Malay Magic / Being an introduction to the folklore and popular religion of the Malay Peninsula

MALAY MAGIC

MALAY MAGIC

BEING

AN INTRODUCTION TO THE FOLKLORE AND POPULAR RELIGION OF THE MALAY PENINSULA

BY
WALTER WILLIAM SKEAT
OF THE CIVIL SERVICE OF THE FEDERATED MALAY STATES
WITH A PREFACE
BY
CHARLES OTTO BLAGDEN
MEMBER OF THE ROYAL ASIATIC SOCIETY, AND FORMERLY OF THE STRAITS SETTLEMENTS CIVIL SERVICE

London
MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited
NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1900
All rights reserved

TO

SIR CECIL CLEMENTI SMITH

KNIGHT GRAND CROSS OF THE MOST DISTINGUISHED ORDER
OF
ST. MICHAEL AND ST. GEORGE
AND FORMERLY
GOVERNOR OF THE STRAITS SETTLEMENTS

THIS BOOK IS (BY PERMISSION)
DEDICATED

“The cry of hosts [we] humour

Ah! slowly, toward the light.”

Rudyard Kipling.

PREFACE

The circumstances attending the composition and publication of the present work have thrown upon me the duty of furnishing it with a preface explaining its object and scope.

Briefly, the purpose of the author has been to collect into a Book of Malay Folklore all that seemed to him most typical of the subject amongst a considerable mass of materials, some of which lay scattered in the pages of various other works, others in unpublished native manuscripts, and much in notes made by him personally of what he had observed during several years spent in the Malay Peninsula, principally in the State of Selangor. The book does not profess to be an exhaustive or complete treatise, but rather, as its title indicates, an introduction to the study of Folklore, Popular Religion, and Magic as understood among the Malays of the Peninsula.

It should be superfluous, at this time of day, to defend such studies as these from the criticisms which have from time to time been brought against them. I remember my old friend and former teacher, Wan ʿAbdullah, a Singapore Malay of Trengganu extraction and Arab descent, a devout and learned Muhammadan and a most charming man, objecting to them on the grounds, first, that they were useless, and, secondly, which, as he emphatically declared, was far worse, that they were perilous to the soul’s health. This last is a point of view which it would hardly be appropriate or profitable to discuss here, but a few words may as well be devoted to the other objection. It is based, sometimes, on the ground that these studies deal not with “facts,” but with mere nonsensical fancies and beliefs. Now, for facts we all, of course, have the greatest respect; but the objection appears to me to involve an unwarrantable restriction of the meaning of the word: a belief which is actually held, even a mere fancy that is entertained in the mind, has a real existence, and is a fact just as much as any other. As a piece of psychology it must always have a certain interest, and it may on occasions become of enormous practical importance. If, for instance, in 1857 certain persons, whose concern it was, had paid more attention to facts of this kind, possibly the Indian Mutiny could have been prevented, and probably it might have been foreseen, so that precautionary measures could have been taken in time to minimise the extent of the catastrophe. It is not suggested that the matters dealt with in this book are ever likely to involve such serious issues; but, speaking generally, there can be no doubt that an understanding of the ideas and modes of thought of an alien people in a relatively low stage of civilisation facilitates very considerably the task of governing them; and in the Malay Peninsula that task has now devolved mainly upon Englishmen. Moreover, every notion of utility implies an end to which it is to be referred, and there are other ends in life worth considering as well as those to which the “practical man” is pleased to restrict himself. When one passes from the practical to the speculative point of view, it is almost impossible to predict what piece of knowledge will be fruitful of results, and what will not; prima facie, therefore, all knowledge has a claim to be considered of importance from a scientific point of view, and until everything is known, nothing can safely be rejected as worthless.

Another and more serious objection, aimed rather at the method of such investigations as these, is that the evidence with which they have to be content is worth little or nothing. Objectors attempt to discredit it by implying that at best it is only what A. says that B. told him about the beliefs B. says he holds, in other words, that it is the merest hearsay; and it is also sometimes suggested that when A. is a European and B. a savage, or at most a semi-civilised person of another breed, the chances are that B. will lie about his alleged beliefs, or that A. will unconsciously read his own ideas into B.’s confused statements, or that, at any rate, one way or another, they are sure to misunderstand each other, and accordingly the record cannot be a faithful one.

So far as this objection can have any application to the present work, it may fairly be replied: first that the author has been at some pains to corroborate and illustrate his own accounts by the independent observations of others (and this must be his justification for the copiousness of his quotations from other writers); and, secondly, that he has, whenever possible, given us what is really the best kind of evidence for his own statements by recording the charms and other magic formulæ which are actually in use. Of these a great number has been here collected, and in the translation of such of the more interesting ones as are quoted in the text of the book, every effort has been made to keep to literal accuracy of rendering. The originals will be found in the Appendix, and it must be left to those who can read Malay to check the author’s versions, and to draw from the untranslated portions such inferences as may seem to them good.

The author himself has no preconceived thesis to maintain: his object has been collection rather than comparison, and quite apart from the necessary limitations of space and time, his method has confined the book within fairly well-defined bounds. Though the subject is one which would naturally lend itself to a comparative treatment, and though the comparison of Malay folklore with that of other nations (more particularly of India, Arabia, and the mainland of Indo-China) would no doubt lead to very interesting results, the scope of the work has as far as possible been restricted to the folklore of the Malays of the Peninsula. Accordingly the analogous and often quite similar customs and ideas of the Malayan races of the Eastern Archipelago have been only occasionally referred to, while those of the Chinese and other non-Malayan inhabitants of the Peninsula have been excluded altogether.

Moreover, several important departments of custom and social life have been, no doubt designedly, omitted: thus, to mention only one subject out of several that will probably occur to the reader, the modes of organisation of the Family and the Clan (which in certain Malay communities present archaic features of no common interest), together with the derivative notions affecting the tenure and inheritance of property, have found no place in this work. The field, in fact, is very wide and cannot all be worked at once. The folklore of uncivilised races may fairly enough be said to embrace every phase of nature and every department of life: it may be regarded as containing, in the germ and as yet undifferentiated, the notions from which Religion, Law, Medicine, Philosophy, Natural Science, and Social Customs are eventually evolved. Its bulk and relative importance seem to vary inversely with the advance of a race in the progress towards civilisation; and the ideas of savages on these matters appear to constitute in some cases a great and complex system, of which comparatively few traces only are left among the more civilised peoples. The Malay race, while far removed from the savage condition, has not as yet reached a very high stage of civilisation, and still retains relatively large remnants of this primitive order of ideas. It is true that Malay notions on these subjects are undergoing a process of disintegration, the rapidity of which has been considerably increased by contact with European civilisation, but, such as they are, these ideas still form a great factor in the life of the mass of the people.

It may, however, be desirable to point out that the complexity of Malay folklore is to be attributed in part to its singularly mixed character. The development of the race from savagery and barbarism up to its present condition of comparative civilisation has been modified and determined, first and most deeply by Indian, and during the last five centuries or so by Arabian influences. Just as in the language of the Malays it is possible by analysis to pick out words of Sanskrit and Arabic origin from amongst the main body of genuinely native words, so in their folklore one finds Hindu, Buddhist, and Muhammadan ideas overlying a mass of apparently original Malay notions.

These various elements of their folklore are, however, now so thoroughly mixed up together that it is often almost impossible to disentangle them. No systematic attempt has been made to do so in this book, although here and there an indication of the origin of some particular myth will be found; but a complete analysis (if possible at all) would have necessitated, as a preliminary investigation, a much deeper study of Hindu and Muhammadan mythology than it has been found practicable to engage in.

In order, however, to give a clear notion of the relation which the beliefs and practices that are here recorded bear to the official religion of the people, it is necessary to state that the Malays of the Peninsula are Sunni Muhammadans of the school of Shafi’i, and that nothing, theoretically speaking, could be more correct and orthodox (from the point of view of Islām) than the belief which they profess.

But the beliefs which they actually hold are another matter altogether, and it must be admitted that the Muhammadan veneer which covers their ancient superstitions is very often of the thinnest description. The inconsistency in which this involves them is not, however, as a rule realised by themselves. Beginning their invocations with the orthodox preface: “In the name of God, the merciful, the compassionate,” and ending them with an appeal to the Creed: “There is no god but God, and Muhammad is the Apostle of God,” they are conscious of no impropriety in addressing the intervening matter to a string of Hindu Divinities, Demons, Ghosts, and Nature Spirits, with a few Angels and Prophets thrown in, as the occasion may seem to require. Still, the more highly educated Malays, especially those who live in the towns and come into direct contact with Arab teachers of religion, are disposed to object strongly to these “relics of paganism”; and there can be no doubt that the increasing diffusion of general education in the Peninsula is contributing to the growth of a stricter conception of Islām, which will involve the gradual suppression of such of these old-world superstitions as are obviously of an “unorthodox” character.

This process, however, will take several generations to accomplish, and in the meantime it is to be hoped that a complete record will have been made both of what is doomed sooner or later to perish, and of what in all likelihood will survive under the new conditions of our time. It is as a contribution to such a record, and as a collection of materials to serve as a sound basis for further additions and comparisons, that this work is offered to the reader.

A list of the principal authorities referred to will be found in another place, but it would be improper to omit here the acknowledgments which are due to the various authors of whose work in this field such wide use has been made. Among the dead special mention must be made of Marsden, who will always be for Englishmen the pioneer of Malay studies; Leyden, the gifted translator of the Sĕjarah Malayu, whose early death probably inflicted on Oriental scholarship the greatest loss it has ever had to suffer; Newbold, the author of what is still, on the whole, the best work on the Malay Peninsula; and Sir William Maxwell, in whom those of us who knew him have lost a friend, and Malay scholarship a thoroughly sound and most brilliant exponent.

Among the living, the acknowledgments of the author are due principally to Sir Frank Swettenham and Mr. Hugh Clifford, who, while they have done much to popularise the knowledge of things Malay amongst the general reading public, have also embodied in their works the results of much careful and accurate observation. The free use which has been made of the writings of these and other authors will, it is hoped, be held to be justified by their intrinsic value.

It must be added that the author, having to leave England about the beginning of this year with the Cambridge scientific expedition which is now exploring the Northern States of the Peninsula, left the work with me for revision. The first five Chapters and Chapter VI., up to the end of the section on Dances, Sports, and Games, were then already in the printer’s hands, but only the first 100 pages or so had had the benefit of the author’s revision. For the arrangement of the rest of Chapter VI., and for some small portion of the matter therein contained, I am responsible, and it has also been my duty to revise the whole book finally. Accordingly, it is only fair to the author to point out that he is to be credited with the matter and the general scheme of the work, while the responsibility for defects in detail must fall upon myself.

As regards the spelling of Malay words, it must be said that geographical names have been spelled in the way which is now usually adopted and without diacritical marks: the names of the principal Native States of the Peninsula (most of which are repeatedly mentioned in the book) are Kĕdah, Perak, Sĕlangor, Jŏhor, Păhang, Trĕngganu, Kĕlantan, and Pătani. Otherwise, except in quotations (where the spelling of the original is preserved), an attempt has been made to transliterate the Malay words found in the body of the book in such a way as to give the ordinary reader a fairly correct idea of their pronunciation. The Appendix, which appeals only to persons who already know Malay, has been somewhat differently treated, diacritical marks being inserted only in cases where there was a possible ambiguity, and the spelling of the original MSS. being changed as little as possible.

A perfect transliteration, or one that will suit everybody, is, however, an unattainable ideal, and the most that can be done in that direction is necessarily a compromise. In the system adopted in the body of the work, the vowels are to be sounded (roughly speaking) as in Italian, except ĕ (which resembles the French e in que, le, and the like), and the consonants as in English (but ng as in singer, not finger; g as in go; ny as ni in onion; ch as in church; final k and initial h almost inaudible). The symbol ʿ represents the Arabic ʿain, and the symbol ’ is used (1) between consonants, to indicate the presence of an almost inaudible vowel, the shortest form of ĕ, and elsewhere (2) for the hamzah, and (3) for the apostrophe, i.e. to denote the suppression of a letter or syllable. Both the ʿain and the hamzah may be neglected in pronunciation, as indeed they are very generally disregarded by the Malays themselves. In this and other respects, Arabic scholars into whose hands this book may fall must not be surprised to find that Arabic words and phrases suffer some corruptions in a Malay context. These have not, as a rule, been interfered with or corrected, although it has not been thought worth while to preserve obvious blunders of spelling in well-known Arabic formulæ. It should be added that in Malay the accent or stress, which is less marked than in English, falls almost invariably on the penultimate syllable of the word. Exceptions to this rule hardly ever occur except in the few cases where the penultimate is an open syllable with a short vowel, as indicated by the sign ˘.

The illustrations are reproduced from photographs of models and original objects made by Malays; most of these models and other objects are now in the Cambridge Archæological and Ethnological Museum, to which they were presented by the author.

The Index, for the compilation of which I am indebted to my wife, who has also given me much assistance in the revision of the proof-sheets, will, it is believed, add greatly to the usefulness of the work as a book of reference.

C. O. BLAGDEN.

Woking, 28th August 1899.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

[Nature], pp. 1–15 PAGE

CHAPTER II

[Man and His Place in the Universe], pp. 16–55

CHAPTER III

[Relations with the Supernatural World], pp. 56–82

CHAPTER IV

[The Malay Pantheon], pp. 83–106

CHAPTER V

[Magic Rites connected with the Several Departments of Nature], pp. 107–319

• 1. [Wind and Weather Charms] 107
• 2. [Birds and Bird Charms] 109

• 1. [Building Ceremonies and Charms] 141
• 2. [Beasts and Beast Charms] 149
• 3. [Vegetation Charms] 193
• 4. [Minerals and Mining Charms] 250

• 1. [Purification by Water] 277
• 2. [The Sea, Rivers, and Streams] 279
• 3. [Reptiles and Reptile Charms] 282
• 4. [Fishing Ceremonies] 306

• 1. [Production of Fire] 317
• 2. [Fire Charms] 318

CHAPTER VI

[Magic Rites as affecting the Life of Man], pp. 320–580

[Appendix] 581

[Note on the word Kramat] 673

[List of Chief Authorities quoted] 675

[Index] 677

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PLATES

CHAPTER I

Nature

(a) Creation of the World

The theory of the Creation most usually held by Peninsular Malays is summarised in the following passage, quoted (in 1839) by Lieutenant Newbold from a Malay folk-tale:—

“From the Supreme Being first emanated light towards chaos; this light, diffusing itself, became the vast ocean. From the bosom of the waters thick vapour and foam ascended. The earth and sea were then formed, each of seven tiers. The earth rested on the surface of the water from east to west. God, in order to render steadfast the foundations of the world, which vibrated tremulously with the motion of the watery expanse, girt it round with an adamantine chain, viz. the stupendous mountains of Caucasus, the wondrous regions of genii and aerial spirits. Beyond these limits is spread out a vast plain, the sand and earth of which are of gold and musk, the stones rubies and emeralds, the vegetation of odoriferous flowers.

“From the range of Caucasus all the mountains of the earth have their origin as pillars to support and strengthen the terrestrial framework.”[1]

The Mountains of Caucasus are usually called by Malays Bukit Kof (i.e. Kaf), or the Mountains of Kaf (which latter is their Arabic name). These mountains are not unfrequently referred to in Malay charms, e.g. in invocations addressed to the Rice-Spirit. The Mountains of Kaf are to the Malays a great range which serves as a “wall” (dinding) to the earth, and keeps off both excessive winds and beasts of prey. This wall, however, is being bored through by people called Yajuj and Majuj (Gog and Magog), and when they succeed in their task the end of all things will come. Besides these mountains which surround the earth there is a great central mountain called Mahameru (Saguntang Maha Biru, or merely Saguntang-guntang).[2] In many Malay stories this hill Mahameru is identified with Saguntang-guntang on the borders of Palembang in Sumatra.

The account which I shall now give, however, differs considerably from the preceding. It was taken down by me from an introduction to a Malay charm-book belonging to a magician (one ʿAbdul Razzak of Klang in Selangor), with whom I was acquainted, but who, though he allowed me to copy it, would not allow me either to buy or borrow the book:[3]—

“In the days when Haze bore Darkness, and Darkness Haze, when the Lord of the Outer Silence Himself was yet in the womb of Creation, before the existence of the names of Earth and Heaven, of God and Muhammad, of the Empyrean and Crystalline spheres, or of Space and Void, the Creator of the entire Universe pre-existed by Himself, and He was the Eldest Magician. He created the Earth of the width of a tray and the Heavens of the width of an umbrella, which are the universe of the Magician. Now from before the beginning of time existed that Magician—that is, God—and He made Himself manifest with the brightness of the moon and the sun, which is the token of the True Magician.”

The account proceeds to describe how God “created the pillar of the Kaʿbah,[4] which is the Navel of the Earth, whose growth is comparable to a Tree, ... whose branches are four in number, and are called, the first, ‘Sajeratul Mentahar,’ and the second ‘Taubi,’ and the third, ‘Khaldi,’ and the fourth ‘Nasrun ʿAlam,’ which extend unto the north, south, east, and west, where they are called the Four Corners of the World.”

Next we read that the word of God Almighty came in secret to Gabriel, saying, “Take me down the iron staff of the ‘Creed’ which dangles at the gate of heaven, and kill me this serpent Sakatimuna.”[5] Gabriel did so, and the serpent brake asunder, the head and forepart shooting up above the heavens, and the tail part penetrating downwards beneath the earth.[6] The rest of the account is taken up with a description, that need not here be repeated, of the transformation of all the various parts of the serpent’s anatomy, which are represented as turning with a few exceptions into good and evil genii.

The most curious feature of the description is perhaps the marked anthropomorphic character of this serpent, which shows it to be a serpent in little more than name. It seems, in fact, very probable that we have here a reminiscence of the Indian “Naga.”[7] Thus we find the rainbow (here divided into its component parts) described as originating from the serpent’s sword with its hilt and cross-piece (guard), grass from the hair of its body, trees from the hair of its head, rain from its tears, and dew from its sweat.

Another account, also obtained from a local magician, contains one or two additional details about the tree. “Kun,” said God, “Payah[8] kun” said Muhammad, and a seed was created.

“The seed became a root (lit. sinew), the root a tree, and the tree brought forth leaves.

“‘Kun,’ said God, ‘Payah kun,’ said Muhammad; ... Then were Heaven and Earth (created), ‘Earth of the width of a tray, Heaven of the width of an umbrella.’”

This is a curious passage, and one not over-easy to explain; such evidence as may be drawn from analogy suggests, however, that the “Earth of the width of a tray, and Heaven of the width of an umbrella,” may be intended to represent respectively the “souls” (sĕmangat) of heaven and earth, in which case they would bear the same relation to the material heaven and earth as the man-shaped human soul does to the body of a man.

(b) Natural Phenomena

“Most Malays,” says Newbold, “with whom I have conversed on the subject, imagine that the world is of an oval shape, revolving upon its own axis four times in the space of one year; that the sun is a circular body of fire moving round the earth, and producing the alternations of night and day.”

To this I would add that some Malays, at least, whom I questioned on the subject (as well as some Sakais[9] under Malay influence), imagined the firmament to consist of a sort of stone or rock which they called Batu hampar, or “Bed rock,” the appearance of stars being caused (as they supposed) by the light which streams through its perforations.

A further development of the Malay theory of the earth declares it to be carried by a colossal buffalo upon the tip of its horns.[10] When one horn begins to tire the buffalo tosses it up and catches it upon the tip of the other, thus causing periodical earthquakes. This world-buffalo, it should be added, stands upon an island in the midst of the nether ocean.[11] The universe is girt round by an immense serpent or dragon (Ular Naga), which “feeds upon its own tail.”

The Malay theory of the tides is concisely stated by Newbold:[12]—

“Some Malays ascribe the tides to the influence of the sun; others to some unknown current of the ocean; but the generality believe confidently the following, which is a mere skeleton of the original legend. In the middle of the great ocean grows an immense tree, called Pauh Jangi,[13] at the root of which is a cavern called Pusat Tassek, or navel of the lake. This is inhabited by a vast crab, who goes forth at stated periods during the day. When the creature returns to its abode the displaced water causes the flow of the tide; when he departs, the water rushing into the cavern causes the ebb.”

Mr. Clifford gives a slightly different explanation:—

“The Pusat tasek, or Navel of the Seas, supposed to be a huge hole in the ocean bottom. In this hole there sits a gigantic crab which twice a day gets out in order to search for food. While he is sitting in the hole the waters of the ocean are unable to pour down into the under world, the whole of the aperture being filled and blocked by the crab’s bulk. The inflowing of the rivers into the sea during these periods are supposed to cause the rising of the tide, while the downpouring of the waters through the great hole when the crab is absent searching for food is supposed to cause the ebb.”

Concerning the wonderful legendary tree (the Pauh Janggi) the following story was related to me by a Selangor Malay:—

“There was once a Selangor man named Haji Batu, or the Petrified Pilgrim, who got this name from the fact that the first joints of all the fingers of one hand had been turned into stone. This happened in the following manner. In the old days when men went voyaging in sailing vessels, he determined to visit Mecca, and accordingly set sail. After sailing for about two months they drifted out of their course for some ten or fifteen days, and then came to a part of the sea where there were floating trunks of trees, together with rice-straw (batang padi) and all manner of flotsam. Yet again they drifted for seven days, and upon the seventh night Haji Batu dreamed a dream. In this dream one who wore the pilgrim’s garb appeared to him, and warned him to carry on his person a hammer and seven nails, and when he came to a tree which would be the Pauh Janggi he was to drive the first of the nails into its stem and cling thereto. Next day the ship reached the great whirlpool which is called the Navel of the Seas,[14] and while the ship was being sucked into the eddy close to the tree and engulfed, Haji Batu managed to drive the first nail home, and clung to it as the ship went down. After a brief interval he endeavoured to drive in the second nail, somewhat higher up the stem than the first (why Haji Batu could not climb without the aid of nails history does not relate), and drawing himself up by it, drove in the third. Thus progressing, by the time he had driven in all the seven nails he had reached the top of the tree, when he discovered among the branches a nest of young rocs. Here he rested, and having again been advised in a dream, he waited. On the following day, when the parent roc had returned and was engaged in feeding its young with an elephant which it had brought for the purpose, he bound himself to its feathers with his girdle, and was carried in this manner many hundreds of miles to the westward, where, upon the roc’s nearing the ground, he let himself go, and thus dropping to the earth, fell into a swoon. On recovering consciousness he walked on till he came to a house, where he asked for and obtained some refreshment. On his departure he was advised to go westward, and so proceeded for a long distance until he arrived at a beautifully clear pool in an open plain, around which were to be seen many stone figures of human beings. The appearance of these stone figures rendering him suspicious, he refrained from drinking the water, and dipped into it merely the tips of his fingers, which became immediately petrified. Proceeding he met a vast number of wild animals—pigs, deer, and elephants—which were fleeing from the pursuit of a beast of no great size indeed, but with fiery red fur. He therefore prudently climbed into a tree to allow it to pass. The beast, however, pursued him and commenced to climb the tree, but as it climbed he drove the point of his poniard (badik) into its skull, and killed it. He then robbed it of its whiskers, and thereafter, on his reaching a town, everybody fled from him because of the whiskers which had belonged to so fierce a beast. The Raja of that country, begging for one of them, and giving him food, he presented him with one of the whiskers in payment. After paying his way in a similar manner at seven successive villages, the Petrified Pilgrim at length reached Mecca.”

“Bores,” or “eagres,” at the mouths of rivers, and floods[15] due to heavy rain, are conceived to be caused by the passage of some gigantic animal, most probably a sort of dragon, as in the case of landslips, which will be mentioned later.

This animal, whose passage up rivers is held to cause the tidal wave or bore, is called Bĕnă in Selangor. It is a matter of common report among Malays at Jugra, on the Selangor coast, that a bore formerly “frequented” the Langat river, near its mouth. This was anterior to the severance of the narrow neck of land[16] at Bandar that divided the old channel of the Langat river from the stream into which the waters of the Langat now flow, forming the short cut to the sea called the Jugra Passage. In the days when the bore came up the river the Malays used to go out in small canoes or dug-outs to “sport amongst the breakers” (main gĕlombang), frequently getting upset for their pains. Eventually, however (I was told), the bore was killed by a Langat Malay, who struck it upon the head with a stick! It is considered that this must be true, since there is no bore in the Langat river now!

Eclipses (Gĕrhana) of the sun or moon are considered to be the outward and visible sign of the devouring of those bodies[17] by a sort of gigantic dragon (rahu)[18] or dog (anjing). Hence the tumult made during an eclipse by the Malays, who imagine that if they make a sufficient din they will frighten the monster away.

The following is an excellent description of a lunar eclipse from the Malay point of view:—

“One night, when the Moon has waxed nearly to the full, Pĕkan resounds with a babel of discordant noise. The large brass gongs, in which the devils of the Chinese are supposed to take delight, clang and clash and bray through the still night air; the Malay drums throb and beat and thud; all manner of shrill yells fill the sky, and the roar of a thousand native voices rises heavenwards, or rolls across the white waters of the river, which are flecked with deep shadows and reflections. The jungles on the far bank take up the sound and send it pealing back in recurring ringing echoes till the whole world seems to shout in chorus. The Moon which bathes the earth in splendour, the Moon which is so dear to each one of us, is in dire peril this night, for that fierce monster, the Gĕrhâna,[19] whom we hate and loathe, is striving to swallow her. You can mark his black bulk creeping over her, dimming her face, consuming her utterly, while she suffers in the agony of silence. How often in the past has she served us with the light; how often has she made night more beautiful than day for our tired, sun-dazed eyes to look upon; and shall she now perish without one effort on our part to save her by scaring the Monster from his prey? No! A thousand times no! So we shout, and clang the gongs, and beat the drums, till all the animal world joins in the tumult, and even inanimate nature lends its voice to swell the uproar with a thousand resonant echoes. At last the hated Monster reluctantly retreats. Our war-cry has reached his ears, and he slinks sullenly away, and the pure, sad, kindly Moon looks down in love and gratitude upon us, her children, to whose aid she owes her deliverance.”[20]

The “spots on the moon”[21] are supposed to represent an inverted banyan tree (Bĕringin songsang), underneath which an aged hunchback is seated plaiting strands of tree bark (pintal tali kulit t’rap) to make a fishing-line, wherewith he intends to angle for everything upon the earth as soon as his task is completed. It has never been completed yet, however, for a rat always gnaws the line through in time to save mankind from disaster, despite the vigilance of the old man’s cat, which is always lying in wait for the offender.[22] It is perhaps scarcely necessary to add that when the line reaches the earth the end of the world will come.

“Bujang (‘single,’ ‘solitary,’ and hence in a secondary sense ‘unmarried’) is a Sanskrit word bhujangga, ‘a dragon.’ ‘Bujang Malaka,’ a mountain in Pêrak, is said by the Malays of that State to have been so called because it stands alone, and could be seen from the sea by traders who plied in old days between the Pêrak river and the once flourishing port of Malacca. But it is just as likely to have been named from some forgotten legend in which a dragon played a part. Dragons and mountains are generally connected in Malay ideas. The caves in the limestone hill Gunong Pondok, in Pêrak, are said to be haunted by a genius loci in the form of a snake who is popularly called Si Bujang. This seems to prove beyond doubt the identity of bujang with bhujangga.[23] The snake-spirit of Gunong Pondok is sometimes as small as a viper, and sometimes as large as a python, but he may always be identified by his spotted neck, which resembles that of a wood-pigeon (tekukur). Landslips on the mountains, which are tolerably frequent during very heavy rains, and which, being produced by the same cause, are often simultaneous with the flooding of rivers and the destruction of property, are attributed by the natives to the sudden breaking forth of dragons (naga), which have been performing religious penance (ber-tapa)[24] in the mountains, and which are making their way to the sea.”[25]

So, too, many waterfalls and rocks of unusual shape are thought to owe their remarkable character to the agency of demons. This, however, is a subject which will be treated more fully later on.

“Palangi, the usual Malay word for the rainbow, means ‘striped.’ The name varies, however, in different localities. In Pêrak it is called palangi minum[26] (from a belief that it is the path by which spirits descend to the earth to drink), while in Penang it is known as ular danu (‘the snake danu’). In Pêrak, a rainbow which stretches in an arch across the sky is called bantal (‘the pillow ’), for some reason that I have been unable to ascertain.[27] When only a small portion of a rainbow is visible, which seems to touch the earth, it is called tunggul (‘the flag’),[28] and if this is seen at some particular point of the compass—the west, I think—it betokens, the Pêrak Malays say, the approaching death of a Raja. Another popular belief is that the ends of the rainbow rest upon the earth, and that if one could dig at the exact spot covered by one end of it, an untold treasure would be found there. Unfortunately, no one can ever arrive at the place.”[29]

“Sunset is the hour when evil spirits of all kinds have most power.[30] In Pêrak, children are often called indoors at this time to save them from unseen dangers. Sometimes, with the same object, a woman belonging to the house where there are young children, will chew kuniet tĕrus (an evil-smelling root), supposed to be much disliked by demons of all kinds, and spit it out at seven different points as she walks round the house.

“The yellow glow which spreads over the western sky, when it is lighted up with the last rays of the dying sun, is called mambang kuning (‘the yellow deity’), a term indicative of the superstitious dread associated with this particular period.”[31]

[1] Newbold, British Settlements in the Straits of Malacca, vol. ii. pp. 360, 361. [↑]

[2] Vide Vishnu Purana, vol. ii. p. 109; trans. by Wilson. [↑]

[3] The full Malay text of this introduction will be found in the Appendix. [↑]

[4] Lit. “A cube.” The cube-like building in the centre of the Mosque at Makkah (Mecca), which contains the Hajaru ’l-Aswad, or black stone.—Hughes, Dict. of Islam, s.v. Kaʿbah. [↑]

[5] Sakatimuna (or “Sicatimuna”) is the name of an enormous serpent, said to have ravaged the country of Menangkabau in Sumatra about the beginning of the 12th century.—Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. p. 199 n. It is also given as “Icktimani” by Leyden in his trans. of the Malay Annals. [↑]

[6] For the parting asunder of the snake, vide the note on page 11 infra, which gives what may be the origin of this myth as it is known to the Malays. [↑]

[7] The Nagas are generally represented in old sculptures as bearing the human form, but with a snake attached to their backs, and the hooded head rising behind their necks.—Nagananda, translated by Palmer Boyd, p. 61; vide also ib. p. 84. This may be the explanation of the Malay k’ris hilt, or dagger hilt, which represents a seated human form with folded arms and a hood at the back of its neck rising over its head. These hilts are called hulu Malayu (the “Malay hilt”), or Jawa dĕmam (lit. the “Fever-stricken Javanese”), in allusion to the attitude of the figure with its folded arms. The pattern of these hilts, which are universally used for the national Malay k’ris or dagger, varies from an accurate representation of the human figure to forms in which nothing but the hood (which is occasionally much exaggerated) is recognisable. Europeans seeing these hilts for the first time sometimes take them for snakes’ heads, sometimes for the heads of birds. [↑]

[8] Payah probably stands for supaya, perhaps with the meaning “so also.” Kun in Arabic means “be.” The tree would appear to be identifiable (vide App. [i]., iii.) with that mentioned in the first account. [↑]

[9] Sakais are certain of the non-Malayan heathen (i.e. not Muhammadan) inhabitants of the hills and jungles of the Peninsula. [↑]

[10] Some say a bullock (lĕmbu), but the most usual version gives the buffalo. In the Ramayana, which has largely influenced some departments of Malay folk-lore, it is an elephant which supports the earth. So, too, Vishnu in the boar-incarnation raised the earth from the bottom of the sea upon his tusks. [↑]

[11] This island (for which a tortoise or the fish “Nun” is occasionally substituted) may be compared with the Batak (Sumatran) belief concerning the raft which was made by Batara Guru for the support of the earth at the creation of the world (J.R.A.S., N. S. vol. xiii. part i. p. 60); and vide Klinkert’s Malay-Dutch Dict., s.v. Nun. [↑]

[12] Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. p. 359. The spelling of “Jangi” is incorrect. It should be spelt “Janggi.” [↑]

[13] This tree appears to be a tradition of the Cocos Maldiva, of which Sir H. Yule, s.v. Coco-de-Mer, gives the following interesting account:—

“Coco-de-Mer, or Double Coco-nut, the curious twin fruit so called, the produce of the Lodoicea Sechellarum, a palm growing only in the Seychelles Islands, is cast up on the shores of the Indian Ocean, most frequently on the Maldive Islands, but occasionally also on Ceylon and S. India, and on the coasts of Zanzibar, of Sumatra, and some others of the Malay Islands. Great virtues as medicine and antidote were supposed to reside in these fruits, and extravagant prices were paid for them. The story goes that a ‘country captain,’ expecting to make his fortune, took a cargo of these nuts from the Seychelles Islands to Calcutta, but the only result was to destroy their value for the future.

“The old belief was that the fruit was produced on a palm growing below the sea, whose fronds, according to Malay seamen, were sometimes seen in quiet bights on the Sumatran coast, especially in the Lampong Bay. According to one form of the story among the Malays, which is told both by Pigafetta and by Rumphius, there was but one such tree, the fronds of which rose above an abyss of the Southern Ocean, and were the abode of the monstrous bird Garuda (or Rukh of the Arabs). The tree itself was called Pau-sengi, which Rumphius seems to interpret as a corruption of Buwa-zangi, ‘Fruit of Zang,’ or E. Africa. They were cast up occasionally on the islands of the S.W. coast of Sumatra; and the wild people of the islands brought them for sale to the Sumatran marts, such as Padang and Priamang. One of the largest (say about twelve inches across) would sell for 150 rix dollars. But the Malay princes coveted them greatly, and would sometimes (it was alleged) give a laden junk for a single nut. In India the best-known source of supply was from the Maldive Islands.

“The medical virtues of the nut were not only famous among all the people of the East, including the Chinese, but are extolled by Piso and by Rumphius, with many details. The latter, learned and laborious student of nature as he was, believed in the submarine origin of the nut, though he discredited its growing on a great palm, as no traces of such a plant had ever been discovered on the coasts. The fame of the nut’s virtues had extended to Europe, and the Emperor Rudolf II. in his latter days offered in vain 4000 florins to purchase from the family of Wolfert Hermanszen, a Dutch Admiral, one which had been presented to that commander by the King of Bantam, on the Hollander’s relieving his capital, attacked by the Portuguese in 1602.”—Hobson-Jobson, loc. cit.

To this valuable note I would add that Rumphius is evidently wrong if he derives the name of the tree, “Pau-sengi,” from the Malay “Buwa-zangi.” The first part of the word is “Pau” or “Pauh,” which is perfectly good Malay, and is the name given to various species of mango, especially the wild one, so that “Pau-sengi” actually represents (not “Buwa,” but) “Pauh Janggi,” which is to this day the universal Malay name for the tree which grows, according to Malay fable, in the central whirlpool or Navel of the Seas. Some versions add that it grows upon a sunken bank (tĕbing runtoh), and is guarded by dragons. This tree figures largely in Malay romances, especially those which form the subject of Malay shadow-plays, (vide infra, Pl. 23, for an illustration of the Pauh Janggi and the Crab). Rumphius’ explanation of the second part of the name (i.e. Janggi) is, no doubt, quite correct. [↑]

[14] The following passage describes how a magic prince visited the Navel of the Seas:—

“Presently he arrived at his destination—the Navel of the Seas—(Pusat tasek). All the monsters of the ocean, the whales and monster fishes, and colossal dragons (naga umbang), and the magic dragons (naga sri naga ka-sak-tian), assembled together to eat and devour him, and such a tumult arose that the Raja Naga, who was superior to all, heard it and came to see. Now when he beheld the Golden Dragon he opened his jaws to their full extent, and made three attempts to seize and swallow him, but failed each time. At length, however, he caught him, and dashed him against the sea bottom with such force that his head was buried in the ground, but the little dragon cared not at all. Then the Raja Naga said: ‘Tell me the truth! from what land hast thou fallen (titek dĕri pada nĕgri ninggua mana), and whose son and offspring art thou?’ To which the Golden Dragon made answer, saying, ‘I have no land nor country, I have neither father nor mother, but I was incarnated from the hollow part of a bamboo!’ When the Raja Naga heard this he sent for his spectacles (chĕrmin mata), and by their aid he was able to see the real parentage of the Golden Dragon and all concerning him, and he at once told him everything concerning his birth (usul asal ka-jadi-an-nya), and informed him that they were close relations, since the Golden Dragon’s mother was a relative of the Raja Naga. Then the Raja Naga kissed and embraced his nephew, and congratulated himself on having seen him before his time came to die, and calling together all his people to feast, installed (tabal) the Golden Dragon as king over them in his own place, since he was very old. Thus the Golden Dragon continued to live in increasing state and prosperity at the Pusat tasek, and was greatly beloved by his uncle, the Raja Naga; and in the course of time his horn (chula) split up and was replaced by six other heads—making seven in all.”—Hikayat Raja Budiman, part ii. pp. 7, 8. Publications of the S. B. of the Royal Asiatic Society, No. 3. [↑]

[15] “The Malays give the names ‘Bah Jantan’ and ‘Bah Betina,’ viz. the ‘male’ and the ‘female’ floods, respectively to the first rising of a freshet, and to the flood which sometimes ensues after the waters have partially subsided. The latter is generally supposed to be more serious than the former.”—Cliff. and Swett., Mal. Dict. s.v. Bah.

“‘If this be the likeness of the male flood, what will that of the female be?’ ejaculated my head boatman. In common with other Malays, he held the belief that floods, like other moving things, go in couples. The first to come is the male, and when he has passed upon his way the female comes after him, pursuing him hotly, according to the custom of the sex, and she is the more to be feared, as she rushes more furiously than does her fleeing mate.”—Cliff., Stud. in Brown Humanity, p. 213. [↑]

[16] This neck of land was called “Pĕnarek Prahu,” or the “Place of the dragging (across) of Boats.” [↑]

[17] “The belief (probably borrowed from the Hindoos) of a serpent devouring the sun or moon, whenever they are eclipsed, and the weird lamentations of the people during the continuance of these phenomena, are well known.”—Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. p. 358. [↑]

[18] “During an eclipse they (the Malays) make a loud noise with sounding instruments to prevent one luminary from devouring the other, as the Chinese, to frighten away the dragon.”—Marsden, Hist. of Sum. p. 157. I have not yet met with the explanation given in this passage of Marsden’s work.

“Rahu, a daitya or demon who is supposed to seize the sun and moon, and thus cause eclipses (according to the common myth he was a son of Vipra-ʿcitti and Sinhikā, and had four arms, his lower part ending in a tail), he was the instigator of all mischief among the daityas, and when the gods had produced the amrita or nectar from the churned ocean, he disguised himself like one of them and drank a portion of it, but the sun and moon having detected his fraud and informed Vishnu, the latter severed his head and two of his arms from the rest of his body; the portion of nectar he had swallowed having secured his immortality, the head and tail were transferred to the stellar sphere, the head wreaking its vengeance on the sun and moon by occasionally swallowing them for a time, while the tail, under the name of Ketu, gave birth to a numerous progeny of comets and fiery meteors.”—Monier Williams, Skt. Dict. s.v. Rahu. [↑]

[19] Gĕrhâna is from a Sanskr. word meaning “eclipse.” The name of the monster is Rahu. [↑]

[20] Clifford, Stud. in Brown Humanity, p. 50. For ceremonies to be observed during an eclipse, more especially by women in travail, vide Birth Ceremonies (infra). [↑]

[21] “They (the Malays) observe in the moon an old man sitting under a bĕringin tree (the Banyan, Ficus Indica).”—Maxwell, in J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 7, p. 27, In Sanskrit mythology the spots on the moon are supposed to be caused by a hare or antelope, which being hard pressed by a hunter appealed to the moon for protection, and was taken up by the moon into her arms. This is no doubt the real explanation of the Malay phrase, “Bulan bunting pĕlandok” (“the moon is great with the mouse-deer”), an expression often used when the moon is three-quarters full. [↑]

[22] “They tell of a man in the moon, who is continually employed in spinning cotton, but that every night a rat gnaws his thread, and obliges him to begin his work afresh.”—Marsd., Hist. of Sum. p. 187. [↑]

[23] It is, however, also possible that there may be two “bujangs,” and that we have here a simple case of what philologists call “confluence,” so that the derivation, though quite possible, must not be accepted without reserve. [↑]

[24] Sanskrit tapasya. [↑]

[25] Maxwell, in J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 7, p. 28. [↑]

[26] In Selangor I have also heard “Ular minum,” “the snake drinks.” [↑]

[27] A Selangor Malay told me that the full phrase was “Ular Danu bĕrbantal,” “the snake Danu is pillowed (in sleep).” [↑]

[28] A fuller expression is tunggul-tunggul mĕmbangun. A double rainbow is called palangi sa-k’lamin.

Maxwell points out, in a note, that dhanuk, in Hindustani, means a bow, and is a common term in India, among Hindus, for the rainbow. [↑]

[29] Maxwell, J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 7, p. 21. [↑]

[30] So, too, midday, especially when a light rain is falling and the sun shining at one and the same time, is usually regarded as equally dangerous. [↑]

[31] Maxwell, loc. cit. Vide infra, Chap. IV. pp. 92, 93. [↑]

CHAPTER II

Man and his Place in the Universe

(a) Creation of Man

A common feature in Malay romances and legends is a description of the supernatural development of a young child in the interior of some vegetable production, usually a bamboo.

Sir W. E. Maxwell has pointed out the fact of the existence, both in Malay and Japanese legends, of the main features of this story, to which he assigns a Buddhistic origin. He tells the story as follows:—

“The Raja of the Bamboo.—Some years ago I collected a number of legends current among Malayan tribes having as their principal incident the supernatural development of a prince, princess, or demi-god in the stem of a bamboo, or tree, or the interior of some closed receptacle.[1] I omitted, however, to mention that this very characteristic Malay myth occurs in the “Sri Rama,” a Malay prose hikayat,[2] which, as its name betokens, professes to describe the adventures of the hero of the Râmâyana.

“Roorda van Eysinga’s edition of the Sri Rama opens with an account of how Maharaja Dasaratha sent his Chief Mantri,[3] Puspa Jaya Karma, to search for a suitable place at which to found a settlement. The site having been found and cleared, the narrative proceeds as follows:—

“‘Now there was a clump of the bĕtong[4] bamboo (sa’rumpun buluh bĕtong), the colour of which was like gold of ten touch (amas sapuloh mutu), and its leaves like silver. All the trees which grew near bent in its direction, and it looked like a state umbrella (payong manuwangi[5]). The Mantri and people chopped at it, but as fast as they cut down a branch on one side, a fresh one shot forth on the other, to the great astonishment of all the Rajas, Mantris, and warriors. Puspa Vikrama Jaya hastened back to King Dasaratha and laid the matter before him. The latter was greatly surprised, and declared that he would go himself the next day and see the bamboo cut down. Next day he set out on a white elephant, attended by a splendid train of chiefs and followers, and on reaching the spot ordered the bamboo clump to be cut down. Vikrama Puspa Jaya pointed it out, shaded by the other forest trees. The king perceived that it was of very elegant appearance, and that an odour like spices and musk proceeded from it. He told Puspa Jaya Vikrama to cut it down, and the latter drew his sword, which was as big as the stem of a cocoa-nut tree, and with one stroke cut down one of the bamboos. But immediately a fresh stem shot forth on the other side, and this happened as often as a stroke was given. Then the king grew wroth, and getting down from his elephant he drew his own sword and made a cut with it at the bamboo, which severed a stem. Then, by the divine decree of the Dewatas, the king became aware of a female form in the bamboo clump seated on a highly ornamented platform (gĕta), her face shining like the full moon when it is fourteen days old, and the colour of her body being like gold of ten touch. On this, King Dasaratha quickly unloosed his girdle and saluted the princess. Then he lifted her on to his elephant and took her to his palace escorted by music and singing.’”[6]

I myself have heard among the Selangor Malays similar legends to the above, which, as already pointed out, are common in Malay romances. A parallel myth is described in the following words:—

“Now, the Perak river overflows its banks once a year, and sometimes there are very great floods. Soon after the marriage of Nakhodah Kasim with the white Semang,[7] an unprecedented flood occurred and quantities of foam came down the river. Round the piles of the bathing-house, which, in accordance with Malay custom, stood in the bed of the river close to the bank in front of the house, the floating volumes of foam collected in a mass the size of an elephant. Nakhodah Kasim’s wife went to bathe, and finding this island of froth in her way she attempted to move it away with a stick; she removed the upper portion of it and disclosed a female infant sitting in the midst of it enveloped all round with cloud-like foam. The child showed no fear, and the white Semang, carefully lifting her, carried her up to the house, heralding her discovery by loud shouts to her husband. The couple adopted the child willingly, for they had no children, and they treated her thenceforward as their own. They assembled the villagers and gave them a feast, solemnly announcing their adoption of the daughter of the river and their intention of leaving to her everything that they possessed.

“The child was called Tan Puteh, but her father gave her the name of Teh Purba.[8] As she grew up the wealth of her foster-parents increased; the village grew in extent and population, and gradually became an important place.”[9]

The usual story of the first creation of man, however, appears to be a Malay modification of Arabic beliefs.

Thus we are told that man was created from the four elements—earth, air, water, and fire—in a way which the following extract, taken from a Selangor charm-book, will explain:—

“God Almighty spake unto Gabriel, saying,

‘Be not disobedient, O Gabriel,

But go and get me the Heart of the Earth.’

But he could not get the Heart of the Earth.

‘I will not give it,’ said the Earth.

Then went the Prophet Israfel to get it,

But he could not get the Heart of the Earth.

Then went Michael to get it,

But he could not get the Heart of the Earth.

Then went Azrael to get it,

And at last he got the Heart of the Earth.

When he got the Heart of the Earth

The empyrean and crystalline spheres shook,

And the whole Universe (shook).

When he got the Heart of the Earth he[10] made from it the Image of Adam.

But the Heart of the Earth was then too hard;

He mixed Water with it, and it became too soft,

(So) he mixed Fire with it, and at last struck out the image of Adam.

Then he raised up the image of Adam,

And craved Life for it from Almighty God,

And God Almighty gave it Life.

Then sneezed God Almighty, and the image of Adam brake in pieces,

And he (Azrael) returned to remake the image of Adam.

Then God Almighty commanded to take steel of Khorassan,

And drive it down his back, so that it became the thirty-three bones,

The harder steel at the top, the softer below it.

The harder steel shot up skywards,

And the softer steel penetrated earthwards.

Thus the image of Adam had life, and dwelt in Paradise.

(There) Adam beheld (two ?) peacocks of no ordinary beauty,

And the Angel Gabriel appeared.

‘Verily, O Angel Gabriel, I am solitary,

Easier is it to live in pairs, I crave a wife.’

God Almighty spake, saying, ‘Command Adam

To pray at dawn a prayer of two genuflexions.’

Then Adam prayed, and our Lady Eve descended,

And was captured by the Prophet Adam;

But before he had finished his prayer she was taken back,

Therefore Adam prayed the prayer of two genuflexions as desired,

And at the last obtained our Lady Eve.

When they were married (Eve) bore twins every time,

Until she had borne forty-four children,

And the children, too, were wedded, handsome with handsome, and plain with plain.”

The magician who dictated the above account stated that when Azrael stretched forth his hand to take the Heart of the Earth, the Earth-spirit caught hold of his middle finger, which yielded to the strain, and thus became longer than the rest, and received its Malay name of the “Devil’s Finger” (jari hantu).

A parallel account adds that the Heart of the Earth was white, and gives a fuller description of the interview between Azrael and his formidable antagonist, the Earth. After saluting the latter in the orthodox Muhammadan fashion, Azrael explains his mission, and is met by a point-blank refusal. “I will not give it,” said the Earth (referring to its Heart), “forasmuch as I was so created by God Almighty, and if you take away my Heart I shall assuredly die.” At this brusque, though perhaps natural retort, the archangel loses his temper, and rudely exclaims that he “will take the Earth’s Heart whether it will or no.” Here Azrael “gave the Earth a push with his right hand and his left, and grasping at the Heart of the Earth, got hold of it and carried it back to the presence of God.” God now summons Gabriel and orders him to mould (lit. forge) the image of Adam. Then Gabriel took the lump of earth which was the Earth’s Heart and mixed it first with water to soften it, then, as it was too soft, with fire to harden it, and when the image was made, obtained life from God to put into it.[11] [The breaking of the first image which was made, and the making of the second, are here omitted]. Finally, the creation of “our Lady” Eve and the birth of her first-born are described, the latter occasion being accompanied by a thick darkness, which compelled Adam to take off his turban and beat the child therewith in order to dispel the evil influences (badi) which had attended its birth.[12]

The following extract (from a Malay treatise quoted by Newbold) fairly describes the general state of Malay ideas respecting the constitution of the human body:—

“Plato, Socrates, Galen, Aristotle, and other philosophers affirm that God created man of a fixed number of bones, blood-vessels, etc. For instance, the skull is composed of 5½ bones, the place of smell and sense of 7 bones, between this and the neck are 32 bones. The neck is composed of 7 bones, and the back of 24 bones; 208 bones are contained in the other members of the body. In all there are 360 bones and 360 blood-vessels in a man’s body. The brains weigh 306 miscals, the blood 573. The total of all the bones, blood-vessels, large and small, and gristles, amounts to 1093; and the hairs of the head to six lacs and 4000. The frame of man is divided into 40 great parts, which are again subdivided. Four elements enter into his composition, viz. air, fire, earth, and water. With these elements are connected four essences—the soul or spirit with air, love with fire, concupiscence with earth, and wisdom with water.”[13]

(b) Sanctity of the Body

In dealing with this branch of the subject I will first take the case of the kings and priestly magicians who present the most clearly-marked examples of personal sanctity which are now to be found among Malays, and will then describe the chief features of the sanctity ascribed to all ranks alike in respect of certain special parts of the ordinary human anatomy. The theory of the king as the Divine Man is held perhaps as strongly in the Malay region as in any other part of the world, a fact which is strikingly emphasised by the alleged right of Malay monarchs “to slay at pleasure, without being guilty of a crime.” Not only is the king’s person considered sacred, but the sanctity of his body is believed to communicate itself to his regalia, and to slay those who break the royal taboos. Thus it is firmly believed that any one who seriously offends the royal person, who touches (even for a moment) or who imitates (even with the king’s permission) the chief objects of the regalia,[14] or who wrongfully makes use of any of the insignia or privileges of royalty, will be kĕna daulat, i.e. struck dead, by a quasi-electric discharge of that Divine Power which the Malays suppose to reside in the king’s person,[15] and which is called “Daulat” or “Royal Sanctity.” Before I proceed, however, to discuss this power, it will be best to give some description of the regalia in which it resides:—

Of Malacca Newbold says: “The articles of Malay regalia usually consist of a silasila, or book of genealogical descent, a code of laws, a vest or baju, and a few weapons, generally a kris, kleywang, or spear.”[16]

“The limbing is a sort of lance; the tombak bandrang a spear of state, four or seven of which are usually carried before the chiefs in the interior of the Peninsula. The handle is covered with a substance flowing from it like a horse-tail, dyed crimson, sometimes crimson and white; this is generally of hair.”[17]

So in Leyden’s translation of the Malay Annals (1821) we read—

“My name is Bichitram Shah, who am raja.... This is the sword, Chora sa mendang kian (i.e. mandakini), and that is the lance, Limbuar (i.e. limbuara); this is the signet, Cayu Gampit, which is employed in correspondence with rajas.”[18]

“The Chora sa medang kian (i.e. mandakini) is the celebrated sword with which Peramas Cumunbang killed the enormous serpent Sicatimuna, which ravaged the country of Menangkabowe about the beginning of the twelfth century.”[19]

Of the Perak regalia we read: “Tan Saban was commanded by his mistress to open negotiations with Johor, and this having been done, a prince of the royal house of that kingdom, who traced his descent from the old line of Menangkabau, sailed for Perak to assume the sovereignty. He brought with him the insignia of royalty, namely, the royal drums (gandang nobat), the pipes (nafiri), the flutes (sarunei and bangsi), the betel-box (puan naga taru), the sword (chora mandakini), the sword (perbujang), the sceptre (kayu gamit), the jewel (kamala), the surat chiri, the seal of state (chap halilintar), and the umbrella (ubar-ubar). All these were enclosed in a box called Baninan.”[20]

In Selangor the regalia consisted of the royal instruments of music—(the big State Drum or naubat, beaten at the king’s coronation; the two small State Drums (gĕndang); the two State Kettle-drums (langkara); the lĕmpiri or State Trumpet, and the sĕrunei or State Flute—to which perhaps a bangsi should be added, as in the Perak list)—which were seldom, if ever, moved, and the following articles which were carried in procession on state occasions:[21]—

• 1. The royal Betel-box.
• 2. The Long K’ris—a kind of rapier used for Malay executions.
• 3. The two royal Swords; one on the right hand and one on the left (all of the articles mentioned hitherto being carried in front of the Sultan).
• 4. The royal “Fringed” Umbrella (payong ubor-ubor), carried behind the right-hand sword-bearer.
• 5. The royal “Cuspadore,” carried behind the left-hand sword-bearer.
• 6. The royal Tobacco-box, carried at the Sultan’s back.
• 7. The eight royal tufted Lances (tombak bĕndrang or bandangan), whose bearers were followed by two personal attendants, the latter of whom attended, besides, to anything that was broken or damaged; so that the procession numbered seventeen persons in all.[22]

Of the Pahang regalia I have not been able to obtain a list with any pretensions to completeness, but from a remark by Mr. Clifford (the present Resident) in one of his books, they would appear to be essentially the same as those of the other Federated States.[23]

A list of the Jĕlĕbu regalia (given me by Ungku Said Kĕchil of Jĕlĕbu) ran as follows:—

• 1. A single-bladed Sword (pĕdang pĕmanchor).
• 2. The Long K’ris (k’ris panjang, pĕnyalang), used for executions.
• 3. The royal Lances (tombak bĕndrang).
• 4. The royal Umbrella (payong kabĕsaran).
• 5. The royal Standard and Pennants (tunggul ular-ular).
• 6. The royal Ceiling-cloth and Hangings (tabir, langit-langit dewangga).
• 7. The “Moving Mountains” (gunong dua bĕrangkat), perhaps the names of two peaked pillows.
• 8. The royal Drums (gĕndang naubat); said to be “headed” with the skins of lice (kulit tuma) and to emit a single chord of twelve tones when struck (dua-b’las bunyi sakali di-pukol).
• 9. The royal Trumpet (lĕmpiri or nĕmpiri).
• Each of these was also said to emit a single chord of twelve notes.
• 10. The royal Gong.
• 11. The royal Guitar (kĕchapi).
• 12. The royal rĕbab or Malay fiddle.

9. The royal Trumpet (lĕmpiri or nĕmpiri).		Each ofthese was also said to emit a single chord of twelve notes.
10. The royal Gong.
11. The royal Guitar (kĕchapi).

This latter peculiarity (of the multiplication of notes) is quite in accordance with the traditions of the king’s musical instruments in Malay romances. Thus of Raja Donan’s magic flute we are told, “The first time (that he sounded it), the flute gave forth the sounds of twelve instruments, the second time it played as if twenty-four instruments were being sounded, and the third time it played like thirty-six different instruments.” No wonder we are told that “the Princesses Che Ambong and Che Muda dissolved in tears, and the music had to be stopped.”[24]

My informant declared that these objects came into existence of themselves (tĕrjali sĕndiri), at a spot between the two peaks of a burning mountain (gunong mĕrapi) in the country of Menangkabau in Sumatra. He also averred that “rain could not rot them nor sun blister them,” and that any one who “brushed past them” (di-lintas) would fall to the ground;[25] whilst no fewer than seven buffaloes have to be slaughtered before the “moving mountains” (when worn out) can be replaced.[26]

An enumeration of the writer’s regalia often forms an important part of a letter from one Malay sovereign to another, more especially when the writer wishes to emphasise his importance.[27]

But the extraordinary strength of the Malay belief in the supernatural powers of the regalia of their sovereigns can only be thoroughly realised after a study of their romances, in which their kings are credited with all the attributes of inferior gods, whose birth, as indeed every subsequent act of their after life, is attended by the most amazing prodigies.

They are usually invulnerable, and are gifted with miraculous powers, such as that of transforming themselves, and of returning to (or recalling others to) life; in fact they have, in every way, less of the man about them and more of the god. Thus it is that the following description of the dress of an old-time Raja falls easily into line with what would otherwise appear the objectless jargon which still constitutes the preamble of many a Malay prince’s letters, but which can yet be hardly regarded as mere rhetoric, since it has a deep meaning for those who read it:—

“He wore the trousers called bĕraduwanggi, miraculously made without letting in pieces; hundreds of mirrors encircled his waist, thousands encircled his legs, they were sprinkled all about his body, and larger ones followed the seams.”

Then his waistband (kain ikat pinggang) was of “flowered cloth, twenty-five cubits in length, or thirty if the fringe be included; thrice a day did it change its colours—in the morning transparent as dew, at mid-day of the colour of lembayong,[28] and in the evening of the hue of oil.”

Next came his coat. It was “of reddish purple velvet, thrice brilliant the lustre of its surface, seven times powerful the strength of the dye; the dyer after making it sailed the world for three years, but the dye still clung to the palms of his hands.”

His dagger was “a straight blade of one piece which spontaneously screwed itself into the haft. The grooves, called rĕtak mayat,[29] started from the base of the blade, the damask called pamur janji appeared half-way up, and the damask called lam jilallah at the point; the damask alif was there parallel with the edge, and where the damasking ended the steel was white. No ordinary metal was the steel, it was what was over after making the bolt of God’s Ka’abah (at Meccah). It had been forged by the son of God’s prophet, Adam, smelted in the palm of his hand, fashioned with the end of his finger, and coloured with the juice of flowers in a Chinese furnace. Its deadly qualities came down to it from the sky, and if cleaned (with acid) at the source of a river, the fish at the embouchure came floating up dead.

“The sword that he wore was called lang pĕngonggong,[30] ‘the successful swooper,’ lit. the ‘kite carrying off its prey.’

“The next article described is his turban, which, among the Malays, is a square handkerchief folded and knotted round the head.”

“He next took his royal handkerchief, knotting it so that it stood up with the ends projecting; one of them he called dĕndam ta’ sudah (endless love): it was purposely unfinished; if it were finished the end of the world would come. It had been woven in no ordinary way, but had been the work of his mother from her youth. Wearing it he was provided with all the love-compelling secrets. (The names of a number of charms to excite passion are given, but they cannot be explained in the compass of a note).”[31]

He wore the Malay national garment—the sarong. It was “a robe of muslin of the finest kind; no ordinary weaving had produced it; it had been woven in a jar in the middle of the ocean by people with gills, relieved by others with beaks; no sooner was it finished than the maker was put to death, so that no one might be able to make one like it. It was not of the fashion of the clothing of the rajas of the present day, but of those of olden time. If it were put in the sun it got damper, if it were soaked in water it became drier. A slight tear mended by darning only increased its value, instead of lessening it, for the thread for the purpose cost one hundred dollars. A single dewdrop dropping on it would tangle the thread for a cubit’s length, while the breath of the south wind would disentangle it.”

Finally, we get a description of the way in which the Raja (S’ri Rama) set out upon his journey.

“He adopted the art called sedang budiman, the young snake writhed at his feet (i.e. he started at mid-day when his own shadow was round his feet), a young eagle was flying against the wind overhead; he took a step forward and then two backward, one forward as a sign that he was leaving his country, and two backward as a sign that he would return; as he took a step with the right foot, loud clanked his accoutrements[32] on his left; as he put forth the left foot a similar clank was heard on his right; he advanced, swelling out his broad chest, and letting drop his slender fingers, adopting the gait called ‘planting beans,’ and then the step called ‘sowing spinach.’”[33]

In addition to the sanctity of the regalia, the king, as the divine man, possesses an infinite multitude of prerogatives which enter into almost every act of his private life, and thus completely separate him from the generality of his fellow-men.

These prerogatives are too numerous to be mentioned in detail, but the following extract from Leyden’s translation of the “Malay Annals” will give a general idea of their character and extent:—

“Sultan Muhammed Shah again established in order the throne of his sovereignty. He was the first who prohibited the wearing of yellow clothes in public, not even a handkerchief of that colour, nor curtains, nor hangings, nor large pillow-cases, nor coverlets, nor any envelope of any bundle, nor the cloth lining of a house, excepting only the waist cloth, the coat, and the turban. He also prohibited the constructing of houses with abutments, or smaller houses connected with them; also suspended pillars or timbers (tiang gantong); nor timbers the tops of which project above the roofs, and also summer houses.[34] He also prohibited the ornamenting of creeses with gold, and the wearing anklets of gold, and the wearing the koronchong, or hollow bracelets (anklets?) of gold, ornamented with silver. None of these prohibited articles did he permit to be worn by a person, however rich he might be, unless by his particular licence, a privilege which the raja has ever since possessed. He also forbade any one to enter the palace unless wearing a cloth petticoat[35] of decent length, with his creese in front;[36] and a shoulder-cloth; and no person was permitted to enter unless in this array, and if any one wore his creese behind him, it was incumbent on the porter of the gate to seize it. Such is the order of former time respecting prohibition by the Malayu rajas, and whatever is contrary to this is a transgression against the raja, and ought to incur a fine of five cati. The white umbrella, which is superior to the yellow one, because it is seen conspicuous at a greater distance, was also confined to the raja’s person,[37] while the yellow umbrella was confined to his family.”[38]

A number of other particulars bearing on this subject will be found in other parts of the text, and in the Appendix references are given to other works for additional details, which are too numerous to be recorded here.

“At funerals, whether the deceased has been a great or insignificant person, if he be a subject, the use of the Payong (umbrella) and the Puwadi is interdicted, as also the distribution of alms, unless by royal permission; otherwise the articles thus forbidden will be confiscated.” “Puwadi is the ceremony of spreading a cloth, generally a white one, for funeral and other processions to walk upon. Should the deceased be of high rank, the cloth extends from the house where the corpse is deposited, to the burial-ground.”[39]

Similar prohibitions are still in force at the courts of the Malay Sultans in the Peninsula, though a yellow umbrella is now generally substituted for the white, at least in Selangor.

A distinction is also now drawn between manufactured yellow cloth and cloth which has been dyed yellow with saffron, the wrongful use of the latter (the genuine article) being regarded as the more especially heinous act.

In addition to the royal monopoly of such objects as have been mentioned, Sir W. E. Maxwell mentions three royal perquisites (larangan raja), i.e. river turtles (tuntong) (by which he no doubt means their eggs); elephants (by which he doubtless means elephants’ tusks);[40] and the fruit of the “kĕtiar” from which oil is made by the Perak Malays. He adds, “It used to be a capital offence to give false information to the Raja about any of these. The ‘kĕtiar’ tree is said to affect certain localities, and is found in groves not mixed with other trees. In former days, when the fruit was ripe, the whole of the Raja’s household would turn out to gather it. It is said to yield a very large percentage of oil.”[41]

The only tree in Ridley’s list[42] whose name at all resembles the “kĕtiar” is the katiak, which is identified as Acronychia Porteri, Wall (Rutaceæ).

A description of the gathering of the eggs of river turtles by the royal party in Perak will be found in Malay Sketches.[43]

Besides the above there are not a few linguistic taboos connected with the king’s person, such as the use of the words santap, to eat; bĕradu, to sleep; bĕrsĕmaiam, to be seated, or to “reside” in a certain place; bĕrangkat, to “progress”; siram, to bathe; g’ring, to be sick; and mangkat, to die; all of which words are specially substituted for the ordinary Malay words when reference is made to the king.[44] Moreover, when the king dies his name is dropped, and he receives the title of “Marhum,” the late or “deceased,” with the addition of an expression alluding to some prominent fact in his life, or occasionally to the place of his decease. These titles, strange as it may seem, are often the reverse of complimentary, and occasionally ridiculous.[45]

It must not be forgotten, too, in discussing the divine attributes of the Malay king, that he is firmly believed to possess a personal influence over the works of nature, such as the growth of the crops and the bearing of fruit-trees. This same property is supposed to reside in a lesser degree in his delegates, and even in the persons of Europeans in charge of districts. Thus I have frequently known (in Selangor) the success or failure of the rice crops attributed to a change of district officers, and in one case I even heard an outbreak of ferocity which occurred among man-eating crocodiles laid at the door of a most zealous and able, though perhaps occasionally somewhat unsympathetic, representative of the Government. So, too, on one occasion when three deaths occurred during a District Officer’s temporary absence, the mere fact of his absence was considered significant. I may add that royal blood is supposed by many Malays to be white, and this is the pivot on which the plot of not a few Malay folk-tales is made to turn.[46]

Finally, it must be pointed out that the greatest possible importance is attached to the method of saluting the king.

In the “Sri Rama” (the Malay Ramayana) we read, even of the chiefs, that—

“While yet some way off they bowed to the dust,

When they got near they made obeisance,

Uplifting at each step their fingers ten,

The hands closed together like the rootlets of the bakong palm[47]

The fingers one on the other like a pile of sirih[47] leaves.”[48]

Equals in rank when saluting one another touch[49] (though they do not shake) each other’s hands, but a person of humble birth must not touch hands in saluting a great chief. “A man, named Imam Bakar, was once slain at Pasir Tambang, at the mouth of the Tĕmbĕling river. He incautiously touched hands in greeting with a Chief called To’ Gajah, and the latter, seizing him in an iron grip, held him fast, while he was stabbed to death with spears.”[50]

In saluting a great Chief, like the Dato’ Maharaja Pĕrba Jĕlai, the hands are “lifted up in salutation with the palms pressed together, as in the attitude of Christian prayer, but the tips of the thumbs are not suffered to ascend beyond the base of the chin. In saluting a real Râja, the hands are carried higher and higher, according to the prince’s rank, until, for the Sultân, the tips of the thumbs are on a level with the forehead. Little details such as these are of immense importance in the eyes of the Malays, and not without reason, seeing that in an Independent Native State many a man has come by his death for carelessness in their observance.”[51]

In the king’s audience hall the formal salutations are performed in a sitting posture, and in this case, too, the greatest attention is paid to the height to which the hands are raised. The chief twice makes salutation in a sitting posture as he advances, and at the third advance bends over the Sultan’s hands, two more salutations being made on his way back to his place.

A flagrant infringement of any of the prerogatives of the Sultan, such as those I have described, is certain, it is thought, to prove fatal, more or less immediately.

Thus the death of Pĕnghulu Mohit, a well-known Malay headman of the Klang district, in Selangor, which took place while I was in charge of that district, was at the time very generally attributed by the local Malays to his usurpation of certain royal privileges or prerogatives on the occasion of his daughter’s wedding. One of these was his acceptance of gift-buffaloes, decorated after the royal fashion, which were presented to him as wedding gifts in his daughter’s honour. These buffaloes had a covering of cloth put over them, their horns covered, and a crescent-shaped breast-ornament (dokoh) hung about their necks. Thus dressed they were taken to Mohit’s house in solemn procession.[52] It was, at the time, considered significant that the very first of these gift-buffaloes, which had been brought overland from Jugra, where the Sultan lived, had died on arrival, and whatever the cause may have been, it is a fact that Mohit’s mother died a day or two after the conclusion of the wedding ceremonies, and that Mohit himself was taken ill almost immediately and died only about a fortnight later.

The only person who, in former days, was not in the least affected by the royal taboos which protected the regalia from the common touch was the (now I believe extinct) official who held the post of Court Physician (Maharaja Lela). He, and he alone, might go freely in the royal apartments wherever he chose, and the immunity and freedom which he enjoyed in this respect passed into a proverb, the expression “to act the Court Physician” (buat Maharaja Lela) being used to describe an altogether unwarrantable familiarity or impertinence.

The following story (though I tell it against myself) is perhaps the best illustration I can give of the great danger supposed to be incurred by those who meddle with the paraphernalia of royalty. Among the late Sultan’s insignia of royalty (in 1897) were a couple of drums (gĕndang) and the long silver trumpet which I have already described. Such trumpets are found among the kabĕsaran or regalia of most Malay States, and are always, I believe, called lĕmpiri or nĕmpiri (Pers. nafiri). They are considered so sacred that they can only be handled or sounded, it is believed, by a tribe of Malays called “Orang Kalau,” or the “Kalau men,”[53] as any one else who attempted to sound them would be struck dead. Even the “Orang Kalau,” moreover, can only sound this instrument at the proper time and season (e.g. at the proclamation of a new sovereign), for if they were to sound it at any other time its noise would slay all who heard it, since it is the chosen habitation of the “Jin Karaja’an” or State Demon,[54] whose delight it would be, if wrongfully disturbed, to slay and spare not.[55]

Plate 1.—Some of the Selangor Regalia.

Models, representing part of the regalia of H.H. the Sultan of Selangor—two small drums, the tufted (cowtail) lances, the trident, the k’ris (dagger) called B’rok Bĕrayun, and the sacred trumpet (lĕmpiri).

Page 40.

This trumpet and the drums of the Selangor regalia were kept by the present Sultan (then Raja Muda, or Crown Prince of Selangor) in a small galvanised iron cupboard which stood (upon posts about three feet high) in the middle of a lawn outside His Highness’ “garden residence” at Bandar. His Highness himself informed me that they had once been kept in the house itself, but when there they were the source of infinite annoyance and anxiety to the inmates on account of their very uncanny behaviour!

Drops of perspiration, for instance, would form upon the Trumpet when a leading member of the Royal House was about to die (this actually happened, as I was told, at Langat just before the death of Tungku ’Chik, the late Sultan’s eldest daughter, who died during my residence in the neighbourhood). Then one Raja Bakar, son of a Raja ʿAli, during the rethatching of the house at Bandar, accidentally trod upon the wooden barrel of one of the State Drums—and died in consequence of his inadvertence. When, therefore, a hornet’s nest formed inside one of these same drums it was pretty clear that things were going from bad to worse, and a Chinaman was ordered to remove it, no Malay having been found willing to risk his life in undertaking so dangerous an office—an unwillingness which was presently justified, as the Chinaman, too, after a few days’ interval, swelled up and died. Both these strange coincidences were readily confirmed by the present Sultan on an occasion when I happened to question the authenticity of the story, and as His Highness is one of the most enlightened and truthful of men, such confirmation cannot easily be set aside. But the strangest coincidence of all was to follow, for not long afterwards, having never seen that portion of the regalia which was in the Raja Muda’s charge, I happened to mention to a Malay friend of mine at Jugra my wish to be allowed to examine these objects, and was at once begged not to touch them, on the ground that “no one could say what might follow.” But shortly after, having occasion to visit the Raja Muda at his house at Bandar, I took the opportunity of asking whether there was any objection to my seeing these much debated objects, and as His Highness not only very obligingly assented, but offered to show them to me himself, I was able both to see and to handle them, His Highness himself taking the Trumpet out of its yellow case and handing it to me. I thought nothing more of the matter at the time, but, by what was really a very curious coincidence, within a few days’ time of the occurrence, was seized with a sharp attack of malarial influenza, the result of which was that I was obliged to leave the district, and go into hospital at headquarters. In a Malay village news spreads quickly, and the report of my indisposition, after what was no doubt regarded as an act of extraordinary rashness, appears to have made a profound impression, and the result of it was that a Malay who probably considered himself indebted to me for some assistance he had received, bound himself by a vow to offer sacrifice at the shrine of a famous local saint should I be permitted to return to the district. Of this, however, I knew nothing at the time, and nothing could have exceeded my astonishment when I found upon my return that it was my duty to attend the banquet which took place at the saint’s tomb in honour of my own recovery![56]

Having shown the wide gulf which divides the “divine man” from his fellows, I have still to point out the extent to which certain portions of the human frame have come to be invested with sanctity, and to require to be treated with special ceremonies. These parts of the anatomy are, in particular, the head, the hair, the teeth, the ears, and the nails, all of which I will take in their order.

The head, in the first place, is undoubtedly still considered by the Malays to possess some modified degree of sanctity. A proof of this is the custom (ʿadat) which regulates the extent of the sacrifice to be offered in a case of assault or battery by the party committing the injury. If any part of the head is injured, nothing less than a goat will suffice (the animal being killed and both parties bathed in the blood); if the upper part of the body, the slaughter of a cock (to be disposed of in a similar way) will be held to be sufficient reparation, and so on, the sacrifice becoming of less value in proportion as the injured part is farther from the head. So, too, Mr. Frazer writes: “The ... superstition (of the sanctity of the head) exists among the Malays; for an early traveller reports that in Java people ‘wear nothing on their heads, and say that nothing must be on their heads, ... and if any person were to put his hand upon their head they would kill him; and they do not build houses with stories in order that they may not walk over each other’s heads.’ It is also found in full force throughout Polynesia.”[57]

From the principle of the sanctity of the head flows, no doubt, the necessity of using the greatest circumspection during the process of cutting the hair.[58] Sometimes throughout the whole life of the wearer, and frequently during special periods, the hair is left uncut. Thus I was told that in former days Malay men usually wore their hair long, and I myself have seen an instance of this at Jugra in Selangor in the person of a Malay[59] of the old school, who was locally famous on this account. So, too, during the forty days which must elapse before the purification of a woman after the birth of her child, the father of the child is forbidden to cut his hair, and a similar abstention is said to have been formerly incumbent upon all persons either prosecuting a journey or engaging in war. Often a boy’s head is entirely shaven shortly after birth with the exception of a single lock in the centre of the head, and so maintained until the boy begins to grow up, but frequently the operation is postponed (generally, it is said, in consequence of a vow made by the child’s parents) until the period of puberty or marriage. Great care, too, must be exercised in disposing of the clippings of hair (more especially the first clippings), as the Malay profoundly believes that “the sympathetic connection which exists between himself and every part of his body continues to exist even after the physical connection has been severed, and that therefore he will suffer from any harm that may befall the severed parts of his body, such as the clippings of his hair or the parings of his nails. Accordingly he takes care that those severed portions of himself shall not be left in places where they might either be exposed to accidental injury, or fall into the hands of malicious persons who might work magic on them to his detriment or death.”[60]

Thus we invariably find clippings of the victim’s hair mentioned (together with parings of his nails, etc.) as forming part of the ingredients of the well-known wax image or mannikin into which pins are stuck, and which is still believed by all Malays to be a most effective method of causing the illness or death of an enemy.[61] I was once present at the curious ceremony of cutting the hair of a Malay bride, which had all the characteristics of a religious rite, but the detailed account of it will be reserved for a later chapter.[62]

The same difficulties and dangers which beset the first cutting of the hair apply, though perhaps in a less degree, to the first paring of the nails (bĕrtobak), the boring of the ears of girls (bĕrtindek tĕlinga), and the filing of the teeth (bĕrasah gigi) of either sex whether at puberty or marriage. One or more of the nails are frequently worn long by Malays of standing, and the women who engage in “nautch” dancing and theatrical performances invariably wear a complete set of artificial nails (changgei). These latter are usually of brass, are often several inches in length, and are made so as to fit on to the tips of the fingers. Occasionally a brass ring with a small peacock, or some such bird, of the same material will be attached to the end of the nail by a minute brass chain. The practice of wearing long nails is sometimes attributed to Chinese influence, but it is hard to see why this particular detail of Malay custom, which is quite in keeping with the general trend of Malay ideas about the person, should be supposed to be derived from China. The borrowing, if any, is much more likely to have been on the part of the Chinese, who undoubtedly imported many Indian ideas along with Buddhism. The custom appears to be followed, moreover, in many places, such as the interior of Sumatra, where Chinese influence is non-existent. In Siam, again, it appears to obtain very strongly;[63] but no reason has yet been shown for supposing that this is anything but an instance of the similarity of results independently arrived at by nations starting with similar premisses.

The ear-boring and tooth-filing ceremonies which still not infrequently take place at the age of puberty in both sexes are of no less religious import than the rite of cutting the first lock. The main details of these ceremonies will be described in a later part of this book.[64]

To the same category (of sacred things having physical connection with the body) should doubtless be referred such objects as the eyebrows, the saliva, and soil taken from the (naked) footstep, all of which are utilised by the magician to achieve his nefarious ends.

(c) The Soul

The Malay conception of the Human Soul (Sĕmangat)[65] is that of a species of “Thumbling,” “a thin, unsubstantial human image,” or mannikin, which is temporarily absent from the body in sleep, trance, disease, and permanently absent after death.

This mannikin, which is usually invisible but is supposed to be about as big as the thumb, corresponds exactly in shape, proportion, and even in complexion, to its embodiment or casing (sarong), i.e. the body in which it has its residence. It is of a “vapoury, shadowy, or filmy” essence, though not so impalpable but that it may cause displacement on entering a physical object, and as it can “fly” or “flash” quickly from place to place, it is often, perhaps metaphorically, addressed as if it were a bird.[66]

Thus in a charm given in the Appendix we find—

“Hither, Soul, come hither!

Hither, Little One, come hither!

Hither, Bird, come hither!

Hither, Filmy One, come hither!”[67]

As this mannikin is the exact reproduction in every way of its bodily counterpart, and is “the cause of life and thought in the individual it animates,” it may readily be endowed with quasi-human feelings, and “independently possess the personal consciousness and volition of its corporeal owner.” Thus we find the following appeal addressed to the soul in the charm just quoted:—

“Do not bear grudges,

Do not bear malice,