and injure the child by its means, or that a dog, a cat or a wolf may swallow it, in which event the new tooth growing in its place will be that of the animal.[78.2] This particular form of the superstition is also found in Sussex and Suffolk, and probably in other parts of England.[78.3]

Earth from a man’s footprints, on account of its close contact with the person--and closer still it must have been before mankind was shod--has acquired the virtues of a portion of his body. Out of a number of illustrations of its use in witchcraft I select the following from all quarters of the globe. Widely spread in Germany is the belief that if a sod whereon a man has trodden--all the better, if with naked foot--be taken up and dried behind the hearth or oven he will parch up with it and languish, or his foot will be withered. He will be lamed, or even killed, by sticking his footprint with nails--coffin-nails are the best--or broken glass. Burchard of Worms in the Middle Ages forbade the former practice; in still earlier times and another country Pythagoras had forbidden the latter.[78.4] They are still, {79} however, particularly recommended in various parts of Germany and adjacent lands for punishing a thief, though it is equally effectual to put tinder in his footprint, for he will thus be burnt, or to fill a pouch with some of the earth he has trodden and beat it twice a day with a stick until fire (!) come out of it: he will feel the blows and die without fail if he bring not back the stolen goods. According to Bezzenberger a Lithuanian, who finds a thief’s footmark, takes it to the graveyard and selects a grave, wherefrom he draws out the cross, thrusts the earth of the footprint into the hole and rams down the cross upon it again. The thief then falls ill, and thus is revealed.[79.1] In Italy and Russia one may be bewitched by similar means to those used in Germany.[79.2] In Hungary, when a woman has a child of unwedded love and desires to bind its father’s affections to it, she digs up one of his footprints, drops {80} some of her own milk into it and carefully puts it back, reversing its position toe to heel.[80.1]

The use of the footprint survives in the British Islands, I think, solely as a means of defence against witches. A correspondent of Mr. Train, the historian of the Isle of Man, writing about half a century ago, relates a story in which a colt was taken ill and there was reason to fear the Evil Eye. A friend of the owner gathered the dust of the road out of the footsteps of the suspected person, and rubbed the animal with it. Thereupon it once more partook of food and rapidly recovered.[80.2] Quite recently a parallel case has been reported, the beast bewitched having been a calf.[80.3] Mr. Hollingsworth, in his _History of Stowmarket_, published in 1844, says of a reputed witch that, if any one followed her as she walked, and drove a nail or a knife well into the ground through one of her footprints, she was deprived of power to move another step until it was extracted.[80.4] In Grafton County, New Hampshire, in the year 1852, a woman was seen to stick a knitting-needle in the footmarks of another who was regarded as a witch, under the belief that the steel had power to fasten a witch in her tracks, so that she could not move. On this occasion the device was ineffectual. There is always a reason for want of success in such performances. The performer was satisfied that she had broken the needle’s power by speaking. Elsewhere in New England and in Canada an awl is prescribed for the purpose.[80.5] Further south, the mixed white population of the Alleghanies recommend a nail from the coffin wherein a corpse has {81} decayed to be driven with three blows into a thief’s track; it will produce the same effect as if it entered the robber’s foot. But you are cautioned to tie a string round the nail’s head, so that it can be drawn out when requisite; else the man will die.[81.1]

Savages, on the other hand, are more frequently reported as using the footmark as a means of offence. The Karens of Burmah use the earth of a man’s footprints for the purpose of making a magical image of him.[81.2] The Pakoos strike an enemy’s footsteps with certain stones, with the intention of causing his death.[81.3] On the Slave Coast of Africa a magical powder thrown on a foe’s track renders him mad.[81.4] The Kurnai and other Australian aborigines bury sharp fragments of quartz, glass, bone or charcoal in the footmarks or in the place where the victim has lain, under the belief that the substances will thus be caused to enter his body.[81.5] In the west of Victoria--probably elsewhere--the black-fellow possessed of supernatural powers, who in hot weather comes upon the spoor of a kangaroo, follows it up, putting live embers on it. He will follow it thus for two days, unless he track it to a water-hole and spear it sooner.[81.6] This superstition, to which a special name is given, and of which Mr. Dawson, a most competent inquirer, failed to get any explanation, is analogous to the practice of the North American Indians. A compound, called “hunter’s medicine,” the preparation {82} whereof is taught to the neophyte in the initiation ceremony of the Ojibways, is dropped on the track of the animal pursued, to compel it to halt wherever it may be at that moment.[82.1] The Zuñi hunter follows the trail until he finds a place where the creature has lain down. He then deposits with certain offerings a spider-knot, tied of set purpose awkwardly, of four strands of yucca-leaves on the spot over which he supposes the victim’s heart to have rested or passed. Immediately in front of it he sticks a forked twig of cedar obliquely into the ground, leaning in the direction opposite to that taken by the animal. Other ceremonies follow, meant to have the effect of impeding and overcoming the prey.[82.2]

With the foregoing may be compared some ceremonies practised in Europe, the design of which, though not hostile, is to attach the animal to one place and prevent it from straying. A German huntsman, for example, sticks a coffin-nail into the trail of the game he desires to retain in his preserve.[82.3] When a calf is born, a Transylvanian Saxon farmer will take a peg of birch and drive it over the head into the spot on which the calf has fallen.[82.4] So an ancient English charm for the recovery of stolen cattle directed three candles to be lighted and the wax dripped thrice into the hoof-track, and the following invocation to be sung: “Peter, Paul, Patrick, Philip, Mary, Bridget, Felicitas; in the name of God and the Church: he who seeketh findeth.”[82.5] It seems to have required a perfect {83} army of saints to stop one thief; but peradventure some of them were talking, or in a journey, or sleeping, and could not attend to the business.

Among the various instruments of witchcraft I have mentioned the refuse of food. In the South Sea Islands this has been noted over and over again by missionaries and travellers. In New Britain a native, seized with fever, complained to Mr. Powell that one of his enemies had bewitched him by obtaining the skins of some bananas he had eaten, “making magic” over them and then burning them. For fear of this, Mr. Powell explains, the natives are very careful to burn or hide the refuse of anything they have been eating.[83.1] In the New Hebrides a bit of a certain stone, taken with a prayer, is pounded up with a fragment of food of the person to whom mischief is to be wrought; or the refuse of his food, such as a banana-skin or a piece of sugar-cane he has chewed, is simply burnt. An amphibious sea-snake called _mae_ is credited with supernatural power. It will do harm to men by taking away morsels of their food into a sacred place, whereupon their lips will swell and their bodies break out with ulcers.[83.2] In one of the Solomon Islands there is a sacred pool haunted by a _Tindalo_, or disembodied spirit, much resorted to for a similar purpose by persons who know the place and the spirit. If the scraps of food thrown into the pool are quickly devoured by a fish or a snake the thrower’s object is accomplished: the man whose food has been pilfered for the purpose will die. If otherwise, the _Tindalo_ is unwilling {84} to do the mischief desired of him.[84.1] Without pausing to enumerate any other cases it may be said in general terms that the superstition which is the subject of this paragraph is found everywhere in Australasia, Polynesia and Melanesia.[84.2]

Nor is it confined to the Southern Ocean. Among the Ainu double fruits are liable to be the means of bewitching any one who is bold enough to eat of them, unless he eat both.[84.3] In Europe, the Magyars carefully throw into the fire the remains of food partaken of at the Christmas feast; else the witches will make all sorts of evil charms of them. In many places they are kneaded together into a sort of paste in human form, and, with the words: “Eat fair ladies!” put into the oven, where they are burnt up in the next baking. The bones are frequently thrown into the open fire; and from their colour, and the way they crack and split in the heat, prognostications of future fortunes are drawn. Sometimes the bride buries close to the house the bread-crumbs, bones and other relics of her wedding-feast, in order “to strengthen the building.”[84.4] In both cases the anxiety to secure the food from harm, once extended to food in general, seems to have become restricted to special occasions. The reason alleged in the case of a wedding is probably no more the real reason than that stated in the {85} Mark of Brandenburg for not giving away a slice of bread which has been bitten, lest, we are told, one quarrel with the recipient.[85.1] People in Posen are counselled not to eat in the presence of a stranger for fear of being bewitched through the remains of their food, nor to take drink from a strange hand without saying as a counterspell: “God bless it!”[85.2] About Chemnitz one is advised on rising from a meal to leave no bread behind, lest somebody throw it over the gallows, in which event hanging would be the doom awaiting the person who had left it. In the neighbourhood of Ansbach he would get off more lightly, since only toothache is threatened.[85.3] In Belgium, things like milk or bread are never given to any one capable of bewitching the giver, save in exchange for a centime or some other trifle: the sale appears to destroy the evil power, a belief we have already found elsewhere. Children are also forbidden to receive from a woman whom they do not know cakes or sweetmeats, or if they do they must throw them over their shoulders, as in fairy tales the drink presented by supernatural beings is poured away by mortals; and a similar caution is enjoined in Italy.[85.4]

Before dismissing the dangers which may arise from the remains of food being tampered with, it may be well to mention a curious ordeal in use among the Tunguses of Siberia. A fire is made and a scaffold erected near the hut of the accused. A dog’s throat is then cut and the {86} blood received in a vessel. The body is put on the wood of the fire, but in such a position that it does not burn. The accused passes over the fire, and drinks two mouthfuls of the blood, the rest whereof is thrown into the fire; and the body of the dog is placed on the scaffold. Then the accused says: “As the dog’s blood burns in the fire, so may what I have drunk burn in my body; and as the dog put on the scaffold will be consumed, so may I be consumed at the same time if I be guilty.”[86.1] The effect intended to be produced on a guilty man is obviously the operation of the sympathy between the blood united with his body by drinking and the remainder of the blood and the carcase of the dog as they are consumed, the one in the fire, and the other by putrefaction or birds of carrion.

Clothes, from their intimate association with the person, have naturally attained a prominent place among the instruments of witchcraft. Among the Transylvanian Saxons, to put on an article of clothing belonging to another is to put on his luck, provided it be done undesignedly.[86.2] The German population of Pennsylvania cherishes the belief that witches “acquire influence over any one by becoming possessed of anything belonging to the intended victim, such as a hair, a piece of apparel, or a pin. The influence acquired by the witch is greater if such an article be voluntarily or unconsciously handed to her by the person asked for it.”[86.3] For a similar reason, the Votjaks hesitate even to sell any article of clothing they have worn.[86.4] A pin from the maiden’s dress, it will be remembered, was a necessary {87} part of the Livonian charm cited a few pages back; one of the victim’s gloves appears in the confessions of the unfortunate Margaret and Philippa Flower; and a parallel practice has been recently recorded in Sicily.[87.1] At Mentone the witch with a piece of her victim’s garment can render him sick.[87.2] An elaborate Tuscan charm given by Mr. Leland prescribes the use of the hairs of the victim, “or else the stockings, and those not clean, for there must be in them his or her perspiration.”[87.3] As elsewhere, among the Greco-Walachian population of Macedonia a newly born babe and its mother are held to be specially subject to injury by supernatural beings. To prevent this their clothes must not remain out of doors all night; and the water in which they or the clothes have been washed must be poured through pipes into the depths of the ground.[87.4] In Germany, in Spain, in Asia Minor and in many other places a portion of the witch’s dress is burnt to destroy her spells and restore the object of her conjurations to health.[87.5] A Gipsy prescription to recover a stolen horse is to bury the harness which may be left, to kindle a fire over the spot and sing {88} an imprecation on the thief and an invocation to the steed to return safe and sound.[88.1] Our Anglo-Saxon forefathers thought it enough to sing over the foot-shackles or the bridle the powerful invocation I mentioned just now.

The Segoo conjurer on the Upper Niger uses a piece of cloth belonging to the victim, or a little dirt that has been touched by his foot. These he sticks by means of hen’s blood to a fetish charm prepared, according to price, to kill or only to produce various degrees of damage to his client’s foe.[88.2] In a Hottentot story a fugitive throws off his mantle, and it immediately runs in another direction so as to deceive and baffle his pursuers.[88.3] Here the garment is represented as endowed with life and sympathy for its owner; but it does not appear that when it was caught the pursuers thought it worth while to destroy it with intent to slay the owner. As already mentioned, a piece of an Australian native’s opossum rug, or any other portion of his scanty dress, is sufficient to enable an enemy to bewitch him.[88.4] The Maories and the Fiji islanders are equally superstitious. It is related of the latter that if they have reason to suspect others of plotting against them, they not only avoid eating in their presence, or leaving any fragments of their food behind, but they also dispose their clothing so that no part of it can be removed.[88.5] On the island of Tanna, in the New Hebrides, a _yolnuruk_, or wizard, can bewitch any one by means of a portion of his food, the {89} unused part of a stick of tobacco, his belt or garment, a stick he has had in his hand, the scrapings of a stone on which he has sat, or in fact anything that has once touched his body.[89.1] To a Tonga islander it was fatal to hide a portion of his clothing in the family tomb of one of his relations of higher rank than himself.[89.2]