Bronislaw Malinowski

In treating of the various customs and practices of the Kula, I had at every step to enter into the description of magical rites and into the analysis of spells. This had to be done, first of all, because magic looms paramount in the natives’ view of the Kula. Again, all magical formulÆ disclose essentials of belief and illustrate typical ideas in a manner so thorough and telling that no other road could lead us as straight into the inner mind of the native. Finally, there is a direct, ethnographic interest in knowing the details of magical performance, which has such an overweening influence over tribal life, and enters so deeply into the make-up of the natives’ mentality.

It is now necessary to complete our knowledge of magic and to focus all the dispersed data into one coherent picture. So far, the many scattered references and numerous concrete details have not furnished a general idea, of what magic means to the natives; how they imagine the working of the magical forces; what are their implied and expressed views on the nature of magical power. Collecting all the material which has already been presented in the previous chapters, and supplementing it with native and ethnographic comments, we shall be able to arrive at a certain synthesis, respecting the Kiriwinian theory of magic.

All the data which have been so far mustered disclose the extreme importance of magic in the Kula. But if it were a question of treating of any other aspect of the tribal life of these natives, it would also be found that, whenever they approach any concern of vital importance, they summon magic to their aid. It can be said without exaggeration that magic, according to their ideas, governs human destinies; that it supplies man with the power of mastering the forces of nature; and that it is his weapon and armour against the many dangers which crowd in upon him on every side. Thus, in what is most essential to man, that is in his health and bodily welfare, he is but a plaything of the powers of sorcery, of evil spirits and of certain beings, controlled by black magic. Death in almost all its forms is the result of one of these agencies. Permanent ill-health and all kinds of acute sickness, in fact everything, except such easily explainable ailments as physical overstrain or slight colds, are attributed to magic. I have spoken (Chapter II) of the several ways in which the evil powers bring disease and death. The tauva’u, who bring epidemics and the tokway, who inflict shooting pains and minor ailments, are the only examples of non-human beings’ exerting any direct influence on human destinies, and even the members of this restricted pantheon of demonology only occasionally descend among the mortals to put into action their potential powers. By far the deepest dread and most constant concern of the natives are with the bwaga’u, the entirely human sorcerers, who carry out their work exclusively by means of magic. Second to them in the quantity of magical output and in the frequency of their exploits, are the mulukwausi, the flying witches, which have been described in detail in Chapter XI. They are a good example of how every belief in a superior power is at the bottom a belief in magic. Magic gives to these beings the capacity to destroy human life and to command other agents of destruction. Magic also gives man the power and the means to defend himself, and if properly applied, to frustrate all the nefarious attempts of the mulukwausi. Comparing the two agencies, it may be said that in every-day life, the sorcerer is by far the most feared and is most frequently believed to be at work; while the mulukwausi enter upon the scene at certain dramatic moments, such as the presence of death, a catastrophe on land, and more especially at sea; but then, they enter with even deadlier weapons than the bwaga’u. Health, the normal state of human beings can, if once lost, be regained by magic and by magic only. There is no such thing as natural recovery, return to health being always due to the removal of the evil magic by means of magical counter-action.

All those crises of life, which are associated with fear of danger, with the awakening of passions or of strong emotions, have also their magical accompaniment. The birth of a child is always ushered in by magic, in order to make the child prosper, and to neutralise the dangers and evil influences. There is no rite or magic at puberty; but then, with this people, puberty does not present any very definite crisis in the life of the individual, as their sexual life starts long before puberty arrives, and gradually shapes and develops as the organism matures. The passion of love, however, has a very elaborate magical counterpart, embodied in many rites and formulÆ, to which a great importance is attached, and all success in sexual life is ascribed to it. The evil results of illicit love—that is love within the clan, which, by the way, is considered by these natives as the main class of sexual immorality—can also be counteracted by a special type of magic.

The main social interests, ambition in gardening, ambition in successful Kula, vanity and display of personal charms in dancing—all find their expression in magic. There is a form of beauty magic, performed ceremonially over the dancers, and there is also a kind of safety magic at dances, whose object is to prevent the evil magic of envious sorcerers. Particular garden magic, performed by an individual over his crops and seeds, as well as the evil magic which he casts on the gardens of his rivals, express the private ambitions in gardening, as contrasted with the interests of the whole village, which are catered for by communal garden magic.

Natural forces of great importance to man, such as rain and sunshine, the appropriate alternative operation of which makes his crops thrive; or wind, which must be controlled for purposes of sailing and fishing, are also governed by magic. The magic of rain and sunshine can be used for good, as well as for nefarious purposes, and in this they have a special interest in the Trobriands, because the most powerful system of this magic is in the hands of the paramount chiefs of Kiriwina. By bringing about a prolonged drought, the chiefs of Omarakana have always been able to express their general displeasure with their subjects, and thus enhance their wholesale power, independently of any other mechanism, which they might have used for forcing their will on private individuals or on whole communities.

The basic, food-providing economic activities, which in the Trobriands are mainly gardening and fishing, are also completely magic-ridden. The success of these pursuits is of course largely due to luck, chance or accident, and to the natives they require supernatural assistance. We had examples of economic magic in describing the construction of a canoe, and the fishing for kaloma shell. The communal garden-magic and the fishing magic of certain village communities show to a higher degree even than the cases described, the feature which we found so distinct in canoe magic, namely: that the rites and formulÆ are not a mere appendage, running side by side with economic efforts, without exercising any influence over these. On the contrary, it may be said that a belief in magic is one of the main, psychological forces which allow for organisation and systemisation of economic effort in the Trobriands.1 The capacity for art, as well as the inspiration in it, is also ascribed to the influence of magic.

The passions of hatred, envy, and jealousy, besides finding their expression in the all powerful sorcery of the bwaga’u and mulukwausi, are also responsible for many forms of witchery, known by the generic term of bulubwalata. The classical forms of this magic have as their object the estrangement of the affections of a wife or a sweetheart, or the destruction of the domestic attachment of a pig. The pig is sent away into the bush, having been made to take a dislike to its master and to its domestic habits; the wife, though the spells used to estrange her are slightly different, can be made also to take a dislike to her domestic life, abandon her husband and return to her parents. There is a bulubwalata of gardens, of canoes, of Kula, of kaloma, in fact of everything, and a good deal of beneficial magic is taken up with exorcising the results of bulubwalata.

The list of magic is not quite exhausted yet. There is the magic of conditional curses, performed in order to guard property from possible harm, inflicted by others; there is war-magic; there is magic associated with taboos put on coco-nuts and betel-nuts, in order to make them grow and multiply; there is magic to avert thunder and resuscitate people who are struck by lightning; there is the magic of tooth-ache, and a magic to make food last a long time.

All this shows the wide diffusion of magic, its extreme importance and also the fact that it is always strongest there, where vital interests are concerned; where violent passions or emotions are awakened; when mysterious forces are opposed to man’s endeavours; and when he has to recognise that there is something which eludes his most careful calculations, his most conscientious preparations and efforts.

Let us now proceed to formulate some short statement of the essential conception of magic, as it is entertained by the natives. All statement of belief, found among human beings so widely different from us, is full of difficulties and pitfalls, which perhaps beset us most there, where we try to arrive at the very foundation of the belief—that is, at the most general ideas which underlie a series of practices and a body of traditions. In dealing with a native community at the stage of development which we find in the Trobriands, we cannot expect to obtain a definite, precise and abstract statement from a philosopher, belonging to the community itself. The native takes his fundamental assumptions for granted, and if he reasons or inquires into matters of belief, it would be always only as regards details and concrete applications. Any attempts on the part of the Ethnographer to induce his informant to formulate such a general statement would have to be in the form of leading questions of the worst type because in these leading questions he would have to introduce words and concepts essentially foreign to the native. Once the informant grasped their meaning, his outlook would be warped by our own ideas having been poured into it. Thus the Ethnographer must draw the generalisation for himself, must formulate the abstract statement without the direct help of a native informant.

I am saying direct help because the generalisation must be entirely based on indirect data supplied by the natives. In the course of collecting information, of discussing formulÆ and translating their text, a considerable number of opinions on matters of detail will be set forth by the natives. Such spontaneous opinions, if placed in a correctly constructed mosaic, might almost of themselves give us a true picture, might almost cover the whole field of native belief. And then our task would only be to summarise this picture in an abstract formula.

The Ethnographer, however, possesses an even better supply of evidence from which to draw his conclusions. The objective items of culture, into which belief has crystallised in the form of tradition, myth, spell and rite are the most important source of knowledge. In them, we can face the same realities of belief as the native faces in his intimate intercourse with the magical, the same realities which he not only professes with his tongue, but lives through partly in imagination and partly in actual experience. An analysis of the contents of the spells, the study of the manner in which they are uttered; in which the concomitant rites are performed; the study of the natives’ behaviour, of the actors as well as of the spectators; the knowledge of the social position and social functions, of the magical expert—all this reveals to us, not only the bare structure of their ideas on magic, but also the associated sentiments and emotions, and the nature of magic as a social force.

An Ethnographer who, from the study of such objective data, has been able to penetrate into the natives’ attitude, to formulate a general theory of magic, can then test his conclusions by direct questionings. For he will be already in a position to use native terminology and to move along the lines of native thought, and in his questionings he will be able to accept the lead of his informant instead of misleading the latter and himself by leading questions. More especially in obtaining opinions of actual occurrences from the natives, he will not have to move in abstract generalities, but will be able to translate them into concrete applications and into the native modes of thought.

In arriving at such general conclusions about vast aspects of primitive human thought and custom, the Ethnographer’s is a creative work, in so far as he brings to light phenomena of human nature which, in their entirety, had remained hidden even from those in whom they happened. It is creative in the same sense as is the construction of general principles of natural science, where objective laws of very wide application lie hidden till brought forth by the investigating human mind. In the same sense, however, as the principles of natural science are empirical, so are also the final generalisations of ethnographic sociology because, though expressly stated for the first time by the investigator, they are none the less objective realities of human thinking, feeling and behaviour.

We can start from the question of how the natives imagine their magic to have originated. If we would ask even the most intelligent informant some such concretely framed questions as: “Where has your magic been made? How do you imagine its invention?”—they would necessarily remain unanswered. Not even a warped and half-suggested reply would be forthcoming. Yet there is an answer to this question, or rather to its generalised equivalent. Examining the mythology of one form of magic after the other, we find that there are in every one either explicitly stated or implied views about how magic has become known to man. As we register these views, compare them, and arrive at a generalisation, we easily see, why our imaginary question, put to the natives, would have to remain unanswered. For, according to native belief, embedded in all traditions and all institutions, magic is never conceived as having been made or invented. Magic has been handed on as a thing which has always been there. It is conceived as an intrinsic ingredient of everything that vitally affects man. The words, by which a magician exercises his power over a thing or a process, are believed to be co-existent with them. The magical formula and its subject matter were born together.

In some cases, tradition represents them literally as being ‘born’ by the same woman. Thus, rain was brought forth by a woman of Kasana’i, and the magic came with it, and has been handed on ever since in this woman’s sub-clan. Again, the mythical mother of the Kultur-hero Tudava gave birth, among other plants and animals, also to the kalala fish. The magic of this fish is also due to her. In the short myth about the origin of kayga’u magic—the one to protect drowning sailors from witches and other dangers—we saw that the mother, who gave birth to the Tokulubweydoga dog, also handed the magic over to him. In all these cases, however, the myth does not point to these women’s inventing or composing the magic; indeed, it is explicitly stated by some natives that the women had learned the magic from their matrilineal ancestors. In the last case, the woman is said in the myth to have known the magic by tradition.

Other myths are more rudimentary, yet, though less circumstantial about the origin of the magic, show us just as unmistakably that magic is a primeval thing, indeed, in the literal sense of the word, autochthonous. Thus, the Kula magic in Gumasila came out of the rock of Selawaya; the canoe magic out of the hole in the ground, brought by the men, who originally emerged with it; garden magic is always conceived as being carried from underground by the first ancestors, who emerged out of the original hole of that locality. Several minor forms of magic of local currency, such as fish magic, practised in one village only, wind magic, etc., are also imagined to have been carried out of the ground. All the forms of sorcery have been handed over to people by non-human beings, who passed them on but did not create them. The bwaga’u sorcery is due to a crab, who gave it to a mythical personage, in whose dala (sub-clan) the magic was carried on and from it distributed all over the islands. The tokway (wood-sprites) have taught man certain forms of evil magic. There are no myths in Kiriwina about the origin of flying witch magic. From other districts, however, I have obtained rudimentary information pointing to the fact that they were instructed in this magic by a mythical, malevolent being called Taukuripokapoka, with whom even now some sort of relations are kept up, culminating in nocturnal meetings and sexual orgies which remind one very strongly of the Walpurgisnacht.

Love magic, the magic of thunder and lightning, are accounted for by definite events. But in neither of them are we led to imagine that the formula is invented, in fact, there is a sort of petitio principii in all these myths, for on the one hand they set out to account for how magic came, and on the other, in all of them magic is represented as being there, ready made. But the petitio principii is due only to a false attitude of mind with which we approach these tales. Because, to the native mind, they set out to tell, not how magic originated, but how magic was brought within the reach of one or other of the Boyowan local groups or sub-clans.

Thus it may be said, in formulating a generalisation from all these data, that magic is never invented. In olden days, when mythical things happened, magic came from underground, or was given to a man by some non-human being, or was handed on to descendants by the original ancestress, who also brought forth the phenomenon governed by the magic. In actual cases of the present times and of the near-past generations whom the natives of to-day knew personally, the magic is given by one man to another, as a rule by the father to his son or by the maternal kinsman. But its very essence is the impossibility of its being manufactured or invented by man, its complete resistance to any change or modification by him. It has existed ever since the beginning of things; it creates, but is never created; it modifies, but must never be modified.

It is now easy to see that no questions about the origins of magic, such as we formulated before, could have been asked of a native informant without distorting the evidence in the very act of questioning, while more general and quite abstract and colourless inquiries cannot be made intelligible to him. He has grown up into a world where certain processes, certain activities have their magic, which is as much an attribute of theirs’ as anything else. Some people have been traditionally instructed how this magic runs, and they know it; how men came by magic is told in numerous mythical narratives. That is the correct statement of the native point of view. Once arrived at this conclusion inductively, we can of course, test our conclusions by direct questions, or by a leading question, for the matter of that. To the question: “where human beings found magic?” I obtained the following answer:—

“All magic, they found long ago in the nether world. We do not find ever a spell in a dream; should we say so, this would be a lie. The spirits never give us a spell. Songs and dances they do give us, that is true, but no magic.”

This statement, expressing the belief in a very clear and direct manner, I had confirmed, reiterated with variations and amplifications, by ever so many informants. They all emphasise the fact that magic has its roots in tradition, that it is the most immutable and most valuable traditional item, that it cannot leak into human knowledge by any present human intercourse with spirits or with any non-human beings such as the tokway or tauva’u. The property of having been received from previous generations is so marked that any breach of continuity in this succession cannot be imagined, and any addition by an actual human being would make the magic spurious.

At the same time, magic is conceived as something essentially human. It is not a force of nature, captured by man through some means and put to his service; it is essentially the assertion of man’s intrinsic power over nature. In saying that, I, of course translate native belief into abstract terms, which they would not use themselves for its expression. None the less it is embodied in all their items of folk-lore and ways of using magic and thinking about it. In all the traditions, we find that magic is always in possession of man, or at least of anthropomorphic beings. It is carried out from underground by man. It is not conceived as having been there somewhere outside his knowledge and then captured. On the contrary, as we saw, often the very things which are governed by magic have been brought forth by man, as for instance rain, the kalala fish; or disease, created by the anthropomorphic crab.

The close sociological association of magic with a given sub-clan emphasises this anthropocentric conception of magic. In the majority of cases indeed, magic refers to human activities or to the response of nature to human activities, rather than to natural forces alone. Thus, in gardening and in fishing, it is the behaviour of plants and animals tended or pursued by man; in the canoe magic, in the carver’s magic, the object is a human-made thing; in the Kula, in love magic, in many forms of food magic, it is human nature on to which the force is directed. Disease is not conceived as an extraneous force, coming from outside and settling on the man, it is directly a man-made, sorcerer-made something. We may, therefore, amplify the above given definition, and say that magic is a traditionally handed on power of man over his own creations, over things once brought forth by man, or over responses of nature to his activities.

There is one more important aspect of the question of which I have spoken already—the relation of magic to myth. It has been stated in Chapter XII, that myth moves in the realm of the supernatural, or better, super-normal, and that magic bridges over the gap between that and present-day reality. Now this statement acquires a new importance; magic appears to us as the essence of traditional continuity with ancestral times. Not only, as I have emphasised in this chapter, is it never conceived as a new invention, but it is identical in its nature with the supernatural power which forms the atmosphere of mythical events. Some of this power may have been lost on its way down to our times—mythical stories relate how it has been lost; but never has anything been added to it. There is nothing in it now which has not been in it in the ancient, hoary times of myth. In this the natives have a definitely regressive view of the relation between now and before; in this they have their counterpart to a Golden Age, and to a Garden of Eden of sorts. Thus we fall back upon the recognition of the same truth, whether we approach the matter by looking for beginnings of magic, or by studying the relations between the present and the mythical reality. Magic is a thing never invented and never tampered with, by man or any other agency.

This, of course, means that it is so in native belief. It hardly needs explicitly stating that in reality magic must constantly change. The memory of men is not such, that it could hand over verbally exactly what it had received, and, like any other item of traditional lore, a magical formula is in reality constantly being re-shaped as it passes from one generation to another, and even within the mind of the same man. As a matter of fact, even from the material collected by me in the Trobriands, it can be unmistakably recognised that certain formulÆ are much older than others, and indeed, that some parts of spells, and even some whole spells, are of recent invention. Here I cannot do more than refer to this interesting subject, which, for its full development, needs a good deal of linguistic analysis, as well as of other forms of “higher criticism.”

All these considerations have brought us very near to the essential problem: what does magic really mean to the natives? So far, we have seen that it is an inherent power of man over those things which vitally affect him, a power always handed over through tradition.2 About the beginnings of magic they know as little, and are occupied as little as about the beginnings of the world. Their myths describe the origin of social institutions and the peopling of the world by men. But the world is taken for granted, and so is the magic. They ask no questions about magiogony any more than they do about cosmogony.

So far we have not gone beyond the examination of myths and of what we can learn from them about the nature of magic. To gain a deeper insight into this subject, we must study more closely the concrete data about magical performance. Even in the foregoing chapters a sufficient material has been collected to allow of correct inferences, and I shall only here and there have to allude to other forms of magic, besides that of canoe, Kula and sailing.

I have spoken so far about “magic” in a wholesale manner, as if it were all of one piece. As a matter of fact, magic all the world over, however rudimentary or developed it might be, presents three essential aspects. In its performance there enter always some words spoken or chanted, some actions carried out, and there are always the minister or ministers of the ceremony. In analysing the concrete details of magical performances, therefore, we have to distinguish the formula, the rite, and the condition of the performer.

These three factors stand out quite clearly and definitely in the Trobriand magic, whether we examine the facts themselves or the natives’ way of looking at them. It may be said at once that in this society the relative importance of the three factors is not quite the same. The spell is by far the most important constituent of magic. In their linguistic use, although these natives have a special word, yopa, they very often use the word magic, megwa, to describe a spell. The spell is the part of the magic which is kept secret and known only to the esoteric circle of practitioners. When a magic is handed over, whether by purchase, gift, or inheritance, only the spell has to be taught to the new recipient, and as already once said before, it is usually taught in instalments, while the payment is received in that manner. When one speaks about magical knowledge, or in inquiries whether an individual knows some magic, this invariably refers to the formula, for the nature of the rite is always quite public property. Even from the examples given in this book, it can be seen how simple are the rites and how elaborate often the formulÆ. To direct questions on the subject, the natives always reply that the spell is the more important part. The question: “where is the real strength of magic?” would receive the reply: “in the spell.” The condition of the magician is, like the rite, essential to the performance of the magic, but it also is considered by the natives as subservient to the spell.

All this must be made clearer by the examination of actual facts. First of all, let us examine the relation between spell and rite; and to this purpose it will be best to group the various magical performances into several classes according to the complexity of the concomitant rite. We shall begin with the simplest rites.

Spells uttered directly without concomitant rite.—We had one or two examples of such magic where the performer simply utters a formula directly into space. For example, the communal magician of the kaloma (spondylus shell) fishing performs the first act by walking on the beach and reciting his spell towards the sea. In the moment of actual shipwreck, before abandoning the canoe, the toliwaga launches his last kayga’u directly into the elements. Again, he lets his voice float over the waters, when invoking the marvellous fish, who will bring the drowning party to some friendly shore. The final spell of the Kula, by which the approaching canoe ‘shakes the mountain,’ chanted by a trio of magical reciters, is thrown directly towards the Koya. The clearing of the sea in the kaloma fishing is also done this way, and many more examples could be adduced from garden magic, wind magic, and other classes not described in this book.

The natives have a special expression for such acts; they say that the formula is recited ‘by the mouth only,’ ‘o wadola wala.’ This form of magic with such a rudimentary rite is, however, relatively uncommon. Although one could say that there is no rite at all in such cases, for the magician does not manipulate anything or perform any action beyond speaking, yet from another point of view, the whole performance is ritual in so far as he has always to cast his voice towards the element, or being, which he addresses. Indeed here, as in all other cases, the voice of the reciter has to be somehow or other conveyed to the object which he wishes to becharm. We see, moreover, that in all these instances, the nature of this object is such that it can be directly reached by the voice, whilst on the other hand, there would be some difficulty in applying any substance or performing any action over, let us say, wind, or a shell growing on a distant reef or the Koya (mountain).

Spells accompanied by simple rites of impregnation.—A large number of the cases described in this book falls under this heading. We saw quite at the beginning (Chapter V, Division II and III) how the magician charms the blade of his adze, the ropes by which the canoe had been pulled, the lashing creeper, the caulking, and the paint of the canoe. Among the Kula rites, the initial magic over the aromatic mint, over the lilava (magical bundle) over the gebobo (central part of canoe); all the beauty magic on Sarubwoyna beach, over coco-nuts, over the facial paints as well as the conch shell magic, belong here. In all these performances an object is put well within reach of the voice, and in an appropriate position. Often, the object is placed within a receptacle or covering so that the voice enters an enclosed space and is concentrated upon the substance to be charmed. Thus, when the lilava is chanted over, the voice is cast into the mats, which are afterwards carefully wrapped up. The aromatic mint is charmed, lying at the bottom of a bag made of baked and thus toughened banana leaf, which afterwards is carefully folded together and bound with string. Again, the adze blade is first of all half wrapped up in a banana leaf, and the voice enters the blade and the inside of the leaf, which subsequently is folded over and tied over the blade. In the magic of the conch shell, I drew attention to the fact that immediately after the charm has been spoken, both holes of the instrument are carefully stuffed up. In all cases where an object is going to be used immediately, not so many precautions are taken, but always, without any exception, the mouth is put quite close to the object medicated (see Plate LVII) and wherever possible, this latter is placed in some sort of cavity, such as a folded piece of leaf, or even the two palms of the hand put together. All this shows that it is essential to a correct performance of magic, that the voice should be conveyed directly to the substance, if possible enclosed and condensed round it, and then, imprisoned permanently there by means of some wrapping. Thus, in this type of rite, the action serves mainly to convey carefully and to retain the spell round the object.

It may be noted that in almost all cases described, the substance harmed in the rite is not the final aim of the magic, but forms only a constituent part of the object in view or is an accessory of it, or an instrument used in its making. Thus the wayugo creeper, the kaybasi (caulking), the paint, the prow-boards, all these are constituent parts of the canoe, and the magic performed over them does not aim at giving them any qualities, but aims at imparting swiftness and lightness to the canoe of which they are parts only. Again, the herbs and the colours of the coco-nut ointment medicated in the Kula are accessories of the final end of this magic, that is, of the personal beauty and attractiveness of the performer. The adze, the breaking stone in kaloma magic are implements used in obtaining the object, towards which the magic is directed. There are only a few instances in which the simple rite of impregnation is directly performed on the object in view. If we compare this type of rite with the one of the previous category, we see that the difference lies mainly in the size of the object. If you want to cast a charm over a mountain, over a reef, or over the wind, you cannot put your object into a little bag made of banana leaf. Nor can you put there the human mind. And as a rule, the final objects of magical rites are not small things, which could be easily handled. In the magic described in this book, there is, I think, not one single instance, in which the substance handled in the rite and impregnated by condensing the charm upon it artificially, is the final object of the spell. In war magic the points of the spears are made effective and the shields are made spear-proof (see Plate LVIII) by magic uttered over them. In private garden magic, the planted yams are made fruitful by a spell, and a few more examples could be adduced from other types of magic.

Spells accompanied by a rite of transference.—When we compare the rite of medicating the adze blade with the rite of medicating some dried grass, with which the canoe is afterwards beaten, we see that, in the second case, the magic is uttered over a something, which has no intrinsic connection with the final object of the magic, that is, with the canoe. It is neither to become a part of it, nor to be used as an implement in its manufacture. We have here the introduction for purposes of the rite, of a special medium, used to absorb the magical force, and to transfer it to the final object. We can therefore call rites where such mediums are used rites of transference. When a stick is charmed to be used afterwards for the magical knocking out of a canoe; or a mussel-shell, with which the canoe will be scraped; or a piece of coco-nut husk, which will be thrown into the water to remove the heaviness of the canoe; or a pandanus streamer, which will give it swiftness, there is introduced into every one of these rites a substance which has to play a magical rÔle only. The rite, therefore, is not the simple charming of a part or of a constructive implement, which will enter into the composition or be used in the making of an object. The rite here is more autonomous, possesses more of its own significance. The beating of a canoe with two bunches of grass, one after the other, in order first to extract its heaviness and then impart to it lightness, has a meaning parallel to the spell but independent of it. So has also the throwing down of the coco-nut husk. The flutter of the pandanus streamers has direct association with speed, as the natives explicitly state. As the bisila streamers flutter in the wind, so should the canoe and the sail shake with the swiftness of their going. In the case of the ginger, which is spat over the Dobuans feigning hostility, the inherent quality of the substance, which our pharmacopÆas describe as a stimulant, makes the meaning of the rite plain. We can easily see that some of the rites are rather more creative than others. That is, the very act performed produces, according to native ideas, a more definite effect than in others. So it is with the spitting of the ginger, and still more directly the spilling of the lime, in order to produce a mist, and shut the eyes of the mulukwausi. These two, for instance, are more creative than the hanging up of the pandanus streamer.

Spells accompanied by offerings and invocations.—In the very first rite described in this book, we saw an offering being laid before, and an invocation being addressed to the wood-sprite, tokway. There are a number of rites, accompanied by offerings given to ancestral spirits, whose participation in the offering is solicited. Such rites are performed in garden magic (see Plate LIX) in fishing magic, and in weather magic. It must, however, be said at once that there is no worship and no sacrificial offering involved in these rites, that is, not of the usual description, because the spirits are not imagined to serve as agents of the magician, in carrying out the bidding of his magic. We shall return to the subject presently. Here it will be enough to notice that the only instance of such a spell we have come across—that is, the invocation of the tokway—has its concomitant offering made only as a sort of compensation for having chased him out, or as a means of persuading him to go. Probably it is the first rather than the second, because the tokway has no free choice left, after he has been exorcised. He must obey the bidding of the magician.

This survey shows clearly that the virtue, the force, the effective principle of magic lies in the spell. We saw that in many cases, the spell is quite sufficient, if directly breathed upon the object. Again, in what may be called the prevalent type of ritual, the action which accompanies the utterance of the formula serves only to direct and condense the spell upon the object. In all such cases the rite lacks all independent significance, all autonomous function. In some cases, the rite introduces a substance which is used for magical purposes only. As a rule, the substance then intensifies, through a parallel action, the meaning of the spell. On the whole, it may be said that the main creative power of magic resides in the formula; that the rite serves to convey, or transfer it to the object, in certain cases emphasising the meaning of the spell through the nature of the transferring medium, as well as through the manner in which it is finally applied. It is hardly necessary to state that in the Trobriand magic, there are no rites performed without the spell.

It is also evident in studying the manner in which the force of the spell is conveyed to the object, that the voice of the reciter transfers the virtue. Indeed, as has been repeatedly pointed out, in quoting the formulÆ, and as we shall have to discuss later still, the magical words are, so to speak, rubbed in by constant repetition to the substance. To understand this better we must inquire into the natives’ conceptions of psycho-physiology. The mind, nanola, by which term intelligence, power of discrimination, capacity for learning magical formulÆ, and all forms of non-manual skill are described, as well as moral qualities, resides somewhere in the larynx. The natives will always point to the organs of speech, where the nanola resides. The man who cannot speak through any defect of his organs, is identified in name (tonagowa) and in treatment with all those mentally deficient. The memory, however, the store of formulÆ and traditions learned by heart, resides deeper, in the belly. A man will be said to have a good nanola, when he can acquire many formulÆ, but though they enter through the larynx, naturally, as he learns them, repeating word for word, he has to stow them away in a bigger and more commodious receptacle; they sink down right to the bottom of his abdomen. I made the discovery of this anatomical truth, while collecting war magic, from Kanukubusi, the last office holder of the long succession of war magicians to the chiefs of Omarakana. Kanukubusi is an old man, with a big head, a broad, high forehead, a stumpy nose, and no chin, the meekest and most docile of my informants, with a permanently puzzled and frightened expression on his honest countenance (see Plate LVIII). I found this mild old man very trustworthy and accurate, an excellent informant indeed, within the narrow sphere of his speciality, which he and his predecessors had used to make ‘anger flare up in the nanola’ of Omarakana men, to make the enemy fly in terror, pursued and slaughtered by the victorious warriors. I paid him well for the few formulÆ he gave me, and inquired at the end of our first session, whether he had any more magic to produce. With pride, he struck his belly several times, and answered: “Plenty more lies there!” I at once checked his statement by an independent informant, and learned that everybody carries his magic in his abdomen.

There exist also certain ideas about stratification of magic, namely, that certain forms of magic have to be learnt first, so that they sink down, while others come on top. But these ideas are vague and contradictory, whereas the main idea, that magic rests in the belly, is clear and definite. This fact gives us a new insight into native ideas about magic. The force of magic, crystallised in the magical formulÆ, is carried by men of the present generation in their bodies. They are the depositories of this most valuable legacy of the past. The force of magic does not reside in the things; it resides within man and can escape only through his voice.

So far, we only spoke of the relation between spell and rite. The last point, however, brings us to the problem of the condition of the performer. His belly is a tabernacle of magical force. Such a privilege carries its dangers and obligations. It is clear that you cannot stuff foreign matter indiscriminately into a place, where extremely valuable possessions are kept. Food restrictions, therefore, become imperative. Many of them are directly determined by the contents of the spell. We saw some examples of this, as when red fish, invoked in magic, is tabooed to the performer; or the dog, spoken about in the Ka’ubanai spell, may not be heard howling while the man eats. In other cases, the object which is the aim of the magic, cannot be partaken by the magician. This is the rule in the case of shark fishing, kalala fishing, and other forms of fishing magic. The garden magician is also debarred from partaking of new crops, up to a certain period. There is hardly any clear doctrine, as to why things mentioned in magical formulÆ, whether they are the aims of the magic or only cooperating factors, should not be eaten. There is just the general apprehension that the formula would be damaged by it. There are other taboos, binding the magician, some of them permanent, some of them temporary, during the season of his magical performance. We saw some permanent ones, as in the case of the man who knows Kayga’u magic, and is not allowed to eat while children make noises. The temporary ones, such as the sexual abstinence during the first rites of the Kula, could be supplemented by numerous examples from other forms of magic. Thus, in order to bring about rain, the magician paints himself black and has to remain unwashed and unkempt for some time. The shark magician has to keep his house open, to remove his pubic leaf and to sit with his legs apart, while the fishing and the magic last, “so that the shark’s mouth might remain gaping.” But we cannot enter too much into enumeration of these taboos and observances, and have only to make it clear that the proper behaviour of the magician is one of the essentials of magic, and that in many cases this behaviour is dictated by the contents of the spell.

The taboos and observances are not the only conditions which a man must fulfil in order to carry out certain forms of magic. In many cases the most important condition is his membership in a social group, for many forms of magic are strictly local, and must be performed by one, who is the descendant of the mythical, original owner of the magic. Thus in every case of garden magic, a magic which to the natives ranks first among all the other types of beneficent magic, the performer must be genealogically related to the first ancestor, who locally emerged from the hole. Certain exceptions to this rule are to be found only in cases where a family of high rank has come and usurped the headmanship of the group, but these exceptions are rare. In the case of the several systems of local fishing magic, the office of magician is hereditary, and associated with the locality. The important rain and sun magic which have been ‘born’ in Kasana’i, can only be performed by the chiefs of that spot, who have usurped this important privilege from the original local headman. The succession, is of course, always matrilineal. A man may make a gift of such a magic to his son, but this latter may be obliged to relinquish the privilege at his father’s death, and he never will be allowed to hand it over to his son, unless this latter belongs again to the local group, through cross-cousin marriage. Even in transactions where magic is sold or given away from one clan to another, the prestige of certain local groups as main specialists and experts in a branch of magic still remain. For instance, the black magic, though practised all over the place and no more localised, is still believed to be best known in the villages of Ba’u and Bwoytalu, where the original crab fell down from the skies, and brought with him the magic. The Kula magic is also spread over the whole district, yet it is still associated with definite localities.

To summarise these sociological observations, We may say that, where the local character of magic is still maintained, the magician has to belong to the dala (sub-clan or local group) of the mythical ancestor. In all other cases, the local character of magic is still recognised, even though it does not influence the sociology of the magician.

The traditional character of magic and the magical filiation of the performer find their expression in another important feature of the spells. In some of them, as we have seen, references to mythical events are made, or names of mythical ancestors are uttered. Even more often, we find a whole list of names, beginning with the mythical founder of the magic, and ending with the name of the immediate predecessor, that is, of the man from whom the magic was obtained by the actual performer. Such a list links up the present magician by a sort of magical pedigree with all those, who had previously been using this formula. In other formulÆ again, the magician identifies himself with some mythical individual, and utters the latter’s name in the first person. Thus, in the spell uttered whilst plucking the mint plant, we found the phrase: “I, Kwoyregu, with my father, we cut the sulumwoya of Laba’i.” Both the actual genealogical descent of the magician from the mythical ancestors, and the magical filiation expressed in the formulÆ show again the paramount importance of tradition, in this case acting on the sociological determination of the performer. He is placed in a definite social group of those, who by birth, or what could be called ‘magical adoption’, have had the right of performing this magic. In the very act of uttering the spell, the magician bears testimony to his indebtedness to the past by the enumeration of magical names, and by references to myth and mythical events. Both the sociological restrictions, wherever they still exist, and the magical filiation confirm once more the dependence of magic on tradition. On the other hand, both show, as also do the taboos, that the obligations imposed on the magician and the conditions he has to fulfil, are largely derived from the spell.

Closely connected with the questions discussed in the preceding division, is the subject of the systems of magic and the distinction between ‘systematic’ and ‘independent’ magical rites and formulÆ. As we saw in the beginning of this chapter, the whole body of magic naturally falls into several big divisions, each of them corresponding to a department of nature, such as wind or weather; to some activity of man, such as gardening, fishing, hunting or warfare; or to some real or imaginary force, such as artistic inspiration, witchcraft, personal charm or prowess.

There is, however, an important distinction to be made within each such division of magic; some of the rites and spells are isolated and independent, they can be used by themselves, whenever the need arises. Such are almost all the incantations of wind magic; some spells of individual garden magic; formulÆ against toothache, and minor ailments; some spells of hunting and food collecting; a few rites of love magic and of the magic of carving. When a man, for instance, paddles along the Lagoon in his canoe and an unfavourable wind sets in, he will utter a spell to make it abate and change. The same spell would be recited in the village, when there arises a wind so strong as to be dangerous. The incantation is a free, individual act, which may be performed and is performed in any of the circumstances which require it.

It is quite another matter with the spells belonging to what I have called here systematic magic. Such magic consists of a connected and consecutive body of incantations and concomitant rites, no one of which can be torn out of its sequence and performed by itself. They have to be carried out one after the other in a determined order, and the more important of them, at least, can never be omitted, once the series has been started. Such a series is always closely connected with some activity, such as the building of a canoe or an overseas Kula voyage, a fishing expedition or the making and harvesting of a garden. It will not be difficult for us to realise the nature of systematic magic, for in this book almost all the rites and spells described belong to this class. In general, in the Trobriands, the independent uncorrelated rites and formulÆ are quite an insignificant minority, both in number and in importance.

Let us consider one of the forms of systematic magic previously described, whether canoe magic or that of the Kula, whether the kayga’u formulÆ, or the magical ritual of kaloma fishing. The first general fact to be noted here is, that we are in the presence of a type of enterprise or activity, which is never embarked upon without magic. No canoe will be built, no uvalaku started, no kaloma fished, without its magic ceremonial. This ceremonial will be scrupulously observed in its main features, that is, some of the most important formulÆ will never be omitted, as some minor ones might be, a fact which has been previously noted. The association between the practical activity and its magical concomitant is very intimate. The stages and acts of the first, and the rites and spells of the latter, correspond to each other one by one. Certain rites have to be done in order to inaugurate certain activities; others have to be performed at the end of the practical work; others again are part and parcel of the activity. But each of the rites and spells is to the native mind, quite as indispensable for the success of the enterprise, as is the practical activity. Thus, the tokway has to be expelled, or the tree would be entirely unsuitable for a canoe; the adze, the lashing creeper, the caulking and the paint have to be charmed, or else the canoe would be heavy and unwieldy, and such an omission might even prove dangerous to life. Going mentally over the various cases quoted in the previous chapters, it can be easily seen, how this intimate association between enterprise and magic imparts to systematic magic its specific character. The consecutive progress of work and of magic are inseparable, just because, according to native ideas, work needs magic, and magic has only meaning as an indispensable ingredient of work.

Both work and magic are directed towards the same aim; to construct a swift and a stable canoe; to obtain a good Kula yield; to insure safety from drowning and so on. Thus we see that systematic magic consists in a body of rites and spells associated with one enterprise, directed towards one aim, and progressing in a consecutive series of performances which have to be carried out in their proper place. The point—the proper understanding of what is meant by systematic magic—is of the greatest theoretical importance because it reveals the nature of the relation between magical and practical activities, and shows how deeply the two are connected with one another. It is one of these points, also, which cannot be properly explained and grasped without the help of a Chart. In the appended “Table of Kula Magic and of the Corresponding Activities,” I have prepared such a Chart, in which has been summarised the substance of several of the foregoing Chapters. The Table allows of a rapid survey of the consecutive activities of the Kula in their relation to magic, beginning with the first act of canoe-building and finishing with the return home. It shows the salient features of systematic magic in general, and of the mwasila and canoe magic in particular. It shows the relation between magical, ritual and practical activities, the correlated sequence of the two, their rolling off, stage after stage, and side by side, towards one central aim—a successful Kula. The Table thus serves to illustrate the meaning of the expression ‘systematic magic,’ and it provides a firm outline of the essentials, magical, ceremonial and practical, of the Kula.

Table of Kula Magic and of the Corresponding Activities

I—First Stage of Canoe-Building (Chapter V, Division II)

All the magic of this stage is canoe magic. It is performed only when a new canoe is built and not when an old one is renovated. The spells are uttered by the builder and not by the owner, except the first one. Work at this stage is done by one man mainly, the builder and carver, with the help of a few men; except for the pulling of the log, in which many men assist.

II—The Second Stage of Canoe Building (Chapter V, Division III)

III—The Ceremonial Launching of a Canoe (Chapter VI, Division I)

After this, there comes the interval, filled out by the Kabigidoya (ceremonial visiting,) by the preliminary trade and other preparations for the expedition overseas.

IV—The Magic During, and Preparations before the Departure (Chapter VII)

Time: some three to seven days before setting sail.

All this magic belongs to the mwasila, and it has to be performed by the toliwaga, with the exception of the last spell.

V—Canoe Magic, Performed at the Final Start on Overseas Voyage (Chapter VIII, Division III)

The series of rites starts at the moment when the canoes are ready to set sail on the long voyage on Pilolu. They are not associated with a progressive series of acts; they all refer to one aim: canoe speed and reliability. They are all performed by the toliwaga.

VI—The Mwasila, Performed on Arrival at the Final Destination

(A) Beauty Magic (Chapter XIII, Division I)

(B) Magic of the Final Approach (Chapter XIII, Division II)

(C) Magic of Safety (Chapter XIII, Division III)

(D) Magic of Persuasion (Chapter XIV, Division III)

VII—A Canoe Spell, Uttered on the Departure Home (Chapter XIV, Division III)

Within each department of systematic magic, there are again various systems of magic. Thus we saw that, although the type of rite and formula is the same in all villages, the actual details, let us say, of the wayugo magic, are not identical, but vary according to the system with which a given reciter is acquainted. The differences are, as a rule, less pronounced in the rites, which are generally very simple in the Trobriand magic, and are identical in all the systems, but the formulÆ differ completely in their wording. Thus, in the wayugo magic (Chapter V, Division III) we found only a slight difference in the rite, but one or two wayugo spells, which I have also recorded, differ essentially from the one given in the text.

Each system of magic has a more or less developed mythological pedigree, and in connection with it a local character, a point which has been elaborated in the previous Division. The wayugo spell given in Chapter V, and all the spells of canoe-building quoted in this book belong to the Kaykudayuri system of canoe magic. This system is believed to have been known and recited by the mythical builder of the flying canoe, and to have been handed down to his descendants, that is, as we know, in an incomplete form. As has been said in the previous Division, the knowledge and the use of this magic and of other systems does not abide strictly within the original clan, but it spreads outside of it, and it becomes known to many people who are connected with the original owner by a sort of magical filiation.

According to native belief, all these people know identical formulÆ. In fact, in the course of years and of repeated transmission, considerable differences have been introduced, and nowadays many of the ‘real Kudayuri’ spells differ from one another completely.

A system of magic is therefore a number of magical formulÆ, forming one consecutive series. The main system of canoe magic is that of the Kaykudayuri, which is associated with the place of the same name in Kitava. This system comprises the whole series of canoe-building spells, from the expelling of the tokway to the final exorcisms. Another comprehensive system is called Kaykapayouko, and is localised in the island of Kayleula. An important system called Ilumte’ulo is nowadays claimed by Sinaketa, but probably hails from Dobu. The mythological data of some of these systems are not known to me, and some of them seem to be exceedingly rudimentary, not going beyond the assertion that such and such a system originated at such and such a place, and was originally the property of such and such a clan. Of the systems of mwasila, the best known in South Boyowa is that called Monikiniki, to which belong the majority of the formulÆ here quoted. This system is sometimes loosely associated with the myth of Tokosikuna, who is sometimes said to have been the original owner of the system. According to another version, Monikiniki is the name of the original owner. The Dobuan mwasila is called Kasabwaybwayreta, and is ascribed to that hero. From Muyuwa, hails the Momroveta system of Kula magic, while in Kiriwina the system of Monikiniki is usually recited, and only a few formulÆ are inserted into it, belonging to a local magic, called Kwoygapani (a name not to be confused with the name in a formula quoted in Chapter XIV). In the light of these remarks, the many references to ‘magical systems’ given in the text, will become clear, so there is no need to add more here.

We saw before in the chapter on mythology that magic bridges over the cleavage between the super-normal world of myth and the normal, ordinary happenings of to-day. But then, this bridge itself must necessarily touch the super-normal, it must lead into that domain. Magic surely, therefore, must partake of the supernatural character? There is no doubt that it is so. The effects of magic, although constantly witnessed, and although considered as a fundamental fact, are regarded as something distinctly different from the effects of other human activities. The natives realise quite well that the speed and buoyancy of a canoe are due to the knowledge and work of the constructor; they are well acquainted with the properties of good material and of good craftsmanship. Yet the magic of swiftness adds something more to even the best constructed canoe. This superadded quality is regarded very much like the properties of the mythical canoe which made it fly through the air, though in the present day canoes these properties have dwindled down to mere surpassing speed.

The language of spells expresses this belief through the constant allusions to myth, similes in which the present canoe is invited to imitate the mythical one. In the explicit comments on the Kudayuri myth, the natives also state definitely that the prodigious speed which well-charmed canoes develop is the legacy and counterpart of the old flying speed. Thus the effects of magic are something superadded to all the other effects produced by human effort and by natural qualities. The same is to be found in love magic. The importance of a fine face and figure, of ornaments, decorations and nice scents, is well recognised as being of attractive value, yet almost every man ascribes his success to the perfection of his love magic. The force of magic is considered as something independent of, and surpassing even, the power of all other personal charms. A statement very often met with expresses this quite well:

“Look, I am not good looking, yet so many girls want me. The reason of that is that I have good magic.”

In garden magic, soil, rain, proper work, are given their full due. None the less, no one would dream of making a garden without the full magical performance being done over it. Garden magic is thought to make just this difference, which a man hopes for from ‘chance,’ or ‘good luck,’ when he sees everybody round him working as hard as he can, and in all other respects under similar conditions to himself. So we see that, in all these cases, magical influence runs parallel to and independently of the effects of human work and natural conditions. It produces these differences and those unexpected results, which cannot be explained by any of the other factors.

So far, we see that magic represents, so to speak, a different sort of reality. When I call this different sort ‘super-natural’ or ‘super-normal,’ one of the criteria which I use here lies in the emotional reaction of the natives. This, of course, is most pronounced in the case of evil magic. The sorcerer is not only feared because of his bad intentions. He is also feared as ghosts are feared by us, as an uncanny manifestation. One is afraid of meeting him in the dark, not so much because he might do any harm, but because his appearance is dreadful and because he has at his bidding all sorts of powers and faculties which are denied to those not versed in black magic. His sweat glows, night birds run with him to give him warning; he can become invisible at will and produce paralysing fear in those he meets. In short, the same hysterical dread, associated amongst ourselves with the idea of haunted places, is produced by the sorcerers in the minds of the natives. And it must be added that the natives have no such emotion of dread at all with regard to the spirits of the departed. The horror which they have of the bwaga’u is even stronger in the case of the mulukwausi, to whom all sorts of most uncanny properties are attributed. Their ghoulish feasting on corpses, their capacity of flying, of making themselves invisible, of changing into night birds, all this inspires the natives with extreme terror.

The other magicians and their art do not inspire such strong emotions in the natives, and of course in any case the emotion would not be that of dread. There is a very great value and attachment to systems of local magic, and their effects are distinctly considered as an asset for a community.

Each form of magic also has its associated magical portent, kariyala. When a magic formula is spoken, a violent natural upheaval will take place. For example, when garden magic is performed, there will be thunder and lightning; with certain forms of Kula magic, a rainbow will appear in the skies. Others will produce shower clouds. The portent of a mild storm, accompanying the opening of the magical bundle (lilava) has already been quoted. The kayga’u may produce a tidal wave, whereas an earthquake will be the result of other forms of magic. War magic, in an unexpectedly bucolic way, affects only some plants and birds. In certain forms of magic, a portent would take place whenever the formula is uttered, in others, this will not be so regular, but a kariyala will invariably occur when a magician dies. When asked, what is the real cause of any of these natural phenomena enumerated, they will say:

“Magic is the real cause (u’ula); they are a kariyala of magic.”

Another point, where magic touches the super-normal or supernatural, is in the association of spirits with certain magical performances. A special type of magical payment, the ula’ula, is at the same time an offering to the baloma (spirits). The magician will detach a small bit of the large quantity of food brought to him, and put it down on some special place, with the words:

“Partake, O spirits, of your ula’ula, and make my magic thrive.”

At certain ceremonies, the spirits are supposed to be present (see Plate LIX). When something goes wrong with magic, or it is badly performed, ‘the spirits will become angry,’ as it is often expressed by the natives. In some cases the baloma will appear in dreams and advise the magician what to do. As this is the most active interference of the spirits in human affairs, as far as magic is concerned, I shall quote in free translation some statements obtained on the matter.

“The owners of fish magic will often dream that there is plentiful fish. The cause of it is the magician’s ancestor spirit. Such a magician would then say: ‘The ancestral spirit has instructed me in the night, that we should go to catch fish! And indeed, when we get there, we find plenty of fish, and we cast the nets.’ ”

“Mokudeya, the maternal uncle of Narugo,” who is, the main fishing magician of Oburaku “comes to his nephew in a dream and instructs him: ‘Tomorrow, cast the nets for fish in Kwabwawa!’ Narugo then says: ‘Let us come, the old man instructed me last night.’ ”

“The kaloma (spondylus shell) magician of Sinaketa dreams about a plentiful patch of kaloma shell. Next morning, he would dive and knock it off on the reef. Or he dreams of a canoe, and he then paddles and casts the anchor at that place. To’udawada, Luvayam, Sinakadi dream that they knock it off in plenty. When next morning we go there, it is plentiful.”

In all these examples (except the last) we see that the spirits act as advisors and helpers. They fill the rÔle of guardian of the traditions when they get angry because of a bad performance, or as associates and sympathisers when they share the magician’s ula’ula. But they are not agencies which get to work directly. In the Trobriand demonology, the magician does not command the spirits to go and set to work. The work is done by the agency of the spell, assisted by the accompanying ritual, and performed by the proper magician. The spirits stand in the same relation, as the performer does, to the magical force, which alone is active. They can help him to wield it properly, but they can never become his instruments.

To summarise the results of what we have learned about the super-normal nature of magic, it may be said that it has a definite character of its own, which differentiates it from the non-magical actions of man. The manner in which the magical force is conceived to act, parallel to the ordinary efforts but independent of them; the emotional reaction to certain types of magic and magician; the kariyala; the intercourse with spirits during the performances, all these properties differentiate magic from the ordinary activities of man.

In native terminology, the realm of the magical is called by the word megwa, which describes the ‘magical performance,’ the ‘spell,’ the ‘force’ or ‘virtue’ of magic, and can be used as adjective to describe in general everything which presents a magical character. Used as a verb, the words megwa, miga-megwa, miga, all of which are variations of the same root, mean: ‘to perform magic,’ ‘to utter a spell,’ ‘to carry out a rite.’ If the natives want to express that certain actions are done in connection with magic, and not with work, and that certain effects are due to magical forces, and not to other efforts, they used the word megwa as a substantive or adjective. It is never used to describe any virtue residing in a man or a thing, nor for any action which is independent of a spell.

The associated concept of taboo is covered by the Kiriwinian word bomala (with suffixed possessive pronouns). It means a ‘prohibition,’ something which a man is not allowed to do under any circumstances. It is used for magical taboos, for prohibitions associated with rank, for restrictions in regard to food generally considered as unclean, as, for example, the flesh of lizards, snakes, dogs and man. There is hardly any trace of the meaning of ‘sacred’ attached to the word bomala. If anywhere, it can be found in the use of the word boma, for a tabooed grove where men usually are not allowed to enter, and where traditional spots, often original holes where men came out and whence magic issued, are to be found. The expression toboma (to-, prefix denoting personal noun) means a man of high rank, but hardly a sacred man.

Finally, a few words must be said about the sociological or ceremonial setting of magic. Reference has often been made to the simplicity of rites, and to their matter-of-fact character. This has been mentioned with reference to canoe-building, and in garden magic we would have found equally simple and purely businesslike performances. In calling a magical action ‘ceremonial’ we imply that it was done with a big public attendance; under the observance of definite rules of behaviour by the spectators as well as by the performer, such as general silence, reverent attention to what is being done, with at least a show of some interest. Now if, in the middle of some work, a man quickly performs an action whilst others talk and laugh and leave him entirely on one side, this gives a definite sociological stamp to the magical actions, and does not allow us to use the term ‘ceremonial,’ as the distinguishing mark of the magical acts. Some of them, it is true, do have this character. For instance, the initial rite with which the kaloma fishing begins, requires the assistance of the whole fleet, and a definite type of behaviour on the part of the crews, while the magician officiates for all of them, but with their assistance, in the complex evolutions of the fleet. Similar rites are to be found in two or three systems of fishing magic, and in several rites of the garden magic of certain villages. In fact, the initial rite of garden magic is everywhere connected with a ceremonial performance. The garden rite, associated with the ceremonial offering of food to spirits, and attended by a body of villagers, a scene of which is shown on Plate LIX, has been elsewhere described.3 One or two rites in war magic imply the active assistance of large numbers of men, and take the form of big ceremonies. Thus we see that magical rites may or may not be ceremonial, but that the ceremonial is by no means an outstanding or universal feature of Trobriand magic.

We found that taboos are associated with magic, in so far as it is the magician who has to observe them. There are, however, certain forms of restrictions or prohibitions, set up for special purposes, and associated with magic in a somewhat different form. Thus, in an institution called kaytubutabu we find a ban made on the consumption of coco-nuts and betel-nuts, associated with a specific magic to make them grow. There is also a protective taboo, used to prevent the theft of ripening fruits or nuts, too far away from the village to be watched. In these cases a small parcel of medicated substance is placed on the tree or near it, on a small stick. The magic spoken over such a substance is a ‘conditional curse,’ to use the excellent term introduced by Professor Westermarck. The conditional curse would fall upon anyone who would touch the fruits of that tree, and would bring upon him one form of disease or another. This is the only form of magic, in which the personal agency is invoked, for in some of these spells, the tokway (wood-sprite) is invited to take up his abode on the kaytapaku, that is the stick, with the substance on it, and to guard the fruit. Some such small divergencies from the general trend of native belief are always to be found. Sometimes they contain important clues, and a deeper insight into the facts, sometimes they mean nothing, and only emphasise the fact, that it is not possible to find absolute consistency in human belief. Only a deeper analysis, and a comparative study of similar phenomena can decide which is the case.

In order to complete the survey of all the characteristics of magic, I shall rapidly mention here the economic aspect of the position of magician, although the data referring to it have already been given, scattered through the previous chapters. I have spoken of the matrilineal inheritance of magic, and of the deviations from it which consist in inheritance from father to son, and in the transmission of magic by purchase (Chapter II, Division VI, and Chapter VI, Division VI under (5)). This latter transaction may take place under two names, which really cover two essentially different operations; the pokala or payment to a maternal kinsman from whom one is going to obtain the magic, and the laga, which is the purchase of magic from a stranger. Only certain forms of magic can freely pass from one clan or sub-clan to another, and are purchasable by the laga system. The majority of magical systems are local, and can descend only in the same sub-clan with an occasional deviation to the son of a member, from whom, however, the magic must return to the sub-clan again. A further economic feature of magic is the payment, which the magician receives for his services. There are many types of payment; some given occasionally by an individual for a definite act of magic, as in the case of sorcery or healing magic; others, paid at regular intervals by the whole community, as in the case of garden and fishing magic. In some cases the payments are considerable, as in sorcery, in rain and fine weather magic, and in garden magic. In others, they amount to little more than a mere formal offering.

In all this, we have been dealing with general characteristics of Boyowan (Trobriand) magic. This has been done mainly on the basis of the material presented in this volume, with only a few examples from other branches of magic. The result so far can be set down thus: magic to the natives represents a special department; it is a specific power, essentially human, autonomous and independent in its action. This power is an inherent property of certain words, uttered with the performance of certain actions by the man entitled to do it through his social traditions and through certain observances which he has to keep. The words and acts have this power in their own right, and their action is direct and not mediated by any other agency. Their power is not derived from the authority of spirits or demons or supernatural beings. It is not conceived as having been wrested from nature. The belief in the power of words and rites as a fundamental and irreducible force is the ultimate, basic dogma of their magical creed. Hence we find established the ideas that one never can tamper with, change or improve spells; that tradition is the only source from which they can be derived; that it has brought them down from times lying beyond the speculation of man, that there can be no spontaneous generation of magic.

We are naturally led now to inquire one stage further into the manner in which the magical words and rites act. Obviously the only way to obtain correct information on this point is to analyse and compare a great number of well authenticated formulÆ, and minutely recorded rites. Even the collection of Kula magic here partially given in free translation, would allow us to arrive at certain interesting conclusions. But we can go deeper still with the help of linguistic analysis, and we shall proceed to this inquiry in the next chapter.

1 These views have been elaborated in the previously quoted article on “Primitive Economics” in the Economic Journal, March, 1921.?

2 The association of magic with any vital interest is demonstrated by the case of pearling. Here, through the advent of white men, a new and very lucrative and absorbing pursuit has opened up for the natives. A form of magic is now in existence, associated with this fishing. This of course apparently contradicts the native dogma that magic cannot be invented. The natives, if faced with this contradiction, explain that it is really an old magic of shell fishing which refers to all the shells found at the bottom of the Lagoon, but which so far had only been used with regard to fishing for the Conus. In fact, this magic is nothing but the adaptation of the mwali (armshell) magic to the pearls. I doubt, none the less, whether even such a transference or adaptation would have taken place before the foundations of native belief and custom had been shaken by the well-intentioned but not always wise and beneficent teachings and rulings of the white man and by the introduction of trade.?

3 See article by the Author on the “Baloma, spirits of the dead in the Trobriand islands.” J. A. I., 1917.?