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amongst a considerable mass of materials, some of which lay scattered in the pages of various other works, others in unpublished native manuscripts, and much in notes made by him personally of what he had observed during several years spent in the Malay Peninsula, principally in the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,

Do not take it as a wrong,

Do not take it as a transgression.”

These quasi-human attributes of the soul being so complete, it is an easy stretch of the imagination to provide it with a house, which is generally in practice identified with the body of its owner, but may also be identified with any one of its temporary domiciles. Thus in the charm already quoted we read—

“Return to your own House and House-ladder,

To your own House-floor, of which the planks have started,

And your Roof-thatch ‘starred’ with holes.”

The state of disrepair into which the soul’s house (i.e. the sick man’s body) is described as having fallen, is here attributed to the soul’s absence.[68] The completeness of this figurative identification of the soul’s “house” with its owner’s body, and of the soul’s “sheath” or casing with both, is very clearly brought out in the following lines:—

“Cluck! cluck! Soul of this sick man, So-and-so!

Return into the Frame and Body of So-and-so,

To your own House and House-ladder, to your own Clearing and Yard,

To your own Parents, to your own Casing.”

And this is no mere chance expression, for in another charm the soul is adjured in these words:—

“As you remember your own parents, remember me,

As you remember your own House and House-ladder, remember me.”[69]

The soul “appears to men (both waking and asleep) as a phantom separate from the body of which it bears the likeness,” “manifests physical power,” and walks, sits, and sleeps:—

“Cluck! cluck! Soul of So-and-so, come and walk with me,

Come and sit with me,

Come and sleep with me, and share my pillow.”[70]

It would probably be wrong to assume the foregoing expressions to have always been merely figurative. Rather, perhaps, we should consider them as part of a singularly complete and consistent animistic system formerly invented and still held by the Malays. Again, from the above ideas it follows that if you call a soul in the right way it will hear and obey you, and you will thus be able either to recall to its owner’s body a soul which is escaping (riang sĕmangat), or to abduct the soul of a person whom you may wish to get into your power (mĕngambil sĕmangat orang), and induce it to take up its residence in a specially prepared receptacle, such as (a) a lump of earth which has been sympathetically connected by direct contact with the body of the soul’s owner, or (b) a wax mannikin so connected by indirect means, or even (c) a cloth which has had no such connection whatever. And when you have succeeded in getting it into your power the abducted and now imprisoned soul will naturally enjoy any latitude allowed to (and suffer from any mutilation of) its temporary domicile or embodiment.[71]

Every man is supposed (it would appear from Malay charms) to possess seven souls[72] in all, or, perhaps, I should more accurately say, a sevenfold soul.[73] This “septenity in unity” may perhaps be held to explain the remarkable importance and persistency of the number seven in Malay magic, as for instance the seven twigs of the birch, and the seven repetitions of the charm (in Soul-abduction[74]), the seven betel leaves, the seven nights’ duration of the ceremony, the seven blows administered to the soul (in other magical and medical ceremonies), and the seven ears cut for the Rice-soul in reaping.[75]

And, finally, it might explain why the lime-branch which is hung up in the mosquito-curtain (in another form of soul-abduction[76]) is required to possess seven fruits on a single stalk, i.e. to ensure there being a separate receptacle for each one of the seven souls.

At the present day the ordinary Malay talks usually of only a single soul, although he still keeps up the old phraseology in his charms and charm-books. For the rest, it would appear that there may be some method in the selection and arrangement of colours.

The “lump of earth from the victim’s footprint” used in one form of the soul-abduction ceremony[77] is to be wrapped up in three thicknesses of cloth, which must be red, black, and yellow respectively, the yellow being outside. Again (in the ceremony of casting out “the mischief” from a sick man), a white cosmetic is assigned for use in the morning, a red cosmetic for mid-day, and black for sundown.[78]

Now in all, I believe, of what are now called the Federated Malay States, and probably in all Malay States whatsoever, yellow is the colour used by royalty, whereas the more exalted and sacred colour, white (with occasional lapses into yellow), has been adopted by Malay medicine-men as the colour most likely to conciliate the spirits and demons with whom they have to deal. Thus the soul-cloth, which, by the way, is always five cubits long (lima hasta), is sometimes white and (much more rarely) yellow, and hence in the first instance just quoted, the yellow cloth, being, next to white, of the colour which is most complimentary to the demons, is the one which is put outside; and in the second instance, for similar reasons, the white cosmetic is to be used first.

The working out of this system, however, must await fresh evidence, and all I would do now is to emphasise the importance of colour in such investigations, and to urge the collection of fresh material.[79]

(d) Animal, Vegetable, and Mineral Souls

Hitherto I have treated of human souls only, but animal, mineral, and vegetable souls will now be briefly discussed. Speaking generally, I believe the soul to be, within certain limits, conceived as a diminutive but exact counterpart of its own embodiment, so that an Animal-soul would be like an animal, a Bird-soul like a bird; however, lower in the scale of creation it would appear that the Tree- or Ore-souls, for instance, are supposed, occasionally at least, to assume the shape of some animal or bird. Thus the soul of Eagle-wood is thought to take the shape of a bird, the soul of Tin-ore that of a buffalo, the Gold-soul that of a deer.[80] It has, however, always been recognised that the soul may enter other bodies besides its own, or even bodies of a different kind to its own, and hence these may be only apparent exceptions to the rule that the soul should be the counterpart of its own embodiment.[81]

“Among races within the limits of savagery, the general doctrine of souls is found worked out with remarkable breadth and consistency. The souls of animals are recognised by a natural extension from the theory of human souls; the souls of trees and plants follow in some vague, partial way, and the souls of inanimate objects expand the general category to its extremest boundary.”[82]

To the Malay who has arrived at the idea of a generally animated Nature, but has not yet learned to draw scientific distinctions, there appears nothing remarkable or unnatural in the idea of vegetation-souls, or even in that of mineral-souls—rather would he consider us Europeans illogical and inconsistent were he told that we allowed the possession of souls to one half of the creation and denied it to the other.

Realising this, we are prepared to find that the Malay theory of Animism embraces, at least partially, the human race,[83] animals[84] and birds,[85] vegetation[86] (trees and plants), reptiles and fishes,[87] until its extension to inert objects, such as minerals,[88] and “stocks and stones, weapons, boats, food, clothes, ornaments, and other objects, which to us are not merely soulless, but lifeless,” brings us face to face with a conception with which “we are less likely to sympathise.”

Side by side with this general conception of an universally animate nature, we find abundant evidences of a special theory of Human Origin which is held to account not only for the larger mammals, but also for the existence of a large number of birds, and even for that of a few reptiles, fishes, trees and plants, but seems to lose its operative force in proportion to its descent in the scale of creation, until in the lowest scale of all, the theory of Human Origin disappears from sight, and nothing remains but the partial application of a few vague anthropomorphic attributes.[89] It is, doubtless, to the prevalence of this theory that we owe the extraordinary persistence of anthropomorphic ideas about animals, birds, reptiles, trees, if not of minerals, in Malay magical ceremonies;[90] and it is hard to say which of these two notions—the theory of Human Origin, or the other theory of Universal Animism—is to be considered the original form of Malay belief.

The following tale, which is entitled Charitra Mĕgat Sajobang, and is told by Selangor Malays, will serve as an illustration of the idea of Human Origin:—

“There was a married Sakai couple living at Ulu Klang, and they had a son called Mĕgat Sajobang. When he grew up he said to his mother, ‘Mother, get me a passage, I want to go and see other countries.’ She did so, and he left Ulu Klang; and ten or twelve years later, when he had grown rich enough to buy a splendid ship (p’rahu), he returned with his wife, who was with child, and seven midwives, who were watched over by one of his body-guard with a drawn sword. His mother heard the news of his return, and she made ready, roasting a chika (monkey) and lotong (monkey), and went with his father on board their bark canoe to meet their son.

“As they approached they hailed him by his name; but he was ashamed of their humble appearance, and forbade his men to let them on board. Though his wife advised him to acknowledge them, ‘even if they were pigs or dogs,’ the unfilial son persisted in turning them away. So they went back to the shore and sat down and wept; and the old mother, laying her hand upon her shrivelled breast, said, ‘If thou art really my son, reared at my breast, mayest thou be changed into stone.’ In response to her prayer, milk came forth from her breast, and as she walked away, the ship and all on board were turned into stone. The mother turned round once more to look at her son, but the father did not, and by the power of God they were both turned into trees of the species pauh (a kind of mango) one leaning seawards and the other towards the land. The fruit of the seaward one is sweet, but that of the landward one is bitter.

“The ship has now become a hill, and originally was complete with all its furniture, but the Malays used to borrow the plates and cups, etc., for feast days and did not return them, until at last there were none left.”

[1] Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, N.S. vol. xiii. part iv. Cp. also the note to page 8 supra, in which the Golden Dragon is made to say, “I have neither father nor mother, but I was incarnated from the hollow part of a bamboo.” See also J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 9, p. 91. [↑]

[2] Hikayat; i.e. “romance.” [↑]

[3] Mantri; i.e. “Minister of State.” [↑]

[4] Bĕtong; i.e. “big.” [↑]

[5] Manuwangi; perhaps a mistake for manuwanggi, cp. bĕraduwanggi, infra. [↑]

[6] J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 17. Notes and Queries, No. 4, sec. 94. [↑]

[7] Sĕmangs are aboriginal non-Muhammadan inhabitants of the interior of the Peninsula. Their type approximates to that of the Negritos of the Andaman Islands and the Philippines, but the one referred to in this legend had white blood, which is considered by Malays to be the royal colour. [↑]

[8] Teh, short for Puteh, “white”; Pûrba, or Pûrva, Sanskrit “first.” This name is also given to the first Malay Raja in the Sajarah Malayu. [↑]

[9] J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 9, pp. 90, 91. For a similar story vide Leyden’s Malay Annals, p. 29: “It happened on a certain day that the river of Palembang brought down a foam-bell of uncommon size, in which appeared a young girl of extreme beauty.” She was adopted by the Raja, and “named Putri Tunjong Bui, or the Princess Foam-bell.” [↑]

[10] It is Gabriel who performs this office in the account which follows. [↑]

[11] “Concerning the creation of Adam, here intimated, the Mohammedans have several peculiar traditions. They say the angels Gabriel, Michael, and Israfil were sent by God, one after another, to fetch for that purpose seven handfuls of earth from different depths, and of different colours (whence some account for the various complexions of mankind); but the Earth being apprehensive of the consequence, and desiring them to represent her fear to God that the creature He designed to form would rebel against Him, and draw down His curse upon her, they returned without performing God’s command; whereupon He sent Azrael on the same errand, who executed his commission without remorse, for which reason God appointed that angel to separate the souls from the bodies, being therefore called the angel of death. The earth he had taken was carried into Arabia, to a place between Mecca and Tayef, where, being first kneaded by the angels, it was afterwards fashioned by God himself into a human form, and left to dry for the space of forty days, or, as others say, as many years, the angels in the meantime often visiting it, and Eblis (then one of the angels who are nearest to God’s presence, afterwards the devil) among the rest; but he, not contented with looking on it, kicked it with his foot till it rung, and knowing God designed that creature to be his superior, took a secret resolution never to acknowledge him as such. After this God animated the figure of clay and endued it with an intelligent soul, and when He had placed him in paradise, formed Eve out of his left side.”—Sale’s Korân, ch. ii. (of translation), p. 4 (note). [↑]

[12] “The Creator determined to make man, and for that purpose He took some clay from the earth and fashioned it into the figure of a man. Then He took the Spirit of Life to endue this body with vitality, and placed the spirit on the head of the figure. But the spirit was strong, and the body, being only clay, could not hold it, and was reft in pieces and scattered into the air. Those fragments of the first great Failure are the spirits of earth and sea and air.

“The Creator then formed another clay figure, but into this one He wrought some iron, so that when it received the vital spark it withstood the strain and became Man. That man was Adam, and the iron that is in the constitution of his descendants has stood them in good stead. When they lose it they become of little more account than their prototype the first failure.”—Swettenham, Malay Sketches, p. 199. [↑]

[13] Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. pp. 351, 352. In Selangor, some of the greater bones, at least, have their own mystic nomenclature, e.g. the backbone, which is called tiang ʿarash, or the “Pillar of the Heavens.” [↑]

[14] Of the superstition which forbids the imitation of the royal insignia I can speak personally, as when a set of models of the Selangor regalia were being made for me, with the late Sultan’s full permission and knowledge, I found it impossible to get them made really like the originals either in shape or size, the makers alleging their fear of being struck dead in spite of this permission by this Divine Power or “Daulat” if they were to imitate them too accurately. In Perak the custom would appear to be less strict. Thus from Malay Sketches (p. 215) we may gather that in the “silver” state even the most sacred pieces of the regalia accompany the royal party upon their annual expedition to seek for turtles’ eggs. [↑]

[15] “The kabesaran or regalia of every petty state is supposed to be endowed with supernatural powers, for instance that of the ex-Panghulu of Naning.”—Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. p. 193. [↑]

[16] Ibid. [↑]

[17] Ibid. p. 195. [↑]

[18] Leyden, Malay Annals, pp. 22–23. The words in brackets are mine.—W. S. [↑]

[19] Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. p. 199; cp. Leyden, Mal. Annals, pp. 38, 39. Limbuara, limbuana, or sĕmbuana (= singhabuana) is the name given to the lance of the Spectre Huntsman, (vide Chap. V. p. 118), whose k’ris is called salĕngkisa. It has been suggested that singhabuana may be composed of two Sanskrit words meaning “lion” and “world,” but put in the Malay order, which is the opposite of Sanskrit. If this supposition is accepted, the name would mean “lion of the world,” vide App. [xxviii].–xxx. [↑]

[20] J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 9, pp. 91, 92. [↑]

[21] It would appear from Malay romances that the full complement of musical instruments forming part of a royal orchestra was, at all events sometimes, twelve. Thus when S’ri Rama is bidden by the astrologers to get up an expedition by water for the amusement of his Princess, “dresses of honour were given to the attendants, and musical instruments of the twelve kinds were got together.”—Maxw., in Sri Rama, J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 17, p. 93. [↑]

[22] This list was given me by H. H. Raja Bôt of Selangor. Besides the above there are several royal “properties” not usually included in any list of regalia. These are H. H.’s chain jacket (baju rantei); a species of shield or targe, said to be made of brass, and called otar-otar; H. H.’s seal, and possibly his mat and the dish he ate from. One of the tombak belonging to H. H. was a species of trident, and was called tombak bĕrchĕranggah or the “Branching Lance.” The ordinary lances might be borrowed by the people, and carried, for example, in the procession escorting a bridegroom (by virtue of his supposed “one day’s sovereignty,” Raja sa-hari) to the house of his bride, but the trident never. [↑]

[23] “All the insignia of royalty were hastily fashioned by the goldsmiths of Pĕnjum, and whenever To’ Râja or Wan Bong appeared in public they were accompanied by pages bearing betel-boxes, swords, and silken umbrellas, as in the manner of Malay kings.”—Cliff., In Court and Kampong, p. 115. [↑]

[24] Maxw. in Raja Donan, J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 18, p. 253. [↑]

[25]

“Ta’ lapok de’ hujan,

Ta’ lĕkang de’ panas,

Pĕsaka di toras (? turis) di-tĕladan,

Pĕsaka di-lintas tumbang.”

[↑]

[26] It is usually upon a portion of his insignia (as, for instance, his k’ris, which is dipped into water which he drinks) that a Malay sovereign swears his most solemn oath. Sometimes, however, it is upon a lump of iron called bĕsi kawi, which not unfrequently forms part of the regalia as well.—Vide Klink. s.v. Bĕsi. [↑]

[27] The following recital of the titles of a Sumatran Raja will show at least the extraordinary pretensions to sanctity which to this day (with, in some parts, no great diminution) hedge about the person of the Malay king:—

“The Sultan of Menangcabow, whose residence is at Pagarooyoong (after pardon asked for presuming to mention his name), who is king of kings, son of Raja Iscunder-zulcarnainny, ... master of the third of the wood maccummat, one of whose properties is to enable matter to fly; of the lance ornamented with the beard of Jangee, of the palace of the city of Rome; ... of the gold of twelve grains named coodarat coodarattee, resembling a man; ... who is possessed of the sword named Chooree-se-mendong-geree, which has an hundred and ninety gaps, made in the conflict with the arch-devil, Se Cattee-moono, whom it slew; who is master of fresh water in the ocean, to the extent of a day’s sailing; possessed of a lance formed of a twig of ejoo (the gomuti, or sugar-palm); of a calewang (scimitar) wrapped in an unmade chinday (cloth); of a creese (dagger) formed of the soul of steel, which, by a noise, expresses an unwillingness at being sheathed, and shows itself pleased when drawn; of a date coeval with the creation; possessed of a gun brought from heaven, named soubahana hou ouatanalla; of a horse of the race of sorimbor-ahnee, superior to all others; Sultan of the Burning Mountain, and of the mountains goontang-goontang, which divide Palembang and Jambee; who may slay at pleasure without being guilty of a crime; who is possessed of the elephant named settee dewa; who is Vicegerent of Heaven; Sultan of the Golden River; Lord of the Air and Clouds; master of a balli (Audience-Hall), whose pillars are of the shrub jelattang; of gandangs (drums) made of hollowed branches of the minute shrubs pooloot and seelosooree; of the gong that resounds to the skies; of the buffalo named Se Binnooang Sattee, whose horns are ten feet asunder; of the unconquered cock, Sengonannee; of the cocoa-nut tree whose amazing height, and being infested with serpents and other noxious reptiles, render it impossible to be climbed; of the flower named seeree menjeree, of ambrosial scent; who, when he goes to sleep, wakes not till the gandang nobat (state drum) sounds; one of whose eyes is as the sun and the other as the moon.”—Marsden, Hist. of Sum. p. 270.

On the foregoing list I should like to remark (1) that the necessity of asking pardon for mentioning the king’s name is considered by the Peninsular Malays to be as imperative as ever. (2) The expression “who is master of fresh water in the ocean” is explained by a passage in Leyden’s Malay Annals (p. 37), where, all the fresh water being exhausted, “Raja Sang Sapurba directed them to bring rotans and tie them in circles and throw them in the water; then having himself descended into a small boat, he inserted his feet into the water, within the circles of bamboo (sic), and by the Power of God Almighty and the virtue of a descendant of Raja Secander Zulkarneini, the water within these circles became fresh, and all the crews supplied themselves with it, and unto this day the fresh water is mixed with the salt at this place.” (3) The horse, which is usually called “Sĕmbrani,” is a magic steed, “which could fly through the air as well as swim through the water” (Leyd., Mal. Ann. p. 17). (4) For the mountains Goontang-goontang (or Saguntang Mahamiru), cp. Leyden’s Mal. Ann. p. 20 seqq. (5) The privilege of “slaying at pleasure without being guilty of a crime” is a privilege which still belongs to Malay sovereigns of the first rank.

Similar sacred objects, belonging to another Sultan of “Menangcabow” named “Gaggar Allum”(GegarʿAlam), “were a sacred crown from God”; “the cloth sansistah kallah, which weaves itself, and adds one thread yearly of fine pearls, and when that cloth shall be finished the world will be no more”; “the dagger Hangin Cinga (Singa?) which will, at his command, fight of itself”; “the blue champaka flower, which is to be found in no country but his (being yellow elsewhere),” and many others worthy of the Sultan “whose presence bringeth death to all who attempt to approach him without permission,” and of the “Sultan of Indrapore, who has four breasts.”—Marsden, Hist. of Sum. p. 272. [↑]

[28] I.e. purple, vide Klinkert, s.v.; cf. the following from J.R.A.S., S.B., No. No. 9 , p. 93: “Tan Saban was frequently to be seen on the outworks of his fort across the river, dressed in garments of conspicuous colours. In the morning he wore red, at mid-day yellow, and in the evening his clothes were green. When he was pointed out to Magat Terawis, it was the morning, and he was dressed in red.”

The foregoing superstitious observance is found among more than one Indo-Chinese nation. “Le général en chef doit se conformer à plusieurs coutumes et observances superstitieuses; par exemple, il faut qu’il mette une robe de couleur différente pour chaque jour de la semaine; le dimanche il s’habille en blanc, le lundi en jaune, le mardi en vert, le mercredi en rouge, le jeudi en bleu, le vendredi en noir, et le samedi en violet.”—Pallegoix, Description de Siam, vol. i. p. 319. [↑]

[29] Lit. “corpse grooves.” [↑]

[30] The usual form is pĕnggonggong, from gonggong, to carry in the mouth. [↑]

[31] Their Malay names are “Si-mulajadi,” “Ashik sa-kampong,” “Si-putar leman,” “Asam garam,” “Ahadan mabuk,” “Sa-palit gila” “Sri gĕgah,” and “Doa unus.”—J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 17, pp. 94–97. [↑]

[32] The Malay word is changgei, which means “long nails” (whether natural or artificial); artificial nails are several inches in length, being much affected by Malay actors performing as royalty. [↑]

[33] A long step and a slow swing of the arms reminds the Malay of the way a man steps and raises his arm to plant bean-seeds six feet apart; a quicker step and a rounder swing of the arms is compared to the action of scattering small seeds.—J.R.A.S., S.B., loc. cit. [↑]

[34] In house-building it is further forbidden to dovetail or make the ends of the timbers (e.g. of the roof) fit accurately together, and also to build two verandahs, one on each side of the house, with their floors on a level with the floor of the main building; if two verandahs are used, the floor of one must be lower than that of the main building (kelek anak). [↑]

[35] I.e. the sarong or Malay national garment; for the custom, vide Cliff., In Court and Kampong, p. 158, and for an exception, ib. 27. [↑]

[36] The hilt of the creese (k’ris) must, however, be hidden by a fold of the cloth about the wearer’s waist. [↑]

[37] “The covered portion of the barge which carries the Sultan’s principal wife is decorated with six scarlet-bordered white umbrellas. Two officers stand, all day long, just outside the state-room, holding open black umbrellas with silver fringes, and two others are in the bows with long bamboo poles held close together and erect.”—Malay Sketches, p. 214. [↑]

[38] Leyden, Malay Annals, pp. 94, 95. [↑]

[39] Code of Malacca, translated in Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. pp. 234, 235. [↑]

[40] In Selangor this royal right to one of each pair of elephant’s tusks is still a tradition to which an allusion is occasionally made. There are said to have been other perquisites as well as those mentioned, e.g. rhinoceros’ horns (sumbu badak) and bezoar stones (guliga). [↑]

[41] Notes and Queries, No. 4, issued with J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 17, sect. 75. [↑]

[42] J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 30, p. 127. [↑]

[43] Swettenham, op. cit. pp. 211–226. [↑]

[44] Others are titah (commands); patek (slave); mĕrka or murka (wrath); karnia or kurnia (favour); and nĕgrah or anugrah (permission); the penalty of uttering any of which, except in addressing the sovereign, is death, i.e. should the offender be a royal slave; should he be any other individual, he is struck on the mouth.—Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. pp. 233–234; vide also Malay Sketches, p. 218, where the same list of linguistic taboos appears to be used in Perak. [↑]

[45] Marhum, one who has found mercy, i.e. the deceased. It is the custom of Malays to discontinue after the death of a king the use of the title which he bore during his life. A new title is invented for the deceased monarch, by which he is ever afterwards known. The existence of a similar custom among other Indo-Chinese races has been noticed by Colonel Yule: “There is also a custom of dropping or concealing the proper name of the king. This exists in Burma and (according to La Loubère) in Siam. The various kings of those countries are generally distinguished by some nickname derived from facts in their reign or personal relations, and applied to them after their decease. Thus we hear among the Burmese kings of ‘the king dethroned by foreigners,’ ‘the king who fled from the Chinese,’ ‘the grandfather king,’ and even ‘the king thrown into the water.’ Now this has a close parallel in the Archipelago. Among the kings of Macassar, we find one king known only as the ‘Throat-cutter’; another as ‘He who ran amuck’; a third, ‘The beheaded’; a fourth, ‘He who was beaten to death on his own stair-case.’” Colonel Yule ascribes the origin of this custom to Ancient India. [Journal Anthrop. Institute.] J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 9, p. 98. [↑]

[46] Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. p. 288, note. [↑]

[47] The bakong is a kind of lily; the sirih is the Malay betel-vine. [↑]

[48] J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 17, p. 93. [↑]

[49] Touching hands is done with both hands together. If you touch hands with a man who is somewhat your superior in rank, it is proper, in drawing back your hands, to bring them at least as high as your chest; and if the other is decidedly your superior, even as high as your forehead, bending forward somewhat while doing so. [↑]

[50] Cliff., Stud. in Brown Humanity, p. 175. [↑]

[51] Cliff., In Court and Kampong, p. 113, and compare the following:—“Visitors to Jugra may often in the evening see a party of some 30 or 40 men coming along the road with His Highness” [the late Sultan ʿAbdulsamad of Selangor] “walking a few paces ahead of them. Should a native meet the little procession he will squat down at the side of the road until the Sultan has passed, for according to Malay ideas it shows a want of respect in a subject to remain standing in the presence of his Raja” ... “on replying to His Highness natives place the palms of their hands together and so raise them to their forehead, by way of obeisance, and this is done even by his own children.”—Selangor Journal, vol. i. No. 1, p. 5. [↑]

[52] This dressing up of the buffaloes, when taken in conjunction with the suspension of the breast-ornament about their necks, suggests the survival of anthropomorphic ideas about the sacrificial buffalo. [↑]

[53] Among the Malays the use of the naubat is confined to the reigning Rajas of a few States, and the privilege is one of the most valuable insignia of royalty. In Perak the office of musician used to be an hereditary one, the performers were called Orang Kalau, and a special tax was levied for their support (J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 9, p. 104). [↑]

[54] I was told that these dangerous genii or spirits resided in the naubat or Big State Drum, the two gĕndang or Small State Drums, the two langkara or State Kettle Drums, the lĕmpiri or State Trumpet, the sĕrunei or State Flute, and the k’ris or State Dagger, called (in Selangor) b’rok bĕrayun, or the “Swaying Baboon,” which latter is said to have slain “a hundred men less one” since it was first used. [I learnt this from H.H. the late Sultan himself, and here record it, because it has sometimes been asserted that H.H. the Sultan claimed to have slain these ninety-nine men with his own hand, which H.H. assured me was not the case.] The sanctity of the remaining pieces of the regalia appears to be less marked. They are the payong ubor-ubor or State Umbrella, the State Trident, and the State Lances or tombak bandangan. Of the Selangor State Trumpet I was told that any one who “brushed hastily past it” (siapa-siapa mĕlintas-nya) would be fined one dollar, even if he were the Sultan himself (walo’ Sultan-pun kĕna juga). [↑]

[55] But in Malay Sketches (p. 215) we read that in Perak the royal instruments accompany the royal water-parties, and that “the royal bugler sits on the extreme end of the prow, and from time to time blows a call on the antique silver trumpet of the regalia.” [↑]

[56] The Malay headman (Haji Brahim), the priest of the local mosque, the Bilal (an inferior attendant at the mosque), and some thirty Malays belonging to the village, took part in this ceremony. A goat had been killed for the occasion, and the party who were paying the vow brought its flesh with them, together with a great heap of rice stained with saffron (turmeric). The men assembled at the tomb, incense was burned, and Arabic prayers read, after which a white cloth, five cubits long, was laid on the saint’s grave. A banquet followed, in which we all took part. [↑]

[57] Frazer, Golden Bough, vol. i. p. 189. [↑]

[58] For the ideas referred to in this and the preceding paragraph, cp. Frazer, op. cit. vol. i. pp. 187–207. Cp. also for the abstention from hair-cutting at childbirth, Clifford’s Studies in Brown Humanity, p. 48. The idea of long hair is found even in animistic conceptions of natural objects. Thus the wind (Angin) is begged in a wind-charm “to let down its long and flowing locks.” [↑]

[59] Raja Bĕrma, son of Raja Jaman of Bandar (Wan Bong). Cp. also Clifford, In Court and Kampong, p. 114, “He wore his fine black hair long, so that it hung about his waist.”

The old custom in Selangor is said to have been for men to wear their hair down to the shoulders (rambut panjang jijak bahu), but they would frequently wear it below the waist (rambut sa-pĕrhĕmpasan), in which case it appears to have been commonly shorn at puberty or marriage. When worn full length by men it was usually, for convenience, coiled up inside the head-cloth or turban (saputangan or tanjak), or was made up into rolls or chignons (sanggul dan siput) like that of the women. It was not infrequently used as a place of concealment for one of the small Malay poniards called “Pepper-crushers” (tumbok lada), not only by men but by women. [↑]

[60] Frazer, op. cit. vol. i. p. 193. [↑]

[61] Vide infra, Chap. VI. p. 569, seqq., etc. [↑]

[62] Vide infra, Chap. VI. pp. 353–355, Adolescence. [↑]

[63] “Ces danseurs et ces danseuses ont tous des ongles faux, et fort longs, de cuivre jaune.”—La Loubère, Royaume de Siam, tome i. pp. 148–150 (quoted by Crawf., Hist. Indian Arch. i. p. 131). Cp. “They have a custom to wear their thumb-nails very long, especially that on their left thumb, for they do never cut it, but scrape it often.”—Dampier’s Voyages, vol. i. pp. 325, 326. [↑]

[64] Vide infra, Chap. VI. pp. 355–360. [↑]

[65] Or Sumangat. The derivation of the word is unknown: possibly it may be connected with sangat, “excessive,” or bangat, “sudden, quick.” The meaning covers both “soul“and “life” (i.e. not the state of being alive, but the cause thereof or “vital principle”). [↑]

[66] In calling the soul, a clucking sound, represented in Malay by the word kur or kĕrr, by which fowls are called, is almost always used; in fact, “kur sĕmangat” (“cluck! cluck! soul!”) is such a common expression of astonishment among the Malays that its force is little more than “good gracious me!” (vide infra, p. 534, note). [↑]

[67] Vide App. [vi]. [↑]

[68] In another charm we find the sick man’s body compared to a weather-beaten barque at sea. [↑]

[69] Vide App. [cclxxi]. [↑]

[70] The entire conception of the soul among the Malays agrees word for word with Professor Tylor’s classical definition in Primitive Culture, vol. i. p. 387, and hence I have not hesitated to use his exact words in so far as they were applicable. [↑]

[71] Cp. Tylor, Prim. Cult. vol. i. p. 422. [↑]

[72] What these seven souls were it is impossible without more evidence to determine. All that can be said is that they were most probably seven different manifestations of the same soul. Such might be the Shadow-soul, the Reflection-soul, the Puppet-soul, the Bird-soul (?), the Life-soul, etc, but as yet no evidence is forthcoming.—Cp. Tylor, op. cit. vol. i. pp. 391, 392. [↑]

[73] Professor Tylor calls this “a combination of several kinds of spirit, soul, or image, to which different functions belong” (op. cit. vol. i. pp. 391, 392). [↑]

[74] Infra, Chap. VI. p. 569. [↑]

[75] Infra, Chap. V. p. 241. [↑]

[76] Infra, Chap. VI. p. 575. [↑]

[77] Infra, Chap. VI. p. 568. [↑]

[78] Infra, Chap. VI. p. 431. [↑]

[79] We might then expect to get some such table as the following:—

Colours of Cloths(used to enwrap the lump of earth from the footprint).	Colours of Cosmetics (used bythe sick man).	Colours of Rice (such as may beused by medicine-men).
...	white	white		Highest	Color.
yellow	...	yellow		Medium	Color. ,,
...	...	blue.
red	red	red.
...	...	purple or orange
...	...	green.
black	black	black.		Lowest	Color. ,,

Green is not a common colour. Blue appears to be rarely used. It is, however, the colour assigned to a (fabulous (?)) champaka flower, which is supposed to be the rarest of its kind (vide p. 29 n. supra). Orange (jingga) is also extremely rare, though it is occasionally used for certain decorative work (e.g. small wedding-pillows). [↑]

[80] Infra, Chap. V. pp. 211, 250, 251. [↑]

[81] Or is this phenomenon of a bird-shaped soul inhabiting certain trees to be explained by the “notion of a vegetable soul, common to plants and to the higher organisms, possessing an animal soul in addition”? and are we to take this as only “one more instance of the fuller identification of the souls of plants with the souls of animals”?—Tylor, op. cit. vol. i. pp. 428, 429. [↑]

[82] Professor Tylor’s pregnant phraseology in this connection is entirely applicable to the Malays, who “talk quite seriously to beasts alive or dead as they would to men alive or dead, offer them homage, ask pardon when it is their painful duty to hunt and kill them.” Cp. also his remarks upon this subject, ibid. p. 423.—Prim. Cult. vol. i. p. 422. [↑]

[83] Infra, Medicine, Divination, etc. [↑]

[84] Infra, Hunting charms. [↑]

[85] Infra, Fowling charms. [↑]

[86] Infra, Vegetation charms. [↑]

[87] Infra, Fishing charms. [↑]

[88] Infra, Mining charms. [↑]

[89] The central idea of this conception appears to be that these animals, birds, and trees were once human beings, but were turned into their present shapes by reason of some wrongful act for which they were not invariably themselves responsible. [↑]

[90] Vide introductory remarks to Hunting, Fowling, Fishing, Planting, and Mining charms. [↑]

CHAPTER III

Relations with the Supernatural World

(a) The Magician

“The accredited intermediary between men and spirits is the Pawang;[1] the Pawang is a functionary of great and traditional importance in a Malay village, though in places near towns the office is falling into abeyance. In the inland districts, however, the Pawang is still a power, and is regarded as part of the constituted order of society, without whom no village community would be complete. It must be clearly understood that he has nothing whatever to do with the official Muhammadan religion of the mosque; the village has its regular staff of elders—the Imām, Khatib, and Bilal—for the mosque service. But the Pawang is quite outside this system, and belongs to a different and much older order of ideas; he may be regarded as the legitimate representative of the primitive ‘medicine-man’ or ‘village-sorcerer,’ and his very existence in these days is an anomaly, though it does not strike Malays as such.

“Very often the office is hereditary, or at least the appointment is practically confined to the members of one family. Sometimes it is endowed with certain ‘properties’ handed down from one Pawang to his successor, known as the kabĕsaran, or, as it were, regalia. On one occasion I was nearly called upon to decide whether these adjuncts—which consisted, in this particular case, of a peculiar kind of head-dress—were the personal property of the person then in possession of them (who had got them from his father, a deceased Pawang), or were to be regarded as official insignia descending with the office in the event of the natural heir declining to serve! Fortunately I was spared the difficult task of deciding this delicate point of law, as I managed to persuade the owner to take up the appointment.

“But quite apart from such external marks of dignity, the Pawang is a person of very real significance. In all agricultural operations, such as sowing, reaping, irrigation works, and the clearing of jungle for planting, in fishing at sea, in prospecting for minerals, and in cases of sickness, his assistance is invoked. He is entitled by custom to certain small fees; thus, after a good harvest he is allowed, in some villages, five gantangs of padi, one gantang of rice (bĕras), and two chupaks of ĕmping (a preparation of rice and cocoa-nut made into a sort of sweetmeat) from each householder. After recovery from sickness his remuneration is the very modest amount of tiga wang baharu, that is, 7½ cents.

“It is generally believed that a good harvest can only be secured by complying with his instructions, which are of a peculiar and comprehensive character.

“They consist largely of prohibitions, which are known as pantang. Thus, for instance, it is pantang in some places to work in the rice-field on the 14th and 15th days of the lunar month; and this rule of enforced idleness, being very congenial to the Malay character, is, I believe, pretty strictly observed.

“Again, in reaping, certain instruments are proscribed, and in the inland villages it is regarded as a great crime to use the sickle (sabit) for cutting the padi; at the very least the first few ears should be cut with a tuai, a peculiar small instrument consisting of a semicircular blade set transversely on a piece of wood or bamboo, which is held between the fingers, and which cuts only an ear or two at a time. Also the padi must not be threshed by hitting it against the inside of a box, a practice known as banting padi.

“In this, as in one or two other cases, it may be supposed that the Pawang’s ordinances preserve the older forms of procedure and are opposed to innovations in agricultural methods. The same is true of the pantang (i.e. taboo) rule which prescribes a fixed rate of price at which padi may be sold in the village community to members of the same village. This system of customary prices is probably a very old relic of a time when the idea of asking a neighbour or a member of your own tribe to pay a competition price for an article was regarded as an infringement of communal rights. It applies to a few other articles of local produce[2] besides padi, and I was frequently assured that the neglect of this wholesome rule was the cause of bad harvests. I was accordingly pressed to fine transgressors, which would perhaps have been a somewhat difficult thing to do. The fact, however, that in many places these rules are generally observed is a tribute to the influence of the Pawang who lends his sanction to them.”[3]

“The Pawang keeps a familiar spirit, which in his case is a hantu pŭsaka, that is, an hereditary spirit which runs in the family, in virtue of which he is able to deal summarily with the wild spirits of an obnoxious character.”[4]

The foregoing description is so precise and clear that I have not much to add to it. There are, however, one or two points which require emphasis. One of these is that the priestly magician stands in certain respects on the same footing as the divine man or king—that is to say, he owns certain insignia which are exactly analogous to the regalia of the latter, and are, as Mr. Blagden points out, called by the same name (kabĕsaran). He shares, moreover, with the king the right to make use of cloth dyed with the royal colour (yellow), and, like the king, too, possesses the right to enforce the use of certain ceremonial words and phrases, in which respect, indeed, his list is longer, if anything, than that of royalty.

He also acts as a sort of spirit-medium and gives oracles in trances; possesses considerable political influence; practises (very occasional) austerities; observes some degree of chastity, and appears quite sincere in his conviction of his own powers. At least he always has a most plausible excuse ready to account for his inability to do whatever is required. An aged magician who came from Perak to doctor one of H.H. the Sultan’s sons (Raja Kahar) while I was at Langat, had the unusual reputation of being able to raise a sandbank in the sea at will; but when I asked if I could see it done, he explained that it could only be done in time of war when he was hard pressed by an enemy’s boat, and he could not do it for the sake of mere ostentation! Moreover, like members of their profession all the world over, these medicine-men are, perhaps naturally, extremely reticent; it was seldom that they would let their books be seen, much less copied, even for fair payment, and a Pawang once refused to tell me a charm until I had taken my shoes off and was seated with him upon a yellow cloth while he repeated the much-prized formula.

The office of magician is, as has been said, very often hereditary. It is not so always, however, there being certain recognised ways in which a man may “get magic.” One of the most peculiar is as follows: “To obtain magical powers (ʿelmu) you must meet the ghost of a murdered man. Take the midrib of a leaf of the ‘ivory’ cocoa-nut palm (pĕlĕpah niyor gading), which is to be laid on the grave, and two more midribs, which are intended to represent canoe-paddles, and carry them with the help of a companion to the grave of the murdered man at the time of the full moon (the 15th day of the lunar month) when it falls upon a Tuesday. Then take a cent’s worth of incense, with glowing embers in a censer, and carry them to the head-post of the grave of the deceased. Fumigate the grave, going three times round it, and call upon the murdered man by name:—

‘Hearken, So-and-so,

And assist me;

I am taking (this boat) to the saints of God,

And I desire to ask for a little magic.’[5]

Here take the first midrib, fumigate it, and lay it upon the head of the grave, repeating ‘Kur Allah’ (‘Cluck, cluck, God!’) seven times. You and your companion must now take up a sitting posture, one at the head and the other at the foot of the grave, facing the grave post, and use the canoe-paddles which you have brought. In a little while the surrounding scenery will change and take upon itself the appearance of the sea, and finally an aged man will appear, to whom you must address the same request as before.”

(b) High Places

“Although officially the religious centre of the village community is the mosque, there is usually in every small district a holy place known as the kramat,[6] at which vows are paid on special occasions, and which is invested with a very high degree of reverence and sanctity.

“These kramats abound in Malacca territory; there is hardly a village but can boast some two or three in its immediate neighbourhood, and they are perfectly well known to all the inhabitants.

“Theoretically, kramats are supposed to be the graves of deceased holy men, the early apostles of the Muhammadan faith, the first founders of the village who cleared the primeval jungle, or other persons of local notoriety in a former age; and there is no doubt that many of them are that and nothing more. But even so, the reverence paid to them and the ceremonies that are performed at them savour a good deal too much of ancestor-worship to be attributable to an orthodox Muhammadan origin.

“It is certain, however, that many of these kramats are not graves at all: many of them are in the jungle, on hills and in groves, like the high places of the Old Testament idolatries; they contain no trace of a grave (while those that are found in villages usually have grave-stones), and they appear to be really ancient sites of a primitive nature-worship or the adoration of the spirits of natural objects.

“Malays, when asked to account for them, often have recourse to the explanations that they are kramat jin, that is, “spirit”-places; and if a Malay is pressed on the point, and thinks that the orthodoxy of these practices is being impugned, he will sometimes add that the jin in question is a jin islām, a Muhammadan and quite orthodox spirit!

“Thus on Bukit Nyalas, near the Johol frontier, there is a kramat consisting of a group of granite boulders on a ledge of rock overhanging a sheer descent of a good many feet; bamboo clumps grow on the place, and there were traces of religious rites having been performed there, but no grave whatever. This place was explained to me to be the kramat of one Nakhoda Hussin, described as a jin (of the orthodox variety), who presides over the water, rain, and streams. People occasionally burned incense there to avert drought and get enough water for irrigating their fields. There was another kramat of his lower down the hill, also consisting of rocks, one of which was shaped something like a boat. I was informed that this jin is attended by tigers which guard the hill, and are very jealous of the intrusion of other tigers from the surrounding country. He is believed to have revealed himself to the original Pawang of the village, the mythical founder of the kampong of Nyalas. In a case like this it seems probable that the name attached to this object of reverence is a later accretion, and that under a thin disguise we have here a relic of the worship of the spirit of rivers and streams, a sort of elemental deity localised in this particular place, and still regarded as a proper object of worship and propitiation, in spite of the theoretically strict monotheism of the Muhammadan creed. Again, at another place the kramat is nothing but a tree, of somewhat singular shape, having a large swelling some way up the trunk. It was explained to me that this tree was connected in a special way with the prospects of local agriculture, the size of the swelling increasing in good years and diminishing in bad seasons! Hence it was naturally regarded with considerable awe by the purely agricultural population of the neighbourhood.

“As may be imagined, it is exceedingly difficult to discover any authentic facts regarding the history of these numerous kramats: even where there is some evidence of the existence of a grave, the name of the departed saint is usually the one fact that is remembered, and often even that is forgotten. The most celebrated of the Malacca kramats, the one at Machap, is a representative type of the first class, that in which there really is a grave: it is the one place where a hardened liar respects the sanctity of an oath, and it is occasionally visited in connection with civil cases, when the one party challenges the other to take a particular oath. A man who thinks nothing of perjuring himself in the witness-box, and who might not much mind telling a lie even with the Korān on his head, will flinch before the ordeal of a falsehood in the presence of the Dato’ Machap.”[7]

After explaining the difference between beneficent spirits and the spirits of evil, Mr. Blagden continues: “Some time ago one of these objectionable hantus (spirits of evil) had settled down in a kĕrayong tree in the middle of this village of Bukit Sĕnggeh, and used to frighten people who passed that way in the dusk; so the Pawang was duly called upon to exorcise it, and under his superintendence the tree was cut down, after which there was no more trouble. But it is certain that it would have been excessively dangerous for an ordinary layman to do so.

“This point may be illustrated by a case which was reported to me soon after it occurred, and which again shows the intimate connection of spirits with trees. A Javanese coolie, on the main road near Ayer Panas, cut down a tree which was known to be occupied by a hantu. He was thereupon seized with what, from the description, appears to have been an epileptic fit, and showed all the traditional symptoms of demoniac possession. He did not recover till his friends had carried out the directions of the spirit, speaking through the sufferer’s mouth, it seems, viz., to burn incense, offer rice, and release a fowl. After which the hantu left him.

“In many places there are trees which are pretty generally believed to be the abodes of spirits, and not one Malay in ten would venture to cut one down, while most people would hardly dare to go near one after dark. On one occasion an exceptionally intelligent Malay, with whom I was discussing the terms on which he proposed to take up a contract for clearing the banks of a river, made it an absolute condition that he should not be compelled to cut down a particular tree which overhung the stream, on the ground that it was a ‘spirit’ tree. That tree had to be excluded from the contract.”[8]

The following description, by Sir W. Maxwell, of a Perak kramat may be taken as fairly typical of the kramat, in which there really is a grave:—

“Rightly or wrongly the Malays of Larut assign an Achinese origin to an old grave which was discovered in the forest some years ago, and of which I propose to give a brief description. It is situated about half-way between the Larut Residency and the mining village of Kamunting. In the neighbourhood the old durian trees of Java betoken the presence of a Malay population at a date long prior to the advent of the Chinese miner. The grave was discovered about twenty years ago by workmen employed by the Mĕntri of Perak to make the Kamunting road, and it excited much curiosity among the Malays at the time. The Mĕntri and all the ladies of his family went on elephants to see it, and it has been an object of much popular prestige ever since.

“The Malays of Java were able from the village tradition to give the name and sex of the occupant of this lonely tomb, ‘Toh Bidan Susu Lanjut,’ whose name sounds better in the original than in an English translation. She is said to have been an old Achinese woman of good family; of her personal history nothing is known, but her claims to respectability are evinced by the carved head and foot stones of Achinese workmanship which adorn her grave, and her sanctity is proved by the fact that the stones are eight feet apart. It is a well-known Malay superstition that the stones placed to mark the graves of Saints miraculously increase their relative distance during the lapse of years, and thus bear mute testimony to the holiness of the person whose resting-place they mark.

“The kramat on the Kamunting road is on the spur of a hill through which the roadway is cut. A tree overshadows the grave and is hung with strips of white cloth and other rags (panji panji) which the devout have put there. The direction of the grave is as nearly as possible due north and south. The stones at its head and foot are of the same size, and in every respect identical one with the other. They are of sandstone, and are said by the natives to have been brought from Achin. In design and execution they are superior to ordinary Malay art, as will be seen, I think, on reference to the rubbings of the carved surface of one of them, which have been executed for me by the Larut Survey Office, and which I have transmitted to the Society with this paper. The extreme measurements of the stones (furnished from the same source) are 2′ 1″ × 0′ 9″ × 0′ 7″. They are in excellent preservation, and the carving is fresh and sharp. Some Malays profess to discover in the three rows of vertical direction on the broadest face of the slabs the Mohammedan attestation of the unity of God (La ilaha illa-lla) repeated over and over again; but I confess that I have been unable to do so. The offerings at a kramat are generally incense (istangi or satangi) or benzoin (kaminian); these are burned in little stands made of bamboo rods; one end is stuck in the ground and the other split into four or five, and then opened out and plaited with basket work so as to hold a little earth. They are called sangka; a Malay will often vow that if he succeeds in some particular project, or gets out of some difficulty in which he may happen to be placed, he will burn three or more sangka at such and such a kramat. Persons who visit a kramat in times of distress or difficulty, to pray and to vow offerings, in case their prayers are granted, usually leave behind them as tokens of their vows small pieces of white cloth, which are tied to the branches of a tree or to sticks planted in the ground near the sacred spot. For votary purposes the long-forgotten tomb of Toh Bidan Susu Lanjut enjoys considerable popularity among the Mohammedans of Larut; and the tree which overshadows it has, I am glad to say, been spared the fate which awaited the rest of the jungle which overhung the road. No coolie was bold enough to put an axe to it.”[9]

Mr. George Bellamy, writing in 1893, thus described the kramat at Tanjong Karang in the Kuala Selangor district:—

“The kramat about which I am now writing is a very remarkable one. It is situated on the extreme point of land at the mouth of the river Selangor, close to where the new lighthouse has been erected. A magnificent kayu ara (a kind of fig-tree) forms a prominent feature of the tanjong (point or cape), and at the base of this tree, enveloped entirely by its roots, is an oblong-shaped space having the appearance of a Malay grave, with the headstones complete.... To this sacred spot constant pilgrimages are made by the Malays, and the lower branches of the tree rarely lack those pieces of white and yellow cloth which are always hung up as an indication that some devout person has paid his vows. The Chinese also have great respect for this kramat, and have erected a sort of sylvan temple at the foot of the tree.” Mr. Bellamy tells how one Raja ʿAbdullah fell in love with a maiden named Miriam, who disappeared and was supposed to have been taken by the spirits (though she was really carried off by an earlier lover named Hassan). Raja ʿAbdullah died and was buried at the foot of the fig-tree. Mr. Bellamy concludes: “If you ever happen to see a very big crocodile at the mouth of the Selangor river, floating listlessly about, be careful not to molest it: it is but the buaya kramat, which shape the spirit of Raja ʿAbdullah sometimes assumes. When walking along the pantai (shore), if you chance to meet a very large tiger let him pass unharmed. It is only Raja ʿAbdullah’s ghost, and in proof thereof you will see it leaves no footmarks on the sand. And when you go to see the new lighthouse at Tanjong Kramat, you may perhaps come face to face with a very old man, who sadly shakes his head and disappears. Do not be startled, it is only Raja ʿAbdullah.”[10]

In No. 2 of the same volume of the Selangor Journal Mr. Bellamy refers to another kramat—that of ’Toh Kĕtapang—which he appears to localise in Ulu Selangor.

It is by no means necessary to ensure the popularity of a kramat or shrine that the saint to whose memory it is dedicated should be a Malay. The cosmopolitan character of these shrines is attested in the following note which I sent to the Selangor Journal[11] about the shrines in the Ulu Langat (Kajang) district of Selangor:—

“The chief kramats in the district are ‘Makam ’Toh Sayah’ (the tomb of a Javanese of high repute); ‘Makam Said Idris,’ at Rekoh, Said Idris being the father of the Pĕnghulu of Cheras; ‘Makam ’Toh Janggut’ (a ‘Kampar’ man), on the road to Cheras; and ‘Makam ’Toh Gerdu or Berdu,’ at Dusun Tua, Ulu Langat. ’Toh Berdu was of Sakai origin.”

I have never yet, however, heard of any shrine being dedicated to a Chinaman, and it is probable that this species of canonisation is confined (at least in modern times) to local celebrities professing the Muhammadan religion, as would certainly be the case of the Malays and Javanese mentioned in the foregoing paragraph, and quite possibly too in the case of the Sakai.

It is true that Chinese often worship at these shrines—just as, on the same principle, they employ Malay magicians in prospecting for tin; but there appear to be certain limits beyond which they cannot go, as it was related to me when I was living in the neighbourhood, that a Chinaman who had, in the innocence of his heart, offered at a Moslem shrine a piece of the accursed pork, was pounced upon and slain before he reached home by one of the tigers which guarded the shrine.

The shrine of ’Toh Kamarong is one of the most celebrated shrines in the Langat district, the saint’s last resting-place being guarded by a white elephant and a white tiger, the latter of which had been a pet (pĕmainan) of his during his lifetime. In this respect it is exactly similar to the shrine of ’Toh Parwi of Pantei in Sungei Ujong, which is similarly guarded, both shrines having been erected on the seashore, it is said, in the days when the sea came much farther inland than it does at present. The fame of ’Toh Kamarong filled the neighbourhood, and it is related that on one occasion an irate mother exclaimed, of a son of hers who was remarkable for his vicious habits, “May the ’Toh Kramat Kamarong fly away with him.” Next day the boy disappeared, and all search proved fruitless, until three days later ’Toh Kamarong appeared to her in a dream, and informed her that he had carried the boy off, as she had invited him to do, and that if she were to look for his footprints she would be able to discover them inside the pad-tracks of a tiger one of whose feet was smaller than the rest, and which was then haunting the spot. She did so, and discovered her son’s footprints exactly as the saint had foretold. This Ghost-tiger, which no doubt must be identified with ’Toh Kamarong’s “pet,” used to roam the district when I was stationed in the neighbourhood, and both I and, I believe, the then District Engineer (Mr. Spearing), saw this tiger’s tracks, and can vouch for the fact that one footprint was smaller than the rest. This curious feature is thought by the local Malays at least, to be one of the specially distinctive marks of a rimau kramat, or Ghost-tiger, just as the possession of one tusk that is smaller than the other is the mark of a Ghost-elephant.[12]

Closely connected with the subject of shrines is that of high places, such as those spots where religious penance was traditionally practised. One of these sacred spots is said to have been situated upon the “Mount Ophir” of Malacca, which is about 4000 feet high, and on which a certain legendary Princess known as Tuan Pŭtri Gunong Ledang is said to have dwelt, until she transferred her ghostly court to Jugra Hill, upon the coast of Selangor.[13]

Such fasting-places are usually, as in Java, either solitary hills or places which present some great natural peculiarity; even remarkable trees and rocks being, as has already been pointed out, pressed into the service of this Malay “natural religion.”

(c) Nature of Rites

The main divisions of the magico-religious ceremonies of the Malays are prayer, sacrifice, lustration, fasting, divination, and possession.

Prayer, which is defined by Professor Tylor as “a request made to a deity as if he were a man,” is still in the unethical stage among the Malays; no request for anything but personal advantages of a material character being ever, so far as I am aware, preferred by the worshipper. The efficacy of prayer is, however, often supposed to be enhanced by repetition.

“As prayer is a request made to a deity as if he were a man, so sacrifice is a gift made to a deity as if he were a man.... The ruder conception that the deity takes and values the offering for itself, gives place, on the one hand, to the idea of mere homage as expressed by a gift, and, on the other, to the negative view that the virtue lies in the worshipper depriving himself of something prized.”[14]

A general survey of the charms and ceremonies brought together in this volume will, I think, be likely to establish the view that the Malays (in accordance with the reported practice of many other races) probably commenced with the idea of sacrifice as a simple gift, and therefrom developed first the idea of ceremonial homage, and later the idea of sacrifice as an act of abnegation. Evidences of the original gift-theory chiefly survive in the language of charms, in which the deity appealed to is repeatedly invited to eat and drink of the offerings placed before him, as a master may be invited to eat by his servants. The intermediate stage between the gift and homage theories is marked by an extensive use of “substitutes,” and of the sacrifice of a part or parts for the whole. Thus we even find the dough model of a human being actually called “the substitute” (tukar ganti), and offered up to the spirits upon the sacrificial tray; in the same sense are the significant directions of a magician, that “if the spirit craves a human victim a cock may be substituted” and the custom of hunters who, when they have killed a deer, leave behind them in the forest small portions of each of the more important members of the deer’s anatomy, as “representatives” of the entire carcase. In this last case the usual “ritualistic change may be traced from practical reality to formal ceremony.” “The originally valuable offering is compromised for a smaller tribute or a cheaper substitute, dwindling at last to a mere trifling token or symbol.”[15]

This homage-theory will, I believe, be found to cover by far the greater bulk of the sacrifices usually offered by Malays, and the idea of abnegation appears to be practically confined to votal ceremonies or vows (niat), in which the nature and extent of the offering are not regulated by custom, but depend entirely upon the wealth or caprice of the worshipper, there being merely a tacit understanding that he shall sacrifice something which is of more than nominal value to himself.

Of the manner in which offerings are supposed to be received by the deity to whom they are offered it is difficult to obtain very much evidence. I have, however, frequently questioned Malays upon this subject, and on the whole think it can very safely be said that the deity is not supposed to touch the solid or material part of the offering, but only the essential part, whether it be “life, savour, essence, quality” or even the “soul.”

It will perhaps be advisable, in order to avoid repetition, to describe a few of the special and distinctive sub-rites which form part of many of the more important ceremonies, such as (in particular), rites performed at shrines, the rite of burning incense, the scattering of (or banqueting upon) sacrificial rice, and the application of the “Neutralising” Rice-paste (tĕpong tawar).

Of the rites performed at shrines, Mr. Blagden says: “The worship there, as with most other kramats, consists of the burning of incense, the offering of nasi kunyet (yellow rice), and the killing of goats; but I also noticed a number of live pigeons there which illustrate the practice, common in Buddhist countries, of releasing an animal in order to gain ‘merit’ thereby.” At a shrine on the Langat river I have seen fowls which had (I was told) been similarly released.

Mr. Blagden’s remarks apply with equal force to the services performed at the shrines of Selangor, and I believe also of other States. It should, however, I think, be pointed out that the nasi kunyit (yellow rice) is, usually at all events, eaten by those who take part in the service. At a ceremony which was held on one occasion after my recovery from sickness, and in which, by request, I took part,[16] incense was burnt, and Muhammadan prayers chanted, after which the usual strip of white cloth (five cubits in length) was laid upon the saint’s grave (the saint being the father of the present Sultan of Selangor), and the party then adjourned to a shelter some twenty or thirty yards lower down the hill, where, first the men, and then the women and children, partook of the flesh of the slaughtered goat and the saffron-stained rice (pulut). After the meal the Bilal (mosque attendant, who was present with the Malay headman and the local priest of the mosque), returned to the tomb, and making obeisance, recited a Muhammadan prayer, craving permission to take the cloth back for his own use, which he presently did. These Bilals are needy men and live upon the alms of the devout, so I suppose he thought there was no reason why the saint should not contribute something to his support.

The burning of incense is one of the very simplest, and hence commonest, forms of burnt sacrifice. Some magicians say that it should be accompanied by an invocation addressed to the Spirit of Incense, which should be besought, as in the example quoted below, to “pervade the seven tiers of earth and sky respectively.” It would appear that the intention of the worshipper is to ensure that his “sacrifice of sweet savour” should reach the nostrils of the gods and help to propitiate them, wherever they may be, by means of a foretaste of offerings to follow. This invocation, however, is not unfrequently omitted, or at least slurred over by the worshipper, in spite of the contention of the magicians who use it, that “without it the spell merely rises like smoke which is blown away by the wind.” The following is one form of the invocation in question:—

Zabur[17] Hijau is your name, O Incense,

Zabur Bajang the name of your Mother,

Zabur Puteh the name of your Fumes,

Scales from the person of God’s Apostle[18] were your Origin.

May you fumigate the Seven Tiers of the Earth,

May you fumigate the Seven Tiers of the Sky,

And serve as a summons to all Spirits, to those which have magic powers, and those which have become Saints of God,

The Spirits of God’s elect, who dwell in the Halo of the Sun,

And whose resort is the “Kaʿbah” of God,

At even and morn, by night and day;

And serve as a summons to the Elect of God,

Who dwell at the Gate of the Spaces of Heaven,

And whose resort is the White Diamond

In the Interior of Egypt, at morn and eve,

Who know (how) to make the dead branch live,

And the withered blossom unfold its petals,

And to perform the word of God;

By the grace of (the creed) “There is no god but God,” etc.

The direction taken by the fumes of the incense is observed and noted for the purpose of divination; this feature of the rite will be noticed under the heading of Medicine.[19]

Another form of sacrifice consists in the scattering of rice. The sacrificial rice (Oryza sativa) used in the ceremonies is always of the following kinds: firstly, parched rice (b’ras bĕrtih); secondly, washed rice (b’ras basoh); thirdly, saffron-stained rice (b’ras kunyit, i.e. rice stained with turmeric);[20] and, finally, a special kind of glutinous rice called pulut (Oryza glutinosa), which is also very generally used for sacrificial banquets.

Of these, the parched rice is generally used for strewing the bottom of the sacrificial tray (anchak) when the framework has been covered with banana leaves, but the offerings have not yet been deposited within it.

The washed and saffron rice are generally used for scattering either over the persons to be benefited by the ceremony, or else upon the ground or house-floor.

With reference to the selection of rice for this purpose, it has been suggested that the rice is intended to attract what may be called the “bird-soul” (i.e. the soul of man conceived as a bird) to the spot, or to keep it from straying at a particularly dangerous moment in the life of its owner.

The pulut or glutinous rice is the kind of rice generally used for sacrificial banquets, e.g. for banquets at “high places,” etc.

Lustration is generally accomplished either by means of fire or of water. The best examples of the former are perhaps the fumigation of infants, and the api saleian or purificatory fire, over which women are half-roasted when a birth has taken place, but these being special and distinctive ceremonies, will be described with others of the same nature in Chapter VI.

One of the forms of lustration by water, however, appears rather to take the place of a sub-rite, forming an integral portion of a large class of ceremonies, such as those relating to Building, Fishing, Agriculture, Marriage, and so forth. Hence it will be necessary to give a general sketch of its leading features in the present context.

The ceremony of lustration by water, when it takes the form of the sub-rite referred to, is called “Tĕpong Tawar,” which properly means “the Neutralising Rice-flour (Water),” “neutralising” being used almost in a chemical sense, i.e. in the sense of “sterilising” the active element of poisons, or of destroying the active potentialities of evil spirits.

The rite itself consists in the application[21] of a thin paste made by mixing rice-flour with water: this is taken up in a brush or “bouquet” of leaves and applied to the objects which the “neutralisation” is intended to protect or neutralise, whether they be the posts of a house, the projecting ends of a boat’s ribs (tajok p’rahu), the seaward posts of fishing-stakes (puchi kelong), or the forehead and back of the hands of the bride and bridegroom.

The brush must be first fumigated with incense, then dipped into the bowl which contains the rice-water, and shaken out almost dry, for if the water runs down the object to which it is applied it is held to “portend tears,” whereas if it spreads equally all round (benchar) it is lucky. The composition of the brush, which is considered to be of the highest importance, appears to vary, but only within certain limits. It almost invariably, in Selangor, consists of a selection of leaves from the following plants, which are made up in small bouquets of five, seven, or nine leaves each, and bound round with ribu-ribu (a kind of small creeper), or a string of shredded tree bark (daun t’rap).

The following is a list of the leaves generally used:—

1. Leaves of the grass called sambau dara, which is said to be the symbol of a “settled soul” (ʿalamat mĕnĕtapkan sĕmangat), and which hence always forms the core of the bouquet.[22]

2. The leaves of the sĕlaguri, which appears to be “a shrub or small tree with yellow flowers (Clerodendron disparifolium, Bl., Verbenaceæ; or Sida rhombifolia, L., Malvaceæ, a common small shrub in open country),”[23] which is described as one of the first of shrubs (kayu asal), and is said to be used as a “reminder of origin” (pĕringatan asal).

3. The leaves of the pulut-pulut (the exact identity of which I have not yet ascertained, but which may be the Urena lobata, L., one of the Malvaceae), which is said to be used for the same purpose as the preceding.

4. The leaves of the gandarusa (Insticia gandarusa, L., Acanthaceæ), a plant described as “often cultivated and half-wild—a shrub used in medicine.”

The selection of this plant is said to be due to its reputation for scaring demons (ʿalamat mĕnghalaukan hantu). So great is its efficacy supposed to be, that people who have to go out when rain is falling and the sun shining simultaneously—a most dangerous time to be abroad, in Malay estimation,—put a sprig of the gandarusa in their belts.

5. The leaves of the gandasuli (which I have not yet been able to identify, no such name appearing in Ridley’s plant-list, but which I believe to be a water-side plant which I have seen, with a white and powerfully fragrant flower).[24] It is considered to be a powerful charm against noxious birth-spirits, such as the Langsuir.

6. The leaves of the sapanggil (which is not yet identified).

7. The leaves of the lĕnjuang merah, or “the common red dracæna” (Cordyline terminalis, var. ferrea, Liliaceæ).[25] This shrub is planted in graveyards, and occasionally at the four corners of the house, to drive away ghosts and demons.

8. The leaves of the sapĕnoh (unidentified), a plant with big round leaves, which is always placed outside the rest of the leaves in the bunch.

9. To the above list may be perhaps added the satawar, sitawar or tawar-tawar (Costus speciosus, L., Scitamineæ, and Forrestia, spp. Commelinaceæ); and

10. The satĕbal (Fagræa racemosa, Jack., Loganiaceæ).

Leaves of the foregoing plants and shrubs are made up, as has been said, in small sets or combinations of five, seven, or even perhaps of nine leaves a piece. These combinations are said to differ according to the object to which the rice-water is to be applied. It is extremely unlikely, however, that all magicians should make the same selections even for the same objects—rather would they be likely to make use of such leaves on the list as happen to be most readily available. Still, however, as the only example of such differentiation which I have yet been able to obtain, I will give the details of three separate and distinctive combinations, which were described to me by a Selangor magician:—

(1) For a weddingceremony		sambau dara		tied round with astring of shredded tree-bark.
		sĕlaguri
		pulut-pulut
		sapanggil
		sapĕnoh
(2) For blessingfishing-stakes		gandarusa		tied with the creeperribu-ribu.
		sĕlaguri
		sapanggil
		lĕnjuang merah
		sapĕnoh
(3) For theceremony of taking the rice-soul		lĕnjuang merah		tied withribu-ribu.
		sĕlaguri
		pulut-pulut
		sapanggil
		sapĕnoh

Further inquiry and the collection of additional material will no doubt help to elucidate the general principles on which such selections are made.

Short rhyming charms are very often used as accompaniments of the rite of rice-water, but appear to be seldom if ever repeated aloud. The following is a specimen, and others will be found in the Appendix:[26]—

“Neutralising Rice-paste, true Rice-paste,

And, thirdly, Rice-paste of Kadangsa!

Keep me from sickness, keep me from death,

Keep me from injury and ruin.”

Other not less important developments of the idea of lustration by water are to be found in such ceremonies as the bathing of mother and child after a birth and the washing of the floor (basoh lantei) upon similar occasions, the bathing of the sick, of bride and bridegroom at weddings, of corpses (mĕruang),[27] and the annual bathing expeditions (mandi Safar), which are supposed to purify the persons of the bathers and to protect them from evil (tolak bala).

Fasting, or the performance of religious penance, which is now but seldom practised, would appear to have been only undertaken in former days with a definite object in view, such as the production of the state of mental exaltation which induces ecstatic visions, the acquisition of supernatural powers (sakti), and so forth.

The fast always took place, of course, in a solitary spot, and not unfrequently upon the top of some high and solitary hill such as Mount Ophir (Gunong Ledang), on the borders of Malacca territory. Frequently, however, much lower hills, or even plains which possessed some remarkable rock or tree, would be selected for the purpose.

Such fasting, however, did not, as sometimes with us, convey to the Malays the idea of complete abstinence, as the magicians informed me that a small modicum of rice contained in a kĕtupat (which is a small diamond-shaped rice-receptacle made of plaited cocoa-nut leaf) was the daily “allowance” of any one who was fasting. The result was that fasts might be almost indefinitely prolonged, and the thrice-seven-days’ fast of ’Che Utus upon Jugra Hill, on the Selangor coast,[28] is still one of the traditions of that neighbourhood, whilst in Malay romances and in Malay tradition this form of religious penance is frequently represented as continuing for years.

Finally, I would draw attention to the strong vein of Sympathetic Magic or “make believe” which runs through and leavens the whole system of Malay superstition. The root-idea of this form of magic has been said to be the principle that “cause follows from effect.”

“One of the principles of sympathetic magic is that any effect may be produced by imitating it.... If it is wished to kill a person, an image of him is made and then destroyed; and it is believed that through a certain physical sympathy between the person and his image, the man feels the injuries done to the image as if they were done to his own body, and that when it is destroyed he must simultaneously perish.”[29]

The principle thus described is perhaps the most important of all those which underlie the “Black Art” of the Malays.

[1] “The titles Pawang and Bomor are given by the Malays to their medicine men. The Pawang class perform magic practices in order to find ore, medicine crops, or ensure good takes of fish, etc. The Bomor usually practise their art for the cure of human disease. Both terms are, however, often used as though they were interchangeable.”—Clifford, Hik. Raja Budiman, pt. ii. p. 28 n. [↑]

[2] In Bukit Sĕnggeh the articles subject to this custom are priced as follows:—

[↑]

[3] C. O. Blagden in J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 29, pp. 5–7. [↑]

[4] Ibid. p. 4. [↑]

[5] The Malay version runs:—

“Hei angkau Si Anu,

Tolong-lah aku

Aku bawakan kapada aulia Allah,

Aku ’nak minta ʿelmu sadikit.”

This method of getting magic is an exact transcription of the words in which it was dictated to me by a Kelantan Malay (’Che ʿAbas) then residing at Klanang in Selangor. [↑]

[6] Cp. Mr. G. C. Bellamy in Selangor Journal, vol. ii. No. 6, p. 90, who says: “The word kramat, as applied to a man or woman, may be roughly translated prophet or magician. It is difficult to convey the real idea, as Malays call a man kramat who is able to get whatever he wishes for, who is able to foretell events, and whose presence brings good fortune to all his surroundings. District officers will be proud to know that in this last sense the word is occasionally applied to them. When the name kramat is applied to a place, I understand it to mean a holy place, a place of pilgrimage; but it does not necessarily mean a grave, as many people think. I can quote the kramat at Batu Ampar, Jugra, and numerous places on river banks where no graves exist, but yet they are called kramats.” [There is, however, a tradition that a saint’s leg was buried at Batu Hampar!—W. S.] [↑]

[7] C. O. Blagden in J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 29, pp. 1–3. [↑]

[8] C. O. Blagden in J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 29, pp. 4, 5. [↑]

[9] J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 2, p. 236. [↑]

[10] Selangor Journal, vol. ii. No. 6, p. 90, seqq. [↑]

[11] Ibid. vol. v. No. 19, p. 308. [↑]

[12] Infra, Chap. V. pp. 153, 163. [↑]

[13] The local Malacca tradition represents her as still haunting her original seat. She is said to appear sometimes in the shape of an old woman with a cat, sometimes as a young and beautiful girl dressed in silk. She can transform her cat into a tiger if people molest her. J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 24, pp. 165, 166; No. 32, pp. 213, 214. [↑]

[14] Tylor, Prim. Cult. vol. ii. p. 340. [↑]

[15] Tylor, Prim. Cult. vol. ii. p. 341. [↑]

[16] Vide supra, Chap. II. p. 42. [↑]

[17] Zabur is the Arabic for “psalm,” especially for the Psalms of David; but the connection here is not very obvious. [↑]

[18] Another account derives the origin of incense from the eye gum of the Prophet Muhammad’s eyes. [↑]

[19] Infra, Chap. VI. p. 410, infra. [↑]

[20] This rice is occasionally stained with other colours, e.g. red, green, black (vide pp. 416, 421, infra.) [↑]

[21] Sometimes it is “dabbed” on the object, sometimes “painted” on it so as to spread as evenly as possible, more rarely “sprinkled.” [↑]

[22] It is not unfrequently used in medicinal and other ceremonies, e.g. it is tied to each corner of the new mat on which the first-fruits of the rice-harvest are spread out to dry, and to the centre of the long wooden pestle which is used for husking them. [↑]

[23] J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 30, p. 240. [↑]

[24] According to Favre and v. d. Wall, Hedychium coronarium. [↑]

[25] J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 30, p. 158. [↑]

[26] Vide App. [xiii]., xxxvi., xxxvii., cli., etc. [↑]

[27] Vide Birth, Marriage, Funerals, Medicine. [↑]

[28] It was on Jugra Hill, according to tradition, that the Princess of Malacca fasted to obtain eternal youth. [↑]

[29] Frazer, Golden Bough, vol. i. pp. 9–12. [↑]

CHAPTER IV

The Malay Pantheon

(a) Gods

A careful investigation of the magic rites and charms used by a nation which has changed its religion will not unfrequently show, that what is generally called witchcraft is merely the débris of the older ritual, condemned by the priests of the newer faith, but yet stubbornly, though secretly, persisting, through the unconquerable religious conservatism of the mass of the people.

“There is nothing that clings longer to a race than the religious faith in which it has been nurtured. Indeed, it is impossible for any mind that is not thoroughly scientific to cast off entirely the religious forms of thought in which it has grown to maturity. Hence in every people that has received the impression of foreign beliefs, we find that the latter do not expel and supersede the older religion, but are engrafted on it, blent with it, or overlie it. Observances are more easily abandoned than ideas, and even when all the external forms of the alien faith have been put on, and few vestiges of the indigenous one remain, the latter still retains its vitality in the mind, and powerfully colours or corrupts the former. The actual religion of a people is thus of great ethnographic interest, and demands a minute and searching observation. No other facts relating to rude tribes are more difficult of ascertainment, or more often elude inquiry.”[1]

“The general principle stated by Logan in the passage just quoted receives remarkable illustration from a close investigation of the folk-lore and superstitious beliefs of the Malays. Two successive religious changes have taken place among them, and when we have succeeded in identifying the vestiges of Brahmanism which underlie the external forms of the faith of Muhammad, long established in all Malay kingdoms, we are only half-way through our task.”

“There yet remain the powerful influences of the still earlier indigenous faith to be noted and accounted for. Just as the Buddhists of Ceylon turn in times of sickness and danger, not to the consolations offered by the creed of Buddha, but to the propitiation of the demons feared and reverenced by their early progenitors, and just as the Burmese and Talaings, though Buddhists, retain in full force the whole of the Nat superstition, so among the Malays, in spite of centuries which have passed since the establishment of an alien worship, the Muhammadan peasant may be found invoking the protection of Hindu gods against the spirits of evil with which his primitive faith has peopled all natural objects.”[2]

“What was the faith of Malaya seven hundred years ago it is hard to say, but there is a certain amount of evidence to lead to the belief that it was a form of Brahmanism, and that, no doubt, had succeeded the original spirit worship.”[3]

The evidence of folk-lore, taken in conjunction with that supplied by charm-books and romances, goes to show that the greater gods of the Malay Pantheon, though modified in some respects by Malay ideas, were really borrowed Hindu divinities, and that only the lesser gods and spirits are native to the Malay religious system. It is true that some of these native gods can be with more or less distinctness identified with the great powers of nature: the King of the Winds (Raja Angin) for instance; “Mambang Tali Harus,” or the god of mid-currents (the Malay Neptune); the gods of thunder and lightning, of the celestial bodies, etc.; but none of them appear to have the status of the chief gods of the Hindu system, and both by land and water the terrible Shiva (“Batara Guru” or “Kala”) is supreme. Yet each department of nature, however small, has its own particular godling or spirit who requires propitiation, and influences for good or evil every human action. Only the moral element is wanting to the divine hegemony—the “cockeyed,” limping substitute which does duty for it reflecting only too truthfully the character of the people with whom it passes as divine.

I will first take, in detail, the gods of Hindu origin. “Batara (or Bĕtara) Guru” is “the name by which Siva is known to his worshippers, who constitute the vast majority of the Balinese, and who probably constituted the bulk of the old Javanese.”[4]

In the magic of the Peninsular Malays we find Vishnu the Preserver, Brahma the Creator, Batara Guru, Kala, and S’ri simultaneously appealed to by the Malay magician; and though it would, perhaps, be rash, (as Mr. Wilkinson says), to infer solely from Malay romances or Malay theatrical invocations (many of which owe much to Javanese influence), that Hinduism was the more ancient religion of the Malays, there is plenty of other evidence to prove that the “Batara Guru” of the Malays (no less than the Batara Guru of Bali and Java) is none other than the recognised father of the Hindu Trinity.[5]

Of the greater deities or gods, Batara Guru is unquestionably the greatest. “In the Hikayat Sang Samba (the Malay version of the Bhaumakavya), Batara Guru appears as a supreme God, with Brahma and Vishnu as subordinate deities. It is Batara Guru who alone has the water of life (ayer utama (atama) jiwa) which brings the slaughtered heroes to life.”[6]

So to this day the Malay magician declares that ’Toh Batara Guru (under any one of the many corruptions which his name now bears[7]) was “the all-powerful spirit who held the place of Allah before the advent of Muhammadanism, a spirit so powerful that he could restore the dead to life; and to him all prayers were addressed.”

Mr. Wilkinson, in the article from which we have already quoted, deals with another point of interest, the expression sang-yang, or batara, which is prefixed to guru. After pointing out that yang in this case is not the ordinary Malay pronoun (yang, who), but an old word meaning a “deity,” he remarks, that so far as he has been able to discover, it is only used of the greater Hindu divinities, and not of inferior deities or demi-gods. Thus we find it applied to Shiva and Vishnu, but never to the monkey-god Hanuman, or a deity of secondary importance like Dermadewa. Such inferior divinities have only the lesser honorific “sang” prefixed to their names, and in this respect fare no better than mere mortals (such as Sang Sapurba and Sang Ranjuna Tapa) and animals (such as, in fables, Sang Kanchil, Mr. Mousedeer; and Sang Tikus, Mr. Rat).

“The expression batara is also limited to the greater Hindu divinities (except when used as a royal title), e.g. Batara Guru, Batara Kala, Batara Indra, Batara Bisnu, etc. Thus the expressions sang-yang and batara are fairly coincident in their application.[8] But there are a few deities of whom the honorific sang-yang is used, but not batara, e.g. sang-yang tunggal, ‘the only God,’ sang-yang sokma, etc.

“Thus batara would seem to be limited in use to the actual names of Hindu deities as distinct from epithets describing those deities. “Batara Guru” would seem to be an exception—the only one—to this rule, and to point to the fact that the original meaning of guru had been lost sight of, and that the expression had come to be regarded only as a proper name.”

Occasionally, as is only to be expected, the Malays get mixed in their mythology, and of this Mr. Wilkinson gives two examples, one of the identification of Batara Guru (Shiva) with Brahma (Bĕrahmana), and another of the drawing of a distinction between “Guru” (Shiva) and “Mahadewa,” which latter is only another name for the same divinity.

Such slips are inevitable among an illiterate people, and should always be criticised by comparison with the original Hindu tenets, from which these ideas may be presumed to have proceeded.

Mr. Wilkinson quotes an extraordinary genealogy representing, inter alia, “Guru as the actual father of the Hindu Trinity,” and also of “Sambu” (whom he cannot identify), and “Sĕri, who is the Hindu Sri, the goddess of grain, and, therefore, a deity of immense importance to the old Javanese and Malays.”

On this I would only remark that Sambu (or Jambu) is the first portion of the name almost universally ascribed to the Crocodile-spirit by the Peninsular Malays.[9]

It would be beyond the scope of this work to attempt the identification of Batara Guru (Shiva) with all the numerous manifestations and titles attributed to him by the Malays, but the special manifestation (of Shiva), which is called “Kala,” forms an integral part of the general conception, whether among the Malays or Hindus, and is, therefore, deserving of some attention.

The Malay conception of Batara Guru seems to have been that he had both a good and a bad side to his character. Though he was “Destroyer” he was also “Restorer-to-life,”[10] and it would appear that these two opposite manifestations of his power tended to develop into two distinct personalities, a development which apparently was never entirely consummated. This, however, is not the only difficulty, for on investigating the limits of the respective spheres of influence of Batara Guru and Kala, we find that the only sphere, which is always admitted to be under Kala’s influence, is the intermediate zone between the respective spheres of influence of Batara Guru (as he is called if on land, “Si Raya” if at sea) and a third divinity, who goes by the name of “’Toh Panjang Kuku,” or “Grandsire Long-Claws.”

Now Hindu mythology, we are told, knows next to nothing of the sea, and any such attempt as this to define the respective boundaries of sea and land is almost certain to be due to the influence of Malay ideas. Again, the intermediate zone is not necessarily considered less dangerous than that of definitely evil influences. Thus the most dangerous time for children to be abroad is sunset, the hour when we can “call it neither perfect day nor night”; so too a day of mingled rain and sunshine is regarded as fraught with peculiar dangers from evil spirits, and it would be quite in keeping with such ideas that the intermediate zone, whether between high and low water-mark, or between the clearing and primeval forest, should be assigned to Kala, the Destroyer. In which case the expression “Grandsire Long-Claws” might be used to signify this special manifestation of Shiva on land, possibly through the personality of the Tiger, just as the Crocodile-spirit appears to represent Shiva by water.[11]

We thus reach a point of exceptional interest, for hunting, being among the old Hindus one of the seven deadly sins, was regarded as a low pursuit, and one which would never be indulged in by a god. Yet I was repeatedly told when collecting charms about the Spectre Huntsman that he was a god, and, explicitly, that he was Batara Guru. This shows the strength of the Malay influences which had been at work, and which had actually succeeded in corrupting the character, so to speak, of the supreme god of this borrowed Hindu Trinity.[12]

The Batara Guru of the Sea, who by some magicians, at all events, is identified with Si Raya (the “Great One”), and, probably wrongly, with the God of Mid-currents[13] (Mambang Tali Harus), is of a much milder character than his terrestrial namesake or compeer, and although sickness may sometimes be ascribed to the sea-spirit’s wrath, it is neither so sudden nor so fatal as the sickness ascribed to the wanton and unprovoked malice of the Spectre Huntsman, or Spirit of the Land.

Fishermen and seafarers, on the other hand, obtain many a favour from him, and even hope to make friends with him by means of simple sacrifices and charms.

Si Raya (or Madu-Raya) is said to have a family, his wife’s name being Madu-ruti, and his children “Wa’ Ranai,” and “Si Kĕkas” (the scratcher), all of whom, however, have their own separate spheres of influence. The “Great One” himself (Madu-Raya) rules over the sea from low-water mark (at the river’s mouth) out to mid-ocean; and if his identity with “’Toh Rimpun ʿAlam” is accepted,[14] his place of abode is at the navel of the seas, within the central whirlpool (Pusat Tasek), from the centre of which springs the Magic Tree (Pauh Janggi), on whose boughs perches the roc (garuda) of fable, and at whose foot dwells the Gigantic Crab, whose entrance into and exit from the cave in which he dwells is supposed to cause the displacement of water which results in the ebb and flow of the tide.[15]

The only other divinities (of the rank of “Mambangs”) which are of any importance are the “White divinity,” who dwells in the Sun, the “Black divinity,” who dwells in the Moon, and the “Yellow divinity,” who dwells in the Yellow Sunset-glow, which latter is always considered most dangerous to children.

When there is a decided glow at sunset, any one who sees it takes water into his mouth (di-kĕmam ayer) and dislodges it in the direction of the brightness, at the same time throwing ashes (di-sĕmbor dĕngan abu) saying:—

Mambang kuning, mambang k’labu,

Pantat kuning di-sĕmbor abu.

This is done “in order to put out the brightness,” the reason that it must be put out being that in the case of any one who is not very strong (lĕmah sĕmangat) it causes fever.

(b) Spirits, Demons, and Ghosts

The “Jins” or “Genii,” generally speaking, form a very extensive class of quite subordinate divinities, godlings, or spirits, whose place in Malay mythology is clearly due, whether directly or indirectly, to Muhammadan influences, but who may be most conveniently treated here as affording a sort of connecting link between gods and ghosts. There has, it would appear, been a strong tendency on the part of the Malays to identify these imported spirits with the spirits of their older (Hindu) religion, but the only Genie who really rises to the level of one of the great Hindu divinities is the Black King of the Genii (Sang Gala[16] Raja, or Sa-Raja Jin), who appears at times a manifestation of Shiva Batara Guru, who is confounded with the destructive side of Shiva, i.e. Kala. This at least would appear to be the only theory on which we could explain the use of many of the epithets or attributes assigned to the King of the Genii, who is at one time called “the one and only God”; at another, “Bĕntara (i.e. Batara), Guru, the Genie that was from the beginning,” and at another, “the Land Demon, the Black Batara Guru,” etc.

The following is a description of this, the mightiest of the Genii:—

Peace be with you!

Ho, Black Genie with the Black Liver,

Black Heart and Black Lungs,

Black Spleen and tusk-like Teeth,

Scarlet Breast and body-hairs inverted,

And with only a single bone.[17]

So far as can be made out from the meagre evidence obtainable, the spirit thus described is identifiable with the Black King of Genii, who dwells in the Heart of the Earth, and whose bride, Sang Gadin (or Gading), presented him with seven strapping Black Genii as children.[18]

Plate 2.—Spirits.

Models of the White and Black Genii (Jin Puteh and Jin Hitam)

Page 94.

Altogether there are one hundred and ninety of these (Black?) Genii—more strictly, perhaps, one hundred and ninety-three, which coincides curiously with the number of “Mischiefs” (Badi), which reside in “all living things.” The resemblance, I may add, does not end here; for though the Genii may do good, and the “Badi” do not, both are considered able to do infinite harm to mortals, and both make choice of the same kind of dwelling-places, such as hollows in the hills, solitary patches of primeval forest, dead parasites on trees, etc. etc.

As to the origin of these Genii, one magician told me that all “Jins” came from the country “Ban Ujan,” which may possibly be Persia;[19] other magicians, however, variously derive them from the dissolution of various parts of the anatomy of the great snake “Sakatimuna,” of the “First Great Failure” to make man’s image (at the creation of man); from the drops of blood which spirted up to heaven when the first twins, Abel and Cain (in the Malay version Habil and Kabil) bit their thumbs; from the big cocoa-nut monkey or baboon (bĕrok bĕsar), and so on.

The theory already mentioned, viz. that the Black King of the Genii gradually came to be identified with Kala, and later came gradually to be established as a separate personality, appears to be the only one which will satisfactorily explain the relations subsisting between the Black and White Genii, who are on the one hand distinctly declared to be brothers, whilst the White Genie is in another passage declared to be Maharaja Dewa or Mahadewa, which latter is, as we have already seen, a special name of Shiva.

This White Genie is said to have sprung, by one account, from the blood-drops which fell on the ground when Habil and Kabil bit their thumbs; by another, from the irises of the snake Sakatimuna’s eyes (bĕnih mata Sakatimuna), and is sometimes confused with the White Divinity (’Toh Mambang Puteh), who lives in the sun.

The name of his wife is not mentioned, as it is in the case of the Black Genie, but the names of three of his children have been preserved, and they are Tanjak Malim Kaya, Pari Lang (lit. kite-like, i.e. “winged” Skate), and Bintang Sutan (or Star of Sutan).[20]

On the whole, I may say that the White Genie is very seldom mentioned in comparison with the Black Genie, and that whereas absolutely no harm, so far as I can find out, is recorded of him, he is, on the other hand, appealed to for protection by his worshippers.

A very curious subdivision of Genii into Faithful (Jin Islām) and Infidel (Jin Kafir) is occasionally met with, and it is said, moreover, that Genii (it is to be hoped orthodox ones) may be sometimes bought at Mecca from the “Sheikh Jin” (Headman of Genii) at prices varying from $90 to $100 a piece.[21]

Besides these subdivisions, certain Genii are sometimes specifically connected with special objects or ideas. Thus there are the Genii of the royal musical instruments (Jin Nĕmfiri, or Lĕmpiri, Gĕndang, and Naubat), who are sometimes identified with the Genii of the State (Jin Karaja’an), and the Genii of the Royal Weapons (Jin Sĕmbuana), both of which classes of Genii are held able to strike men dead. The only other Genie that I would here specially mention is the Jin ʿAfrit (sometimes called Jin Rafrit), from whom the “White Man” (a designation which is often specially used in the Peninsula as a synonym for Englishman) is sometimes said to have sprung, but who belongs in Arabian mythology to a higher class than the mere Genii. Before leaving the subject of Genii, I must, however, point out the extremely common juxtaposition of the Arabic word “Jin” and the Malay “Jĕmbalang.” From the frequency with which this juxtaposition occurs, and from the fact that the two appear to be used largely as convertible terms, we might expect to find that Jin and Jĕmbalang were mere synonyms, both applicable to similar classes of spirits. The process is not quite complete, however, as although the expression Jĕmbalang Tunggal (the only Jĕmbalang), is found as well as Jin Tunggal, the higher honorific Sang Raja or Sa-Raja is never, so far as I am aware, prefixed to the word “Jĕmbalang,” though it is frequently prefixed to “Jin.” Of the other members of the Malay hierarchy who owe their introduction to Muhammadan influences, the only ones of importance are angels (Mala’ikat), prophets (Nabi), and headmen (Sheikh).

I will take them in this order.

Of the angels, unquestionably the most important are Azrael (ʿAzra’il or ʿIjrail), Michael (Mika’il), Israfel (Israfil, Ijrafil, or Serafil), and Gabriel (Jibra’il or ’Jabra’il, often corrupted into Raja Brahil). There can be no doubt that the foregoing are meant for the names of a group of four archangels, the name of Israfel corresponding to Abdiel, who generally occupies the fourth place in our own angelic hierarchy.

Their customary duties are apportioned among the four great angels as follows:—

Azrael is, as with us, the angel of death, who “carries off the lives of all creatures”; Israfel is “lord of all the different airs” in our body; Michael is the “giver of daily bread”; and Gabriel is a messenger or “bringer of news.”

Sometimes, again, a White Angel (Mala’ikat Puteh) is mentioned, e.g. as being in “charge of all things in the jungle,” but what his specific duties are in this connection does not transpire.

In an invocation addressed to the Sea-spirit, however, we find four more such angels mentioned, all of whom hold similar charges:—

Chitar Ali is the angel’s name, who is lord of the whirlpool;

Sabur Ali is the angel’s name, who is lord of the winds;

Sir Ali is the angel’s name, who is lord of the waters of the sea;

Putar Ali is the angel’s name, who is lord of the rainbow.

No doubt the names of many more of the subordinate angels might be collected, as we are repeatedly told that they are forty-four in number.

Of the prophets (Nabi) there are an indefinite number, the title being applied to many of the more prominent characters who figure in our own Old Testament (as well as in the Korān), but who would not by ourselves be considered to possess any special qualifications for prophetic office. Among the more famous of these I may mention (after Muhammad and his immediate compeers) the prophet Solomon (sometimes considered—no doubt owing to his unrivalled reputation for magical skill—as the king of the Genii, whose assistance the hunter or trapper is continually invoking); the prophet David, celebrated for the beauty of his voice; and the prophet Joseph, celebrated for the beauty of his countenance. Besides these (and others of the same type), there is a group of minor prophets whose assistance is continually invoked in charms; these are the prophet Tap (Tĕtap or Kĕtap?), “lord of the earth;” the prophet Khailir (Khaithir or Khizr), “lord of water;” the prophet Noah, “lord of trees;” and the prophet Elias, “planter of trees.”

Khizr is often confounded with Elias. He discovered and drank of the fountain of life (whence his connection with water), and will consequently not die till the last trump.

Next to the prophets comes the “Sultan” (Sultan), or “King” (Malik), both of which Arabic titles, however, are somewhat rarely used by Malay magicians. Still we find such expressions as Sa-Raja (Sang-Raja?) Malik (King of Kings) applied to Batara Guru.

Next to these royal honorifics comes the title of “Headman” or “Sheikh.”

There are, it is usually stated, four of these Sheikhs who are “penned” (di-kandang) in the Four Corners of the Earth respectively, and whose names are ʿAbdul Kadir, ʿAbdul Muri, a third whose name is not mentioned, and ʿAbdul ʿAli.[22]

Sometimes they are called “Sheikh ʿAlam” (or Si Putar ʿAlam), and are each said to reside “within a ring-fence of white iron.” Hence we obtain a perfectly intelligible meaning for the expression, “Ask pardon of the Four Corners of the World,” i.e. of the Sheikhs who reside therein, though the phrase sounds ridiculous enough without such explanation.

The only other Arabic title which is perhaps worth noticing here[23] is that of “Priest” (Imām), which we find somewhat curiously used in an invocation addressed to the sea-spirit. “Imām An Jalil is the name of the ‘Priest of the Sea.’”

In the invocation addressed to the Sea-spirit we find the expression:—

“Jungle-chief of the World is the name of the Old Man of the Sea.”

There can, however, be little doubt that this “Old Man of the Sea” is a mere synonym for Batara Guru.

A set of expressions to which special reference should perhaps be made consists of the titles used by the wild jungle tribes (Sakais), the use of which is important as confirming the principle that the “Autochthones” are more influential with the spirits residing in their land than any later arrivals can be, whatever skill the latter may have acquired in the magic arts of the country from whence they came.

“Abdullah bin Abdul Kadir, Munshi, in his Autobiography, has an interesting passage on the beliefs of the Malays on the subject of spirits and demons, beliefs which are much more deeply-rooted than is generally supposed. He does not, however, differentiate between national customs and beliefs, and those which have come in with the Muhammadan religion. And indeed it is not easy to do so. Here, everything is classed under the generic term sheitan, which is Arabic, and we find the rakshasa of Hindu romances and the jin and ʿefrit of the Arabian Nights in the company of a lot of Indo-Chinese spirits and goblins, who have not come from the West like the others:—

“I explained to Mr. M. clearly the names of all the sheitan believed in by Chinese and Malays; all ignorance and folly which have come down from their ancestors in former times, and exist up to the present day, much more than I could relate or explain. I merely enumerated the varieties, such as hantu, sheitan,[24] polong,[25] pontianak, penanggalan,[26] jin,[27] pelisit,[28] mambang,[29] hantu pemburu,[30] hantu rimba, jadi-jadian,[31] hantu bengkus,[32] bota, gargasi, raksaksa,[33] nenek kabayan,[34] himbasan,[35] sawan,[36] hantu mati di-bunoh,[37] bajang,[38] katagoran, sempak-kan, puput-kan,[39] ʿefrit,[40] jemalang,[41] terkena,[42] ubat guna.[43] Besides all these there are ever so many ilmu-ilmu (branches of secret knowledge), all of which I could not remember, such as gagak,[44] penundok,[45] pengasih,[46] kebal,[47] kasaktian,[48] tuju,[49] ʿalimun,[50] pendĕras,[51] perahuh,[52] chucha,[53] pelali,[54] perangsang,[55] and a quantity of others. All these are firmly believed in by the people. Some of these arts have their professors (guru) from whom instruction may be got. Others have their doctors, who can say this is such and such a disease, and this is the remedy for it, and besides these there are all those arts which are able to cause evil to man. When Mr. M. heard all this he was astonished and wondered, and said, ‘Do you know the stories of all these?’ I replied, ‘If I were to explain all about them it would fill a large book, and the contents of the book would be all ignorance and nonsense without any worth, and sensible persons would not like to listen to it, they would merely laugh at it.’”[56]

To the foregoing the following list of spirits and ghosts may be added.

The Hantu Kubor (Grave Demons) are the spirits of the dead, who are believed to prey upon the living whenever they get an opportunity. With them may be classed the “Hantu orang mati di-bunoh,” or “spirits of murdered men.”

“The Hantu Ribut is the storm-fiend that howls in the blast and revels in the whirlwind.”[57]

The Hantu Ayer and Hantu Laut are Water and Sea-spirits, and the Hantu Bandan is the Spirit of the Waterfall, which “may often be seen lying prone on the water, with head like an inverted copper (kawah),” where the water rushes down the fall between the rocks.

The Hantu Longgak[58] is continually looking up in the air. Those who are attacked by him foam at the mouth.

The Hantu Rimba (Deep-forest Demon), Hantu Raya[59] (“Great” Demon), Hantu Dĕnei (Demon of Wild-beast-tracks), the Hantu-hantuan (Echo-spirits), and I think the Hantu Bakal, are all spirits of the jungle, but are perhaps somewhat less localised than the large class of spirits (such as the Malacca-cane, gharu, gutta, and camphor-tree spirits) which are specially associated with particular trees.

The Hantu B’rok is the Baboon Demon (the B’rok being what is generally called the “cocoa-nut monkey,” a sort of big baboon); it is sometimes supposed to take possession of dancers, and enable them, whilst unconscious, to perform wonderful climbing feats.

The Hantu Bĕlian, according to many Selangor Malays, is a tiger-spirit which takes the form of a bird. This bird is said to be not unlike the raquet-tailed king-crow (chĕnchawi), and to sit on the tiger’s back; whence it plucks out the tiger’s fur and swallows it, never allowing it to fall to the ground.[60]

The Hantu Songkei[61] is the spirit who so often interferes with the toils for catching wild animals and snares for wildfowl (yang kachau jaring dan rachik). He is described as being invisible below the breast, with a nose of enormous length, and eye-sockets stretched sideways to such an extent that he can see all round him.

The following charm is recited in order to “neutralise” his evil influence:—

Peace be with you, grandson of the Spectre Huntsman,

Whose Dwelling-place is a solitary patch of primeval forest,

Whose Chair is the nook between the buttresses (of trees),

Whose Leaning-post the wild Areca-palm,

Whose Roof the (leaves of the) Tukas,

Whose Body-hairs are leaves of the Rĕsam,

Whose Mattress leaves of the Lerek,

Whose Swing the (tree) Mĕdang Jĕlawei,

And whose Swing-ropes are Malacca-cane-plants

The Gift of His Highness Sultan Bĕrumbongan,

Who dwelt at Pagar Ruyong,

In the House whose posts were heart of the Tree-nettle,

Whose threshold a stem of Spinach,

Strewn over with stems of the Purut-purut,

Whose Body-hairs were inverted,

And whose Breasts were four in number,

To whom belonged the Casting-net for Flies,

And whose drum was “headed” with the skins of lice.

Break not faith with me,

(Or) you shall be killed by the Impact of the Sanctity of the Four Corners of the World,

Killed by the Impact of the Forty-four Angels,

Killed by the Impact of the Pillar of the Kaʿbah,

Killed by the Thrust of the sacred Lump of Iron,

Killed by the Shaft of the Thunderbolt,

Killed by the Pounce of Twilight Lightning,

Killed by the Impact of the Thirty Sections of the Korān,

Killed by the Impact of the Saying, “There is no god but God,”

etc.

Giants are called Bota (Bhuta), Raksasa, and Gargasi (gasi-gasi or gĕgasi), or sometimes Hantu Tinggi (“Tall Demons”), the first two of these names being clearly derivable from a Sanskrit origin.

In addition to those enumerated we may add the various classes of “good people,” such as the Bidadari (or Bĕdiadari) or Pĕri (fairies and elves), which are of foreign origin, and the “Orang Bunyian,” a class of Malay spirits about whom very little seems known. The latter appear to be a race of good fairies, who are so simple-minded that they can be very easily cheated. Thus it is always said of them, that whenever they come into a hamlet, as they may occasionally do, to buy anything, they always pay without bargaining whatever price is asked, however exorbitant it may be. I have been told of their existence at Kapar village (near Klang in Selangor), at Jugra, where it was said they might formerly be heard paddling their boats upon the river when no boat was visible, and elsewhere.

Besides these there are several kinds of bloodsucking (vampire) demons, which are mostly Birth-spirits; and also certain incubi, such as the Hantu Kopek, which is the Malay equivalent of our own “night-mare.”

[1] Journal of the Indian Archipelago, vol. iv. p. 573. [↑]

[2] J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 7, pp. 11, 12. [↑]

[3] Swettenham, Malay Sketches, p. 192. [↑]

[4] Mr. R. J. Wilkinson in J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 30, p. 308. [↑]

[5] The following are the deities most usually inscribed in the “magic square” of five: 1. Kala (black), which is an epithet of Shiva; 2. Maheswara, which means Great Lord, an epithet of Shiva; 3. Vishnu; 4. Brahma; 5. S’ri (the wife of Vishnu); or else the names are mentioned in this order: 1. Brahma; 2. Vishnu; 3. Maheswara (Shiva); 4. S’ri; 5. Kala. Kali, Durga, or Gauri, is the wife of Shiva; Sarasvati is the wife of Brahma. See inf. p. 545, seqq. In the magic word Aum (OM): A = Vishnu, U = Shiva, M = Brahma. [↑]

[6] J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 30, p. 309. This is the water of life called Amrita, to obtain which, by churning the ocean, Vishnu assumed one of his avatars—that of the tortoise. [↑]

[7] Cp. Crawfurd, Hist. of the Ind. Archipelago, vol. ii. p. 219. “From some of the usual epithets bestowed upon Siwa by the pagan Javanese, and still familiar to their posterity, the pre-eminence of this deity is clearly demonstrated.... He is the same personage who acts so distinguished a part in the machinery of Malayan and Javanese romances, under the appellation of Guru, or the instructor, prefixing to it the word Batara, a corruption of Avatara, both in sense and orthography, for with the Indian islanders that word is not used as with the genuine Hindus, to express the incarnation of a god, but as an appellation expressing any deity; nay, as if conferring an apotheosis upon their princes, it has been sometimes prefixed to the names of some of the most celebrated of their ancient kings. When Siwa appears in this character, in the romances of the Indian islanders, he is painted as a powerful, mischievous, and malignant tyrant—a description sufficiently consonant to his character of Destroyer in the Hindu triad”; and, again, “ywang is a Javanese word used in the same sense as batara.... Usually the obsolete relative pronoun sang, which has the sense, in this case, of a definite article, is placed before it. Thus sangywang guru is the same as batara guru.... It is probably the same word also which forms the last part of a word in extensive use, sâmbahayang, ‘worship or adoration.’”—Crawfurd, Mal. Grammar, p. cxcviii. To this I may add that the form ywang, when used by the Peninsular Malays, becomes “yang,” sangyang being also found.

Another (and probably better) etymology of batara is given by Favre and Wilken, viz. Sanskr. bhattara, “lord.” [↑]

[8] To these should perhaps be added dewa, mambang (?), and sa-raja (or sang raja), if Mr. Wilkinson’s explanation of this last expression be taken as correct. And in any case its use in combination with guru appears to warrant its classification with the titles applied to the greater deities. It is also, however, used, like sang, of inferior deities and even of animals (e.g. in a “Spectre Huntsman” charm) we find “Lansat, sa-raja anjing, etc.” Dewa is used indiscriminately (occasionally in conjunction with mambang) both of the greater and lesser divinities. Thus we not unfrequently find such expressions as Dewa Bisnu (i.e. Vishnu), dewa mambang, dewa dan mambang, etc.; and we are expressly told that they (the Dewas) “are so called because they are immortal.” Mambang (per se) is said to be similarly used, not only of greater (vide App. [xvii].), but of lesser divinities, and “Mambang Tali Harus,” god of mid-currents, has even been explained as referring to Batara Guru (Shiva). This, however, is no doubt an instance of confusion, as it generally appears to be used with the “colour” attributes (e.g. M. puteh, White; M. hitam, Black; M. kuning, Yellow) usually assigned to the inferior divinities; and, moreover, in an invocation addressed to the sea-spirit, the “god of mid-currents” is requested to forward a message to Dato’ Rimpun ʿAlam, which appears to be merely another name for Batara Guru, the reason given for the preferment of this request being that he is in the habit of “visiting the Heart of the Seas” in which ’Toh Rimpun ʿAlam dwells (the title of the latter being perhaps taken from the tree, Pauh Janggi). [↑]

[9] Footnote supra. Sambu (Sambhu, the Auspicious One) is merely another name for Shiva (rarely of Brahma), and its application to the crocodile-spirit would appear to indicate that this latter was, formerly, at least, regarded as an embodiment of that supreme god’s manifestation as a water-god. It is worth while to compare this with the expression “’Toh Panjang Kuku,” which is applied to the corresponding manifestation of the supreme god on land, and which strongly suggests the tiger.

“Most of the theological words of this list [printed in App. [xiv].] are Sanskrit, and afford proof sufficient, if any were needed, of the former prevalence of the Hindu religion among the Malays and Javanese. Many of them are more or less corrupted in orthography, owing to the defective pronunciation and defective alphabets of the Archipelago. Some, also, are altered or varied in sense. Tapas, ‘ascetic devotion,’ is deprived of its last consonant and becomes tapa. Avatar, ‘a descent,’ is converted into batara; and instead of implying the descent or incarnation of a deity, is used as an appellative for any of the principal Hindu deities. Combined with guru, also Sanskrit, it is the most current name of the chief god of the Hindus, worshipped by the Indian islanders, supposed to have been Vishnu, or the preserving power. It may be translated “the spiritual guide god,” or, perhaps, literally “the god of the spiritual guides,” that is, of the Brahmins. Agama in Sanskrit is “authority for religious doctrine”; in Malay and Javanese it is religion itself, and is at present applied both to the Mahomedan and the Christian religions. With nearly the same orthography, and in the same sense, Sanskrit words, as far as they extend, are used throughout the Archipelago, and even as far as the Philippines.”—Crawfurd, Mal. Grammar, pp. cxcvii.–cxcviii. [↑]

[10] Supra, p. 86. [↑]

[11] Some confirmation of this view may be found if we admit the explanation given me by a medicine-man, who identified the Spectre Huntsman with ’Toh Panjang-Kuku, and both with Batara Guru. [↑]

[12] The supreme god in the State Chamber (balei) is Batara Guru, on the edge of the primeval forest (di-gigi rimba) it is Batara Kala, and in the heart of the forest (di hati rimba) it is ’Toh Panjang Kuku, or “Grandsire Long-Claws.” Similarly “Grandsire Long-Claws” is lord of the shore down to high-water mark; between that and low-water mark Raja Kala is supreme, and Batara Guru di Laut (Shiva of the Ocean) from low-water mark out to the open sea. [↑]

[13] It is very difficult to ascertain the exact relation that ’Toh Mambang Tali Harus (God of Mid-currents) bears to Batara Guru di Laut. Most probably, however, the God of Mid-currents, whose powers are less extensive than those of the “Shiva of the Sea,” is an old sea-deity, native to the Malay (pre-Hindu) religion, and that “Shiva of the Sea” was merely the local Malay adaptation of the Hindu deity afterwards imported. [↑]

[14] Vide supra, p. 88, note. Yang bĕrulang ka pusat tasek is the expression applied to Mambang Tali Harus. [↑]

[15] Vide supra, pp. 6, 7. [↑]

[16] It would appear not impossible that Sang Gala may be a corruption of Sangkara, one of the names of Shiva, which would account at once for the higher rank of this particular spirit, and for his possession of the titles enumerated above. [↑]

[17] Vide App. [ccxxviii]. Another account adds (with) “Black Throat and White Blood,” white blood being a royal attribute. [↑]

[18] Their names were (1) Sa-lakun darah (“He of the Blood-pool(?))”; (2) Sa-halilintar (“He of the Thunderbolt”); (3) Sa-rukup (= rungkup) Rang Bumi (“World-coverer”); (4) Sa-gĕrtak Rang Bumi (“World-pricker”); (5) Sa-gunchang Rang Bumi (“World-shaker”); (6) Sa-tumbok Rang Bumi (“World-beater”) and (?) (7) Sa-gĕmpar ʿAlam (“Universe-terrifier”). [↑]

[19] The magician appears to have interpreted it as Bĕnua ʿajam; but it may be conjectured that this is a mistaken inference from some expression like Jin ibnu Jan, “Jan,” according to some Arabic authorities, being the Father of the Genii, or, according to others, a particular class of them who are capable of being transformed into “Jin.” Vide Hughes, Dict. of Islam, s.v. Genii. [↑]

[20] Perhaps a corruption of Sartan, the Crab (Cancer) in the Zodiac. [↑]

[21] The following account of Genii (printed in the Selangor Journal, vol. i. No. 7, p. 102) was given me by a Mecca pilgrim or “Haji.” This man was a native of Java who had spent several years in the Malay Peninsula, and as Mecca is the goal of the pilgrimage to all good Muhammadans alike, it is important to know something of the ideas which are there disseminated, and with which the Malay pilgrim would be likely to come in contact. “In the unseen world the place of first importance must be accorded, on account of their immense numbers, to the ‘Jins’ (the ‘Genii’ of the Arabian Nights).”

“The Javanese, drawing a slightly stronger line of distinction (than that of good and bad genii in the Arabian Nights), call these two (separate) classes the Jin Islam and the Jin Kafir, or the Faithful and the Infidel. Of these two classes, the former shrink from whatever is unclean, and the latter only will approach the Chinese, to whom the Jin Islam manifests the strongest repugnance. The good genii are perfectly formed in the fashion of a man, but are, of course, impalpable as air, though they have a voice like mortals. They live in a mosque of their own, which they never leave, and where they offer up unceasing prayers. This mosque is built of stone, and stands beside a lake called ‘Kolam Yamani’; into this lake the whole of the waters from the neighbouring country drain, and the overflow runs down to the sea. In this lake the good genii bathe, and if any wicked or childless mortals bathe in it they carry them off and detain them in the mosque until they (the mortals) have shown proof of their reformed character by continuing for a long while without committing a wrong action, when they are sent back in safety to their native land. I should add that the Jin Islam exact tribute from the unfaithful—e.g. Chinamen—and if they do not receive their due, they will steal it and give it to a son of Islam. [They may be bought from the “Sheikh Jin” at Mecca for prices varying from $90 to $100 each.]

“The Jin Kafir, or bad genii, are invariably deformed, their heads being always out of their proper position; in short, they are Othello’s

Men whose heads

Do grow beneath their shoulders.

Their commonest name, ‘Jin isi-isi didalam Dunia’ (the Genii who Fill the World), is owing to the fact that their enormous numbers fill the whole atmosphere from earth to sky. Like the good Genii, they cannot die before the great day of judgment, but (unlike them) they are dumb.

“Great as their numbers are they are continually increasing, as they are suffered by God to get children after their kind. They are imps of mischief, and their whole time is spent in works of malice. Sometimes when there has been a long drought and a heavy shower of rain is poured down upon the earth by the angels at the bidding of God to cool the parched verdure, they will assemble their legions, bringing with them invisible cocoa-nut shells, one for each drop of rain. In these they catch each rain-drop as it falls, and herbs and trees alike wither for lack of moisture. Then the angels being wroth, cast thunderbolts upon them out of heaven, and these malicious elves take shelter in tall trees, which the thunderbolts blast in their fall. At another time they will climb one upon the other’s shoulders until they reach the sky, when the topmost elf kicks a neighbouring angel, and then they all fall together with a crash like thunder.” [↑]

[22] It is probable that the Arabic spirits here mentioned have, as in other cases, taken the place of native (Malay) spirits to whom similar functions were assigned, but whose names are now lost. [↑]

[23] There are, besides, one or two partly Arabic expressions which are occasionally used, e.g. Sidang (or Sĕdang) Saleh, Sidang (or Sĕdang) Mumin. It is probable that “Sidang” in these cases is a Malay word implying respectability (v. v. d. W. s.v.), so that Sidang Saleh may be translated “Sir Devout,” and Sidang Mumin, “Sir Faithful.” [↑]

[24] Hantu and sheitan are generic terms for evil spirits, the former being the Malay term, the latter Arabic. [↑]

[25] The Polong is a familiar spirit. [↑]

[26] The Pontianak and Pĕnanggalan are childbirth spirits (vide pp. 327, 328, infra). [↑]

[27] The Jin is the genie of the “Arabian Nights” (vide pp. 93–97, supra). [↑]

[28] The Pelisit or Pĕlĕsit, like the Polong, is a familiar spirit (vide pp. 329–331, infra). [↑]

[29] The Mambangs are inferior Malay divinities (vide pp. 88 n., 91–93, supra). [↑]

[30] The Hantu Pĕmburu is the Spectre Huntsman (vide pp. 113–120, infra), for whom Hantu Rimba is probably a mere synonym. [↑]

[31] The Jadi-jadian is the Were-tiger (vide pp. 160–163, infra). [↑]

[32] The Bengkus I have not yet been able to identify. [↑]

[33] The Bota, Gargasi, and Raksasa (not raksaksa) are giants. [↑]

[34] The Nenek Kabayan does not appear to be a ghost at all; it may, however, possibly be a rare synonym for some well-known character in Malay folklore (such as the wife of the Man in the Moon). It is not so explained in the best Dutch dictionaries, however, but simply as the village messenger (dorpsbode) who sells flowers and carries lovers’ messages. [↑]

[35] The Himbasan I have not yet identified. [↑]

[36] The Sawan (i.e. Hantu Sawan) is the demon or devil which is believed to cause convulsions. [↑]

[37] The Hantu (orang) mati di-bunoh is the ghost of a murdered man. [↑]

[38] The Bajang is a familiar spirit (vide pp. 320–325, infra). [↑]

[39] The Hantu katagoran, sempak-kan, and puput-kan I have not been able to identify, and as the two last possess the verbal suffix it is clear that each is the name of a state or process and not of a ghost or demon. In fact, v. d. Wall gives (under sampok), kĕsampokan, which he explains as meaning “door een’ boozen geest getroffen zijn,” to be attacked or possessed by an evil spirit, which is doubtless the correcter form of the word. So with puput-kan, which is also a verbal form meaning (acc. to v. d. W.) “to blow (tr.),” to “sound a wind instrument.” It would seem that ʿAbdullah’s list of “ghosts” is not very systematically drawn up. [↑]

[40] The ʿefrit is a spirit of Arabian origin. [↑]

[41] The Jĕmalang (Jĕmbalang) is a Malay earth-spirit. [↑]

[42] Tĕrkĕna is a past participial form used of people who are thought to be “struck by” or “affected by” one of the foregoing demons. [↑]

[43] Ubat guna is a love-philtre. [↑]

[44] Gagah (usually pĕnggagah) is the art of making one’s self bold or courageous. [↑]

[45] Pĕnundok, the art of making one’s enemy yield (tundok). [↑]

[46] Pĕngasih, the art of making one’s self beloved by another. [↑]

[47] Kĕbal (pĕngĕbal) the art of making one’s self invulnerable. [↑]

[48] Kasaktian, the art of acquiring magic powers. [↑]

[49] Tuju (pĕnuju), the art called “sending.” [↑]

[50] ʿAlimun, the art of making one’s self invisible. [↑]

[51] Pĕndĕras, the art of making one’s self swift-footed. [↑]

[52] Pĕrahuh (a misprint for pĕruah = pĕruang?) that of keeping water at a distance from one’s face when diving, and also, it is said, of walking on the water without sinking below the ankles. [↑]

[53] Chucha is, I believe, a love charm. [↑]

[54] Pĕlali, is the art of numbing or deadening pain. [↑]

[55] Pĕrangsang, the art of exciting or whetting the temper of the dogs when hunting. [↑]

[56] Hik. Abdullah, p. 143. [Maxwell in J.R.A.S., S.B., No. ii N. and Q., No. 4, sec. 98.] [↑]

[57] Newbold, op. cit. vol.ii. p. 191. [↑]

[58] The name of this demon is probably connected with the Malay dongak, which means to “look upwards.” It is sometimes identified with the Hantu Pĕmburu, or wild huntsman, who, after hunting the earth, harked on his dogs through the sky, and whose head, from his continually looking upwards, became fixed in that position. [↑]

[59] The Hantu Raya is sometimes said to dwell in the centre of four cross-roads. There is a sea-spirit of the same name, Si Raya, which should, however, probably be identified with Batara Guru. [↑]

[60] Malay Sketches, p. 197. [↑]

[61] The name of this Demon (songkei = sa-ungkei?) is no doubt connected with the Malay ungkei or rungkei, which means to undo or unloose a knot. The only traps which it is said to interfere with are snares and rope-traps, and as the most obvious way in which they could be “interfered” with would be by untying or loosening their knots, the connection between the name of this spirit and the Malay rungkei to unloose or undo, is sufficiently obvious. The name, therefore, would appear to mean the “Untying” or “Loosening Demon,” naturally a most vexatious spirit to have anywhere near your snares or nooses. [↑]

CHAPTER V

Magic Rites connected with the Several Departments of Nature

(a) Air

1. WIND AND WEATHER CHARMS

Not the least important attribute of the Malay magician in former days was his power of controlling the weather—a power of which Malay magic incantations still preserve remarkable traces.

Thus when the wind fails and the sails of a boat are flapping (kalau layer k’lepek-k’lepek), a Selangor magician would not unfrequently summon the wind in the following terms:—

“Come hither, Sir, come hither, my Lord,

Let down your locks so long and flowing.”

And if the wind is contrary he would say:—

“Veer round, Wind, a needle or twain (of the compass),

A needle to (let me) fetch Kapar.[1]

However heavy the merchandise that I carry unassisted,

Let me repair to Klang for the (morning) meal,

And Langat for the (evening) bathe.

Come hither, Sir, come hither, my Lord,

And let down your locks so long and flowing.”

Again, if the wind grew violent he would say:—

“Eggs of the House-lizard, Eggs of the Grass-lizard,

Make a trio with Eggs of the Tortoise.

I plant this pole thus in the mid-stream

(That) Wind and Tempest may come to naught.

Let the White (ones) turn into Chalk,

And the Black (one) into Charcoal.[2]

Sometimes the magician will fasten a rice-spoon (chĕmcha)[3] horizontally to the mast of the vessel, and repeat some such charm as the following:—

“The bird ‘Anggau-anggau’ flies

To perch on the house of Malim Palita.

May you die as you lean, may you die from a push,

May you die by this ‘sending’ of ‘Prince Rice-spoon’s.’”[4]

Of rain-making ceremonies in Selangor there now remains little but tradition. Yet a Langat Malay told me that if a Malay woman puts upon her head an inverted[5] earthenware pan (b’langa), and then, setting it upon the ground, fills it with water and washes the cat in it until the latter is more than half drowned, heavy rain will certainly ensue.[6]

On the other hand the recital of the following charm will, it is believed, effectually stop the heaviest downpour:—

“Though the stem of the Mĕranti tree[7] rocks to and fro (in the storm),

Let the Yam leaves be as thick as possible,[8]

That Rain and Tempest may come to naught.”

With the foregoing should be classed such charms as are used by the Malays to dispel the yellow sunset glow.[9]

2. BIRDS AND BIRD CHARMS

The chief features of the Bird-lore of the Peninsular Malays, which, as will appear in the course of this chapter, is strongly tinged with animism, have been thus described by Sir William Maxwell:—

“Ideas of various characters are associated by Malays with birds of different kinds, and many of their favourite similes are furnished by the feathered world. The peacock strutting in the jungle, the argus pheasant calling on the mountain peak, the hoot of the owl, and the cry of the night-jar, have all suggested comparisons of various kinds, which are embodied in the proverbs of the people.[10] The Malay is a keen observer of nature, and his illustrations, drawn from such sources, are generally just and often poetical.

“The supernatural bird Gerda (Garuda, the eagle of Vishnu), who figures frequently in Malay romances, is dimly known to the Malay peasant. If, during the day, the sun is suddenly overcast by clouds and shadow succeeds to brilliancy, the Pêrak Malay will say “Gerda is spreading out his wings to dry.”[11] Tales are told, too, of other fabulous birds[12]—the jintayu, which is never seen, though its note is heard, and which announces the approach of rain;[13] and the chandrawasi, which has no feet. The chandrawasi lives in the air, and is constantly on the wing, never descending to earth or alighting on a tree. Its young even are produced without the necessity of touching the earth. The egg is allowed to drop, and as it nears the earth it bursts, and the young bird appears fully developed. The note of the chandrawasi may often be heard at night, but never by day, and it is lucky, say the Malays, to halt at a spot where it is heard calling.

“There is an allusion to this bird in a common pantun—a kind of erotic stanza very popular among the Malays:—

“Chandrawasi burong sakti,

Sangat berkurong didalam awan.

Gonda gulana didalam hati,

Sahari tidak memandang tuan.[14]

“Nocturnal birds are generally considered ill-omened all over the world, and popular superstition among the Malays fosters a prejudice against one species of owl. If it happens to alight and hoot near a house, the inhabitants say significantly that there will soon be ‘tearing of cloth’ (koyah kapan) for a shroud. This does not apply to the small owl called punggok, which, as soon as the moon rises, may often be heard to emit a soft plaintive note. The note of the punggok is admired by the Malays, who suppose it to be sighing for the moon, and find in it an apt simile for a desponding lover.

“The baberek or birik-birik, another nocturnal bird, is a harbinger of misfortune. This bird is said to fly in flocks at night; it has a peculiar note, and a passing flock makes a good deal of noise. If these birds are heard passing, the Pêrak peasant brings out a sĕngkalan (a wooden platter on which spices are ground), and beats it with a knife, or other domestic utensil, calling out as he does so: “Nenek, bawa hati-nia” (“Great-grandfather, bring us their hearts”). This is an allusion to the belief that the bird baberek flies in the train of the Spectre Huntsman (hantu pemburu), who roams Malay forests with several ghostly dogs, and whose appearance is the forerunner of disease or death. “Bring us their hearts” is a mode of asking for some of his game, and it is hoped that the request will delude the hantu pemburu into the belief that the applicants are raʿiyat, or followers of his, and that he will, therefore, spare the household.

“The baberek,[15] which flies with the wild hunt, bears a striking resemblance to the white owl, Totosel, the nun who broke her vow, and now mingles her “tutu” with the “holloa” of the Wild Huntsman of the Harz.[16]

“The legend of the Spectre Huntsman is thus told by the Pêrak Malays:—

“In former days, at Katapang, in Sumatra, there lived a man whose wife, during her pregnancy, was seized with a violent longing for the meat of the pelandok (mouse-deer). But it was no ordinary pelandok that she wanted. She insisted that it should be a doe, big with male offspring, and she bade her husband go and seek in the jungle for what she wanted. The man took his weapons and dogs and started, but his quest was fruitless, for he had misunderstood his wife’s injunctions, and what he sought was a buck pelandok, big with male offspring, an unheard-of prodigy.

“Day and night he hunted, slaying innumerable mouse-deer, which he threw away on finding that they did not fulfil the conditions required.

“He had sworn a solemn oath on leaving home that he would not return unsuccessful, so he became a regular denizen of the forest, eating the flesh and drinking the blood of the animals which he slew, and pursuing night and day his fruitless search. At length he said to himself: ‘I have hunted the whole earth over without finding what I want; it is now time to try the firmament.’ So he holloa’d on his dogs through the sky, while he walked below on the earth looking up at them, and after a long time, the hunt still being unsuccessful, the back of his head, from constantly gazing upwards, became fixed to his back, and he was no longer able to look down at the earth. One day a leaf from the tree called Si Limbak fell on his throat and took root there, and a straight shoot grew upwards in front of his face.[19] In this state he still hunts through Malay forests, urging on his dogs as they hunt through the sky, with his gaze evermore turned upwards.[20]

“His wife, whom he left behind when he started on the fatal chase, was delivered in due time of two children—a boy and a girl. When they were old enough to play with other children, it chanced one day that the boy quarrelled with the child of a neighbour with whom he was playing. The latter reproached him with his father’s fate, of which the child had hitherto been ignorant, saying: ‘Thou art like thy father, who has become an evil spirit, ranging the forests day and night, and eating and drinking no man knows how. Get thee to thy father.’

“Then the boy ran crying to his mother and related what had been said to him. ‘Do not cry,’ said she, ‘it is true, alas! that thy father has become a spirit of evil.’ On this the boy cried all the more, and begged to be allowed to join his father. His mother yielded at last to his entreaties, and told him the name of his father and the names of the dogs. He might be known, she said, by his habit of gazing fixedly at the sky and by his four weapons—a blow-pipe (sumpitan), a spear, a kris, and a sword (klewang). ‘And,’ added she, ‘when thou hearest the hunt approaching, call upon him and the dogs by name, and repeat thy own name and mine, so that he may know thee.’

“The boy entered the forest, and, after he had walked some way, met an old man who asked him where he was going. ‘I go to join my father,’ said the lad. ‘If thou findest him,’ said the old man, ‘ask him where he has put my chisel which he has borrowed from me.’ This the boy promised to do, and continued his journey. After he had gone a long way he heard sounds like those made by people engaged in hunting. As they approached, he repeated the names which his mother had told him, and immediately found himself face to face with his father. The hunter demanded of him who he was, and the child repeated all that his mother had told him, not forgetting the message of the old man about the chisel. Then the hunter said: ‘Truly thou art my son. As for the chisel, it is true that when I started from home I was in the middle of shaping some bamboos to make steps for the house. I put the chisel inside one of the bamboos. Take it and return it to the owner. Return now and take care of thy mother and sister. As for him who reproached thee, hereafter we will repay him. I will eat his heart and drink his blood, so shall he be rewarded.’

“From that time forward the Spectre Huntsman has afflicted mankind, and many are those whom he has destroyed. Before dismissing his son, he desired him to warn all his kindred never to use bamboo for making steps for a house, and never to hang clothes to dry from poles stuck in between the joists supporting the floor, and thus jutting out at right angles with a house, ‘lest,’ said he, ‘I should strike against such poles as I walk along. Further,’ he continued, ‘when ye hear the note of the bird birik-birik at night, ye will know that I am walking near.’

Plate 3.—The Spectre Huntsman.

The Spectre Huntsman (Wild Huntsman) of Malay legend—taken from a model made by a Selangor Malay. The model shows the Spectre Huntsman himself carrying his spear in the right hand, and one of his hounds, which is lame, in a wallet at his side. The remainder of his dogs (all differently coloured) precede him in his search for his quarry.

Page 116.

“Then the boy returned to his mother and delivered to her and all their kindred the injunctions of the lost man. One account says that the woman followed her spectre husband to the forest, where she joins in the chase with him to this day, and that they have there children born in the woods. The first boy and girl retained their human form, according to this account, but some Pawangs say that the whole family are in the forest with the father.[21]

“Numerous mantra, or charms, against the evil influence of the Wild Huntsman are in use among the Pawangs, or medicine-men of Pêrak. These are repeated, accompanied by appropriate ceremonies, when the disease from which some sick person is suffering has been traced to an encounter with the hantu pemburu.[22]

“The following may serve as a specimen:—

“Bi-smi-lláhi-r-rahmáni-r-rahim.

Es-salamu ʿaleykum Hei Si Jidi laki Mah Jadah.

Pergi buru ka-rimba Ranchah Mahang.

Katapang nama bukit-nia,

Si Langsat nama anjing-nia,

Si Kumbang nama anjing-nia,

Si Nibong nama anjing-nia,

Si Pintas nama anjing-nia,

Si Aru-Aru nama anjing-nia,

Timiang Balu nama sumpitan-nia,

Lankapuri nama lembing-nia,

Singha-buana nama mata-nia,

Pisau raut panjang ulu

Akan pemblah pinang berbulu.

Ini-lah pisau raut deripada Maharaja Guru,

Akan pemblah prut hantu pemburu.

Aku tahu asal angkau mula menjadi orang Katapang.

Pulang-lah angkau ka rimba Ranchah Mahang.

Jangan angkau meniakat-meniakit pada tuboh badan-ku.

In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful,

Peace be on thee, O Si Jidi, husband of Mah Jadah.

Go thou and hunt in the forest of Ranchah Mahang.

Katapang is the name of thy hill,

Si Langsat is the name of thy dog,

Si Kumbang is the name of thy dog,

Si Nibong is the name of thy dog,

Si Pintas is the name of thy dog,

Si Aru-Aru is the name of thy dog,

Timiang Balu is the name of thy blow-pipe

Lankapuri is the name of thy spear,

Singha-buana is the name of its blade,

The peeling-knife with a long handle

Is to split in twain the fibrous betel-nut.

Here is a knife from Maharaja Guru,

To cleave the bowels of the Hunter-Spirit.

I know the origin from which thou springest,

O man of Katapang.

Get thee back to the forest of Ranchah Mahang.

Afflict not my body with pain or disease.

“In charms intended to guard him who repeats them, or who wears them written on paper, against the evil influences of the Spectre Huntsman, the names of the dogs, weapons, etc., constantly vary. The origin of the dreaded demon is always, however, ascribed to Katapang[23] in Sumatra. This superstition strikingly resembles the European legends of the Wild Huntsman, whose shouts the trembling peasants hear above the storm. It is, no doubt, of Aryan origin, and, coming to the Peninsula from Sumatra, seems to corroborate existing evidence tending to show that it is partly through Sumatra that the Peninsula has received Aryan myths and Indian phraseology. A superstitious prejudice against the use of bamboo in making a step-ladder for a Malay house and against drying clothes outside a house on poles stuck into the framework, exists in full force among the Pêrak Malays.

“The note of the birik-birik at night, telling as it does of the approach of the hantu pemburu, is listened to with the utmost dread and misgiving. The Bataks in Sumatra call this bird by the same name—birik-birik. It is noticeable that in Batak legends regarding the creation of the world, the origin of mankind is ascribed to Putri-Orta-Bulan, the daughter of Batara-Guru, who descended to the earth with a white owl and a dog.”[24]

To the information contained in the foregoing passage I would add the following observations:—

Charms for neutralising the power of the Spectre Huntsman are by no means uncommon, and though they almost invariably differ in unimportant details, such as the names of his dogs and weapons, they still bear strong and unmistakable family likeness. Still there are some versions which contain important divergencies (two or three of these versions will be found in the Appendix), and it will only be after the diligent collation and compilation of a great many versions that the real germ or nucleus of the myth as known to the Malays will be clearly apparent.

One of the charms given in the Appendix evidently alludes to a different version of the story; the lines which contain the allusion being as follows:—

“I know your origin, O man of penance,

Whose dwelling was upon the hill of Mount Ophir,

[You sprang] from a son of the Prophet Joseph who was wroth with his mother,

Because she would eat the hearts of the birds of Paradise.”

Yet even here, if we except the obvious interpolation of the reference to the “son of the Prophet Joseph,” the task of reconciling the conflicting versions may be easier than would appear at first sight.[25]

A still more curious deviation occurs in another version,[26] where the Spectre Huntsman’s poniard and k’ris are declared to be the insignia of the great Spirit-King Rama. The passage is as follows:—

“With a blind crow as his guide,

The giant demon, Si Adunada,

Carries (his weapons) slung over his shoulder with back bent double.

Salampuri is the name of his poniard (sĕkin),

Silambuara the name of his k’ris,

The insignia of the Demon Rama.”

That it is his weapons which the Spectre Huntsman’s son (Adunada) carries on his back appears from a passage below, which runs:—

“O Si Adunada, with the sword slung at your back,

Bent double you come from the lightwood swamps,

We did not guess that you were here.”

This reference to Rama opens up a long vista of possibilities, but for the present it will be sufficient to remark that the Spectre Huntsman himself is almost universally declared by the Malays to be the King of the Land-folk (Raja orang darat). It is on account of this kingship that his weapons receive distinguishing titles such as are given to royal weapons. This, too, is the reason that he is so much more dreaded by Malays than ordinary spirits of evil; his mere touch being considered sufficient to kill, by the exercise of that divine power which all Malay Rajas are held to possess.[27]

To return from the foregoing digression: there are many other curious legends connected with Birds. Thus, in 1882, Captain Kelham wrote as follows:—

“From Mr. W. E. Maxwell, H.M. Assistant Resident, of Lârut, I hear that the Malays have a strange legend connected with one of the large Hornbills; but which species I was not able to find out. It is as follows:—

“‘A Malay, in order to be revenged on his mother-in-law (why, the legend does not relate), shouldered his axe and made his way to the poor woman’s house, and began to cut through the posts which supported it. After a few steady chops the whole edifice came tumbling down, and he greeted its fall with a peal of laughter. To punish him for his unnatural conduct he was turned into a bird, and the tebang mentuah (literally, He who chopped down his mother-in-law) may often be heard in the jungle uttering a series of sharp sounds like the chop of an axe on timber, followed by Ha! ha! ha!’”[28]

The following account of the bird-lore of the Malay Peninsula was compiled by me from notes supplied to the Selangor Journal[29] by the late Sir William Maxwell:—

The Night-jar (Burong chĕroh[30]) takes its name from the word applied to the second stage in the operation of husking rice. Malay women husk rice by pounding it in a mortar with a wooden pestle. The husked grain is then commonly winnowed in a sieve, and the unhusked rice (antah) which remains has to be separated from the husked rice and pounded over again. The second process, which is called ckĕroh, is that from which the night-jar derives its name, the quick fancy of the Malay hearing in the note of the bird the slow measured stroke of a pestle (antan) descending in a mortar (lĕsong). This is possibly the foundation of the legend that the Night-jar is a woman who, while engaged in husking rice by moonlight, was turned into a bird in consequence of a quarrel with her mother. Another name for the night-jar is burong chempak.

The Burong sĕpah putri (“Princess’s betel-quid”) belongs to the Honey-birds or Bee-eaters, of which there are several species, remarkable chiefly for their brilliant metallic plumage. [A quaint story is told in explanation of its name: once upon a time the Owl (ponggok) fell in love with the Princess of the Moon (Pŭtri Bulan) and asked her to marry him. She promised to do so, if he would allow her first to finish her quid of betel undisturbed; but before finishing it she threw it down to the earth, where it took the form of the small bird in question. The Princess then requested the Owl to make search for it, but as, of course, he was unable to find it, the proposed match fell through. This is the reason why the Owl, to quote the Malay proverb, “sighs longingly to the Moon,” and is the type of the plaintive lover.[31]]

The Burong tinggal anak (lit. “Good-bye, children” bird) is a small bird whose note is to be heard at the season when the young rice is sprouting (musim padi pĕchah anak). As soon as her young are hatched out this bird dies in the nest, repeating the words “Tinggal anak” (“Good-bye, children”), and the maggots which breed in her corpse afford an unnatural nourishment to her unsuspecting offspring.

Burong diam ’kau Tuah, or “Hold your peace, Tuah,” is the name of a small bird which is said to repeat the words—

“Diam ’kau, Tuah,

K’ris aku ada,”

or,

“Hold thy peace, Tuah,

My k’ris (dagger) is with me.”

The story runs that once upon a time there was a man who had a slave called Tuah, who answered him back, and with whom he accordingly found fault, using the words given above. In the transport of his rage he was turned into a bird.

The bird called Kuau in Perak (kuau is the name given in Malacca and Selangor to the argus pheasant, which in Perak is called kuang) is about the size of the mynah (gambala kĕrbau), and is said to have been metamorphosed from a woman, the reason of whose transformation is not known. It is said to be unknown on the right bank of the Perak River.

The “‘Kap-kap’ bird” is the name of a night-bird of evil omen, whose note heard at night prognosticates death.

The Tearer of the shroud (Burong charik kapan) is also a night-bird, with a slow, deliberate note which the Malays declare sounds exactly like the tearing of cloth.[32] This signifies the tearing of the shroud, and unerringly forebodes death. Yet another night-bird ominous of approaching dissolution is the Tumbok larong. This bird, like the two preceding, is probably a variety of owl; the first and third are only found inland at a distance from the sea.

’Toh katampi (“Old-man-winnow-the-rice-for-the-burial-feast,” as Sir Frank Swettenham calls him,[33]) is a species of horned owl, which derives its name from a word meaning to winnow (tampi, mĕnampi). Malays say that this bird has a habit of treading upon the extremities of its own wings, and fluttering the upper part while thus holding them down. This singular habit produces a sound resembling that of winnowing.

The ’Toh katampi is larger than the Jampuk, another species of owl, which is popularly supposed to enter the fowl-house and there live on the intestines of fowls, which it extracts during life by means of a certain charm (ʿelmu pĕlali, a charm similar to those used by the Malays for filing teeth, etc.) which it uses in order to perform the operation painlessly.

The “Luck-bird” (Burong untong) is a very small white bird about the size of a canary. It builds a very small white nest, which if found and placed in a rice-bin possesses the valuable property of securing a good harvest to its owner. As, however, the nest is built on branches in places difficult of access it is but rarely found, and Malays will give $10 for a genuine specimen, while sellers are known to ask as much as $25.

The Ruwak-ruwak is a kind of Heron whose nest if discovered would give the possessor the power of becoming invisible (alimun). But as neither nest nor eggs can usually be found it is held to be childless. Yet, however, if it is possible to approach sufficiently near, when the bird is heard calling in the swamps, it may be seen dipping a twig or else its bent leg into the water, and accompanying its action with its call, as if it were bathing a child on its knee; hence the Malay who hears its note says mockingly, “the Ruwak-ruwak is bathing its young one.”

Tukang is the name given in Kedah to a kind of Hornbill, which is believed to be the same as the langlin of Perak. The horn is of a yellow tinge, and is made into buttons, which, the Malays say, turn to a livid colour whenever the wearer is about to fall sick, and black when he is threatened by the approach of poison.[34]

The Mĕrbu (? mĕrbok) is a variety of Dove which brings good luck to its owner. Instances have been known where all the houses in a village have been burnt except that which contained a mĕrbu; indeed, treatises have been written on the subject of keeping them. When the mĕrbu dies its body merely shrivels up instead of breeding worms, which, it is added, would be worth keeping as curiosities should any appear.[35]

The bird called Pĕdrudang is a diver which has the power of remaining under water for a very long time. It is only to be found where the fish called kĕlĕsah exist in large quantities. The eggs of the kĕlĕsah are of great size, and the Malays say, therefore, that it cohabits with the pĕdrudang. These eggs are considered a delicacy by the Malays, who make them into a sort of custard pudding (s’ri-kaya).

To the Ground-pigeon (Tĕkukur) belongs the following story:—“Once upon a time there was a maiden who lived in the forest with her parents and little sister. When she grew up she was troubled by an anxiety to accompany her father in his expeditions to the forest, where he was engaged in clearing the ground for a rice-plantation. Her parents, however, persuaded her to stay at home; first until the trees were felled, then until the fallen timber had been burnt off, then till the rice had been planted, and then again till it was cut. When, however, they attempted to put her off yet once more, until the rice should be trodden out, she could bear it no longer, and taking off her bracelets and earrings, which she left behind the door, and placing her little sister in the swinging-cot, she changed herself into a ground-dove and flew away to the clearing. [She retained her necklace, however, and this accounts for the speckled marks on this dove’s neck.] On arriving at the spot where her parents were engaged at work, she alighted on a dead tree stump (changgong), and called out thrice to her mother, ‘Mother, mother, I have left my earrings and bracelets behind the door, and have put my little sister in the swing.’ Her mother, amazed at these words, hastened home, and found her daughter gone. She then returned to the bird, which repeated the same words as before, this time, however, concluding with the coo of a dove. In vain the distressed parents endeavoured to recapture her, by cutting down the tree on which she had perched; before they had done so she flew to another, and after following her from tree to tree for several miles they were obliged to desist, and she was never recaptured.”[36]

The following notes on birds are taken from a reprint[37] of “Museum Notes” by Mr. L. Wray, jun., the official curator of the Perak Museum. Mr. Wray says:—

“The Weaver-bird, which makes the long hanging bottle-shaped nests occasionally seen hanging from the branches of a low tree, is said to use a golden needle in the work; and it is affirmed that if the nest is carefully picked to pieces, without breaking any part of it, the needle will be found; but if it is pulled ruthlessly apart, or if even a single piece of the grass of which it is made is broken in unravelling it, the golden needle will disappear. The makers of these curious and beautiful nests are said to always choose trees that are infested with red ants or wasps, or which grow in impassable swamps.”

The Weaver-bird (Ploceus Baya, Blyth) is called (in Selangor) Burong Tĕmpua or Chiak Raya. It is said to use only the long jungle grass called lalang for making its nest, which latter is called buah rabun, and is used by the Malays for polishing sheaths and scabbards. When an infant keeps crying, one of the parents takes the weaver-bird’s nest, reduces it to ashes, and fumigates the child by thrice moving it round in a circle over the smoke. Whilst doing so, the parent either stands up with the right toe resting upon the toe of the left foot, or else squats upon the left heel, bending the right knee, and saying, ‘As the weaver-bird’s young in its nest, so rest and weep not’ (Bagimana anak tĕmpua dalam sarang-nya, bagitu-lah ’kau diam jangan mĕnangis). To the above I may add that besides the ordinary bottle-shaped nest, the weaver-birds also occasionally make a hood-shaped, or rather a helmet-shaped nest, which is alleged by the Malays to be the male bird’s ‘swing’ (buayan). This ‘swing’ resembles the upper half of an ordinary bottle-shaped nest, with a perch across it, which latter is also woven of grass. On the walls of the swing, just over each end of the perch, is a small daub of clay. The Malays allege that the male bird swings in it while the hen bird is sitting, and that the young too ‘take the air’ in it as soon as they are able to fly so far. Into the two daubs of mud over the perch the male bird (say the Malays) sticks fire-flies to give itself light at night.

“The King crow[38] is called by the Malays the Slave of the Monkeys (Burong hamba kra). It is a pretty, active, noisy little bird, incessantly flying about with its two long racquet-shaped tail feathers fluttering after it. They say that when it has both of these feathers it has paid off its debt and is free, but when it is either destitute of these appendages, or has only one, it is still in bondage.

“The Gray Sea-eagle[39] is called Burong hamba siput ‘the Slave of the Shell-fish,’ and its office is to give warning by screaming to the shell-fish of the changes of the tide, so that they may regulate their movements, and those species which crawl about on the mud at low water may know when to take refuge in the trees and escape the rising tide, or when the tide is falling, that they may know when to descend to look for food.

“The Burong dĕmam, or ‘Fever bird,’ is so called from its loud, tremulous note, and the Malays say that the female bird calls in its fever-stricken voice to its mate to go and find food, because it has fever so badly that it cannot go itself. This bird is probably one of the large green barbets. The note is often heard, and doubtless the bird has been collected, but it is one thing shooting a bird and another identifying it as the producer of a certain note.

“Another bird, the White-breasted Water-hen, a frequenter of the edges of reedy pools and the marshy banks of streams, is reputed to build a nest on the ground which has the property of rendering any one invisible who puts it on his head. The prevailing idea among the Malays is that the proper and legitimate use to put it to is to steal money and other species of property.”

The next few notes on Malay bird-lore were collected by the writer in Selangor:—

The Toucan or small Hornbill (Ĕnggang) was metamorphosed from a man who, in conjunction with a companion, broke into the house of an old man living by himself in the jungle, and slew him for the sake of his wealth. When life was extinct they threw a sheet over the body, and proceeded to ransack the house, throwing the loot into a second sheet close to the corpse. Day was about to dawn, when a false alarm induced them to make a hurried departure, so that they picked up the sheet with their loot and made off with it, carrying it slung hastily upon a pole between them. As they proceeded on their way day commenced gradually to dawn, and the man behind noticing something unexpected about the bundle, and divining the cause, called out to his companion “Orang!” (pr. o rang) “The man!” His companion, misunderstanding his exclamation, thought he meant that they were pursued by “a man,” and only went all the faster, until, on hearing his comrade repeat the cry a second and a third time, he turned round, and there saw the feet of the man he had murdered protruding from the sheet, a sight which startled him to such a degree that he turned into a bird upon the spot, and flew away into a tree, repeating as he went the fatal cry of “O’Rang! ’Rang!” which had caused the transformation. And to this day, whenever the Malay hears among the tree-tops the cry of “’Rang! ’rang!” he knows that he is listening to the cry of the murderer.[40]

The Argus-pheasant[41] and the Crow[42] in the days of King Solomon were bosom friends, and could never do enough to show their mutual friendship. One day, however, the argus-pheasant, who was then dressed somewhat dowdily, suggested that his friend the crow should show his skill with the brush by decorating his (the argus-pheasant’s) feathers. To this the crow agreed, on condition, however, that the arrangement should be mutual. The argus-pheasant agreed to this, and the crow forthwith set to work, and so surpassed himself that the argus-pheasant became, as it is now, one of the most beautiful birds in the world. When the crow’s task was done, however, the argus-pheasant refused to fulfil his own part of the bargain, excusing himself on the plea that the day of judgment was too near at hand. Hence a fierce quarrel ensued, at the end of which the argus-pheasant upset the ink-bottle over the crow, and thus rendered him coal-black.[43] Hence the crow and the argus-pheasant are enemies to this day.

The bird called “Barau-barau” is said to have once been a bidan (midwife) whose employers (anak bidan) refused to pay her for her services, and kept constantly putting her off. Her patience, however, had its limits, and one day, after experiencing the usual evasion, she broke out into a torrent of intemperate language, in the midst of which she was changed into a bird, whose querulous note may be recognised as the voice of the aged woman as she cries out for the payment of her just wages.

About the big Kingfisher (Pĕkaka) an amusing parallel to the fable of the Fox and the Crow is related. It is said that this kingfisher once caught a fish, and flew to a low branch just overhanging the water to devour it. The fish, seeking for a means to save his life, decided to try the effect of a speech, and accordingly addressed his captor in the following verses, judiciously designed to appeal at once to her vanity and compassion:—

“O Kingfisher! Kingfisher!

What a glistening, glittering beak!

Yet while you, Big Sister, are filling your maw,

Little Brother will lose his life.”

At this critical juncture the Kingfisher opens her beak to laugh, and the fish slips back into his native element and escapes!

Fowling Ceremonies

Ideas of sympathetic magic run very strongly through all ceremonies connected with the taking of wild birds, such for instance as jungle-fowl or pigeon.

The commonest method of snaring jungle-fowl is to take a line (called rachik), with a great number of fine nooses attached to it, and set it so as to form a complete circle, enclosing an open space in the forest. You must bring a decoy-bird with you, and the instructions which I collected say that you should on arriving enter the circle, holding the bird like a fighting cock, and repeat these lines:—

“Ho, Si Lanang, Si Tĕmpawi,

Come and let us play at cock-fighting

On the border-line between the primary and secondary forest-growth.

Your cock, Grandsire, is spurred with steel.

Mine is but spurred with bamboo.”

Here deposit the bird upon the ground. The challenge of the decoy-bird will then attract the jungle-fowl from all directions, and as they try to enter the circle (in order to reach the decoy), they will entangle themselves in the nooses.

As often as you succeed, however, in catching one, you must be careful to cast the “mischief” out of it, using the same form of words as is used to drive the “mischief” out of the carcase of the deer.

The method of catching wild pigeon is much more elaborate, and brings the animistic ideas of the Malays into strong relief, the “souls” of the wild pigeon being repeatedly referred to.

Plate 4.—Pigeon Decoy Hut.

Used in snaring wild pigeon.

Page 133.

First you build a small sugar-loaf (conical) hut (called bumbun) in a carefully selected spot in the jungle. This hut may be from four to five feet high, is strongly built of stakes converging to a point at the top, and is thickly thatched with leaves and branches. The reason for making it strong is that there is always an off-chance that you may receive a visit from a tiger. At the back of the hut you must leave a small square opening (it can hardly be dignified with the name of a door), about two feet high and with a flap to it, through which you can creep into the hut on your hands and knees. [I may remark, parenthetically, that you will find the hut very damp, very dark, and very full of mosquitoes, and that if you are wise you will take with you a small stock of cigarettes.] In front of the hut, that is to say, on the side away from the door, if you want to proceed in the orthodox way, you will have to clear a small rectangular space, and put up round it on three sides (right, left, and front opposite the hut) a low railing consisting of a single bar about 18 inches from the ground. This is to rail off what is called “King Solomon’s Palace-yard,” and will also be useful from a practical point of view, as it will serve as a perch for your “decoy.”[44]

The instructions proceed as follows:—

Before entering the hut the wizard must go through what is called the “Neutralising Rice-paste” (tĕpong tawar) ceremony, first in the centre of the enclosed space, and then in each corner successively, beating each of the forked sticks (uprights) at the corners with a bunch of leaves. He must then take the decoy-tube, and after reciting the appropriate charm, sound a long-drawn note in each corner successively, and then insert the mouth-end of it into the hut through a hole in the thatch, supporting the heavy outer end upon a forked upright stick. Then entering the hut, he slips the noose at the end of the decoy-bird’s rod on to the decoy-bird’s feet, and pushing the bird out through the front door of the hut, makes it flutter on to one of the horizontal rods, where it will sit, if well trained, and call its companions. After a time the decoy-bird’s challenge is met by first one and then many counter challenges, then the wild pigeon approach, there is a great fluttering of wings, and presently one of the first arrivals flies down and commences to walk round and round the hut. Then the wizard awaits his opportunity, and as the pigeon passes in front of the door he pushes out one of the rods with a noose at the end, slips the noose over the bird’s neck or feet, and drags it into the hut.

The hut must be used, if possible, before the leaves with which it is thatched have faded, as the wild pigeon are less likely to be suspicious of the hut when its thatch is green.

In the way just described any number of pigeon can be taken, a bag of twenty or thirty being a fair average for a day’s work under favourable conditions.

The “call” will occasionally, for some unexplained reason, attract to the spot wild animals such as deer (especially mouse-deer) and tigers. Is it not possible that the story of the lute of Orpheus may have had its origin in some old hunting custom of the kind?

The following are specimens of the charms used by the wizard:—

When you are about to start (to decoy pigeons) say—

“It is not I who am setting out,

It is ’Toh Bujang Sibor[45] who is setting out.”

Then sound the decoy-tube (buluh dĕkut) thrice loudly, and say—

“I pray that they (the pigeons) may come in procession, come in succession,

To enter into this bundle[46] of ours.”

Now set out, and when you reach the conical hut (bumbun) say—

“My hut’s name is the Magic Prince,

My decoy’s name is Prince Distraction,

Distraught be ye, O Kapor[47] (pigeon),

Distraught be ye, O Puding[47] (pigeon),

Distraught be ye, O Sarap[47] (pigeon),

Distraught (with desire) to enter our bundle.”

Or else when you first reach the hut, “take the (leaves of) the branch of a tree which is as high as your head, the leaves of the branch of a tree which is as high as your waist, the leaves of the branch of a tree which is as high as your knee, and the leaves of a tree which is only as high as your ankle-joint. Make them all into a bunch, and with them “flick” the outside of the hut, saying these lines—

“Dok Ding [stands for the] ‘Do’ding’ Pigeon,

Which makes three with the Madukara Pigeon,

The twig breaks, and the twig is pressed down,

And our immemorial customs are restored.”

When scattering the rice, say—

“Sift, sift the broken rice-ends,

Sift them over the rush-work rice-bag,

As one disappears another is invited,

Invited and brought down.

If you descend not, the Bear-cat (Binturong) shall devour you,

If you come not, wild beasts shall devour you,