CHAPTER I THE CHAM General characteristics of the Cham—A Mohammedan group—Its place among ancient civilizations—Social life—Dress and ornaments—The calendar—Rites accompanying the construction of a house, a cart, and a junk—Agriculture and industry—Medicines—The use of narcotics by criminals to stupefy their victims. I have now concluded my investigation of the complex of barbarous peoples who, in spite of the proximity of civilized races, have preserved almost intact the rudimentary instincts and ferocious customs of primitive man. No account of these regions, however, would be complete which omitted all references to the Cham,[2] a curious Mohammedan people, formerly very powerful, whose conversion to that faith took place during the zenith of their power and prosperity. The traces of this one-time pre-eminence and the Cham themselves are fast disappearing. The group belongs to the Malayo-Polynesian race, of which the parent stock seems to have inhabited the region of Annam. The Cham were formerly the rulers of the powerful Empire of Champa, which occupied, as far as we can judge from the somewhat conflicting and unsatisfactory evidence, the eastern coast-line of Indo-China proper. Marco Polo tells us of the fertility of this region in the thirteenth century. It may even be that this country is the self-same Zabai of which Ptolemy speaks. Nominally Islam is the official religion of this people who seem to have passed through previous stages of Animism and Brahminism. The ancient faiths were too well established to be uprooted by the Moslem conquerors and the outcome is a strange conglomeration in which the ancestral superstitions frequently profit at the expense of the precepts of the Koran. The last survivors of this once flourishing empire (in all perhaps 130,000 souls), are now confined to the province of Binh-Thuan in Annam. At the time of its downfall before the rising power of the Annamites many of the conquered preferred exile in Cambodia and Siam rather than humiliation and servitude in the land of their birth. The opportunity of observing and noting the customs, beliefs, and institutions of the Cham was furnished by the preliminary survey which preceded the construction of the railway from Phantiet to Phanrang. During the whole of this time our party was quartered among this interesting people and had many opportunities of developing friendly, and even intimate, relations. We cannot pretend to have been the first to do so, for previous to our arrival two eminent philologists, MM. Aymonier and Cabaton, had made a searching examination of the manuscripts in the possession of the priests and published two singularly exhaustive studies on the subject.[3] The Cham have preserved almost unmodified their physical and moral characteristics, largely by means of their law which prohibits intermarriage with any other people. For this reason they exhibit a marked contrast to the Annamites. The average height of a man is about five feet six inches, that of a woman five feet. The skin is somewhat coarse and varies between a dark brown and a shade of reddish brown such as a European acquires after long exposure in a tropical climate. The auburn or black hair is fine and brittle, while the growth of beard and moustache is more generous than among the Annamites. Partial, or even total, albinism is not uncommon. The lips and facial outline offer resemblances to those of the European. This is not remarkable, for of all Asiatics the Cham and the Malays exhibit the nearest approach to the Western type. In spite of a certain tendency to be hollow-backed the women are of fine presence, elegant, and graceful in their movements. Their carriage in walking is particularly remarkable and can be compared with that of the Egyptians. The women of both these races habitually carry heavy objects either on their shoulders or heads and can only maintain them in equilibrium thanks to the most perfect ease in their movements. If the vigour of this race has not deteriorated during the last centuries it is certain that their fertility has diminished. For some time the birthrate has remained stationary. Retrogression is exhibited in other ways also, for although their ancient civilization must have been highly advanced, little trace of it remains in their present low level of intellect. All ambition to renew the glories of the past has long since evaporated. The ruins of many monuments tell of the ancient splendours, but the living representatives are quite content to recount the triumphs without any desire to emulate them. Is it incapacity or merely universal apathy? The indolence of the Cham is notorious. Even the building of their houses they leave to their neighbours the Annamites. The first time I entered a Cham village I was amazed at the absence of all vegetation. Shade is one of the prime necessities of life in this country, where the fierce rays of the sun pour down pitilessly all day and make it painful, and even dangerous, for a man to be exposed to them without cover. My colleagues, who had been established in the place for some time, soon explained that as long as we remained among the Cham we might as well relinquish vain hopes of finding a house which would not be exposed to the sun. This inconvenient defect is the outcome of a popular superstition that the shade of a tree exerts a baneful influence over the house beneath it. A somewhat similar belief prevails in Cambodia, where, however, the minister of evil is alleged to be not the shade but the roots of trees which penetrate below a house. However, the lack of shade was by no means the greatest discomfort we were called on to face. There were many others. A native habitation comprises as many miniature houses as there are households (and almost even members) in the family. Every girl of marriageable age has a special room. The married members have another, while a third is reserved for the boys who have attained puberty. Naturally, the larger the family the smaller are the separate rooms, and so the apartment assigned to us was usually little more than a box with space for only a small folding-bed, the solitary piece of furniture. These low, thatched huts were scattered about a kind of compound bounded on each side by a flimsy palisade of bamboos secured together by thongs of cane. The costume of the men consists of a skirt and a very long robe. The women wear a large piece of cloth wrapped round to form a rude skirt. Gay colours are somewhat restricted, white and white striped with red and green being the most popular. For bodice they have a clinging dark-green tunic open at the throat. Their taste in jewellery is remarkably restrained. The rich wear silver or gold buttons in their ears. Of the poorer classes some confine their personal embellishment to copper nails and others wear a plait made of coloured threads which falls over their shoulders. We sometimes noticed bracelets on the wrists of some of the girls. This ornament serves to remind its wearer of the temporary vow of chastity which she has taken to guard her against some danger or cure an illness. Others again wear a necklace of large amber beads from which hangs the Tamrak, a kind of amulet which wards off the powers of evil. This indispensable talisman consists of a small cylinder of lead on which a priest has traced mystic characters with a sharp-pointed instrument. Both sexes keep their hair long and, like the Annamites, twist it into a knot at the back. The men wear as head-dress either a large turban or sometimes merely a kerchief. Pockets are unknown, but two purses hung from a long girdle provide an excellent substitute. In early times the Cham princes set up their royal residence and the seat of government in Phanrang. In the seventeenth century their office was still hereditary, but the Court of HuÉ reserved the right of investiture. In the nineteenth century successive invasions undermined the authority of those potentates and all appointments to administrative offices were made by the Annamite conquerors, who made their selection among the local aristocracy. The Cham of Cambodia are all Mohammedans, but of those of Annam about two-thirds have remained Brahmins. Their countrymen of the later faith call them "Kaphirs" (infidels), and reserve to themselves the title of "Bani" (sons of the faith). Nevertheless, there is perfect toleration between the followers of the two religions. The priests honour with their presence the ritual ceremonies of the group whose beliefs they do not share and neither party attempts to make converts of the adherents of the other. The calendar of the Cham is partly lunar and partly solar. The beginning and end of each month coincides with a new moon. As in the Hindu calendar, this lunar month has a light half which culminates in the full moon and a dark half which is terminated by the new moon. The duodenary cycle is employed for the purpose of measuring time. This system was invented by the Turks, but the Chinese have been mainly instrumental in securing its adoption throughout the Far East. Each of the twelve years of which it is composed is called by the name of some animal—Rat, Buffalo, Tiger, Hare, Dragon, Snake, Horse, Goat, Monkey, Cock, Dog, Boar. The year begins in April-May and comprises twelve lunar months of thirty and twenty-nine days alternatively. They are numbered from one up to ten, but the eleventh and twelfth have special names. Every three years a month is added, and it may well be imagined to what difficulties and disputes this proceeding gives rise in the absence of agreement between the villages. There are seven days in the week. Their names are borrowed from the Sanscrit and, like ours, represent a planet. Each day has twelve hours, twice the length of ours, of which the first begins at cockcrow. The night consists of five watches. These are the component parts of the system in which it is quite simple to calculate any date. For example, a document may be dated thus: "Signed, Monday the fourth day of the light half of the fifth month of the year of the Dragon." It is probable that in early times the Cham computed time by a system similar to that of the ancient Javanese, a people with whom they maintained close political and commercial relations, as witness several alliances between members of the two reigning houses. The Javanese calendar comprised a week of five days, a month of six weeks, a year of ten months, each with its special tutelary deity. Life among the Cham is greatly complicated by rules of etiquette, of which the most stringent regulate the relations between those of different age and rank. Age is regarded with special reverence and an old man, whatever his social condition, is always addressed as Uncle or Grandfather by his juniors in years. An inferior addresses his superior as Elder Brother. As in Cambodia methods of greeting are various. If a man meets a friend of superior station a due and proper sign of deference is to adjust his girdle or cross the cloth which fulfils the functions of trousers. If he is carrying an umbrella he will hold it forward towards the person he thus wishes to honour. Then a conversation will take place. During the whole time he will take the greatest care to avoid swinging his arms, the most flagrant act of disrespect. To guard against even an unwitting breach of this regulation a well-bred Cham will clasp his hands together, a precaution which prevents any movement of the arms. If a woman desires to address a request to a Mandarin or a European, her preliminary salutation is a complicated manoeuvre which recalls the Andjali of the Hindus and cannot be executed without preparation. She takes off the turban which keeps her hair in position, wraps it round her like a shawl, drops on her knees and finally prostrates herself three times in succession at full length on the ground. In the interval between each prostration she rubs her face with her hands. In India, where etiquette takes a different form, no one should appear in public without an ornament of some kind in the hair; if the head is completely unadorned it signifies either mourning or absolute retirement from the world. This rule seems to be of very ancient origin and to have been kept alive largely by sculpture. It is remarkable that all the statues of divinities in the temples have an ornament of some kind in the hair. It is not merely the number and variety of the rules of etiquette which distinguish the Cham from other groups of similar culture. They are equally remarkable for the multiplicity of the rites which accompany each act, however insignificant, of their daily life. I can only recount here some of the more important ones which present features of their own. An accidental fire destroyed the native house which a village chief had placed at our disposal, during the survey in that neighbourhood. We offered to rebuild it on our own lines, with the latest improvements. Far from expressing any gratification at the suggestion he showed the greatest surprise and displeasure and was more than contented with the very modest sum we gave him with which to do the work himself. Little did we imagine the trials in store for us. We were provided with temporary accommodation in a barn, without shade of any sort. The ill-fitting planks let in as much sun as rain and wind, and we were all impatience to see the completion of our future dwelling. Time, however, counts for next to nothing in the Far East, and for nothing at all among the Cham. Within a few days it was patent that a long delay was inevitable and we were soon resigned to the prospect of waiting indefinitely while the rebuilding, impeded by innumerable daily ceremonies, proceeded from stage to stage. First of all, a place which is to be hallowed by the performance of so many rites must be enclosed within a light palisade as holy ground. For this purpose dead wood is chosen, for it must never be forgotten that the shade cast by foliage forbodes evil. In this enclosing wall an opening is made to give passage to the divinities of the five cardinal points. Without their help it would be vain for man to enter upon so grave an undertaking. The area having thus been marked out, the next step is to determine its centre. For this purpose a cord is requisitioned. The spot thus fixed serves as a point by which to find the positions for the columns which are to support the building. A hole is dug to furnish a foundation for the north-east column. Into this the owner throws a magic amulet with the most elaborate precaution. The talisman consists of a sheet of lead on which certain mystic characters are engraved. Only after this solemn consecration is the column fixed in position. The day's work is then concluded. Next day a similar performance accompanies the establishment of a second column. One day one column is more than we can stand, and after every form of persuasion and argument the easy-going architect consents to consecrate the remaining columns on the same day. Alas! When the framework of the roof is complete religious observance requires that an amulet shall be inserted at every point of contact with the beams of the walls! Then again there is a prolonged and bitter controversy over the choice of thatch. Our Annamite coolies have been foolish enough to collect a supply of bulrushes which are considered to exert a malignant influence! The offending material is immediately burnt and a new delay begins. At length the work is completed and the house stands ready for immediate occupation. Nothing seems to prevent our entry into possession and at daybreak we move across with our baggage and establish ourselves each in his diminutive cabin. Hardly has the unpacking begun than the owner rushes in with hands upraised in horror. In our haste we have unwittingly committed almost every conceivable act of sacrilege! A cat should have been the first to enter the new abode, and after it the Master, and he alone may declare the building open. There is no help for it. We hastily put back our belongings and tumble the boxes out into the yard. We remain as unwilling spectators of a ceremony which we are assured is positively the last. Our host prostrates himself on the ground at the exact spot which he selects for his own bed. He then rises and intones a chant proper to the occasion, which consists of the recital of all the places to be avoided when selecting a site for a new dwelling. "I will flee far," says the Holy Canticle, "from the haunts of the White Ant. I will turn aside from the dwelling-places of demons and evil spirits. Sloping places I will shun. I will sound clayey soil. In short I will never be found where evil is to be apprehended." And the pious architect concludes the last of the rites and leaves us to the place. Irritated though we were by the interminable proceedings which had postponed our occupation of the promised land, it is only fair to say that at all times we displayed the greatest interest in other ritual ceremonies which involved no personal disadvantages to ourselves. Each day provided us with new matter for investigation and speculation. Undoubtedly one of the most curious proceedings is the consecration of a cart before its entry into active service. The manufacture of these vehicles is, perhaps, the most flourishing industry of the Cham. Their reputation is almost world-wide and thoroughly deserved. The industry dates from a very early period and was brought into prominence during the fourteenth century by the demand of the Hindu princes for beautiful cars for wedding gifts to their brides. The dedication takes place with the greatest pomp and is not complete without a sacrifice. First the wheelwright sprinkles his new material with holy water, then takes it to the river bank. There he subjects it to a severe scouring, after which it is considered as purified. Next coloured tapers are fixed on the uprights and finally he draws his knife and cuts out the framework. "Cart," he cries, "woe betide you if ever the fancy take you not to roll your best." The Cham prefer the banks of a river or the shores of a lake as a site for their settlements. They frequently build whole villages on huge floating rafts, but the staple industry of these lake-dwelling groups is the building of light boats and racing skiffs. These are made from trees and, as long narrow trunks are indispensable, the favourite medium is the dipterocarpus, which is plentiful in these regions. The tree is felled and then hollowed to its full length, the ends being shaped to a tapering point. To obtain the necessary elasticity the parts are exposed to a wood fire before the moulding process is commenced. Every stage of the proceedings is accompanied by prayers and sacrifices such as we have seen marking the dedication of the wagon. It is general knowledge that in Cambodia and the region of Laos canoe races figure in all public festivals of importance. These regattas attract a large number of spectators of all nations and the Cham naturally take a conspicuous part. The boats display quite a high standard of artistic skill. On the inside they are decorated with red lacquer. On the outside they are black and gold. Some idea of the size appears in the fact that they are sometimes built to accommodate fifty paddlers. Every king, prince, bonze and noble has, or should have, his private boat and liveried crew, for the races proper are preceded by an aquatic procession, when each boat passes before the dais on which is seated the President of the Festivities. Nothing could be more elating than the sight of the beautiful rhythmical movements of the paddlers swinging forward with mechanical precision until their foreheads almost touch their knees. These voluntary sailors furnish an example of discipline which might well be followed in high places. Agriculture among the Cham is limited to the cultivation of a few ricefields and the growth of tobacco, cotton and pea-nuts. Cattle-raising does not include that of cows and pigs, the flesh of which is forbidden by religion. Other industries are bee-keeping, the export of the wax for religious purposes, and the manufacture of torches of resin which find a ready market among the Annamites. I have already mentioned other specialities. Agriculture, commerce and industry show not the least sign of expansion. The Cham is not ambitious, much less inventive and exhibits no trace of envy of his progressive Annamite conquerors, whose industrious activity is a vivid contrast to the proverbial lethargy of Orientals. Unhappily the indifference of the Cham to material prosperity is a recent development. In the great days of Empire they must have been a very active and intelligent race and even to-day we find relics of their inventive skill among their Medicine Men. These specialists jealously guard the secret, which has been handed down by tradition, of certain medicines to which Europeans have had recourse on occasion. More than once during our expedition we were glad to invite the good offices of the native herbalists when, prostrated by dysentery, shivering with fever or weakened by anÆmia, we had exhausted the resources of our own pharmaceutical arsenal. The native doctors are as skilful as the Chinese in utilizing various simples and are quite familiar with the medicinal properties of certain animal products. We have known cases in which an unnameable brew, of which the principal constituents were the shells of beetles, the scales of snakes, and the parings of stags' antlers and bullocks' hooves, effected a quicker cure than all our European drugs, for all their scientific names. The pharmacopoeia of the Cham is certainly an offshoot of that of the Chinese. It comprises a list of all manner of remedies for moral as well as physical disorders. Camphor, a substance universally appreciated, appears also among the medicines of the Cham. They use a certain oil which, when impregnated with camphor, acts as an anÆsthetic by evaporating and producing a freezing sensation. It forms a kind of liniment and is kept in a small, brightly coloured glass flask, which is stoppered with a cork of wax to prevent evaporation. Wax is also used to make capsules, about the size of a pigeon's egg, to hold drugs and other medicinal substances which must be kept from contact with the air. Cholera, which is endemic throughout this region, is treated by taking pills made up of a mixture of sandalwood, the bark of the mangostan, and eagle-wood. Eagle-wood, of which I shall have much to say later on, is well known as an excellent tonic. Popular superstition endows it with powers so remarkable that a single piece could effect an immediate cure. Most of the brews or broths are prepared by decoction rather than by infusion and the operation should take place over a slow fire, which makes them more potent. Their effect is extremely violent, and in Europe we should unhesitatingly classify them with the group of remedies popularly known as "horse pills." Among the most potent I might mention the gall of animals which is often used to produce the effect of an emetic. At one time the Cham sorcerers used human bile as well as that of animals. This human bile was useless unless taken from a living subject, and consequently murders without number were committed for the purpose of obtaining it. Its reputation as a talisman was universal. It was said that any man who rubbed himself with it became invulnerable. Of course it was inevitable that a warrior should become invincible when he was certain that his victory, thanks to his supernatural protection, was a foregone conclusion. The King himself had no doubts as to the efficacy of this talisman and before going into battle ordered his elephants to be sprayed with it. His special emissaries, who enjoyed the name of Jalavoi ("Stealers of human bile"), drew their host of victims from every quarter, and even to-day the memories of their horrid activities evoke a shudder. Happily those evil days have departed. Human bile is no longer used either for protective or medicinal purposes. It remains only as the subject of legend. Besides this special and curious emetic the Cham produce the same effect by certain mechanical processes the originality of which merits detailed description. When a sick man's stomach seems overladen with bile and the medicine man wishes to empty it completely, he stuffs a rag soaked in urine and other evil-smelling substances into the patient's mouth. He rams it down as far as it will go and then quickly withdraws it. Physical aversion and the irritation of the glottis produced by a foreign body immediately provoke a spasm of sickness. No doubt some milder emetic would have been equally successful. I frequently doctored the Cham and I can bear witness that they make the best of patients. They took ipecacuanha, castor-oil, or sulphate of soda, as if they enjoyed them. When they came again they often brought me a present of a little candle in a curious candlestick made from the banana-plant. I learnt later that it was the custom to bring an offering of some kind in lieu of fee to the native doctors. Suicide is very uncommon in these regions, where the means of life are within the reach of all, passions easily mastered, and an easy-going philosophy is practised from the cradle. The few who find life not worth living leave it with the help of opium which they mix with vinegar. At present the native authorities throughout Indo-China have taken no steps to regulate the manufacture and sale of poisons. It is quite usual for the most virulent of these to be sold publicly in the open market, and it must be admitted that any regulations would probably be ineffective to stop the trade. Nature in Asia has always been lavish with toxic substances. Even if the sale of these were prohibited, anyone could find as many as he wished in the nearest forest. This abundance is undoubtedly responsible for the large and increasing number of murders by poison which distinguish the regions inhabited by the Cham. We ourselves, isolated in the bush, had to take the most elaborate precautions to prevent fatalities of this kind. On our arrival in the country we were forewarned of the danger by the French resident magistrate of the province. He laid special stress on the risks run by young bachelors who attempted any intimacies with the native girls. The seducer, it appears, is marked out for destruction, even if he has only yielded to the blandishments of the woman. Further, many of the Cham poisons only work slowly and the mischief they cause in the system is frequently taken for disorders which follow anÆmia and other illnesses, to which foreigners in this climate are peculiarly liable. One of my colleagues died from an attack of what we believed to be malaria. We all feel now that if an autopsy had been made we should probably have discovered that what we thought was cachexia was the effect of poison. Besides being familiar with the nature and use of poisons the Cham are also expert in concocting stupefying drugs and narcotics of all kinds. They often poison the air of a room in which a patient is lying by blowing stupefying vapours through hollow canes inserted in the wattled walls. The effect of these fumes is to make the victim sleep more heavily and the criminals take advantage of this circumstance to rob him at their leisure. I had a vivid personal experience of this diabolical procedure. One evening I arrived with my escort at a house which our coolies had built specially for us and where we were to stay several weeks. The furniture consisted of nothing more than a bamboo bedstead supporting a mattress of cotton wadding. My room was very narrow and the seven cases which contained my instruments and cooking utensils were all the furniture I needed in addition. I told my boy to push two of these cases under the bed in order to save space. We had been marching all day under a tropical sun and I flung myself on the mattress and fell asleep at once. I awoke, according to habit, at about four in the morning and was surprised to feel myself so cramped that I could hardly move. To add to my astonishment I could not find my matches which I always kept within reach. The case which I had placed to serve as a bedside table had likewise disappeared. With great effort I rose from bed and stumbling at each step managed to get out of the house. My sole garment was my pyjamas, for my clothes had followed the matches. It was still dark and I soon collided with an obstacle which proved on investigation to be one of the cases. I was somewhat alarmed and called for my servants. No one answered. A feeling of overpowering drowsiness overcame me and I had just time to get back to my bed before I fell asleep again. When morning came my orderly came in to announce that six out of the seven boxes were scattered about the outskirts of our camp. Locks had been forced and all my papers, instruments, photographic plates and prints, and wallets ruthlessly thrown out after obvious examination. It was plain that the burglars had been hunting for bank-notes. Fortunately I had no money in the cash-box. I had left the few thousand piastres which constituted our reserve with a colleague, so the total haul did not amount to more than two silver bangles and a few gewgaws, which together were not worth more than ten piastres. As for the seventh case, it contained the whole of our supplies, and its disappearance left us with nothing but the impressions of our journey to breakfast on. That evening, while clearing the thickets quite six kilometres from our camp, our coolies came upon the missing case. It was almost intact. Only one box had been opened and it bore upon its label a sketch of the sucking-pig it contained. As swine's flesh is abhorred by the Cham I can only conclude that we owed the recovery of our portable larder to that happy chance. Two years later a second attempt of the same kind and not less audacious was perpetrated upon me. I was at Hanoi, residing in a house situated in a narrow avenue and next to the barracks. It was at the beginning of the rainy season and a violent storm was raging. I was sleeping on the first floor, and one of my Tonkinese orderlies, a hardy young bachelor, stationed himself at the bottom of the stairs to guard me. I had allowed another to bring his family into the house and the family, including its real members, friends and acquaintances, turned out to comprise eleven persons. In return for this concession they arranged to mount guard in turn. It will be acknowledged that I was thus not alone in the desert! It must have been about midnight and I was dozing lightly (being prevented from sleeping by feverishness), when I suddenly noticed that my reading-lamp outside the mosquito-net was lit. It occurred to me that I could not have been so foolish as to leave it lit and I distinctly remembered putting out the light when I got into bed. I sat up to rouse my senses and heard a slight noise in the next room. I was out of bed in a moment just in time to catch a parcel of clothing which was evidently thrown at me to trip me up. By the light from the reading-lamp I distinctly saw a man perfectly naked, his body shining as if he had just had a bath in oil. I remembered in a flash that the Annamite robber always take this precaution to make capture more difficult. Before I could snatch my revolver the burglar had displayed his ape-like agility by leaping through the window and vanishing in the darkness. I called up my men, but they only told me they had heard nothing. I confess with shame I lost my temper. Suspecting those whom I had so imprudently harboured of complicity in the plot I hunted from the house all except my usual staff. I enjoyed such consolation as was afforded by the sight of the silhouettes of the defaulting watchmen cowering in the pelting rain. Any remorse I experienced quickly vanished when I made inquiries later! CHAPTER II SOCIAL AND FAMILY LIFE Traces of the matriarchal system in the conception of the family—The "Karoh"—Circumcision—Precautions against seduction—Rites incidental to betrothal, marriage, birth and infancy. It is well known that the ancient matriarchal system of government and ownership still flourishes among certain peoples who inhabit the peninsula of the Ganges and some groups of Malayo-Polynesian origin. In this system man belongs to an inferior order of creation. All political and social authority is exercised by woman and she alone can possess and inherit. This veritable triumph of feminism might have been expected to produce results far more disastrous than has been the case. Proof that life under such circumstances can be both possible and tolerable is furnished by the history of the Malays of the Negri Sambilan (British Malaysia), which is little more than a monotonous record of good fortune and prosperity. The system is frequently accompanied by the institution of polyandry in which the husbands cohabit in turn with the common wife who has herself selected them. Now the institutions of both the Cham and the Cambodians show traces of descent from an earlier organization of which the matriarchal system was the distinguishing feature. On no other hypothesis can we account for some striking facts. Family is traced through the mother. The children take her name, adopt her religion if they are the issue of a mixed marriage, and remain her property in case of divorce. Inheritance descends in the female line alone. A woman is the principal figure in many of the domestic ceremonies and she retains at all times the right to select her husband. The time at which girls pass from infancy to puberty (when they are at once considered of marriageable age) is celebrated by a curious ceremony called the "Karoh," which is doubtless derived from that precept of the Koran which prohibits a repudiated or divorced woman from entering upon a new union until after a retirement extending over three menstrual periods. The festival lasts two days and the proceedings are under the personal supervision of the Ong Gru (High Priest) himself, who is assisted by a number of acolytes. Two huts of boughs and leaves are constructed specially for the occasion. One is destined to serve as dormitory to the girls of the village whose puberty is to be officially recognized. The other is to accommodate the numerous audience which always gathers to witness the accomplishment of the rite. At the first sign of daybreak the young neophytes advance in a group towards the High Priest. Each wears her gayest robes and her most precious jewels. Her hair falling freely on her shoulders is crowned with a mitre. One by one they bow reverentially before the officiating minister who places on their lips a grain of salt, offers a cup of pure water, and then cuts a piece of hair from their foreheads. This last action signifies that the girls' reputation is unsullied. If the contrary is demonstrated by ocular proof the piece of hair will be taken not from the forehead but from the back of the neck. This constitutes, both among the Cham and the Cambodians, a mark of infamy. A one-year-old baby, carried in the arms of an old man, is the object of the same rites. The girls thus initiated now retire to the place assigned to them, obviously to carry out the semblance of withdrawal from the world. During their absence the priests take a hearty meal, the remains of which are distributed to the faithful. About midday the girls return, this time with their hair twisted into a knot on their necks, a patent indication that the age of marriage has been reached. Relations and friends join in offering them gifts to celebrate the happy event. A generous feast follows to which are invited all who have taken any part in the proceedings, and shortly after the girls enter into their new sphere. Photo by A. Cabaton. Royal Elephants in Cambodia. Photo by Henri MaÎtre. A Buddhist Procession carrying Offerings to a Distant Pagoda.
The High Priests say that the "Karoh" is in essence a symbol. The moon, a feminine divinity, attains her full perfection only at the fifteenth day. In the same way the "Karoh" must be celebrated as nearly as possible in a girl's fifteenth year when her development is complete. Up to the time of her consecration in this manner a girl is "taboo," and all sexual relations with her are strictly prohibited. The Cambodians have very similar rites and regulations. Before attaining the age of marriage a girl is regarded as one of the spouses of Indra, the King of the Gods, and in virtue of this exalted station no man dare cultivate any intimate relations with her. Immediately on the occurrence of her first menstruation she "enters into the shade," that is, takes refuge under her mosquito-net and withdraws from the world altogether for a period which varies between five and a hundred days. As long as the sun shines the recluse may not even leave her couch, but occasionally an eclipse procures her a temporary release from her gaol. No man may approach her, for she must not be exposed to the temptation of looking at a male. Her diet is strictly prescribed, fish and meat being prohibited, and in any case she is restricted to one meal a day, taken between sunrise and midday, after the manner of the bonzes. This compulsory seclusion is a terrible hardship, for an open-air life is almost a necessity in these tropical climates where the heat is overpowering. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that the termination of the imprisonment is an occasion for great rejoicing. "Leaving the shade," as this fÊte is called, is frequently marked by the lacquering of the girl's teeth, an operation which is accompanied with all manner of rites and is preceded by a special dedicatory ceremony. Regulations which seem to aim at secluding girls at the time they attain puberty are not peculiar to Indo-China. Thus the VaÏ of Liberia cloister their girls at the age of ten in a place called "Sandy," which is hidden away in the depths of a great forest. The recluses are considered dead to their family who are not allowed to see them. Their only visitors are a few old women, their only occupations minor domestic duties and initiation into the mysteries of marriage. If a betrothal is arranged during this period the girl is liberated on the appearance of the first signs of puberty. If we are to believe legend (and legend is often worthy of belief), both in Denmark and Siberia the same period in a girl's life is preceded by a similar retirement. Frazer cites several instances which dispel all doubt on the subject. The rite of circumcision, or rather, the rite of simulated circumcision, among the Cham Bani only takes place when the boys are in their fifteenth year. This ceremony is, in fact, purely symbolical. Armed with a wooden knife the officiating priest makes a pretence of performing the act after which he gives the novice his ceremonial name, which is always taken from the Arabic calendar and is sure to be either Ali, Ibrahim, or Mahomet. The acquisition of this religious surname does not prevent a boy from using his unredeemed name in ordinary life. The ceremony known as the "Entry into Religion" should take place at about the age of five, but in practice it is always reserved until the age of puberty though never delayed until after marriage. It will be remembered that the custom of postponing circumcision characterized the Persians also. The Cham have a saying that you might as well leave an elephant among the sugar canes as leave a man alone with a girl. The proposition may be sweeping but receives enough illustration to make it plausible. However that may be, it must be remembered that no sexual relationships are prohibited except those which do not sooner or later contemplate marriage. If a girl is seduced and the consequences of her action begin to make themselves evident she is at once put under arrest. Her ankles are secured by thongs of buffalo hide; with these marks of ignominy she appears before the Council of Notables. There she is adjured to reveal the author of her undoing. If she gives the name of the seducer he is compelled to marry her and pay a fine by way of compensation to her parents. This fine is the "Price of Shame" and invariably substantial. If, however, the girl refuses to divulge the name of her seducer a sentence of fifty strokes with a cane is passed, an extremely heavy penalty. Before the punishment is actually inflicted a hole is dug in the ground and the sufferer made to lie at full length with her stomach in it. This is a precaution to prevent an abortion. As soon as a girl has found the man of her choice her parents pay an official visit to those of her fortunate husband-designate. They take with them two cakes and some betel. If the young man tastes this it is a sign that he accepts betrothal and an engagement follows. A curious custom in this country is that the consummation of the marriage does not coincide with its celebration. To do so would be to court the malevolence of the powers of evil! Cohabitation is the first step in the proceedings. In this way the new household saves all wedding expenses and it is by no means infrequent that the children are old enough to take part in the festivities by the day fixed for the official celebration of the nuptials. The marriage takes place in the evening in a hut specially built for the occasion. Hand in hand the happy pair walk on mats from their own dwelling to the place appointed for the fÊte. Indeed it is a most important part of the rites that their feet shall not come into contact with the bare ground. Their garments are of white cotton and unhemmed, resembling in this respect the mourning clothes worn by the Annamites. The girl enters the house, leaving her partner on the threshold where stands the priest who is to bless their union. A dialogue ensues between the minister and the man. "Prince Ali," asks the former, "what are your gifts to the Princess Fatima, your future spouse?" "O Lord Mahomet, I bring her a silver ring, two talismans for her neck, a necklace of amber, a fertile rice-field, and two bullocks trained to the plough." With these words the husband gives the ring to the priest who blesses it and hands it to his two acolytes, who bear it away to place on the finger of the bride. She, invisible behind the door of the house, receives the two messengers who question her on her desires. If she gives her consent to the marriage she is immediately led to her husband who escorts her in solemn procession to their new home. Before entering, however, the man throws three betel leaves on the ground and crushes them one after another with his foot. A white cloth is thrown over the nuptial couch and the married pair take their places side by side upon it. The deacons join their hands and sprinkle holy water over them. Next several candles are lit, the pair receive official benediction, and at length find themselves alone. The rites, however, are not yet concluded, for the woman gravely rolls up a quid of betel which she puts into the mouth of her husband. In return he takes off part of his clothing to make a covering for her. They then leave the house and fall at the feet of the priests and their parents. Their friends seize an early opportunity of proclaiming in a loud voice the gifts they offer, while a secretary draws up the list to prevent misunderstanding. The proceedings terminate with a monster banquet. The man's family provide the meat and drinks while the woman's are responsible for the rice and cakes. In Cambodia the Cham allow a disappointed suitor to prevail over the opposition of his loved one's family by executing the following mock manoeuvres. He waits until nightfall and seizing the moment when the girl's door is open to make his entry into the house, clasps her in his arms and throws about them both a shawl brought for the purpose. After this elaborate pretence of rape the family have no choice but to withdraw their opposition and allow the match to proceed. They never fail, however, to exact vengeance from the mock ravisher in the shape of fearful abuse and a more or less substantial fine. The women make very faithful wives, so much so that cases of adultery are rare. Normally this crime is punishable with death, but in practice the sentence is always commuted to a fine, sometimes accompanied by whipping. Besides, every facility is afforded for the dissolution of the union on the ground of incompatibility of temperament. Divorce is easy. The woman's right to select her husband is paired with the right to get rid of him at will or change him for another. In this case she herself keeps the family dwelling and the lion's share of the property. Although the religion of Mahomet permits the possession of four wives, in practice the Cham have insufficient means to provide for more than one. Accordingly, polygamy is exceptional, the expense being prohibitive. Certain prohibitions are too remarkable to be passed over in silence. Both the Brahminist and the Mussulman Cham abstain from sexual relations on Mondays, as being the day of the week on which Allah was born. During pregnancy the women take the greatest care to avoid a certain kind of Javanese banana for fear of giving birth to a monster which will one day turn and torment them. The rites accompanying birth are materially the same as those of the MoÏ. There is the same "Accouchement at the Fire," to use the expression in vogue in the country. It means that a fire is kindled by the woman's couch from the beginning of the accouchement to the time she is allowed to leave her bed, seven days after the birth. This fire is kept carefully guarded by the matrons with a "ring" of cotton thread. They also leave a huge lighted candle at the side to ward off evil spirits. When the mother is about again the midwife puts out the fire and plants an iron stake in the middle of the ashes. These she collects with the greatest care and bears them off with religious fervour to deposit at a fork of the nearest road in the vicinity. They form a little heap on the top of which she places a stone. Then she lays a quid of betel on this improvised altar. I was extremely curious for a long time as to the meaning of these pious erections which I saw at every cross-road, but no one dared nor cared to give me any information. Those whom I interrogated took refuge in evasion and turned the conversation. I might have remained for ever in ignorance had not the Annamites proved more communicative some time later. I then learned that in popular superstition cross-roads are the favourite haunts of spirits, souls in torment, ghosts, and other beings whose influence is baneful. The Cham are extremely fond of their children and spare no pains to keep them amused. Indeed, their affection goes the length of leaving them in complete ignorance of soap and water, an omission for which the babies are duly grateful. It is especially gratifying to the benevolent spirits if the mother smears her child's face with a mixture of flour and saffron, a substance the yellow colour of which meets with the particular approval of the deities whose own visages are of that colour if we are to credit tradition. On the other hand, the mother who has been visited by a bad dream covers her baby with soot to hide it from evil spirits. The natural consequence of these precautions is that the young Cham, like the young MoÏ, grow up in a condition of filth which is aggravated by the onslaught of mosquitoes and the appearance of innumerable sores. Further they are extremely liable to gastro-enteritis due to their parents' reprehensible practice of stuffing them with rice until their small stomachs are stretched taut like a drum. Throughout the Far East the kiss is replaced by a kind of snort applied to the back of the neck just behind the ear. The children are particularly fond of this type of demonstration for they burst into shouts of laughter whenever their mothers relieve their maternal feelings in this manner. If the child grows up in spite of his parents' apprehensions, at about the age of six months he receives a name which is considered to sum up his prospects in life. Thus a fine chubby boy will be called Peace, Amber or Gold. A small, weakly girl will receive the name of Discord, Pillage or Bat. But suppose this last child survives the early years and her infantile disorders, at about the age of twelve her name of reproach is exchanged for one of more happy meaning for she has passed the age at which the spirits are allowed to exercise a baneful influence. In spite of this mode of rehabilitation, however, the parents usually forget to change the name and her old soubriquet clings to her through life. This at all events is some explanation for the curious fact that in searching the historical records of the Cham we are always coming across kings rejoicing in the unfortunate titles of "Typhus the Third," and "Cholera the Fourth." It will be remembered that the Aryans considered the name as forming part of a man's nature. The Hindus, too, believe that it exercises a profound influence over the destinies of its bearer. For example, the Laws of Manu enjoin that a man shall not marry a woman who bears the name of a serpent, a barbarous race, a slave, or any ugly object. Among the Cham of Cambodia every child undergoes the operation known as "Molot," the "Hair-cutting," a rite which has much in common with the "Tonsuring" of the Brahminist Hindus and the non-Mussulman natives of Cambodia. It even bears some resemblance to the ceremony of Christian baptism as it was observed in the days of the early Church under the name given to it by the Early Fathers of "Regeneration of the Soul." Both centre round the rite of purification with holy water and both show the neophyte in that same robe of spotless white which is the symbol of the pure life on which he enters. A Hindu legend relates that Siva himself instituted this ceremony when he baptized his grandson, the child of Genesa. It took place on the holy mountain of Keylasa in the centre of a marvellous island inhabited by spirits, and secured from the intrusion of mortals by a great lake filled with a liquid on which nothing could float. An odd day and year is chosen for the celebration of the rite. If the novice is of illustrious parentage a wooden erection is put up and painted to resemble the legendary Mount Keylasa. Two paths are made leading to the top and bordered with shrubs. The one faces to the East and is used by the minor officials, the other facing the West is destined for the presiding priest only. Some of the deacons now play on archaic instruments such as castanets of bronze, and a novel feature of the orchestra is a kettle-drum with an ingenious contrivance by which each side is struck alternately with a stone ball. The child, dressed in a long white robe studded with small pieces of metal, advances towards the priest who shaves the crown of his head and lays the hair removed on a snow-white linen cloth. Then priest and neophyte ascend the path to the top of the imitation Keylasa where a large circular basin awaits them. The youth, with a cotton crown on his head, is at once sprinkled with holy water and baptized while some children carefully wipe his feet and march round him holding torches. This circumambulation is repeated nineteen times in honour of the novice's nineteen souls. Throughout the East many souls are accredited to every human being. Of these one alone is deemed immortal. The vital soul resides in the navel, the supreme soul in the bosom. The young Cham only receives the minimum of education. The priests teach the boys the first principles of reading and writing. In the first lessons the pupils learn by heart the letters of the alphabet, each letter representing, according to Hindu belief, one of the divinities which make their dwelling-place in the human body. After the alphabet come the names of the animals which symbolize the years of the duodenary cycle. The remuneration of the teachers consists of a present of eggs and a bottle of spirits and is due at the beginning of the first lesson. The Cham, however, are not apt pupils, being incorrigibly lazy and it is quite a triumph if a woman knows the elements of housekeeping. When we tried to make laundresses of some of the women in our escort we discovered the depths of their ignorance and stupidity. The articles we sent to be washed came back as dirty as when they went, for the sole idea of washing was to beat the object a certain number of times against a stone. The number of times was a fixed quantity beyond which the laundress refused to go, even if the dirt remained unshaken! But if the domestic education of the women is neglected what shall be said of their moral education which is practically non-existent? Here, as elsewhere in the Far East, a woman is regarded as requiring nothing more than a knowledge of etiquette and her instruction is complete when she can recite by heart all the rules which govern social intercourse and constitute good manners. Some of these rules seem nothing less than comic to the European. For example, to laugh in public as a sign of pleasure is strictly forbidden, but it is the height of good form to yawn when bored. When the flax is being gathered in it is proper to pretend to be drunk, for the plant is thereby encouraged to preserve its inebriating qualities. When a domestic utensil, such as a cooking-pot, becomes broken with use the good housewife will do nothing so ill-advised as to throw it away. Good breeding as well as respect, which is due to inanimate objects just as much as to living persons, exact that the faithful servant shall be hung on the piles on which the house stands and in due time be graciously abandoned to a sudden flood. Hence the enormous number of utensils of all descriptions which are to be seen in the rivers of Cambodia and other countries inhabited by the Cham. Lessons in etiquette, which are obligatory on both boys and girls, are varied most pleasantly with games of all kinds. Of these perhaps the most popular are the foot races which are organized for children of all ages. The competitors are handicapped according to their years and intense is the excitement when the signal is given to start. The prizes awarded to the winners are generally bananas or mangoes, whichever is in season. When the sugar cane is ripe the children are very fond of a game which is played in this wise. A stick of sugar cane is put on the ground. The player takes a knife and his task is to cut the stalk into five pieces in three strokes. If he is a skilled performer he makes the second cut in such a way that two of the pieces lie close enough together to be slashed through with the final stroke. The rules forbid the player to use his hands to arrange the pieces so that the second stroke requires no little skill. If the canes cannot be obtained from the paternal field recourse must be had to the shops, and then a contest ensues in which each child tries to avoid being left to pay the bill. To settle this thorny point lots are drawn, for the first comers have a great advantage. The fortunate player on whom the lot falls has the right of selecting the largest stalk from the dealer's stock, taking care that the bottom section is of normal form. He now balances the cane before him, and with one slash of his knife cuts it in two before it has had time to fall. He is entitled to keep the part he has cut off and if he is skilful it will be a large one. The second player now takes the rest of the stick and performs the same operation. The others follow in turn, the various sections are compared and the owner of the shortest piece has the honour of paying for all after which they devour the booty with the solemnity of a public ceremony. The children pick up a smattering of musical knowledge and never lose an opportunity of performing on their fathers' gongs. Sometimes they play together and occasionally attain the height of a recognizable melody when the instruments are of much the same pitch and the touch of the artist is light. Children of a more serious disposition are initiated into the mysteries of chess, a game which is played all the world over. The Cham chessman is very similar to ours and the board has also sixty-four squares. The castle, however, is replaced by a general, the bishops by canoes, and the pawns by fishes. The object of each player is to put the opposing king in check and the means adopted are virtually the same as in our game. CHAPTER III RITES AND SUPERSTITIONS The beginnings of Islam in Indo-China—Rites which accompany initiation into the priestly caste—The gods of Cham—Temples—Resemblance between the architecture of the Cham and that of the Kmer—Phallic rites—A visit to a royal sepulchre. The date of the introduction of Islam into Indo-China has never been more than approximately fixed. The better opinion is that it made its way into the country in the twelfth century through the medium of Persian or Arab traders. However that may be, the new faith maintained itself more or less in its primitive purity among the Cham, thanks largely to the zeal of the Malays who had proved ready converts and migrated into Indo-China, and more especially Cambodia, in large numbers from the fourteenth century onwards. In Annam, on the other hand, Islam was speedily blended with Hinduism to form a compound in which the original ingredients almost defied recognition. Among the Mohammedan Cham, known as the Cham Bani, the head of the priestly caste is called "PÔ Gru" or "Ong Gru," titles the sense of which may be rendered by "Leader of the Faithful." He is selected from the ImÔns, the priesthood who are assisted in the discharge of their ceremonial duties by various religious officials of lower rank. The rank of a priest is indicated by the length of the scarlet and gold tassels on his turban. Otherwise there is no distinction in the costume which consists of a white sarong, a white shirt fastened with yellow glass buttons and a white girdle also ornamented with tassels. The crook is a long rattan stalk carried in the hand. The High Priest's crook is distinguished by having its roots plaited together to form a kind of basket. Few of the priests read Arabic and that with difficulty, while the surahs they recite by heart bear only a distant resemblance to the Koran. The very word "Koran" is unfamiliar. It is usually referred to as "The Book of Islam," or "The Book of Praise," or the "Treatise of the Faith." In Annam the Ramadan lasts only three days, though the priests observe the fast for the full prescribed month. On the evening before the fast begins each priest makes his way to the mosque and takes up his station in the building with his impedimenta. He is careful not to forget his minimum of necessaries. His first act is to spread out with meticulous care the mat which is to serve him for a bed. At one end of this he places a cube of lacquered wood, his pillow. Next he solemnly unrolls the palm leaves on which the sacred lines have been engraved with some sharp instrument. Then he hangs his string of amber beads on the wall. As earthly indulgences are not entirely forbidden to him, he takes good care to bring his cigarettes and the apparatus for preparing betel and tea. As long as the fast lasts he is prohibited from leaving the building, so the two vessels containing water for the nine liturgical ablutions are set up under the porch just within reach. These ablutions are a very serious part of the business, for it is absolutely essential that no part of the ceremony should be omitted, even in forgetfulness. First he washes his hands, spraying the water up to his elbows, then his mouth, nostrils, forehead, and finally his feet as far as the ankles. Woe to him if he forgets to recite his five daily prayers or his nightly salaam, religious exercises which he usually consigns to oblivion at other times! The meticulous observance of the rites during these four weeks is a guarantee of sanctity and the redemption of sins, past, present and prospective. Of these sins the commonest are breaches of the multifarious regulations, affecting both the Kaphir and Bani priests, prohibiting the consumption of certain specified foods. That sins of this character should be distressingly frequent is hardly surprising when we remember that each month, and even each day of the month, has its particular prohibition. Thus stews, hashes, hare and poultry are strictly forbidden on Mondays in the second month. All foods containing oil and dark-coloured meat may not be touched on Thursdays in the fifth month. Prohibitions so strict and comprehensive show the road to certain transgression in a country where in the nature of things there can be little variety of diet. Historians have noted in all peoples, whatever the degree of civilization that has been attained, the prevalence of the idea that some intermediary is necessary to establish communication between man and his God. Thus, in Egypt of the Pharaohs, the King was considered the son of God, and as such the proper medium through which his subjects should address their deity. This sacred office of the King was recognized by the deity himself. On certain appointed days the statue of the god made some conventional sign to indicate his approval and assent. We have the evidence of bas-reliefs in the temples to show that this fiction was still maintained in the days of the Roman Empire. At a subsequent period the sacred function was delegated to a special priestly caste; under the later Empire we find the High Priests of Amon at Thebes usurping the royal authority in its entirety. Professor Foucart, in his "History of Religions,"[4] shows that the origin of the sacerdotal caste is to be sought in remote antiquity. Man has always experienced the need of a privileged class, set apart for the purpose of ensuring the observance of certain religious rites and securing their transmission from generation to generation in their primitive purity. These rites, which are usually simple in character and in essentials common to all religions, are generally accompanied by mystic phrases, the sum of which constitutes Ritual. As the phrases are often high-sounding and impressive, historians have been tempted to attribute to them a meaning which is not warranted in fact. In most cases the words used do nothing more than define the character of the ceremonial act which they accompany. But as the essence of Magic is the endowment of a simple phrase or object with an ulterior mystical significance it is not surprising that the ritual-makers should spare no pains to produce an illusion in the minds of the worshippers. Their obvious motive is to exploit, in the interest of their own class, a science which results in material advantages. The education of the priests is not confined to the study of the secret language but extends to a knowledge of the special objects used in religious ceremonies. Consequently a period of initiation, a phenomenon noticed in all ages and among all races, is regarded as essential for aspirants to the priestly ranks. The rites which mark this period of initiation are substantially similar among all races. They are directed in the main towards the purification of the neophyte from the sins inherent to the secular state and to set the stamp of legality on his adoption of the religious life. In general, they consist of a rite of separation to mark the abandonment of old ties, a rite of purification proper, and rites of adoption into the new association. From this it is easy to see why ceremonies of this kind always enshrine the metaphor of a death to the old life and a re-birth in the new one. Whether we turn to the Shamans of Siberia, the Lamas of Thibet, the Brahmins of India, the Bonzes of Cambodia, the Padjaos of the Cham, we find the essence of the ceremony identical, however diversified the details may be. All those familiar with the practice of the Roman Catholic Church know that among certain of the Orders the ceremony of entry or taking the veil includes the Burial Service followed by a hymn of triumph to hail the resurrection of the new spirit reclaimed from the world. In other religions the procedure is a heavy sleep from which the novice awakes to find himself consecrated by Heaven. The rudiments of this idea are found in the rites which mark the ordination of a Padjao among the Kaphir Cham. A Padjao is not so much a priestess as a prophetess in whom resides the power of foretelling the future and also of protecting from all evil when the Spirit—or rather the "Transport," to adopt the professional phrase used by her class—takes her. Properly speaking the Padjao does not "take vows," but rather devotes herself to strict celibacy. If she is married when the heavenly call comes to her her husband must leave her at once. The observance of continence, apparent if not actual, is obligatory, and any breach of this rule would be visited by the Spirits with the most condign punishment affecting both the transgressor and her accomplice. Image of a Departed Saint in a Phallic Temple. Statues erected to the Dead in Laos. Shrine of a Laotian Priest. The Interior of the Shrine. According to a certain priest of Phanrang, "Padjao" means "Princess," and the modern priestesses perform the functions which formerly devolved on the ladies of royal blood who filled religious offices in ancient Champa. On the other hand, "Padjand" in old Javanese, means "Moonlight," and in this connection it is significant that the Cham identify with the moon one of their most highly venerated divinities, the "Celestial Padjao." However this may be, the ordination of these women in Annam is marked by some very curious ceremonies. The novice is selected by the Priestess herself when, feeling herself advancing in years, the choice of a successor becomes an urgent matter. The fortunate object of her selection receives the name of "Happiness of the Human Race." She falls on her knees before her spiritual mother and offers her two eggs, a cup of spirits and some betel, a sign of her dutiful submission. The recipient of these gifts now takes off her girdle and passes it round the head of her newly appointed assistant who is bound henceforth to appear in this form of turban at every public ceremony. Then they both swallow three grains of rice and salt, symbols of plenty. The novice next falls into a sleep or trance, during which her soul departs to the moon to be consecrated by the great "Celestial Padjao," who will reveal to her all the mysteries of life and the secrets of mortals. This trance is, of course, the counterpart of the symbolic death and resurrection which we have seen to be characteristic of the change from the earthly to the heavenly life. During this ceremony, which is called the "Deification of the Padjao," the Faithful sacrifice a black kid and burn eagle-wood, the odour of which is supposed to be particularly agreeable to the dwellers in the Heavens. Priestess and novice next indulge in a religious dance known as the "Tania." In their left hands they wave a scarlet scarf while holding a fan in their right. Then taking a betel leaf the priestess passes it through the flame of a candle and offers it to her who is thenceforward to share her office. It must not be imagined, however, that the novice secures her entry into the priestly caste by this ceremony. Her admission is temporary and is only confirmed when, after a novitiate of a year, the Gods indicate their consent to delegate their powers to her. A second ordination is thus necessary which must be attended by all those who were present at the first. If, however, some of the original spectators have died in the meantime the rites are satisfied if they are represented by members of their families of the same sex. On the evening before this second ceremony all those who are to take part in it must take the bath of purification. As the approval of the Celestial Padjao is by no means a foregone conclusion her answer is awaited by the priestess with some trepidation. With a view to securing her favourable regard the latter brings an offering in a basket on which she sets up two lighted candles. These candles are the medium through which the divine will is to be revealed. If they go out or burn with a smoky flame this is a clear indication to the novice to abandon her hopes and return to her old life. In that case a successor to her will be found in due time. But if the candles burn up brightly the year's apprenticeship has been judged sufficient to qualify her for divine approval. A person whose assistance is indispensable to the Padjao is the "MeÛdoun," an individual who does not belong to the priestly caste but who is in constant touch with the deities by virtue of his office. The period of initiation is short and is occupied by learning to perform on the drum and reciting liturgical phrases. The "MeÛdoun" is appointed by his predecessor and enters upon his duties immediately. His services are requisitioned when exorcisms, incantations or divinations are on foot. Among the Cham of Cambodia another variety of ceremonies marks the ordination of their Prophetess. In the first place, the social status enjoyed by that official is not as high as in Annam. She seems to inspire a kind of awe rather than any sentiment of veneration. Here the rites of initiation savour of Demonology. The requirements of time and place are satisfied by a clear moonlight night and a deserted ant-heap in the depths of the forest. The prospective Prophetess appears and with one sweep with a sword severs a cock in twain from its head to its tail. Then, totally naked, she executes a frenzied dance, accompanied by weird incantations before her victim until the mystic moment when, thanks to the powers of magic and the veil of night, the severed halves join together and the resurrected fowl utters a pÆan of victory! Priestesses of all these regions have this in common, that they dress either in white or in black and red. The flesh of swine and lizards is absolutely forbidden, no mean hardship in a portion of the globe where the lizard is regarded as a great delicacy. It is to be observed that, contrary to the practice prevailing among most semi-barbarous peoples, the Cham allow young and middle-aged women to perform religious functions. The age of twenty is, in fact, the normal time for entering the sacerdotal caste. This is all the more remarkable because it has frequently been demonstrated that among primitive races women are not admitted to the privileges of men until after the menopause. The Pantheon of the Cham Bani consists of the "Heroes of Civilization" to whom they ascribe the foundation and development of their three ancient capitals. Thus PÔ Oulah, or Allah the Mighty, made his residence during the eleventh century in the town of Bal Sri BanÔy. It is more than likely that this potentate was the actual conqueror who first brought Islam into Indo-China. PÔ Klong Garai is said to have founded the second capital, Bal-Hangov, the "City of Pine Trees," the reputed traces of which have been discovered near HuÉ. Finally PÔ BinÔsuor shed the lustre of his name on Bal Angouai, the ruins of which are still visible at Cha BÀn in the province of Binh Dinh. Some philologists associate this city with the ancient town of Balonga mentioned by Ptolemy. For this last ruler, however, whose great achievement was the repulse of the Annamite invasion, the Cham have substituted the name of PÔ RamÉ, a prince of no great fame, who seems to have been a kind of adventurer who sprang into importance by marrying a princess of royal blood. It need hardly be said that these great heroes are credited with all manner of marvellous exploits. The supernatural even enters into their birth, for they are supposed to have been born of virgin mothers, a detail which enhances their resemblance to the Brahminic divinities. In this connection it may be observed that the members of the Hindu Trinity, Brahma, Vishnu and Siva, with their "Saktis," or wives, UmÂ, LasmÎ and Kali, are universally confused with the native deities of the Cham either under their own or substituted names. For example, PÔ InÖ NÖgar, the Black Lady, the Queen of Women, is none other than ancient Bhagavati, the sakti of Siva. The Pantheon of the Kaphir Cham is no less nondescript. At its head stand out three masculine divinities. The first is PÔ AmÖ, Lord of Creation, who bears a close resemblance to Brahma. The second, PÔ YÂta, is only an emanation of PÔ AmÖ and reigns over the Vault of Heaven. The third is PÔ Allah, an incorporeal deity whose sanctuary is at Mecca and who has been borrowed from the pantheon of the Cham Bani. Then follows a certain number of female divinities, among whom PÔ InÖ NÖgar of the Cham Bani appears as PÔ Yang InÖ NÖgar Taha, the Great Mother-Goddess of the Kingdom who is endowed with authority over the others. This venerable matron, born, it is said, from a wave of the sea, married no less than ninety-seven husbands. Her offspring, however, amounted to no more than thirty-eight daughters, a poor compliment to the prolific powers of her spouses. These girls remained virgins all their lives and showed the effects of their enforced celibacy in their sour tempers. This unpleasant characteristic, however, has made them objects of peculiar veneration to the natives whose utilitarian morals teach them to neglect the deities reputed to be amiable and concentrate all their fervour on those considered evilly disposed towards man. In addition to housing these disagreeable virgins, the Heavens are also the abode of a young queen who can grant or withhold all human joys. Her name is Padjao Yang and she personifies the Moon, the faithful minister of PÔ Adityak, the Sun. When the Sun passes before Padjao Yang she shows her good breeding and training by bowing to the ground before her Master, a mark of respect which produces the phenomenon of eclipse. One characteristic which this immortal person shares with her mortal sisters is worthy of remark. She is never more than thirty years old! This figure has been selected probably because thirty is the average number of days in a lunar month. It need hardly be said that she never complains of this burden of youth. Some of the more gallant Cham go further, and seeing her sometimes arrayed in a diaphanous halo, swear that her age never exceeds that of her robe! How many of those same mortal sisters would like to say the same! The temples in which the ritualistic ceremonies of the Cham take place differ according to the observances of the various sects. Thus the mosques of the Cham Bani are narrow huts which could hardly accommodate a single family. It is doubtful whether more than a dozen are to be found in the whole of Annam. They invariably face west, the direction of Mecca, and for furniture and accessories contain a few mats for the use of the worshippers, a drum to call them to prayer and a pulpit which never seems to be occupied. On the very holiest of holy days strips of white cloth are hung over this pulpit and spread over the floor. On Fridays is held the general service of prayer, which, however, is usually but sparsely attended. The Koran requires a quorum of forty, but in practice that figure is seldom reached. At the conclusion of this ceremony wine and spirits are freely circulated among the worshippers though these liquids are taboo to the true Mussulman. The hut-temples of the Siva-worshippers among the Kaphir Cham are not more elaborate. The chief object to be seen in one of these is the "Mukha-Linga," a piece of stone cut to resemble the male organ of generation but adorned with the face of the god Siva, which is made more life-like by a dressing of coloured plaster. On special occasions this curious object is dressed up in a scarlet mantle. A stone receptacle for holy water and a few other utensils complete the necessary accessories. These temples, however, are not the only outward and visible signs of religious life among the Cham. A certain number of ancient monuments, which both Annamites and Europeans erroneously call towers, but which are in fact exclusively devoted to religious uses, are carefully preserved. These constructions are always to be found on hills or at other conspicuous points dominating the surrounding country. The choice of the site is not without significance. It is a matter of universal knowledge that most races attach a sacred character to heights. For example, Mount Sinai and Mount Tabor are mentioned as holy mountains in the Bible. The temple of Delphi stood on a hill. The Acropolis looks over Athens, and the Celts always selected some prominent spot as the scene of their sacrifices. The best preserved of the temples which date from the days when the kingdom of the Champa stood at its apogee is only a few miles distant from Phanrang. It was built early in the fourteenth century and was consecrated to PÔ Klong Garai. I had plenty of opportunity to examine the ruins carefully, for with the sacrilegious indifference of Europeans we had erected on them the lofty mast which was essential to our geodetical operations. They consisted of a principal building with three annexes. All four faced east and were made of brick. As we made our way into the sanctuary for the first time, through the opening which served for sole entrance and exit, we were greeted by a nauseating smell and the clapping of innumerable wings. The place was literally infested with bats, and, in addition, was pitch dark, so that a torch was a prime necessity. The interior was not what might have been expected from inspection of the exterior. As access to light and air was only provided by the one narrow doorway, it is not difficult to imagine how the sanctuary had become the favourite resort of all the bats in the district. A stone altar stood against the back wall. The upper surface was slightly concave to enable liquids to run off. On one of its sides was a "Mukha-Linga" with black beard and whiskers, which contrasted strangely with the pallor of the face. In the vestibule, with a necklace round its throat was a "Nandi," the White Bull of Siva, which the Cham call "Kapila." He it is who bears away the dead on his back to Keylasa, of which he is the guardian. According to the Hindus the "Nandi" is also Siva's favourite mount and frequently their identities blend in the figure of a Hermit with the body of a man and the head of a bull. The Samaritans also favoured animal-headed deities. It will be remembered that Thartac had a donkey's head and Anubis that of a dog. Other analogies between various early religious systems readily suggest themselves. Thus the Babylonian Ishtar stood for the principle of fecundity and must be compared with the goddess Kali, the sakti of Siva, who is also known as "Yomi," the "Fertile Womb." The Assyrians worshipped another Ishtar, a highly formidable goddess, who always appears in her statues armed with some murderous weapon. This characteristic of cruelty is equally prominent in Kali, the goddess of Blood, Lust and Death, whose statues always represent her grimacing and repulsive with a necklace and bracelets of human skulls and bones. The doorway of the temple is formed of three granite monoliths of which the two uprights are covered with inscriptions. Above is a bas-relief on a kind of sculptured lintel, representing Siva dancing. It is remarkably well-preserved. The god has six arms. The lowest pair grasp a trident, as is usual in statues of Siva, and a lotus-bloom, which is more generally associated with Vishnu. The middle pair brandish a scimitar and a dagger. The other pair are clasped behind the god's head. Four small stone elephants complete the accessories of the sanctuary. They represent the wild elephants which, so legend says, entered the temple while it was being built. There is a broad general resemblance between the temples of the Cham and those of the Kmer who also professed the Brahminic religion. The Kmer also selected rising ground with a wide sweep of view as the site for their sacred edifices. Great care was taken that the main faÇade should face towards the east. The interior consisted of a single hall with an entrance sometimes so low that it was necessary to stoop to get in. The walls were innocent of all decoration and became damp and clammy in the darkness. The outside walls and especially the doorway, however, were the objects of considerable artistic effort. The doorway in particular was usually surmounted by a lintel with figures of the gods and their distinctive symbols. Thus Vishnu is represented astride of Garuda, the parrot-headed god, Brahma rides on geese and Indra a three-headed elephant. The dancing Siva, with a multitude of arms disposed halo-wise around his head, is one of the commonest figures. I remember seeing one on the faÇade of the Temple of PÔ Klong Garai. The architecture of the Javanese also furnishes some equally remarkable resemblances. I have already remarked that the Siva-worshipping Cham, like their Hindu co-religionists, have adopted the symbol of a linga to represent that deity. It is worthy of note in this connection that the Egyptians represented their god Osiris in the form of a phallus, the equivalent of a linga. This phallus-worship made its way into Greece, and especially Babylon where the earliest inscriptions are found engraved on large clay phalli. Phallus-worship, transformed into linga-worship, was introduced into the Far East by the Hindus. Traces of it have been found in Java. In spite of the distance, Japan also welcomed it along with many other foreign cults but to-day it only remains a tradition in that country, though there are some Japanese villages where huge phalli, made of bamboo covered with canvas, figure in the local processions. At the top of these weird structures is a small opening from which urchins make a pretence of haranguing the crowd. Barth considers the origin of linga-worship to be wrapped in obscurity. We know that phallic rites were part of the religions of the Veda but that there was no actual phallus-worship. Some say it came from the west, probably Greece, but it is at least as likely that the Hindus evolved this particular symbolism themselves. However that may be, it is certain that the cult made its appearance simultaneously with Siva-worship. The linga is often represented in conjunction with the yoni, the female organ and the symbol of Devi, wife of Siva. It should be said at once that these objects are treated symbolically, not realistically. The linga is a simple cone, the yoni a triangular prism. This abstract treatment is said by some to be the outcome of a protest against idolatry, in proof of which they point to the fact that Vishnu and LasmÎ his wife are represented respectively by a fossil-shell, the Calagrama, and a plant of the sweet-basil species, the Tulosi. It should be added that Hindu art is remarkable for its freedom from suggestiveness and that, in whatever guise the mystery of life is symbolized, the form selected is one which never provokes indecent ideas. The Kaphir Cham of Phantiet and Phanry have another cult of the same kind, the worship of the yoni in another form. This rite is the introduction into some cavity, the hollow of a tree perhaps, or the fissure of a rock or the burrow of an animal, of a large rudely carved wooden cylinder. The worshipper recites the wish on the fulfilment of which his hopes are set while pouring spirits on the cylinder. He makes his prayer to PÔ Yang Dari, the Shameless Goddess who can cure children of all diseases. The primitive conception which underlies all this symbolism must, of course, be traced to the belief in imitative magic, which endows the performance of a ritualistic act with the power of inducing other beings or objects to imitate that act. It is thus quite natural that the idea of fecundity, the word being taken in its widest sense, should be closely associated with every phase and form of phallus-worship. It is a thousand pities that from the beginning of the nineteenth century the spread of pharisaical prudery has prevented even those best qualified by long residence among uncivilized races from probing into questions concerning sex and publishing the results of their researches. The explorers of the eighteenth century were not so hampered, and their observations, from which the veil of priggish reticence is withdrawn, furnish us with much valuable information on a department of human activity which is of surpassing interest and importance to the ethnographer. The Kmer took their architecture from the Hindus. There is an obvious resemblance between the religious edifices of the two peoples and in addition both built their temples in naturally secluded places, a preference which is amply explained by the nature of a religion which endows its deities with so formidable a character that only priests may approach them. The rank and file of worshippers have to be content with following the sacrifices with their thoughts. They congregate in the outer paved courts of the temples and make themselves shelters of bamboos and leaves. In some places asylums for ailing pilgrims are built in the immediate neighbourhood of the temples. These hospices are under the charge of monks who care for the stricken wayfarers. Of the slight differences which distinguish the buildings of the two peoples the most noticeable is the treatment of the roof. The Kmer roof is a kind of ogival dome recalling the edifices of the Arabs, while the Hindus crown their quadrangular pyramids with a four-sided cone. The artistic skill of the Kmer has mainly been lavished on pyramids, sacred pools and rock-surfaces, many of which are entirely covered with figures of gods. There are also many towers which serve as shrines for images of the deities. It will be remembered that the stupas of the Hindus are devoted to a similar use. The temples face east, an arrangement which is explained by the fact that the services usually take place early in the morning on that side of the building which receives a maximum of sun. On the other hand certain temples devoted to the worship of the Gods of the Lower Regions face to the west, for the reason that the rites are always celebrated at sunset. The statuary of the Cham seems to owe much both to the Kmer and the Hindus. One fact, indeed, is incontestable, that the human type represented is clearly the Aryan, whereas the Cham artists spent all their lives among men of a totally different type. It is plain that they did not take their own people for their models. The explanation can only be that the Cham imported their art of sculpture just as they imported their religion. Another remarkable fact is that in their statues of gods and prophets the figures are almost destitute of clothing, while their kings and heroes are always represented in gorgeous apparel. In this connection it may be remembered that the prophets of one of the two principal sects of the Jainists call themselves the "Digambara," which means "They who are clothed in space." The usual type of head-dress is conical or cylindrical in shape. The lobes of the ears are elongated and pierced with holes from which earrings are hung. The feet are always bare. The figures of women show them as of the same type as the men, and their hair is dressed in similar fashion. The upper half of the body is uncovered, exposing their breasts which are full and perfect in shape. The lower half is concealed by a kind of skirt secured at the waist by a girdle with fringes which sweep to their feet. Their ears, neck, legs and arms are adorned with jewels. These main features are found reproduced in the few antique statues still to be found among the Cham. I have a lively recollection of one occasion on which, so I was told, I was the first European to enter a certain temple. No experience in my varied life has left a more indelible impression on my memory. The Mission was engaged in scientific operations between Phantiet and Phanry, the ancient home of the Cham, and our headquarters consisted of a number of rude huts in the very heart of the forest. One day I received a visit from the headman of a neighbouring village, a diminutive individual with a face the colour of a dead leaf. I had previously rendered him some service by treating him for severe ophthalmia and he now proposed to show his gratitude by revealing to me the whereabouts of a ruined temple which was so concealed in the forest as hitherto to defy discovery by Europeans. He told me I should find two statues, in excellent preservation, of kings who had been raised to the rank of deities by their subjects. Also I was to have every opportunity of sketching and taking photographs. The temple was not more than thirty miles distant, so my expedition was duly announced as a mere excursion for pleasure. We set out, accompanied by two young natives, my usual companions in my private wanderings, who had charge of the photographic and other apparatus as well as our arms and provisions. Our journey was without incident, for my kind guide gave me the fullest instructions as to the route to the Temple of Song Sui. Statue of an Ancient King of Cambodia. Statue of an Ancient Queen of Cambodia. An Old Cham Temple in a Cambodian Forest. The House of a Cham Aristocrat. A Cottage Home in Cambodia.
This remarkable sanctuary is the tomb of an ancient king of the Cham and the object of a very popular pilgrimage at certain seasons of the year. It consists of three separate pavilions in a large enclosure which is divided into two halves, one higher than the other. The lower half is used by the general public while the upper is reserved for the family of any worshipper who desires to make a sacrificial offering. The statue of the King is in the central building. It is cut from a single block of granite and coloured to show a robe of red and gold. On the King's head is a fez to which a golden helmet is added on special occasions. The neck and the ears are pierced with holes from which necklaces and earrings are suspended. The eyebrows meet above the nose, the moustaches are twisted upwards and the eyes are half-closed. The door of the central pavilion is of beaten iron, hand-forged. Of the two other pavilions one alone remains, a picturesque ruin. The other has completely disappeared in the undergrowth, a few stones remaining to mark the site. In the survivor there is a statue of one of the King's two wives standing between two elaborate steles. The Queen's hair is arranged in the shape of a cone, a fashion which is typical of the statues of the Kmer. The nails are stained red, and all the fingers (except the middle one), and also the thumb, are covered with rings. A balustrade, very similar to those which decorate European tombs, runs round behind this pavilion. In this enclosure an unhappy black goat is chained up, destined to decapitation at the precise moment when the sacrifice is consummated. The floor is made of stone with a narrow trench through which the blood is drained off. Having exhibited the resemblances between this temple and those of the Kmer I propose to suggest other resemblances, not less striking, between it and some of the ancient Egyptian tombs. The royal steles of the Egyptians are of a fairly regular outline, gently rounded at the top and usually semicircular. As is well known, their purpose was to hand down to posterity the identity and genealogy of a particular Pharaoh. The monarch's statue, on the other hand, was the actual living image of the departed, for it was universally believed that the dead man's double returned to make its abode in his form. It is even possible that the first idea of statuary had its origin in this conception of a magical reanimation. The deceased was always represented in his robes of state (however scanty) and seated on the throne. Food was set on a small table within his reach. The figure was dressed, covered with jewels and smothered in perfumes. The nails were coloured with henna and the eyes blackened. Every step in the proceedings was accompanied by formal chanting. In the case of royal statues these ceremonies were observed up to the twelfth dynasty. They then fell into desuetude and it became customary merely to paint up the statue with clothes, jewels and other accoutrements in as realistic a manner as possible. In the British Museum there are three large wooden statues, taken from royal tombs of the thirteenth century, which are remarkable illustrations of this process of evolution in statuary. It is to this process of evolution, due to a change of ideas, that we must ascribe the gradual disappearance of the belief that the soul of the deceased returned to dwell in his statue, and also of the equally primitive belief that the purpose and meaning of offering a sacrifice was to furnish the deceased with food in his new existence. I was extremely interested in my visit with its valuable discoveries, and it may readily be imagined that I was in great haste to return to camp and develop my plates. My guide announced that he knew a route which would save us many miles. The morning passed uneventfully enough. On many occasions we crossed the tracks of elephants, but I was not to be moved from my purpose. Hunting was out of fashion that day. We were too bent on getting home. To be ready for any emergency I gave one of my rifles to the Cham chief who was a good shot. Some alligators were sunning themselves on the sandy banks of a stream. We broke in upon their siesta without hesitation and without apology. My companion informed me that we should pass through a certain village and that, at the rate at which we were then marching, we should reach it before nightfall. However, our two boys, less accustomed to forced marching than their elders, began to show signs of distress. I could see them shifting from one shoulder to the other the bamboo-pole from which our impedimenta was slung and they soon began to complain of the thorns in the path which lacerated their feet. The two boys were quite young, the elder being perhaps sixteen. They had been attached to the Mission for more than six months, a long period for natives, who dislike regular occupation and are ever in search of change. I had a peculiar affection for these two. They were indefatigable servants and remarkably docile and even-tempered. Their complaints seemed reasonable enough and to relieve them the chief and I shouldered the bamboo-pole. We set off again but soon put a large and growing distance between ourselves and the younger generation lagging behind. Meanwhile the sun was hastening towards his western bed. At one time the loiterers seemed to have put on a spurt, but the effort exhausted itself and they fell behind once more. At a bend of the path we decided to wait until the boys came up. We kept ourselves carefully out of sight lest the vision of our halt should inspire them to a similar indulgence. Some minutes passed, but no one appeared. Had the rascals given up the attempt to follow us or had they lost their way? I ran back to the bend in the path. The route by which we had come stretched away in a straight line for miles, but no human being was in sight. Our coolies had fled! The mask-like countenance of my companion betrayed neither surprise nor any other emotion. The truants were not of his faith nor did they hail from his village. They were but vulgar Annamites, at best a race of sneaking hucksterers. His sympathies were evidently confined to the faithful of his own parish. I confess I was irritated by his obvious indifference. To my knowledge the forest through which we had passed was infested with tigers and the stunted leafless trees were the most illusory refuge from the brutes. I had an uncomfortable premonition that our pleasure-party, so happily begun, was entering the realms of tragedy. In the course of our three years' residence in southern Annam no less than twelve natives had been devoured by tigers. Several of the victims were attached to the Mission, and on more than one occasion I had been the hapless witness of their horrible sufferings. On one occasion a coolie suddenly vanished through the wicker-work floor of our hut, which was built on piles quite nine feet high. The tiger, however, had climbed on to a baulk of timber which was lying on the ground below and using this as a platform had succeeded in catching hold of one end of his victim's waist-cord which happened to be hanging through the interstices of the floor. The beast gave a violent tug and dragged the hapless coolie through the floor. The man, taken by surprise, was helpless and fell, an unresisting prey, into the tiger's jaws. I feel considerable diffidence in telling a story which I myself should not have believed had the tragedy not occurred before my very eyes. On another occasion one of my colleagues and myself were taking our evening meal, waited on by a Cham boy about twelve years old. It was shortly after seven, I think, and the rain was falling in torrents. All at once we heard a shriek proceeding from the direction of the kitchen and in a moment the boy entered, white with terror. "The Tiger," he could hardly get the words out, "seized hold of my coat." He showed us a huge rent in the flimsy material which covered his trembling body. Outside it was pitch dark. We had no lamps and it seemed highly risky to venture forth with so undesirable a neighbour watching us. We quickly set about protecting ourselves by barricading the entrance to the room with a palisade of wattles. The real mystery was how the beast had made its way into the enclosure, guarded as it was by a solid fence made of baulks of timber and forming a veritable blockhouse. An hour later we heard the stamping of hoofs, violent kicks and terror-stricken neighing. Then silence. About midnight our light went out. It would have been madness to go to the kitchen to fetch another, so we found ourselves condemned to wait in the darkness, listening for every sound and our nerves on edge. Needless to say, sleep was impossible. At dawn we ventured out. Everything was in confusion. Our horses had broken loose and stampeded over the fence. One of them lay disembowelled before us and half its hindquarters had disappeared. On the face of the embankment on which our house was elevated, immediately before the door of the room where we had been sitting, were the traces of a tiger's paws clearly visible in the clay. The boy had not been mistaken. He had indeed been seized by the beast and owed his safety to his worn and tattered clothing. The marks of teeth and claws on some of the baulks of the palisade showed us that the visitor had climbed over. We learnt one lesson from this experience. Our camp, with its solid rampart ten feet high, was only an illusory protection against a really determined man-eater! All these horrible recollections—and many others which can find no place here, this not being a story of adventure—flashed through my mind in the space of a few seconds. Meanwhile time was flying and night came down on us unheralded by twilight as in Europe. Our search was all in vain and no answer came to our repeated shouts. The coolies had gone. It was not until late at night and after much struggling that we reached the village. In spite of the friendly light thrown by a torch I remained all night a prey to the most vivid hallucinations. Time after time I watched a huge tiger spring out of the darkness with the corpse of one of the missing boys in his jaws. Two days later the elder of the two came into the village. He was shivering with fever and dared not present himself before me, so I went to see him. Ghastly was the story he had to unfold. Just before the bend in the path which I have mentioned the two boys had been unable to go further and had sat down. When we were out of sight they had attempted to continue their journey, but before they had advanced a few yards a huge tiger had sprung upon the younger, while the elder had remained dumb with astonishment and terror. Helpless with fear and weariness the survivor had wandered in the forest and at last, in sheer desperation, had climbed into a tree expecting at every moment to share the fate of his luckless companion. The Cham chief, who listened to this harrowing story with an air of indifference and barely concealed scorn, at length delivered himself of an aphorism: "Fear claims far more victims than courage." CHAPTER IV RITES AND SUPERSTITIONS (continued) Agrarian rites—Tabooed ricefields—Secret ploughing—Sleeping rice—Various uses of eagle-wood—How the Cham procure it—Public festivals and holy days. Of all the races which inhabit Indo-China the Cham come easily first for the variety and individuality of their agrarian rites. There is practically no difference between the Bani and Kaphir in this respect. Both peoples recognize three kinds of sacred ricefields in which no manner of work may be carried on without the accompaniment of a special ritual. If, in the course of ploughing a rice-field, excessive fatigue has been occasioned to either man or beast, sufficient to cause illness, the field becomes taboo, "Hamu Tabung." The evil eye has been cast upon it, and no remedy exists but to sell the contaminated place at no matter what sacrifice. It need hardly be said that the only possible purchasers are the few Annamite Christians who are scattered throughout these regions. The Buddhist Annamites shun such a spot as if it were plague-stricken. The cause of the mischance is supposed to be the presence of some ancient burial-ground, the existence of which was not suspected. Every village has its two or three sacred ricefields the "Hamu Canrauv," which are invariably the first to be ploughed. As a rule they are the property of the local aristocracy. The owner with his wife, who plays the principal part in the ceremony, goes to the field in question, either in the evening or at dawn. They lay down a mat at one corner and on it place two eggs, a cup of spirits and three betel leaves, which the wife offers as a sacrifice to PÔ Olwah Tak AlÂ, the great Lord of the Underworld, begging him to accept them. To set a good example, husband and wife share the good things between them while making three furrows round the field. After this ceremony ploughing and sowing may proceed in the ordinary manner. There are also fields where cultivation is forbidden, the "HamÛ Klaik LavÂ." To speak more accurately the interdict only extends to open cultivation and the tabooed area is ploughed and worked in secret. These operations are accomplished in the following manner. With the first signs of day the husband and wife go to the field and after making three furrows in silence return home. When morning comes they walk to the place and profess the greatest astonishment that the work of ploughing has already begun. "Who is the kindly Spirit," they exclaim, "who has worked for us while we slept?" Without loss of time they run back to their house to fetch suitable offerings. So great a marvel as a field which cultivates itself is worthy to be consecrated with a sacrifice. Accordingly they first bury five pieces of betel in the ground and throw a handful of rice into the three magic furrows, after which plough and bullocks are sprinkled with holy water and the remaining operations may be carried out without further concealment. A sacrifice is offered as soon as the stalks have emerged from the ground and are tall enough "to hide the doves." Another marks the moment of flowering, and a third, the most important, celebrates the time of harvest. On this last occasion the owner cuts off the heads of three of the stalks and wraps them up in a cloth. The next step is to pass them through the smoke of a fire in which several pieces of eagle-wood are burning. These ears are the first-fruits offered to the goddess PÔ NÖgar, and they are afterwards hung in the owner's house until the next sowing time comes round. The same field will then be sown from the rice thus gathered. For "unconsecrated" ricefields the ritual is less complicated. When the harvesting is due the oldest woman of the group is selected to cut three tufts, which she sets with much pomp against the bank which borders the field and harangues the grain as yet ungathered in the following terms: "Follow the example you see here before you and you will be worthy of a place in my barns." After this address harvesting proceeds without interruption. When the grain is safely gathered in, the Cham believe that it sleeps all day and only awakes at night. It would be the height of desecration and imprudence to disturb its slumbers, and consequently we soon learnt the futility of asking our hosts for paddy in the daytime. We were invariably informed that we must wait until night. It was only at a late hour that the owner would consent to open the door of his barn and give us what we wanted. There was a very curious rite, fallen into desuetude since our occupation in 1888, which accompanied the gathering of the precious essence known as eagle-wood or aloe-wood. This substance is mentioned in the Bible, the Egyptian papyri, and by many Greek, Hindu and Arab writers. It seems to have been used extensively for embalming the dead, as also for combining with camphor to make a kind of incense burnt in the temples. It appears under different names, "ahalot" in Hebrew, "aghÄluhy" in Arabic, "?????????" in Greek, "agaru" in Sanscrit. The Cham call it "galao." Portuguese explorers, who seem to have been the first to discover its commercial value, used the Arabic name and translated it "pao de Aguila." In Latin this becomes "lignum aquilae," and so, in modern tongues, "eagle-wood," or "agal-wood," "adlerholz," and "bois d'aigle." This essence has attracted the attention of travellers of all nations owing to its various properties, and was formerly a commercial product of great importance among the Cham. It is found all over this region, which seems to have been the land of its origin, for it is never met with further north than the thirteenth or fourteenth degree of latitude. Botanists are not yet agreed as to the class of trees from which it is produced. The most up-to-date investigators assert that it is produced by diseases due to malnutrition in certain trees such as the aquilaria secundaria, aloexylum agallochum, and aquilaria agallocha, all of the family of the aquilarinÆa. It is an aromatic substance with a slightly resinous odour and bitter to the taste. The natives distinguish three varieties, according to their commercial value. The first quality, which is almost impossible to find to-day, commanded a price of no less than fifty-four pounds a kilogramme. The medium quality was worth sixteen pounds for the same quantity, and the cheapest quality was worth rather more than one pound a kilogramme. The variety of uses to which this accommodating substance can be put is astonishing, though it is not suitable for cabinet-making. It is largely used for incense. When thrown into a fire it melts like wax and gives off an odour which is supposed to be particularly pleasing to the Gods. Certain other of its properties are no less useful to man, who values more material favours. Thus, for example, it has very great value as a safeguard against dysentery, which is prevalent throughout Indo-China. No Mandarin in all this region ventures forth on a journey without having a supply of this indispensable medicine with him. Of course, the oriental imagination is not content to confine the virtues of this substance to those which have been demonstrated by actual experience. The supernatural is bound to appear somewhere, and accordingly all kinds of magical powers are also attributed to it. Thus every person who bears this talisman will never succumb, however long he may be deprived of food. On the contrary, his body will no longer be subjected to earthly necessities but will enter on a state of divinity which requires no sustenance. The Mandarins have every reason to appreciate this arrangement, especially at the time of their presentation at the Imperial Court at HuÉ. Etiquette exacts that until the Sovereign actually enters the throne-room they must remain quite motionless, and they sometimes find themselves compelled to stand for hours without stirring! With properties so invaluable as this, it is hardly to be wondered at that eagle-wood figured largely in the gifts presented by the sovereign of Annam to the Emperor of China by way of tribute every three years. To ensure a sufficient supply, all trade in this substance, whether for home or export, was strictly prohibited, but the prohibition was removed after our occupation, when the obligation of tribute was suspended and finally annulled. According to Masoudi, the celebrated Arab writer, eagle-wood has a celestial origin. "After the Fall, when Adam had been driven from Heaven by the angel, he fled to Mount Rahoun in the island of Ceylon. Before leaving Paradise, however, he contrived to snatch some leaves from the trees and sewed them together to make a garment. To his astonishment they shrivelled up immediately and the winds scattered them to every corner of India. It is said, but of the truth God alone can judge, that these remnants of our first father's vestment gave birth to all the perfumes of Asia, and, among them, to eagle-wood." Other legends of Hindu origin say that the aloes tree grew in an earthly paradise and that fragments of it were swept over the face of the globe by a series of floods. It is also said that the tree originally grew only on the tops of inaccessible mountains where fearful monsters or wild beasts guarded it from the greedy hands of man. However that may be, it is certain that at the present time the public is not interested in the origin of this substance so much as its exploitation for commercial purposes. An industry formerly so flourishing should be systematically revived, if only for its prospective financial importance. Balap, where the members of our mission remained for some time, is celebrated as the residence of PÔ Galao, the "Lord of the Eagle-wood," on whom devolved in former times the duty of supervising the gathering of the precious substance. His associates were sixteen men of the same village and a certain number of the "RaglaÏ" MoÏ, a group living in the neighbourhood whose keen sense of smell is vital to success. A good nose is of far greater importance than good sight, for eagle-wood exhales a characteristic odour which has to be detected from among the various smells of the virgin forest. Indeed the task of finding the tree is beset with difficulties. The undergrowth is so thick, the vegetation so hardy and rampant, that progress can only be made by clearing a path with knife and hatchet. The decaying vegetation is a prolific source of fevers. It is easily understood that with so many perils ahead the expedition never sets out without a preliminary sacrifice to the deities who can assure or withhold success. Of these deities the most important to appease are the four tutelary divinities of the valley of Phanrang. To earn their goodwill it is necessary to build a special barn for the sacrifice and make offerings of a goat, cooked rice, eggs and spirits. As soon as the expedition starts the searchers are bound by a religious law of silence. Should any member of the party speak it would be almost certain that the wood would lose its perfume, and therefore all its value. Of course, an occasional direction to the "RaglaÏ" MoÏ is unavoidable, and for this purpose the Cham make use of certain brief vivid expressions. For example, if they wish to indicate an axe they say "the wood-pecker." When they want to speak of fire they say "the red." For a long time it was believed that this conventional language was a form of religious speech, somewhat similar to the "Bhasa Hantu," or language of the Spirit, employed by the Malays. Further research, however, has proved that these expressions are confined to a few detached words borrowed from the RaglaÏ dialect and used by the Cham to communicate with them alone. The women who remain behind in the villages are strictly forbidden to quarrel amongst themselves while their husbands are away looking for eagle-wood. A breach of this regulation would mean that the men would run grave risk of being attacked by tigers or bitten by serpents. The cynical, however, assert that even this evil possibility is insufficient to preserve harmony in the village! While I was at Malam near Phantiet I was present at the annual festival of the Cham Bani of that village. The ceremony is known as "Raja," a name which is also applied to the priestess who officiates. On reaching the courtyard of the compound to which I was invited I observed a large hut and several sheds ornamented with branches of trees on which sheets of coarse cotton were spread. The sheds served to accommodate the many guests who, like myself, had accepted the invitation to be present at the festival. The hut was devoted to the ceremonies of ancestor-worship, which were that day celebrated. This building faced the east. On entering I immediately noticed at the back of the room a kind of trough serving as an altar. From the ceiling hung paper figures of boats, carts, animals and various domestic objects. In the middle of the room, suspended from the two principal beams, was a swing with its seat covered with brightly-coloured materials, which took on a strangely gay and barbaric aspect under the lights of many little candles. The native orchestra comprised a flute, a stringed instrument with some resemblance to a guitar, gongs and tambourines. The conductor, who seemed to be the principal performer, also improvised on a flat drum, timing his melodious drone to fill the intervals when the priestess was resting. The latter, clothed in a long white robe and with a wreath of flowers in her hair, joined with an assistant priest in the steps of a saraband. Together they gave vent to their feelings in dancing, singing, prayers, imprecations, tears, grinding of teeth and hypnotic ecstasies, all with the object of appeasing the shades of the ancestors. Suddenly the priestess seated herself on the swing in the narrow passage left between the candles. She swung herself slowly to and fro, running her hands up and down the supporting ropes and droning through endless prayers. When she had finished the priest followed her example and went through the same rigmarole. So curious was the scene that I could not resist the malevolent idea of taking a photograph and without reflection I fired a piece of magnesium ribbon. Woe to me for my impatience! In the confusion which followed the flash both I and my camera were almost upset. I had purposely given the company no notice of my intention in order to avoid the "posing" which self-conscious sitters cannot avoid. The Faithful, in their amazement, had taken the sudden apparition as an emanation of the Gods themselves. Something more than explanations was necessary to allay the general alarm, and it was only after a generous distribution of tobacco that I was able to restore some measure of harmony. The religious celebrations lasted three days, interspersed with feasts and other diversions, notably an acrobatic display by a performer who roused his audience to a frenzy of enthusiasm. At the beginning of each feast a priest called all the deities by name and executed the movements of a dance in their honour. These evolutions are an invitation to the divinities to take their place in the celebrations. At dawn on the second day the priestess filled with cakes and fruit a toy boat hollowed out of the trunk of a banana-tree by some ingenious artisan. In this frail canoe a rag monkey was placed, squatting on its haunches in a very grotesque position. The boat was meant to commemorate the vessel which in former days came from China every three years to fetch the tribute exacted from a vassal state. After this the roysterers fell upon the improvised temple and hacked it to pieces amongst general rejoicings. The next day, by way of applying the closure to the festivities, the whole crowd, headed by the priest and priestess, marched to a neighbouring canal, taking the symbolical boat with them. While the orchestra poured forth an unmelodious symphony the lilliputian vessel was entrusted to the waters, in which it speedily filled and disappeared. There are strong resemblances between this Cham ceremony and the celebrations in India which mark the changes of the monsoon. In this latter country travellers find the same gaily bedecked sheds, the same rude figures cut out of paper, and the same swing scene. The Hindus regard the backward and forward movement of the swing as a symbol of the movements of the seasons. Most of the rites which obtain among the Cham, in fact, recall the ritual observances of the Vedic and Brahminic religions, of which the following are among the most characteristic features. The place selected for the crowning act of sacrifice, "Devayajana," is always an open space, whether at a cross-roads or in an enclosure. The improvised temple is made of branches or clods of earth and is invariably destroyed by the worshippers after the solemn ceremony is over. Each sacrifice is regarded as the conclusion of a treaty between the gods and mortals. The value of the offering is in proportion to the extent of the favours desired. Most sacrifices are for heat or rain, two necessaries of life without which neither health nor prosperity is possible. The officiating priest and his bodyguard of acolytes are housed and fed at the expense of the "Yajamana," the individual for whose ultimate benefit the benevolence of the gods is solicited. I ought to add that the previous life and blamelessness of this person have nothing to do with the efficacy of the sacrifice. On the contrary, the only thing that matters is the exact, punctilious observance of the rite itself. It is plain that intellect plays little part in these religious ceremonies. Throughout, each act is designed to fire the imagination and arouse the emotions, rather than carry conviction. It is equally certain that rites of undoubted Dravidian origin are to be observed among the Cham. The common denominator of all the religions of India is the worship of divinities personifying the earth or the elements, generally in the shape of a woman, and almost always considered malevolent. Horrible sacrifices are offered to appease them, and the religious ceremonies usually terminate in the most abandoned orgies. The presiding priest, or "Devil Dancer," after a series of frantic contortions, falls to the ground in a hypnotic trance, during which the incoherent expressions that fall from his lips are greedily noted and repeated by the Faithful, who regard them as the words of Divinity itself. For a last example there are certain fÊtes, such as the "Durgapuja" in Bengal, marked by buffoonery and pantomime, in which the worshippers conclude the ceremonies by carrying a statue of the goddess in procession to the river banks, and casting it into the waters to the strains of an ear-shattering orchestra. CHAPTER V RITES AND SUPERSTITIONS (continued) Burial rites—Philology—Legends and fables. The exorcisms of the "Padjao" directed towards expelling disease from the bodies of the Cham are too similar to those of the MoÏ sorceress to merit description, which would be little more than repetition. On the other hand, the burial rites of the Kaphir Cham are highly characteristic. Children who die before the age of puberty, and therefore not initiated into the full rights and mysteries of manhood, are buried in the earth, while adults of both sexes are cremated. The reason for this distinction is not far to seek. The adults are regarded as a class set apart with its own complex of funeral rites and observances. Further, those who die while still of tender years die in innocence and need no such purification from their sins as is implied in the practice of submitting the bodies of their elders to the scourge of fire. After death the spirits of the little ones are supposed to dwell in the bodies of rats, and their memory is perpetuated from time to time by ceremonies in which the head of the family, clad in a new robe for the occasions, makes offerings, waves his hands in the air to imitate the movements of a bird, performs certain mystical passes, and puts a red flower in a bronze vase. The burial rites which are still practised by the Kaphir Cham of Phanrang and Phanry serve as excellent comments on the duties of the priest in case of the death of any inhabitant of a village. The fundamental notion on which all the observances are based is that the soul of the deceased must have a new body in which it may take refuge after the loss of its earthly dwelling-place. All the ceremonies are designed to create this new body. It is universally agreed that rice alone can operate the necessary transformation, and as the rice must be of the finest quality procurable, each family preserves the best stalks from the harvest and lays them up in anticipation of a death. When the dread moment arrives the selected grains are mixed in a bowl into which a gold ring, symbol of immortality, has been dropped. The priest now glues a few grains together with melted wax to form a soft round ball, which is introduced under the dead man's tongue. A few mystical passes, and the soul leaves its old shell for the new Ætherial body thus called into existence. The next and last step is to give the soul its necessary directions. These depend upon the manner of life of the deceased. Virtuous men are sent to the sun, women against whom there is no reproach to the moon. If the credit and debit items of a man's moral account balance out he is dispatched to the planets. The wicked are dispersed among the clouds, as are also the poor and lowly, an inequitable disposition worthy of a theocracy! The actual ceremony of cremation follows after a period which is determined by the state of the corpse and the financial position of the deceased's family. From the moment of death to the cremation custom exacts that all visitors to the family should be housed and fed at the expense of the relations. These visitors come to keep the deceased company and pretend to entertain him by their wit and conversation. They also cheer up the relations and do their best to keep sorrow at a convenient distance. The family build a special shed under which the corpse is laid, after having been dressed in eight robes, one over the other. Thus swathed in white linen the body looks exactly like a package with the head, covered with a thin veil, emerging from one end. It is strictly forbidden to offer any nourishment to the deceased before he leaves his own house. The bed on which the corpse is laid is turned towards the south and surmounted by a kind of canopy from which hang birds cut out of paper. It seems that the function of this winged escort is to conduct the soul to its future home. Clumps of hemp and various foods are strewn around the bier and the walls of the shed are hung with martial trophies. Photo by A. Cabaton. Cremation in Cambodia: The Head of the Procession. Photo by A. Cabaton. A Catafalque upon which several Bodies are being carried away for Cremation. Photo by A. Cabaton. The Hearse and Bearers at an Annamese Funeral. Photo. by A. Cabaton. The Altar of his Ancestors which accompanies the Deceased. Three times a day the priestess prepares a meal for the deceased. An orchestra plays from morning to night almost without intermission. It is soon plain that this lying-in-state, so far from being a rite of mourning, is more like a festival. The guests consume enormous quantities of food and drink, and only the unfortunate relations are under ban to refrain from meat until after the cremation. When at length the great day arrives the priests construct a catafalque adorned with paper figures, the mourners line up in procession behind, and all proceed to the appointed place. Every villager dons his white scarf—white being the colour of mourning—brandishes a spear, sword, or flag, and joins in the cortÈge. The bearers perform the most remarkable evolutions with the body, carrying it now feet first, now head first, or turning it round and round in order to confuse the spirit and prevent it from finding its way back. This essential object is also secured by a priest, known on these occasions as "PÔ Damoeun," "Lord of Sorrow," who remains in the house of the deceased, shuts himself in, and calls on every object, animate and inanimate, to prevent the soul from entering and molesting the living. When the funeral procession is within a hundred yards from the exit from the village a priest takes a spade and marks out the spot destined for the funeral pyre. Wood is brought and piled up and the corpse is stripped of its wrappings and offered its last meal. As soon as the flames break out the clothes of the deceased are thrown into them. Now comes the moment, marked by the passage of the soul to the life beyond, when the living send gifts to their dead relations. Each man writes his list of presents on a slip of paper and then burns it. The list is exhaustive, including such homely and necessary articles as a pipe, spittoon and the inevitable receptacle for betel and lime. Even underclothing and small change are not forgotten. During the progress of the conflagration the spectators joke and chatter together, leaving the serious business of desolation to the hired mourners, who weep aloud and tear their hair. At the conclusion of the ceremony the frontal bone of the deceased is carefully broken in nine pieces, which are collected in a metal box, the "klong," a special kind of urn. Every man provides himself with one of these receptacles in anticipation of his own death, but the usual practice is to conceal it in some place known only to his family, as it is not altogether pleasant to be perpetually reminded of the terror to come. The fragments of bone are now subjected to a long and tedious process of purification, after which they are buried at the foot of a tree, which is carefully noted, as being only a temporary depository. For the next seven years on each anniversary the family dig up the box, carry it back to their house, and offer sacrifices in its honour. After the seventh year the interment is permanent. A spot is chosen near to the best of the family ricefields, trees are planted round it, and a tombstone is erected. Sometimes the rites require that for the first interment the "klong" of a man and a woman must be used together. It follows that in small families where many years may elapse between the deaths of its members the first "klong" runs a great risk of exceeding its seven compulsory years of waiting before reaching its final resting-place. The direction in which the urn is placed varies with the sex of the deceased. The "klong" of a woman points to the west, that of a man to the east. I have described these rites at some length on account of their intrinsic interest, but it would be illuminating to compare them with similar ceremonies obtaining among other groups. The Man Quan Trang, or "white-breeched" Man of Tonkin, bury the hair and portions of the nails and bones in a different place from that of the corpse itself. The reason for this is that these fragments are considered the abode of the Material Soul and the Vital Spirits. The Bouriates of Siberia bury some of the bones of their priests at the foot of a tree. The Egyptians made a set speech to their dead, in which they gave directions for the guidance of the soul to the distant regions, and enumerated a list of necessary articles to accompany it. The recitation of these articles dispensed with the necessity of furnishing them. The will was thus considered as good as the deed. Lastly the funeral rites I have described find analogies among the Laotians and the peoples of Cambodia. Here also a death is celebrated as a happy event, as being merely a step to a new existence far more blessed than the life on earth. The face of the corpse is covered with a mask in gold leaf which is moulded to the features, and the process of decomposition is retarded by the introduction of mercury. The catafalque is large or small according to the social position of the deceased. A king, for example, has a regular monument known as the "MÉn." A Minister of State or a High Priest is honoured with a rather smaller edifice, while those of humble estate have to be content with a simple pyramid. A large white cloth is hung over the catafalque, of which the opening is guarded by a small figure in the mask of a monkey. This is "YÉac," a subject of Couvera, the God of Riches, whose statue adorns every place where a mystical transformation is to be accomplished. The quaint figure holds in its hand a reel of white cotton, of which one end is secured to the coffin and which will guide the soul after it has left the body. The torch which fires the funeral pyre is lit at a brasier which contains the sacred embers which must never be extinguished. When cremation is complete the bones are collected into a box made of precious metal, which is buried under a tower, the height of which varies with the wealth of the deceased. All these rites, however much they vary among themselves in detail, seem to be based on the same popular ideas of the significance of death. Like ourselves, the Cham write from left to right. Their alphabet varies in different regions. In Cambodia it comprises four vowels, two diphthongs, and twenty-nine consonants. In Annam there are five short vowels, five long vowels, and four diphthongs. Both of these alphabets have two special signs which correspond to the "Anusvara" and "Visarga" of Sanscrit. There are also certain signs usually employed in conjunction with the vowels which influence their pronunciation. With the exception of the figures 4 and 0 the numerals are only a modified form of the letters. The popular pen is a short bamboo cut to a point and manipulated like a paint-brush. The European pen is, however, coming into fashion with the progress of Western ideas. In Cambodia manuscripts are written in a beautiful free hand on paper of Western form and manufacture. On the other hand, the Cham of Annam use sheets of rice-paper of tremendous size imported from China. Occasionally the traveller meets with inscriptions made with a needle on palm-leaves. The priests of Annam employ a hieratic writing, which they call "Akhar Rik," especially for such purposes as engraving magical inscriptions on amulets. A secret system and an abbreviated system are also used when occasion requires. A curious feature of their books is that the authors display a tendency to coin new words from Sanscrit or Arabic roots even when the idea expressed in those roots has only the remotest similarity to the meaning they wish the word to convey. The Cham Bani of Phanrang are the proud possessors of the manuscript of a Bible, the text of which has been modified in many places by Mohammedan influence. The truth of this will be demonstrated from the examples translated by Father Durand. "This Book tells the story of the beginnings of Earth and Heaven.... The creation of the Sun God and the Moon Goddess. The Lord Uwlwah—Allah—then created the PÔ Adam and the woman Hawa, whom he took from the man's side.... Their children numbered nine and ninety, an equal(!) number of boys and girls. They died in the Kingdom of Judah." Then follow the story of the flood, the lives of Abraham and David, without conspicuous discrepancies. "The son of Nabi Dalawat—Daoud, David—(the Cham have no final d) was called the Nabi Suleiman—Solomon. Allah commanded him to build the Caabah—temple—and gave him a mountain of gold and silver. Suleiman covered the walls of his Caabah with these precious metals and it became wondrously beautiful. He was appointed Chief of the Priests therein.... Then Nabi Esa—Issa, Jesus—was born in the country of Baitelem and him Allah took to himself.... Then Mohammat—Mahomet—for forty years decreed all the Doctrine in the Kingdom of Makah—Mecca—and died in the Kingdom of Madjanah—Medina.... Then Adam and Hawa produced the seven Royalties. The sum of these seven epochs gives the total of 7306 years to the cyclic year of the Tiger.... "That is all...." The Cham, like the Kmer, have taken little trouble over the composition of their legends and fables. Apart from certain legends which by internal evidence and local flavour can only be regarded as having originated among the Cham, all the others are more or less successful adaptations of Hindu tales. In almost all countries, and conspicuously in the Far East, popular fancy fastens and feeds on the fabulous, or, at least, incredibly romantic, adventures of the ancient Kings. It is at least true to say that these adventures furnish a canvas on which imagination has worked wondrous pictures. The origin of the special tight-fitting costume worn by the Cham women is explained on this wise. In the darkness of the Past a Cham Prince named Hon HoÎ declared war on a Laotian Princess, whose ricefields he coveted. In accordance with the customs of the women of her race, the Princess, Diep Lieu, was arrayed in nothing more than a scanty covering of bamboo fibres. The barbarity and ignorance of her subjects was incredible. All buying and selling went on by night, and in the darkness it was impossible to determine the quality of the wares displayed except by their fine smell. The Prince had no difficulty in overwhelming her forces and making her his prisoner. But she found favour in his sight, and within a short time she exchanged captivity for freedom and honour as his wife. The Prince, however, was shocked at the summary attire of his betrothed and for the wedding-day he gave her a costume of his own making. This was a kind of sack, at the top of which was a narrow hole for the head to come through. The Cham also honour the thesis that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, so the women adopted this new mode with avidity, and it has survived all the attacks of time and feminine caprice. A legend has gathered round each of the kings who has been raised to the ranks of divinity by the Cham. PÔ Klong Garai was born of a Virgin Mother, PÔ Sah Ineu, who rose alive from the waves. Though hardly yet a woman she conceived her son while sipping water from a stream which flowed through a rock. The child was smitten with the horror of leprosy from birth. While he rested near a rock, a dragon emerged from a cavern, licked the sores caused by the fell disease, and the child was immediately cured. From that day he felt himself endowed with matchless celestial powers. On one occasion, when about to make a distant journey, and at a loss for a receptacle in which to carry water he saw a pumpkin. At the first touch of his hand the fruit broke its stalk and offered its services as a gourd. When this magician became King he built several dams in the valley of Phanrang and turned an arid desert into a fertile plain. So great were his services to his people that finally the gods rewarded him by calling him to be one of themselves. Hardly less humble in origin than this prince was PÔ RomÉ. He also was born of a Virgin Mother, whom the family drove from their doors in horror at the alleged crime. Nature, too, was not more kindly to the tiny bastard, who had neither arms nor legs and rolled over the ground like a cocoa-nut (a peculiarity from which he soon took that name). In spite of his deformity, however, the reigning sovereign praised him to his mother and appointed him to guard the cattle. Destiny was watching over him and a Dragon soon appeared to tell him of all the glories the future had in store. Warned of the approaching miracle by the court astrologers, the King set himself to win the regard of one who might one day prove a formidable rival to himself. He finally decided to abdicate in the young man's favour and added to his benefits by giving him the hand of his daughter in marriage and two other wives of the second and third degree. But Cocoa-nut was not happy even with his three wives. Hardly had he ascended the throne than he lost his crown through the artifices of his second wife. This lady was the daughter of the King of Annam who coveted his neighbour's lands and was not above treachery to secure them. At this time the tutelary deity of the Cham was shut up in the trunk of a tree, known as the "Kraik," and so long as this tree was alive no misfortune could befall the race beneath its Ægis. The second wife, adopting the counsel of her evil father, pretended to be smitten with a grave malady. She refused all cures and asserted that her only hope was the destruction of the Kraik. Cocoa-nut, who had a strong affection for this wife, had her carefully examined by the four most eminent medicine-men of his kingdom. All four agreed that the illness was a sham, and all four paid for their truthfulness with their heads. Meanwhile the lady's condition seemed to go from bad to worse, and the King decided to fell with his own hand the tree on which hung the destinies of his people. Streams of blood flowed from the smitten trunk and soaked the ground around. The King had not long to wait for retribution. Betrayed by his treacherous spouse, his kingdom was wrested from him and he was hacked in pieces by his triumphant foe. His incisors alone were restored to his first wife that she might pay the honour due to his remains. The ex-Cocoa-nut, become PÔ RomÉ, now dwells among the Gods, but even there, it seems, his domestic tribulations have pursued him, and he is often glad, when distracted by the factious quarrels of his womenfolk, to get away from his palace and leave it to them. The Cham have a certain partiality for songs and lyrical poems not destitute of taste and feeling have acquired popularity among them. A romance which the girls of Phanrang sing on their fishing expeditions is as follows: "Do you go forth to set sail, my Lord, that you look at the leaves for the direction of the wind? Ibrahim, my soul of gold ... hard would it be if you left me.... "Pity your little sister fair as gold itself! Do not leave her, like an orphan, to wander in the forests where fear and danger lurk.... "You will stay! Oh joy! Life will be naught but play and laughter and walks together, hand in hand!" Finally, there is the skeleton, not much more, of a literature. Here are some extracts from a bedside book which all girls are supposed to study before making their own homes. "Liver and Bile of thy mother, approach, my child, and learn what a woman should know. "When thou speakest with thy husband, let thy tone above all be modest. "Strive not to appear superior or even as his equal, for the man it is who should lead the woman. "My child, the boat will not leave its moorings if the stake is solid and secure! In a family the husband is the keystone of the structure! "The honour he gains goes to the credit of his wife. "My daughter, ever remember that the happiness of a household lies in the hands of the wife. She must not waste the goods he entrusts to her. "Waste not then the least trifle. See that every door has always its bolt.... Follow these precepts and wert thou as hideous as an ape thou shalt keep the love of thy husband, for thy presence shall be more profitable to him than a bar of gold, were it the height of a cocoa-nut tree...." Of such homely advice consists the very ancient manuscript which Moura translated and which escaped the wreck in which all the others were lost. I expect modern young ladies will find these mother's words somewhat out of date. But what European husband would not occasionally envy the Cham so perfect a partner? THE END
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