1. Internal structure. The population of a village ruled by a Thangur chief at the present time is composed of representatives of many tribes and clans, which have all more or less adopted the language and customs of their rulers. I have already described the rise of the Thangurs and the process by which they either ejected or absorbed into their communities the other inhabitants of the country.

Our arrival in the country put a stop in certain cases to this process of absorption. For instance, many chiefs held considerable numbers of Paihte or Vuite and Khawtlang in a species of semi-slavery. These were captives or descendants of captives made in war, and nearly all have availed themselves of the Pax Britannica to return to their own people. Again, we found certain villages ruled over by non-Lushei chiefs, who were living under the protection of powerful Lushei chiefs. In the process of pacification these non-Lushei chiefs regained their independence and have gathered round them many of their clansmen, who formerly were scattered among the Lushei villages, and who, if we may judge by what has undoubtedly happened in other cases, would in a short time have become completely absorbed. Inquiries lasting over many years have convinced me that these clans are little more than enlarged families. In most cases the dialects of the minor clans have been entirely forgotten, and the only differences remaining are the manner of performing the “sakhua” or domestic sacrifice, the position occupied by the corpse at the funeral feast, and such other minor points.

A stranger might live for a long time in a Lushai village without knowing that such divisions existed. Every clan is further subdivided into families and branches. Thus the Lushei clan has several families. One of these is the Thangur, and the Thangur family has six branches—Rokum, Zadeng, Rivung, Thangluah, Pallian, and Sailo—but none of these branches has any further sub-division, though the descendants of certain powerful chiefs are sometimes collectively spoken of by their ancestor’s name, showing how these clan, family, and branch names have arisen.

During the census of 1901 an unsuccessful attempt was made to get a complete list of the clan families and branches. The causes of the failure were the ignorance of the people themselves as to what clan or family they belonged to and the tendency to claim to be true Lushais.

Everyone knew the name of the branch to which he belonged, and as a rule the family name would be correctly given, but in many cases the clan name was altogether omitted, or Lushei was entered against families which had no real claim to that distinction.

An old Lushai once asked me why I was troubling myself about family and branch names, and on my explaining that I hoped to make a complete list of them he muttered, “Can you count the grains in that basket of rice?” and turned from me to the zu-pot.

As a sample of the constitution of a clan I give in the Appendix a list of all the families and branches of the Lushei clan.

My enquiries lead me to believe that practically all the clan and a great many of the family and branch names are eponyms. In some cases the name of a village site has been given to its inhabitants, first probably by outsiders and eventually adopted by the people themselves, but even in these cases as often as not enquiry will show that the village site was first named after some famous chief who lived there.

Before the Thangur chiefs had risen to their present predominant position there were many consanguineous communities scattered over the hills, living under headmen of their own and each using a dialect of its own. Some of these communities appear to have had separate corporate existence for long periods and in consequence to have been sub-divided into many families and branches, while others were quickly absorbed by the Thangur and consequently have few sub-divisions.

I have been accused of deriving “Lushei” from “lu,” head, and “shei,” long. If in the salad days of my sojourn among these folks I was ever guilty of this folly, I hereby publicly repudiate it. There is no doubt that Lushei, in common with the other clan names, is an eponym.

A versatile and imaginative writer has recently derived “Sailo,” the name of the branch of the Lushai clan to which the present chiefs belong, from “sai” elephant, and “lo,” a jhum, alleging that because the elephant is the biggest animal, therefore “Sailo” means the biggest jhum and that the name refers to the excellence of the jhum land between Burkhal and the source of the Kornaphuli river, where he says the Sailos formerly lived. There are some objections to this theory; to begin with, the Lushais never use “sai” as a prefix meaning greatness, and secondly half the area mentioned was never inhabited by Sailo chiefs, and thirdly only a small and little considered branch of the great Sailo family ever entered this land of fatness and not till long after the family name had been generally accepted; further the name of the common ancestor of all the Sailo chiefs is known to have been Sailova, which is a common name still in the family.

2. Tribal organisation of the Lushais. Among the Lushais, each village is a separate State, ruled over by its own “lal” or chief. Each son of a chief, as he attained a marriageable age, was provided with a wife at his father’s expense, and given a certain number of households from his father’s village and sent forth to a village of his own. Henceforth he ruled as an independent chief, and his success or failure depended on his own talents for ruling. He paid no tribute to his father, but was expected to help him in his quarrels with neighbouring chiefs; but when fathers lived long it was not unusual to find their sons disowning even this amount of subordination. The youngest son remained in his father’s village and succeeded not only to the village, but also to all the property.

Our rule has tended to increase the independence of the young chiefs; for in former days, when might was right, it behoved a son to follow the advice of his father, or the latter’s help might not be forthcoming when danger threatened.

The chief was, in theory at least, a despot; but the nomadic instinct of the people is so strong that any chief whose rule was unduly harsh soon found his subjects leaving him, and he was therefore constrained to govern according to custom.

To assist him each chief appoints one or more elderly men, known as “upa.” These form a sort of council which discusses all matters connected with the village, and decides all disputes between people of the village, for which they receive fees termed “salam” from the party who loses the case. These fees are their only remuneration. The chief presides over this council, which is generally held of an evening in the chief’s house, while the zu horn circulates briskly. The chief receives a portion of each fine levied, a practice found to prevent undue leniency.

Besides the upas the chief appoints the following village officials—“ramhual” and “tlangau.” The former, of whom there may be several, are advisers as to where the jhums shall be cut, and are allowed first choice of land for the purpose, but have to give the chief five to seven baskets of paddy instead of two, which is the portion due from other subjects.

The tlangau is the crier, whose high-pitched voice is heard after dark, when every good householder is at home, proclaiming the chief’s orders.

He also arranges how the work of the village is to be divided, who are to go and make a road, who are to repair the zawlbuk, &c.

In return for his labours he receives a small basket of rice from each house in the village.

Besides the ramhual and the tlangau, no village is complete without at least one “thirdeng,” or blacksmith, and a “puithiam,” or sorcerer. The former receives one basket of rice from each householder whose tools he repairs; the latter receives the same amount from each householder for whom he performs the sacrifices connected with his cultivation.

The chief receives one hind leg of every wild animal shot by any of his men, and when the killing of elephants was allowed he took one of the tusks if his villagers were lucky enough to slay one of those animals.

The villagers build the house of their ruler, and formerly they also cut his jhum, but I regret to say that nowadays they have ceased doing so, and this is an unsatisfactory sign of how, without any desire on our part to do so, our rule has weakened the authority of the chiefs.

The chief held rather an anomalous position. Nominally he was a despot—I am speaking now of the state of things which existed prior to our occupation of the Hills—but in reality his power was very much circumscribed, and his subjects could so easily transfer their allegiance to some rival chief, who would probably be willing, for a consideration, to champion the cause of his last recruit, that every ruler had to use tact as well as force. In fact the amount of power he wielded depended almost entirely on the personal influence of the chief. A strong ruler, who governed mainly according to custom, could do almost anything he liked without losing his followers, but a weak man who tried petty tyrannies soon found himself a king without any subjects.

The chiefs naturally tried their best to stop people leaving their villages, and it was customary to confiscate the paddy of any person who left the village without permission, but leave was seldom refused if the emigrant intended moving to the village of a friendly chief; and if the fugitive took refuge with a more powerful ruler it was extremely likely that a demand for the prompt surrender of all his property would be made with such a show of force that it could not be ignored.

I add here two extracts from Colonel Lewin’s book, “The Hill Tracts of Chittagong and the Dwellers Therein,” page 100.

“The village system among the Kookis, i.e. (Lushais) is best described as a series of petty states, each under a Dictator or President. To illustrate the position of the chief or President I may mention that in 1866, when on a visit to the village of one of the leading chiefs among the Looshai, I was standing talking with him in the path that ran through the village. While we were thus standing a drunken Looshai came stumbling along, and finding us somewhat in the way, he seized the chief by the neck and shoved him off the path, asking why he stopped the road. On my asking the chief for an explanation of such disrespect being permitted, he replied, ‘On the war-path or in the council I am chief, and my words are obeyed; behaviour like that would be punished by death. Here, in the village, that drunkard is my fellow and equal.’ In like manner any presents given to the chief are common property. His people walk off with them, saying: ‘He is a big man, and will get lots more given to him. Who will give to us if he does not?’ On the other hand, all that is in his village belongs to the chief; he can and does call upon people to furnish him with everything that he requires.

“To collect his people, or in fact to authenticate any order, the chief’s spear, which is usually carved and ornamented, is sent by a messenger from village to village. Should the message be a hostile one, the messenger carries a fighting dao, to which a piece of red cloth is attached. Another method is by the ‘phuroi,’ which is a species of wand made out of strips of peeled bamboo, about eight inches long, in this shape (†). If the tips of the cross pieces be broken, a demand for blackmail is indicated, a rupee to be levied for each break. If the end of one of the cross pieces is charred, it implies urgency, and that the people are to come even by torch light. If a capsicum be fixed on to the ‘phuroi,’ it signifies that disobedience to the order will meet with punishment as severe as the capsicum is hot. If the cross piece is of cane, it means that disobedience will entail corporal punishment.”

The “Boi” Custom.—Among the Thados and Chins real slavery used to exist, and men and women were sold like cattle. Among the Lushais this has never been the case, but there is a class known as “boi” who have been miscalled slaves by those ignorant of their real condition.

Among the Lushais no one but a chief can have boi, who are divided into the following classes:—

(i.) Inpuichhung (Inpui = big house, chhung = within), Lalchhung, or Chhungte—viz. those who live in the big house or chief’s house. (ii.) chemshen boi (chem = dao, shen = red); (iii.) tuklut boi (tuk = promise, lut = to enter). The first class consist of all those who have been driven by want of food to take refuge in the chief’s house. Widows, orphans, and others who are unable to support themselves, and have no relatives willing to do so, form the bulk of this class of “boi,” but it is not unusual, if a young widow remarries, for her second husband to insist on his predecessor’s children being put into the chief’s house, unless any of their father’s relatives will take them. The inpuichhung are looked on as part of the chief’s household, and do all the chief’s work in return for their food and shelter. The young men cut and cultivate the chief’s jhum and attend to his fish traps. The women and girls fetch up wood and water, clean the daily supply of rice, make cloths, and weed the jhum, and look after the chief’s children. In return the boi get good food and live in the chief’s house, and often wear his ornaments and use his guns and weapons. They have to do very little more work than they would have to do if they were independent, and, on the other hand, they are free of all anxiety as to the morrow.

As all the chiefs are of the same family, a boi is at liberty to move from one chief’s house to another. If a chief or his wife treats a boi very badly, the injured one goes off and seeks for a new master, and, as a large number of boi is considered to increase a chief’s importance, every chief is willing to receive him, and therefore boi are generally well treated. In former days powerful chiefs like Sukpuilala and Vutaia only allowed their boi to go to one of their own relations, but even then a boi very often would manage to find an asylum with some equally powerful chief.

When a person has once entered the chief’s house, he or she can only purchase freedom by paying one mithan or its equivalent in cash or goods. The fact that a boi can ever do this shows that he is allowed to acquire property. When a male boi reaches a marriageable age, the chief generally buys him a wife, and he lives with her for three years in the chief’s house: should he marry a female boi, the couple have to live six years in the chief’s house. After this period, he sets up a house of his own and is known as “inhrang (in = house, hrang = separate) boi,” and works for himself, but is still in some respects a boi. If he kills any animal he has to give a hind leg to the chief, and failure to do so renders him liable to a fine of one mithan or its equivalent. If the chief is in want of rice he can call on his boi to help him if they have any surplus, and if a boi is in want he can look to the chief for assistance.

Regarding the children of such a boi, customs differ somewhat. Some chiefs have made it the rule that only the youngest son, who inherits his father’s property, is a boi, the remainder of the sons and all the girls being entirely free. Others insist that all the children are boi, and that the chief is entitled to the marriage prices of the daughters. They give, as a reason for this, that the chief has paid for the boi’s wife and so is entitled to consider the children as boi. In either case the children are inhrang boi.

A female boi is allowed to marry, and the chief receives the marriage price, and when this has been paid in full he has no further claim on the woman or her children during her husband’s lifetime, but should she be left a widow, she is sometimes forced to re-enter the chief’s house; but as a rule, if she behaves decently, she is allowed to remain on in her husband’s house, and manage his property on behalf of his children, who are never considered boi. Should she re-marry, the chief will again receive whatever sum is paid as her marriage price.

It will be seen that the inpuichhung are by no means badly off, and the custom seems in every way suited to the circumstances of the case. Many a clever young man rises from being a boi to being the chief’s most trusted adviser, and it is by no means unusual for a chief to take a favourite boi into his own family by the ceremony called “Saphun” (see under Adoption, page 54).

(ii.) Chemsen Boi (Red Dao Boi).—These are criminals who, to escape from the consequences of their ill deeds, take refuge in the chief’s house. Murderers closely pursued by the avengers of blood rushed into the chief’s presence and saved their lives at the expense of their own or their children’s freedom. Debtors unable to pay their creditors sought the chief’s protection, and he released them from their debts on condition that they and their children became boi. Thieves and other vagabonds avoided punishment by becoming the chief’s boi. Civil disputes were unblushingly decided in favour of the party who volunteered to become the chief’s boi. It is evident that the custom in these cases has grown up by degrees from the chief’s granting sanctuary to those who, having committed serious crimes, were in danger of being killed by those they had injured or their relatives.

Chemsen boi do not live in the chief’s house or work for him. Their position is similar to that of an inhrang boi, but all their children are considered boi to the same extent as their parents. The chiefs generally take the marriage price of the daughters of such Boi.

(iii.) Tuklut (Enter by Promising) Boi.—These are persons who during war have deserted the losing side and joined the victors by promising that they and their descendants will be boi. A tuklut boi can purchase his freedom for a mithan, and if there are three or four persons in one household one mithan will release them all. As a rule the daughters of tuklut boi are not considered boi. A tuklut boi does not live in the chief’s house, and is in most respects in the same position as an inhrang boi.

Chemshen boi have not been recognised by our officers, and whenever one has claimed protection he has been released. The tuklut boi have also not been formally recognised, but their duties weigh so lightly on them that they seldom claim their release, and in their case, as in that of the “sal,” the class, receiving no fresh recruits, will soon cease to exist. As regards the inpuichhung boi, the custom seems well suited to the people and provides for the maintenance of the poor, old, and destitute, and it would be extremely unwise to attempt to alter it.

When we first visited Kairuma in 1891, we found some 80 houses of Thado, Biate, and other clans living in his village (in a species of serfdom) very much on the footing of the tuklut boi, only that Kairuma received a mithan out of the marriage price of each of the daughters as well as the other dues. These people were remnants of conquered clans and were not allowed to leave the village. I was assured that, if any of them tried to run away, a party of young men would be at once sent off to kill or bring back the fugitives. When Kairuma’s village was burnt, owing to its continued contumacious behaviour, all these people made their escape to the villages of their own clans.

Sal.—Persons captured in raids are called “sal”; their position is quite different from that of any of the classes of boi. They are the personal property of their captors, and I am told that when guns first made their appearance in the hills the western tribes used to exchange their sal with the eastern tribes for guns, one strong sal being worth two guns. As a rule only children and marriageable women were taken captive, and the latter were disposed of in marriage, the lucky captor acting in loco parentis and taking the marriage price. The children grew up in the captor’s house as his children, and as a rule were so well treated that they seldom wished to return to their former homes.

3. Marriage. The Lushais have wide views as to matrimony. A young man is not hampered in his choice by any table of prohibited degrees, nor is his choice confined to any particular family or clan; in fact, he can practically marry any woman he chooses except his sister or his mother. There is, however, a certain amount of prejudice against first cousins on the father’s side marrying, but the reason generally given for this is that when a girl’s parents have to consider the question of her marriage they naturally try to dispose of her outside the family, in order that her price may increase the wealth of the family, not merely transfer it from one brother to another. I have, however, been told that girls object to marrying their “brothers.” Among the chiefs the desire to marry another chief’s daughter limits the young man’s choice, and marriage among first cousins is more frequent than among commoners. Marriage among nearly all the other clans dealt with in this monograph is endogamous as regards the clan, but exogamous as regards the family. When we consider the composition of the following of the Thangur chiefs, we see at once the cause of this difference, for any restrictions on intermarriage would have interfered with that fusion of clans which was so necessary for the establishment of their power.

Regarding the number of his wives also the Lushai has great latitude; in fact, it is simply a matter of money. Experience has taught them that two wives in one house is not conducive to peace, and consequently polygamy is almost entirely confined to the chiefs, for few others can afford to keep up two establishments. Marriage is purely a civil contract, although, as is described in Chapter IV, para. 7, a pseudo-religious ceremony is performed.

Among Lushais the following sums constitute the price which has to be paid for a wife:—

(i.) Manpui (Principal Price).—This is paid to the bride’s nearest male relative on the father’s side. In case the bride’s father is dead and she has brothers these divide the manpui, but if any one of them has contributed more than the others to the girl’s support, or has provided her “thuam”—i.e., her trousseau—he receives a larger share of the manpui than the others.

The manpui is always reckoned in mithan, and varies according to the family of the bride. Thus a Thangur maiden is valued at ten mithan, while less aristocratic girls are worth less, the lowest price being three. A custom seems springing up of counting the manpui in “tlai” = Rs. 20/-. If the bride’s “thuam,” or trousseau, is a good one a sum of Rs. 20/-, called “tlai,” is added to the manpui, but should the woman die without issue, this sum will not be paid, as the thuam will return to her father’s family. If she has children these inherit the thuam, and therefore in such cases the tlai must be paid. The thuam consists of necklaces, earrings, and superior cloths, not articles for everyday use.

(ii.) Pushum.—The perquisite of the nearest male relative on the mother’s side or of a person specially chosen as the bride’s “pu” or protector. It varies between Rs. 4/-, and Rs. 10/- but in the case of a chief’s daughter it is a mithan.

(iii.) Palal.—The bride or her relations select some trusted friend, who may be of any family, whom they appoint her “palal,” or trustee, and he is expected to look after her interests throughout her whole married life. His fee varies in accordance with the pushum.

(iv.) Niman (Aunt’s Price).—A sum equal to the pushum which has to be paid to the bride’s aunt on her father’s side. If there are several aunts the eldest takes the “niman” of the eldest niece and the second aunt that of the second niece and so on. It is possible for a niece to refuse to allow her aunt to take the niman and to select another person of her own family.

(v.) Thian.—The “thian,” or friend, is a female palal, but she only receives a small sum from Rs. 10/- downwards.

(vi.) Nau Puan Puak Man (Price of Carrying the Younger Sister in her Cloth).—Each sister receives this from the husband of her next younger sister. Among Sailo it varies from Rs. 20/- to Rs. 40/-; in other families it is only Rs. 3/- or Rs. 4/-. In the case of the eldest sister it is taken by some near female relative.

These sums are never paid down at once; in fact, they are allowed to remain unpaid for many years, but, as a rule, in each family it is the custom to pay a certain amount of the manpui before the marriage; this is called “sum hma hruai,” “price before taking.”

Divorce.—The bonds of matrimony are extremely loose and are very easily slipped off. If a couple disagree they simply separate. The woman returns to her parents and the man renounces all claim to any portion of her price which he may have paid, unless the woman agrees to its being partially returned. If the man turns the woman out for no fault he must pay up her full price, if he has not already done so. If a woman commits adultery or leaves her husband against his will, however unfaithful he may have been, the whole of her price has to be refunded.

If a pair who have separated by mutual consent wish to make it up they can do so. If the overtures are made by the man he is expected to pay the woman a small sum up to Rs. 20/-. If, however, the woman makes the advances the man has nothing to pay.

Widow Re-marriage.—There is no objection to a widow remarrying. If a woman has a son and there is any property, it is proper for her to remain unmarried and look after her son and his interests; should she, however, wish to remarry there is nothing to prevent her, but her late husband’s relatives will take charge of the children and all the property. Should a widow be left with daughters only, it rests with her husband’s nearest male relatives whether she shall continue to live separately or shall enter his house. It is not unusual in such cases for the widow to be allowed to bring up her daughters, utilising, with the heir’s approval, whatever property has been left, but the marriage prices of the girls will be taken by their father’s heir. In olden times a widow had to remain unwashed and with her hair uncombed for a whole year from the death of her husband, but the period has been reduced to three months, out of pity for the women, and after that time remarriage is allowed. A widower who remarries before three months has passed since his wife’s death used to be fined, but this excellent custom has dropped out of use. Should a woman elect to live in her late husband’s house and bring up his children, she is considered as still married to him, and should she be detected in an intrigue her relatives will have to refund her marriage price just as if her husband were alive.

4. Female chastity. The unmarried girls are not very strictly looked after, and, if they conduct their intrigues with a fair amount of secrecy, nothing is said. As has been described in Chapter II, 3, there is a sleeping place on each side of the hearth, that furthest from the door—kumpui—being reserved for the parents, the other—kumai—being for the girls and young children. Sometimes, however, if the family is large, one of the girls sleeps with her parents. If a young man is found on the kumai nothing is said to him; if, however, he trespasses on the kumpui he is fined. In some villages if he even crosses the centre of the hearth he is fined. The fine varies in different villages, but it is about Rs. 10/-. If a girl becomes pregnant, the man responsible is at once surrounded by her relatives, who demand a mithan as the price of his indiscretion. This is called “sawn man,” “the price of the bastard.” This has to be paid even in the case of the child being born dead and in cases of premature births where the legs and arms are complete.

When the father has paid the sawn man he can claim the child as soon as it is old enough to leave its mother.

In cases in which the girl has been prodigal of her favours, no sawn man can be demanded.

In case a man should have a second illegitimate child by the same woman, he is not expected to pay more than Rs. 10/- and often nothing at all. For a third child he would, however, have to pay a mithan. In case when asked to pay sawn man, the man at once expresses his desire to marry the girl, he would not have to pay the fine in addition to the usual marriage price. If, however, he delays in marrying her, he must pay both. In this matter, however, custom varies considerably in different villages.

5. Inheritance. The general rule is for the youngest son to inherit, but occasionally the eldest also claims a share. With chiefs it is usual for each son, as he comes to a marriageable age, to be given a certain number of households and allowed to set up a village of his own, but the youngest generally remains with his father, and inherits his village and his property.

Adoption.—Persons of property who have no son sometimes adopt a near relative, but there is no special ceremony; it is a purely private arrangement. The custom known as “Sa-phun,” is in some respects akin to adoption. Should a chief have a very favourite boi, he sometimes grants him admission into his own clan. The “puitiam” being called, a fowl or a pig is sacrificed, after the appropriate prayer has been said, and a few of the hairs or feathers are tied round the man’s neck, and he is henceforth considered to belong to the chief’s clan. Anyone can thus admit another to his clan, but in practice it is seldom done, except by chiefs. I think the sacrifice is made with a view to propitiate the Sakhua of the clan which the man is abandoning.

6. Offences regarding property. Certain articles are said “man a nei,” “to have a price,” and the theft of any of them is punished by a fine of one mithan, quite irrespective of the actual value of the article stolen. These are—rice cleaned or unhusked, cloths, guns, brass pots, domestic animals, and wild animals, or birds which have been killed or trapped. The theft of other articles is punished by fines of from Rs. 1/- to Rs. 5/-, which are taken by the chief and his upa, and termed “salam.” Restitution of the articles stolen is always insisted on.

To steal or even to retain a hoe or axe found on the road is most unlucky, and is supposed to be followed by the death of the finder’s child.

7. Offences connected with the body. The punishment in these cases rested originally with the aggrieved party or his relatives, who were allowed to exact summary vengeance. Thus a husband was at liberty to kill an unfaithful wife and her paramour, but if he did not take refuge in the chief’s house, becoming a chemsen boi, the families of the victims were also entitled to kill him whenever they got an opportunity. Very shortly after our occupation of the Lushai Hills, two lads deliberately cut down a man who, they were told, had murdered their father many years before. The deed was done in broad daylight, in the middle of the village, and apparently attracted but little attention. The boys both entered the chief’s house, and I should never have heard of the occurrence had they not applied to be released from service to the chief.

To cut off the ears or nose of the paramour was a favourite way for a husband to avenge himself, and he did not always wait to be sure that there was anything to avenge. A man of Lianphunga’s village passed the night in Tlungbuta’s village, and, having been very hospitably treated by a friend, mistook the house of a very jealous husband for that in which he was to sleep, and was promptly ejected and deprived of his ears. Lianphunga, being a more powerful chief than Tlungbuta, exacted ten mithan as compensation for the injury done to his man, who, however, received absolutely nothing. The chief kept eight of the animals and killed two to feast the village, but the unfortunate victim was too ill even to share in the feast.

Rape or sodomy were punished in the same way, but the latter, if committed with the consent of the pathicus or with an animal, was not considered a crime, and there is no doubt that the class of men known as Tuai, who dressed as women and did women’s work, indulged habitually in this disgusting vice. Fortunately the class, never very large, has almost died out, but I fear the vice is far from extinct.

8. Decisions of disputes. The chief of each village, assisted by his upa, was the one and only court of justice in the village, and from their decisions there was no appeal, but nevertheless an unsuccessful litigant found a way of getting his case reheard. If the matter in dispute were of sufficient value to make half of it worth a great chief’s acceptance, the would-be appellant could generally find some powerful chief who would accept him as a subject and take up his quarrel on those terms. The custom of settling disputes by ordeal or by oaths, which is so common among the Naga tribes, is almost unknown to the Lushais. During the fourteen years I was among them I have only twice heard a party to a case offer to accept the other’s oath.

In ordinary cases, a man wishing to be believed will take an oath holding a tiger’s tooth, saying, “If I lie, may a tiger eat me as I now gnaw this tooth”—suiting the action to the word.

An oath of friendship between chiefs is a serious matter. A mithan is tied up to a post and the parties to the oath, grasping a spear with their right hands, stab it behind the shoulder with sufficient force to draw blood, repeating a formula to the effect that until the rivers run backwards into the earth again they will be friends. The animal is then killed and a little of the blood is smeared on the feet and forehead of the oath takers. To make this oath more binding they both eat a small piece of the liver raw.

9. War and head-hunting. The true Lushai method of making war was to raid the enemy’s villages and carry off as many captives and as much loot as possible. In this they form a great contrast to the Chins, whose plan of action was systematically to ambush the paths in the enemy’s country and kill as many passers-by as possible. The Lushais consider this unsporting and say pathetically, “How can men live if for fear of ambushes no cultivation can be carried on?” The Chins were fully aware of the effectiveness of their method of warfare and resorted to it whenever they wished to extend their boundaries, piqueting the coveted piece of land so effectually that it was soon abandoned to them.

The essence of success in Lushai tactics was surprise, and no disgrace attached to a party of warriors which, on finding the enemy on the alert, quickly returned home without attempting any attack.

The wars between the different Lushai clans lasted sometimes for several years, but were not very energetically prosecuted. Thus in a war between the Thangluah and Sailo chiefs which lasted from about 1833 to 1850, about six villages were destroyed on each side, but, except on one occasion, but few lives were lost. The exception was the massacre of Thaurang, a Sailo chief’s village, which is still spoken of with pride by the descendants of the perpetrators. The people of Thaurang were celebrating a great feast, and in all the principal houses in the village zu was being dispensed to all comers. There had been no hostilities of late, and the guards gradually abandoned their posts and joined the groups round the zu pots. With song and dance the night passed merrily, and by two or three in the morning no one was in a fit state to notice that a large number of strangers, whose drunkenness was only assumed, had mingled with the crowd. Suddenly a gun-shot gave the signal, and, drawing their dahs, the Thangluahs fell on their enemies, who, too drunk to know friend from foe, were slaughtered without mercy. Having burnt the village, the successful warriors returned dragging with them many captives. The Sailo chiefs tried to play the same trick on the Thangluah when some time later the latter were celebrating their victory with a large feast, but their intelligence department was inefficient and the attack was not delivered till some days after the feast.

At that time there were but few guns in the country, and so little was the use of those they had understood that the wad on the top of the bullet was often omitted, with the natural result that when the time for firing came there was no ball in the gun, and hot were the arguments as to the value of this new-fangled weapon. In those days also they had not acquired the art of making stockades, which they subsequently copied from the Chins, and consequently there was but little chance of resistance if the surprise was successful, and the shouts of the assailants were a signal for a general stampede on the part of the whole population. The attack was always delivered just before daylight, and, if successful, but little time was lost; as many captives as could be caught were collected and loaded with as much loot as they could carry without retarding the retreat, and the whole party set off and seldom halted till they had travelled forty-eight hours. As a rule only strong women and children who could keep up in the retreat were taken, all other captives being killed on the spot, and should any captive lag behind a spear thrust quickly ended her career, and her head was taken on to form an ornament in the raiders’ village. Occasionally a few young men were carried off to be killed during the festivities which were held in honour of the success of the raid. If the raiders’ chief had a son too young to accompany them, a captive was frequently reserved for him to slaughter and thus prove his bravery.

Having put what they considered a safe distance between them and any possible pursuers, the party proceeded more leisurely, sending on messengers to announce their success, whose arrival set the village in a ferment, and everyone commenced preparations for the ensuing feast. As the brave warriors were seen in the distance the whole population rushed out to meet them with horns of zu for their refreshment, beating drums and gongs, and shouting praises of their bravery. The following is an accurate translation of an account given me by a Lushai of the proceedings which followed the return of a successful raiding party:—

“Formerly the Lushais raided the Tipperahs and captured about ten and dragged them back to their village, and killed them either in the street or just in front of their houses. Presently they said, ‘Let us dance.’ They danced before the heads of the slain, and a crowd collected and watched. The heads were placed on posts around the open space in the village, and those who had killed men came out into the space in the centre of the village with their guns and fighting dahs, wearing their ‘chhawn’ head-dress, and the girls came with beautiful plaits of red and black cotton thread and tied them round the knots of the young men’s hair. This is called ‘arkezen.’ Then the young men danced beautifully. ‘We are very magnificent,’ they said. In the middle of the open space a platform had been built of bamboos like those in front of the house. On this everyone collected any number of eggs, and those who had killed their enemies and those who had felt no fear ate up the eggs as fast as possible. This is called ‘malchawh.’ Very tall ‘thingsia’ and ‘phulrua’ (kinds of bamboo) are put up in front of each man’s house and called ‘ralngul,’ and they hang to the end of the phulrua, by a piece of cane called ‘vawmhrui,’ a circle of pierced pieces of wood; these are called ‘hrangkhual.’”

In wars between Lushais it was considered wrong to kill chiefs. This, of course, was due to the chiefs being all of the same family.

When starting on a raid each man provided himself with cooked rice for several days. This was rammed down very tightly into pieces of bamboo, so that several days’ food could be conveniently carried without fear of any being lost on the road. Sections of bamboos were also employed as water bottles, the bamboo being cut above one joint and below the next and a small hole made just below the joint on one side, which could be easily plugged with a roll of leaves; for sake of lightness the bamboo would be whittled down as much as could be safely done. These raiding parties travelled immense distances. About 1850, Vuta, whose village was then at Hweltu, suddenly appeared at Pirovi’s village on the Soldeng, and, taking the people entirely by surprise, made many captives, among whom were the chieftainess and her infant son. Many others were killed and much loot rewarded the daring savages. The distance between the two villages is about seventy miles in an air line and at least twice that by the jungle paths. Although guns quickly became common in the Hills, the style of warfare did not change. In the war between the Northern and Southern Chiefs, which lasted from 1856 to 1859, each side only made three successful raids, and the actual number killed in action appears to have been very small. I once asked one of the chiefs who had been very prominent in one of the later wars how many men he had killed with his own hand, and, on my expressing surprise at his admitting that he killed none, he naÏvely remarked, “You see, we chiefs always go last, shouting ‘Forward, forward!’ and by the time I reached the village the people had always run away.” Though the Lushais were able to turn the Thados and other clans of their own kindred out of their possessions, yet when they came in contact with the Chins they were invariably defeated. In 1881 a large force of Southern Lushais raided Bunkhua, a Chin village to the north of the Tao hill. They burnt the village without much trouble, but the Chins refused to acknowledge this as a defeat and kept up a hot fire on their assailants, killing one of their bravest warriors. When the Lushais set out on their return journey they found the whole country up, and in a gorge they were greeted with a volley which laid forty of them low, and the remainder fled in all directions, and, had it not been for heavy rain, which washed away the bloodstains and made tracking difficult, but few would have reached their homes.

Although when fighting among themselves the ambushing of cultivators and travellers was disapproved of, they resorted to it freely when fighting us, but our casualties were not very great, as the ambushers were so anxious about their own safety they generally fired too soon. These ambushes were always arranged below the road, where the ground fell away very sharply, and, having fired, the brave fellows hurled themselves down the hill, ignoring all cuts and scratches in their anxiety to escape.

Head-hunting.—It used to be considered that all inhabitants of these Hills were head-hunters. In fact, so great an authority as Colonel Lewin derives the name “Lushai” from “lu,” “a head,” and “sha,” “to cut.” This, of course, is a mistake, as the name of the clan is not Lushai, but Lushei, and though “sha” does mean “to cut,” it does not mean “to cut off,” and could not be used of cutting off a man’s head; but that such a mistake should have been possible shows how firmly rooted was the belief that head-hunting was one of the peculiarities of the population of these Hills. I believe that as far as the Lushais and their kindred clans are concerned, head-hunting was not indulged in. By this I mean that parties did not go out simply to get heads. Of course, a man who had killed his man was thought more highly of than one who had not, and, therefore, when a man did kill a person he brought the head home to show that he was speaking the truth; but the raids were not made to get heads, but for loot and slaves. The killing and taking of heads were merely incidents in the raid, not the cause of it. I think that the Chins or Pois are an exception to this, and, as far as I can gather, the glory of bringing in a head was sufficient to send a young man and his friends off on the raid.

I have also made careful enquiries in all parts of the Hills as to whether there is any truth in the commonly accepted theory that on the death of a chief a party was at once sent off to kill people in order that their heads might adorn his memorial and their ghosts wait on his spirit in the other world, but I never heard anything which lent any colour to the idea, and, as regards Lushais, I believe it to be a pure invention; but it was undoubtedly a Thado custom. If a single person is killed in a raid every person in the attacking party is entitled to all the honours pertaining to a slayer of a man.