Walter William Skeat

We now come to the spirits which are believed to attack both women and children at childbirth.

These are four in number: the Bajang, which generally takes the form of a pole-cat (musang) and disturbs the household by mewing like a great cat; the Langsuir, which takes the form of an owl with long claws, which sits and hoots upon the roof-tree; the Pontianak or Mati-anak, which, as will be seen presently, is also a night-owl, and is supposed to be a child of the Langsuir, and the Penanggalan, which is believed to resemble a trunkless human head with the sac of the stomach attached to it, and which flies about seeking for an opportunity of sucking the blood of infants.

With the above are often associated the Polong, which is described as a diminutive but malicious species of bottle-imp, and the Pelesit, which is the name given to a kind of grasshopper (or cricket?), but these latter, though often associated with the regular birth-spirits, partake also of the character of familiar spirits1 or bottle-imps, and are usually private property.

Plate 6.—Bajang and Pelesit Charms.

Plate 6.—Bajang and Pelesit Charms.

Diagrams in the author’s possession representing the Bajang and Pelesit (birth-spirits).

Page 321.

I will now take these spirits in the above order. The Bajang, as I have said, is generally described as taking the form of a pole-cat (musang), but it appears to be occasionally confused with the Pelesit. Thus a Malay magician once told me that the Bajang took the form of a house-cricket, and that when thus embodied it may be kept by a man, as the Pelesit may be kept by a woman. This statement, however, must not be accepted without due reserve, and it may be taken as a certainty that the usual conception of the Bajang’s embodiment is a pole-cat.2

I need hardly say that it is considered very dangerous to children, who are sometimes provided with a sort of armlet of black silk threads, called a “bajang bracelet” (g’lang bajang), which, it is supposed, will protect them against it. On the opposite page will be seen a remarkable drawing3 (of which a facsimile is here given), which appears to represent the outline of a Bajang, “scripturally” modified to serve as a counter-charm against the Bajang itself.4

The following account of the Bajang is by Sir Frank Swettenham:—

“Some one in the village falls ill of a complaint the symptoms of which are unusual; there may be convulsions, unconsciousness, or delirium, possibly for some days together or with intervals between the attacks. The relatives will call in a native doctor, and at her (she is usually an ancient female) suggestion, or without it, an impression will arise that the patient is the victim of a bÂjang. Such an impression quickly develops into certainty, and any trifle will suggest the owner of the evil spirit. One method of verifying this suspicion is to wait till the patient is in a state of delirium, and then to question him or her as to who is the author of the trouble. This should be done by some independent person of authority, who is supposed to be able to ascertain the truth.

“A further and convincing proof is then to call in a ‘Pawang’ skilled in dealing with wizards (in Malay countries they are usually men), and if he knows his business his power is such that he will place the sorcerer in one room, and, while he in another scrapes an iron vessel with a razor, the culprit’s hair will fall off as though the razor had been applied to his head instead of to the vessel! That is supposing he is the culprit; if not, of course he will pass through the ordeal without damage.

“I have been assured that the shaving process is so efficacious that, as the vessel represents the head of the person standing his trial, wherever it is scraped the wizard’s hair will fall off in a corresponding spot. It might be supposed that under these circumstances the accused is reasonably safe, but this test of guilt is not always employed. What more commonly happens is that when several cases of unexplained sickness have occurred in a village, with possibly one or two deaths, the people of the place lodge a formal complaint against the supposed author of these ills, and desire that he be punished.

“Before the advent of British influence it was the practice to kill the wizard or witch whose guilt had been established to Malay satisfaction, and such executions were carried out not many years ago.

“I remember a case in Perak less than ten years ago, when the people of an up-river village accused a man of keeping a bÂjang, and the present Sultan, who was then the principal Malay judge in the State, told them he would severely punish the bÂjang if they would produce it. They went away hardly satisfied, and shortly after made a united representation to the effect that if the person suspected were allowed to remain in their midst they would kill him. Before anything could be done they put him, his family, and effects on a raft and started them down the river. On their arrival at Kuala Kangsar the man was given an isolated hut to live in, but not long afterwards he disappeared.

“The hereditary bÂjang comes like other evils, the unsought heritage of a dissolute ancestry, but the acquired bÂjang is usually obtained from the newly-buried body of a stillborn child, which is supposed to be the abiding-place of a familiar spirit until lured therefrom by the solicitations of some one who, at dead of night, stands over the grave and by potent incantations persuades the bÂjang to come forth.”5

“It is all very well for the Kedah ladies to sacrifice their shadows to obtain possession of a pelsit, leaders of society must be in the fashion at any cost; but there are plenty of people living in Perak who have seen more than one ancient Malay dame taken out into the river and, despite her protestations, her tears, and entreaties, have watched her, with hands and feet tied, put into the water and slowly pushed down out of sight by means of a long pole with a fork at one end which fitted on her neck. Those who have witnessed these executions have no doubt of the justice of the punishment, and not uncommonly add that after two or three examples had been made there would always ensue a period of rest from the torments of the bÂjang. I have also been assured that the bÂjang, in the shape of a lizard, has been seen to issue from the drowning person’s nose. That statement no doubt is made on the authority of those who condemned and executed the victim.”6

The popular superstition about the Langsuir is thus described by Sir William Maxwell:—

“If a woman dies in childbirth, either before delivery or after the birth of a child, and before the forty days of uncleanness have expired, she is popularly supposed to become a langsuyar, a flying demon of the nature of the ‘white lady’ or ‘banshee.’ To prevent this a quantity of glass beads are put in the mouth of the corpse, a hen’s egg is put under each arm-pit, and needles are placed in the palms of the hands. It is believed that if this is done the dead woman cannot become a langsuyar, as she cannot open her mouth to shriek (ngilai) or wave her arms as wings, or open and shut her hands to assist her flight.”7

The superstitions about the Langsuir, however, do not end here, for with regard to its origin the Selangor Malays tell the following story:—

The original Langsuir (whose embodiment is supposed to be a kind of night-owl) is described as being a woman of dazzling beauty, who died from the shock of hearing that her child was stillborn, and had taken the shape of the Pontianak.8 On hearing this terrible news, she “clapped her hands,” and without further warning “flew whinnying away to a tree, upon which she perched.” She may be known by her robe of green, by her tapering nails of extraordinary length (a mark of beauty), and by the long jet black tresses which she allows to fall down to her ankles—only, alas! (for the truth must be told) in order to conceal the hole in the back of her neck through which she sucks the blood of children! These vampire-like proclivities of hers may, however, be successfully combated if the right means are adopted, for if you are able to catch her, cut short her nails and luxuriant tresses, and stuff them into the hole in her neck, she will become tame and indistinguishable from an ordinary woman, remaining so for years. Cases have been known, indeed, in which she has become a wife and a mother, until she was allowed to dance at a village merry-making, when she at once reverted to her ghostly form, and flew off into the dark and gloomy forest from whence she came.

Plate 7.—Penanggalan and langsuir.

Plate 7.—Penanggalan and langsuir.

Models of the Penanggalan and Langsuir, the former being the head on the left. Note the length of the Langsuir’s nails.

Page 326.

In their wild state, a Malay once informed me, these woman-vampires are exceedingly fond of fish, and once and again may be seen “sitting in crowds on the fishing-stakes at the river mouth awaiting an opportunity to steal the fish.” However that may be, it seems curiously in keeping with the following charm for “laying” a Langsuir:—

“O ye mosquito-fry at the river’s mouth

When yet a great way off, ye are sharp of eye,

When near, ye are hard of heart.

When the rock in the ground opens of itself

Then (and then only) be emboldened the hearts of my foes and opponents!

When the corpse in the ground opens of itself

Then (and then only) be emboldened the hearts of my foes and opponents!

May your heart be softened when you behold me,

By grace of this prayer that I use, called Silam Bayu.”

The “mosquito-fry at the river’s mouth” in the first line is no doubt intended as an allusion to the Langsuir who frequent the fishing-stakes.

The Pontianak (or Mati-anak), as has already been said, is the stillborn child of the Langsuir, and its embodiment is like that of its mother, a kind of night-owl.9 Curiously enough, it appears to be the only one of these spirits which rises to the dignity of being addressed as a “Jin” or “Genie,” as appears from the charms which are used for laying it. Thus we find in a common charm:—

“O Pontianak the Stillborn,

May you be struck dead by the soil from the grave-mound.

Thus (we) cut the bamboo-joints, the long and the short,

To cook therein the liver of the Jin (Demon) Pontianak.

By the grace of ‘There is no god but God,’” etc.

To prevent a stillborn child from becoming a Pontianak the corpse is treated in the same way as that of the mother, i.e. a hen’s egg is put under each armpit, a needle in the palm of each hand, and (probably) glass beads or some simple equivalent in its mouth. The charm which is used on this occasion will be found in the Appendix.

The Peenanggalan is a sort of monstrous vampire which delights in sucking the blood of children. The story goes that once upon a time a woman was sitting, to perform a religious penance (dudok bertapa), in one of the large wooden vats which are used by the Malays for holding the vinegar made by drawing off the sap of the thatch-palm (menyadap nipah). Quite unexpectedly a man came in, and finding her sitting in the vat, asked her, “What are you doing there?” To this the woman replied, “What business have you to ask?” but being very much startled she attempted to escape, and in the excitement of the moment, kicked her own chin with such force that the skin split round her neck, and her head (with the sac of the stomach depending from it) actually became separated from the trunk, and flew off to perch upon the nearest tree. Ever since then she has existed as a spirit of evil, sitting on the roof-tree whinnying (mengilai) whenever a child is born in the house, or trying to force her way up through the floor on which the child lies, in order to drink its blood.10

The only two spirits of this class which now remain are the Polong and the Pelesit, and these, as I have said, partake to a great extent of the character of familiar spirits or bottle imps, and are by no means confined to a single “rÔle” as the preceding ones have been.

The Polong resembles an exceedingly diminutive female figure or mannikin, being in point of size about as big as the top joint of the little finger. It will fly through the air to wherever it is told to go, but is always preceded by its pet or plaything (pemainan), the Pelesit, which, as has already been said, appears to be a species of house-cricket. Whenever the Polong wishes to enter (di-rasoki) a new victim, it sends the Pelesit on before it, and as soon as the latter, “flying in a headlong fashion (menelentang menjerongkong),” has entered its victim’s body, which it usually does tail-foremost, and begins to chirp, the Polong follows. It is generally hidden away outside the house by its owner (Jinjangan), and fed with blood pricked from the finger. The description usually given of a Polong tallies curiously with the Malay definition of the soul.12

The last of these spirits, the Pelesit (or house-cricket?), which is the Polong’s “plaything” or pet, flies to and fro (rasok sini, rasok sana) till it finds the body which its mistress has ordered it to enter, harm only being done when it enters tail-foremost, as it generally does. It is occasionally caught and kept in a bottle by Malay women, who feed it either on parched or saffron-stained rice, or on blood drawn from the tip of the fourth finger which they prick for the purpose, and who, when they wish to get rid of it, bury it in the ground. When a sick person is affected by a Pelesit (one of the signs of which is to rave about cats)13 the medicine-man comes and addresses the Pelesit (or Polong?), which has taken up its residence in the patient’s body, with the words: “Who is your mother?” To this question the Pelesit replies, speaking with the patient’s voice, but in a high falsetto key, and giving the name of the person who sent it, whereupon prompt measures are taken to compel the owner to recall it. It now only remains to describe the means employed by the Malays to secure one of these familiar spirits, which can be guaranteed to cause the greatest possible annoyance to your enemy, with the least possible trouble on your own part.

Receipt for securing a Pelesit

“Go to the graveyard at night and dig up the body of a first-born child whose mother was also first-born, and which has been dead less than forty days. On digging it up, carry it out to an ant-hill in the open ground, and there dandle it (di-timang). After a little while, when the child shrieks and lolls its tongue out (terjelir lidah-nya), bite off its tongue and carry it home. Then obtain a cocoa-nut shell from a solitary ‘green’ cocoa-nut palm (niyor hijau), and carry it to a place where Three Roads Meet, light a fire and heat the shell till oil exudes, dip the child’s tongue in the oil, and bury it in the heart of the three cross roads (hati sempang tiga). Leave it untouched for three nights, then dig it up and you will find that it has turned into a Pelesit.”14

In or about the seventh month of pregnancy (mengandong tujoh bulan) a “Bidan”15 (sage femme) is engaged (menempah), the ceremony being described as follows:—

A copper vessel called cherana (which is something like a fruit-dish with a stand or foot to it) is filled with four or five peeled areca-nuts, a small block of gambier, a portion of lime (kapor sa-perkaporan), a “tahil” (sa-tahil) of tobacco, and three or four packets (susun) of betel-leaf, and carried to the Bidan’s house, where it is presented to her with the words, “I wish to engage you for my child” (Ini’ku mahu menempah anak’ku), or words to that effect.16

Usually the contents of the cherana are enclosed in small brass receptacles, but on such occasions as the present no receptacles are used, the usual accessories of the betel-chewing ceremony being deposited in the cherana itself. The Bidan, on receiving the cherana, and charming the contents, inverts it, pouring out (di-chorahkan) its contents upon the floor, and taking omens for the coming event from the manner in which they fall.17 She then commences to chew the betel-leaf, and when she has taken as much as she requires, she generally performs some species of divination (tengo’ dalam petua) in order to ascertain the nature of the child’s horoscope. This object may be achieved in several ways; e.g. by astrological calculations; by casting up (palak or falakiah) the numerical values of the letters of both parents’ names, in accordance with the abjad, or secret cipher alphabet;18 by observance of a wax taper fixed upon the brim of a jar of water (dian di tepi buyong ayer); and by observance of a cup of “betel-leaf water” (ayer sirih).19

When the time arrives the Bidan is sent for and escorted to the spot, where she points out the luckiest place in the house for the child to be born. Such a spot must not be under the ends of the slats of the palm-thatch, but between them, the exact spot being discovered by repeatedly dropping the blade of a hatchet or cutlass haft downwards into the ground below the raised floor of the house, until a spot is found wherein it sticks and remains upright. A rattan loop (tali anggas) to enable the patient to raise herself to a sitting posture, is suspended from the rafters over the spot selected,20 while just exactly beneath it under the floor of the house (which is raised on piles like the old Swiss lake-dwellings) are fastened a bunch of leaves of the prickly pandanus, the “acid” egg-plant,21 and a lekar jantan, which is a kind of rattan stand used for Malay cooking-pots. The leaves of these plants are used because it is thought that their thorns will prick any evil spirit22 which tries to get at the child from below, whilst the circular cooking-pot stand will act as a noose or snare. Over the patient’s head, and just under the rafters, is spread a casting-net (jala), together with a bunch of leaves of the red dracÆna (jenjuang or lenjuang merah) and the “acid” egg-plant.23

A big tray (talam) is now filled with a measure of uncooked husked rice (b’ras sa-gantang), and covered over with a small mat of screw-palm leaves (tikar mengkuang). This mat is in turn covered with from three to seven thicknesses of fine Malay sarongs (a sort of broad plaid worn as a skirt), and these latter again are surmounted by a second mat upon which the newly-born infant is to be deposited.

The next process is the purification of mother and child by a ceremony which consists of bathing both in warm water just not hot enough to scald the skin (ayer pesam-pesam jangan melochak kulit), and in which are leaves of lengkuas, halia, kunyit t’rus, kunyit, pandan bau, areca-palm blossom, and the dried leaves (keronsong or keresek) of the pisang k’lat. This has to be repeated (every?) morning and evening. In most places the new-born infant is, as has been said, laid upon a mat and formally adopted by the father, who breathes into the child’s ear24 a sort of Muhammadan prayer or formula, which is called bang in the case of a boy, and kamat in the case of a girl. After purification the child is swaddled in a sort of papoose; an inner bandage (barut) is swathed round the child’s waist, and a broad cloth band (kain lampin) is wound round its body from the knees to the breast, after which the outer bandage (kain bedong) is wound round the child’s body from the feet to the shoulder, and is worn continually until the child is three or four months old, or, in Malay parlance, until he has learned to crawl (tahu meniarap). This contrivance, it is alleged, prevents the child from starting and straining its muscles. Over the child’s mat is suspended a sort of small conical mosquito-net (kain bochok), the upper end of which is generally stitched (di-semat) or pinned on to the top of the parent’s mosquito curtain, and which is intended to protect the child from any stray mosquito or sandfly which may have found its way into the bigger net used by his parents.

Next comes the ceremony of marking the forehead (chonting muka), which is supposed to keep the child from starting and straining itself (jangan terkejut terkekau), and from convulsions (sawan), and at the same time to preserve it from evil spirits. The following are the directions:—Take chips of wood from the thin end (kapala?) of the threshold, from the steps of the house-ladder, and from the house furniture, together with a coat (kesip) of garlic, a coat of an onion, assafoetida, a rattan cooking-pot stand, and fibre from the “monkey-face” of an unfertile cocoa-nut (tampo’ niyor jantan). Burn all these articles together, collect the ashes, and mix them by means of the fore-finger with a little “betel-water.”

Now repeat the proper charm,25 dip the finger in the mixture, and mark the centre of the child’s forehead, if a boy with a sign resembling what is called a bench mark [V], if a girl with a plain cross +, and at the same time put small daubs on the nose, cheeks, chin, and shoulders. Then mark the mother with a line drawn from breast to breast (pangkah susu) and a daub on the end of the nose (cholek hidong). If you do this properly, a Langat Malay informed me, the Evil One will take mother and child for his own wife and child (who are supposed to be similarly marked) and will consequently refrain from harming them!

In addition to the above, if the child is a girl, her eyebrows are shaved and a curve drawn in their place, extending from the root of the nose to the ear (di-pantiskan bentok taji deri muka sampei pelipis). The mixture used for marking these curves consists of manjakani mixed with milk from the mother’s breast.

Another most curious custom which recalls a parallel custom among North American Indians, is occasionally resorted to for the purpose of altering the shape of the child’s head. When it is considered too long (terlampau panjang), a small tightly-fitting “yam leaf cap” (songko’ daun k’ladi), consisting of seven thicknesses of calladium (yam) leaves is used to compress it. This operation is supposed to shorten the child’s skull, and the person who fits it on to the child’s head uses the words—“Muhammad, short be your head” in the case of a boy, and “Fatimah, short be your head” in the case of a girl.

Now comes the ceremony of administering to the infant what is called the “mouth-opener” (lit. “mouth-splitter,” pemb’lah mulut); first, you take a green cocoa-nut (niyor sungkoran), split it in halves (di-b’lah niyor), put a “grain” of salt inside one-half of the shell (di-buboh garam sa-buku), and give it to the child to drink, counting up to seven, and putting it to the child’s mouth at the word seven (letakkan di mulut-nya). Then repeat the ceremony, substituting asam (tamarinds?) for the salt. Finally, take a gold ring, and after rubbing it against the inside of the cocoa-nut (cholek di-dalam niyor), lay it upon the child’s lips, (letakkan di bibir-nya), saying “Bismillah,” etc. Do the same with a silver and amalgam (gold and silver) ring respectively, and the ceremony will be at an end.

I may note, in passing, that it is in allusion to the above ceremony that you will sometimes hear old men say “It’s not the first time I tasted salt, I did so ever since I was first put into my swinging-cot” (aku makan garam dahulu, deripada tatkala naik buayan).

Sometimes a little “rock” sugar (gula batu) is added to make the “mouth-opener” more palatable.

From the time when the child is about twenty-four hours old until it is of the age of three months, it is fed with rice boiled in a pot on the fire, “broken” (di-lechek) by means of a short broad cocoa-nut shell spoon (pelechek), mixed with a little sugar and squeezed into small receptacles of woven cocoa-nut leaf (ketupat).

Later it is taught to feed at the breast (menetek), which continues until it is weaned by the application of bitter aloes (jadam) to the mother’s breasts.

In the rice-jar (buyong b’ras) during this period, a stone, a big iron nail, and a “candle-nut” must be kept, and a spoon (sendok) must always be used for putting the rice into the pot before boiling it. Moreover, the mother, when eating or drinking, must always cross her left arm under her breasts (di-ampu susu-nya di lengan kiri) leaving the right arm free to bring the food to the mouth.

When the child has been bathed, it is fumigated, and deposited for the first time in a swinging-cot (the Malay substitute for a cradle) which, according to immemorial custom, is formed by a black cloth slung from one of the rafters. To fumigate26 it you take leaves of the red dracÆna (jenjuang merah), and wrap them round first with the casing of the charred torch (puntong) used at the severing of the cord (pembuang tali pusat), then with leaves of the t’rong asam (“acid” egg-plant), and tie them round at intervals with a string of shredded tree-bark (tali t’rap). The funnel-shaped bouquet thus formed is suspended above the child’s cot (buayan); a spice-block (batu giling) is deposited inside it, and underneath it are placed the naked blade of a cutlass (parang puting), a cocoa-nut scraper (kukoran), and one of the basket-work stands used for the cooking-pots (lekar jantan), which latter is slung round the neck of the cocoa-nut scraper. This last strange contrivance is, I believe, intended as a hint to the evil spirit or vampire which comes to suck the child’s blood, and for whom the trap described above is set underneath the house-floor.

Now get a censer and burn incense in it, adding to the flame, as it burns, rubbish from beneath a deserted house, the deserted nest of a mer’bah (dove), and the deserted nest of the “rain-bird” (sarang burong ujan-ujan). When all is ready, rock the cot very gently seven times, then take the spice-block out of the cot and deposit it together with the blade of the cutlass upon the ground, take the child in your arms and fumigate it by moving it thrice round in a circle over the smoke of the censer, counting up to seven as you do so, and swing the child gently towards your left. At the word “seven” call the child’s soul by saying “Cluck, cluck! soul of Muhammad here!”27 (if it is a boy), or “Cluck, cluck! soul of Fatimah here!” (if it is a girl); deposit the child in the cot and rock it very gently, so that it does not swing farther than the neck of the cocoa-nut scraper extends (sa-panjang kukoran sahaja). After this you may swing it as far as you like, but for at least seven days afterwards, whenever the child is taken out of the cot, the spice-block, or stone-child (anak batu) as it is called, must be deposited in the cot as a substitute for the child (pengganti budak).

Once in every four hours the child should be bathed with cold water, in order that it may be kept “cool.” This custom, I was told, is diametrically opposite to that which obtains at Malacca, where the child is bathed as rarely as possible. The custom followed in Selangor is said to prevent the child from getting a sore mouth (guam).

For the first two months or so, whenever the child is bathed, it is rubbed over with a paste obtained by mixing powdered rice with the powder obtained from a red stone called batu kawi. This stone, which is said by some Malays to take its name from the Island of Langkawi, is thought to possess astringent (k’lat) qualities, and is used by Malay women to improve their skin. Before use the paste is fumigated with the smoke of burning eagle-wood, sandal-wood, and incense, after which the liquid, which is said to resemble red ink, is applied to the skin, and then washed off, no doubt, with lime-juice in the ordinary way.

In the cold water which is used for bathing the child are deposited a big iron nail (as a “symbol of iron”), “candle-nuts” and cockle-shells (kulit k’rang), to which some Malays add a kind of parasite called si ber’nas (i.e. Well-Filled Out, a word applied to children who are fat, instead of the word gemok, which is considered unlucky) and another parasite called sadingin or si dingin, the “Cold” one.

After bathing, the Bidan should perform the ceremony called sembor sirih, which consists in the ejecting of betel-leaf (mixed with other ingredients) out of her mouth on to the pit of the child’s stomach, the ingredients being pounded leaves of the bunglei, chekor, and jerangau, and chips of brazil-wood, ebony, and sugar-palm twigs (segar kabong); to these are sometimes added small portions of the “Rough” bamboo (buluh kasap), of the bemban balu, and of the leaf-cases of the areca-palm (either upih b’lah batang or upih sarong).

The child is generally named within the first week, but I have not yet heard of any special ceremony connected with the naming, though it is most probably considered as a religious act. The name is evidently considered of some importance, for if the child happens to get ill directly after the naming, it is sometimes re-adopted (temporarily) by a third party, who gives it a different name. When this happens a species of bracelets and anklets made of black cloth are put upon the child’s wrists and ankles, the ceremony being called tumpang sayang.

A few days later the child’s head is shaved, and his nails cut for the first time. For the former process a red lather is manufactured from fine rice-flour mixed with gambier, lime, and betel-leaf. Some people have the child’s head shaved clean, others leave the central lock (jambul). In either case the remains of the red lather, together with the clippings of hair (and nails?) are received in a rolled-up yam-leaf (daun k’ladi di-ponjut) or cocoa-nut (?), and carried away and deposited at the foot of a shady tree, such as a banana (or a pomegranate?).

Sometimes (as had been done in the case of a Malay bride at whose “tonsure” I assisted28), the parents make a vow at a child’s birth that they will give a feast at the tonsure of its hair, just before its marriage, provided the child grows up in safety.

Occasionally the ceremony of shaving the child’s head takes place on the 44th day after birth, the ceremony being called balik juru. A small sum, such as $2.00 or $3.00, is also sometimes presented to a pilgrim to carry clippings of the child’s locks to Mecca and cast them into the well Zemzem, such payment being called ’kÊkah (?akÊkah) in the case of a boy, and kerban in the case of a girl.29

To return to the mother. She is bathed in hot water at 8 o’clock each morning for three days, and from the day of birth (after ablution) she has to undergo the strangest ceremony of all, “ascending the roasting-place” (naik saleian). A kind of rough couch is prepared upon a small platform (saleian), which is about six feet in length, and slopes downwards towards the foot, where it is about two feet above the floor. Beneath this platform a fireplace or hearth (dapor)30 is constructed, and a “roaring fire” lighted, which is intended to warm the patient to a degree consistent with Malay ideas of what is beneficial! Custom, which is stronger than law, forces the patient to recline upon this couch two or three times in the course of the day, and to remain upon it each time for an hour or two. To such extremes is this practice carried, that “on one occasion a poor woman was brought to the point of death ... and would have died if she had not been rescued by the kind interposition of the Civil Assistant-Surgeon; the excessive excitement caused by the heat was so overpowering that aberration of mind ensued which continued for several months.”31

As if this were not enough, one of the heated hearth-stones (batu tungku) is frequently wrapped up in a piece of flannel or old rags, applied to the patient’s stomach so as to “roast” her still more effectually. This “roasting” custom is said to continue for the whole of the forty-four days of uncleanness. During this period there are many birth-taboos (pantang beranak) applying to food, the following articles being usually forbidden: (1) things which have (from the Malay point of view) a lowering effect on the constitution (sagala yang sejuk-sejuk), e.g. fruits, with some exceptions, and vegetables; (2) things which have a heating effect on the blood (sagala yang bisa-bisa), e.g. the fish called pari (skate), the Prickly Fish (ikan duri), and the sembilang (a kind of mudfish with poisonous spines on both sides and back), and all fresh-water fish; (3) all things which have an irritating effect on the skin (sagala yang gatal-gatal), e.g. the fish called tenggiri, and terubok, shell-fish, and the egg-plant or Brinjal, while the fish called kurau, g’lama, senahong, parang-parang may be eaten, so long as they are well salted; (4) things which are supposed to cause faintness (sagala yang bentan-bentan), or swooning (pengsan), such, for instance, as uncooked cocoa-nut pulp, gourds and cucumbers; (5) sugar (with the exception of cocoa-nut sugar), cocoa-nuts, and chillies.32

The following description of birth-taboos in Pahang, taken from Mr. H. Clifford’s Studies in Brown Humanity, will give a good general idea of this part of the subject:—

“When Umat has placed the sÎrih leaves he has done all he can for Selema, and he resigns himself to endure the anxiety of the next few months with the patience of which he has so much command. The pantang ber-Ânak, or birth-taboos, hem a husband in almost as rigidly as they do his wife, and Umat, who is as superstitious as are all the Malays of the lower classes, is filled with fear lest he should unwittingly transgress any law, the breach of which might cost Selema her life. He no longer shaves his head periodically, as he loves to do, for a naked scalp is very cool and comfortable; he does not even cut his hair, and a thick black shock stands five inches high upon his head, and tumbles raggedly about his neck and ears. Selema is his first wife, and never before has she borne children, wherefore no hair of her husband’s must be trimmed until her days are accomplished. Umat will not kill the fowls for the cook now, nor even drive a stray dog from the compound with violence, lest he should chance to maim it, for he must shed no blood, and must do no hurt to any living thing during all this time. One day he is sent on an errand up-river and is absent until the third day. On inquiry it appears that he passed the night in a friend’s house, and on the morrow found that the wife of his host was shortly expecting to become a mother. Therefore he had to remain at least two nights in the village. Why? Because if he failed to do so, Selema would die. Why would she die? God alone knows, but such is the teaching of the men of old, the wise ones of ancient days. But Umat’s chief privation is that he is forbidden to sit in the doorway of his house. To understand what this means to a Malay, you must realise that the seat in the doorway, at the head of the stair-ladder that reaches to the ground, is to him much what the fireside is to the English peasant. It is here that he sits and looks out patiently at life, as the European gazes into the heart of the fire. It is here that his neighbours come to gossip with him, and it is in the doorway of his own or his friend’s house that the echo of the world is borne to his ears. But, while Selema is ill, Umat may not block the doorway, or dreadful consequences will ensue, and though he appreciates this and makes the sacrifice readily for his wife’s sake, it takes much of the comfort out of his life.

“Selema, meanwhile, has to be equally circumspect. She bridles her woman’s tongue resolutely, and no word in disparagement of man or beast passes her lips during all these months, for she has no desire to see the qualities she dislikes reproduced in the child. She is often tired to death and faint and ill before her hour draws nigh, but none the less she will not lie upon her mat during the daytime lest her heavy eyes should close in sleep, since her child would surely fall a prey to evil spirits were she to do so. Therefore she fights on to the dusk, and Umat does all he can to comfort her and to lighten her sufferings by constant tenderness and care.”33

The medicine (sambaran bara), used by the mother after her confinement, consists of the ashes of a burnt cocoa-nut shell pounded and mixed with a pinch of black pepper (lada hitam sa-jimput), a root of garlic (bawang puteh sa-labuh), and enough vinegar to make the mixture liquid. This potion is drunk for three consecutive mornings. A bandage is swathed about her waist, and she is treated with a cosmetic (bedak) manufactured from temu kuning, which is pounded small (and mixed as before with garlic, black pepper, and vinegar), and applied every morning and evening for the first three days. During the next three days a new cosmetic (bedak kunyit t’rus) is applied, the ingredients being kunyit t’rus pounded and mixed in the same way as the cosmetic just described.

At the same time the patient is given a potion made from the ash of burnt durian skins (abu kulit durian), mixed as before with vinegar; the fruit-stalk, or “spire,” of a cocoa-nut palm (manggar niyor) being substituted if the durian skin is not obtainable.

A poultice (ubat pupok) is also applied to the patient’s forehead, after the early bathing, during the “forty-four days” of her retirement; it consists of leaves of the tahi babi, jintan hitam, and garlic, pounded and mixed as usual with vinegar.

After three days an extraordinary mixture, called in Selangor the “Hundred Herbs” (rempah ’ratus), but in Malacca merely “Pot-herbs” (rempah p’riok), is concocted from all kinds of herbs, roots, and spices. The ingredients are put into a large vessel of water and left to soak, a portion of the liquor being strained off and given to the patient as a potion every morning for about ten days. Similar ingredients boiled in a large pot, which is kept hot by being hermetically sealed (di-getang), and by having live embers placed underneath it from time to time, furnish the regular beverage of the patient up to the time of her purification. After the first fortnight, however, the lees are extracted from the vessel and used to compose a poultice which is applied to the patient’s waist, a set of fresh ingredients replacing the old ones.34 It is sold for fifty cents a jar.

On the forty-fourth day the raised platform or roasting-place (saleian) is taken down and the ceremony called Floor-washing (basoh lantei) takes place, the whole house being thoroughly washed and cleaned. The floor having been smeared with rice-cosmetic (bedak) (such as the Malays use for the bathing ceremony), it is well scratched by the claws of a fowl, which is caught (and washed) for the purpose, and then held over the floor and forced to do the scratching required of it. The cosmetic is then removed (di-langir) by means of lime-juice (again as in the bathing ceremony) and the hearth-fire is changed. The Bidan now receives her pay, usually getting in cash for the eldest child $4.40 (in some places $5.40), for the second, $3.40, the third, $2.40, and for the fourth, and all subsequent children, $1.40; unless she is hastily summoned (bidan tarek) and no engagement (menempah) has been made, in which case she may demand half a bhara ($11). Besides this somewhat meagre remuneration, however, she receives from the well-to-do (at the floor-washing ceremony) such presents as cast-off clothes (kain bekas tuboh), a bowl of saffron rice, a bowl of the rice-cosmetic and limes (bedak limau), and a platter of betel-leaf, with accessories (cherana sirih). Though the remuneration may appear small, it was, nevertheless, sure; as in former days an unwritten law allowed her to take the child and “cry it for sale” (di-jaja) round the country, should her fee remain unpaid.

Before concluding the present subject it will be necessary to describe certain specific injunctions and taboos which form an important part of the vast body of Malay customs which centre specially round the birth of children.

Before the child is born the father has to be more than usually circumspect with regard to what he does, as any untoward act on his part would assuredly have a prejudicial effect on the child, and cause a birth-mark or even actual deformity, any such affection being called kenan. In a case which came to my notice the son was born with only a thumb, forefinger, and little finger on the left hand, and a great toe on the left foot, the rest of the fingers and toes on the left side being wanting. This, I was told, was due to the fact that the father violated this taboo by going to the fishing-stakes one day and killing a crab by chopping at it with a cutlass.

In former days during this period it was “taboo” (pantang) for the father to cut the throat of a buffalo or even of a fowl; or, in fact, to take the life of any animal whatever—a trace no doubt of Indian influences. A Malay told me once that his son, soon after birth, was afflicted with a great obstruction of breathing, but that when the medicine-man (Pawang) declared (after “diagnosing” the case) that the child was suffering from a “fish-affection” (kenan ikan), he remembered that he had knocked on the head an extraordinary number of fish which he had caught on the very day that his son was born. He therefore, by the advice of the medicine-man, gave the child a potion made from pounded fish bones, and an immediate and permanent recovery was the result.

Such affections as those described are classified by the Malays according to the kind of influence which is supposed to have produced them. Thus the unoffending victim may be either fish-struck (kenan ikan), as described above, ape-struck (kenan b’rok), dog-struck (kenan anjing), crab-struck (kenan ketam), and so forth, it being maintained that in every case the child either displays some physical deformity, causing a resemblance to the animal by which it was affected, or else (and more commonly) unconsciously imitates its actions or its “voice.”

Another interesting custom was that the father was stringently forbidden to cut his hair until after the birth of the child.

The following passage bearing on the subject is taken from Sir W. E. Maxwell’s article on the “Folklore of the Malays”:35—

“In selecting timber for the uprights of a Malay house care must be taken to reject any log which is indented by the pressure of any parasitic creeper which may have wound round it when it was a living tree. A log so marked, if used in building a house, will exercise an unfavourable influence in childbirth, protracting delivery and endangering the lives of mother and child. Many precautions must be taken to guard against evil influence of a similar kind, when one of the inmates of a house is expecting to become a mother. No one may ‘divide the house’ (belah rumah), that is, go in at the front door and out at the back, or vice versÂ, nor may any guest or stranger be entertained in the house for one night only; he must be detained for a second night to complete an even period. If an eclipse occurs, the woman on whose account these observances are necessary must be taken into the penangga (kitchen), and placed beneath the shelf or platform (para) on which the domestic utensils are kept. A spoon is put into her hand. If these precautions are not taken, the child when born will be deformed.”

Sir W. E. Maxwell in the above is speaking of Perak Malays. The passage just quoted applies to a great extent to Selangor, but with a few discrepancies. Thus a house-post indented by a creeper is generally avoided in Selangor for a different reason, viz. that it is supposed to bring snakes into the house.

“Dividing the house,” however, is generally considered an important birth-taboo in Selangor, the threatened penalty for its non-observance being averted by compelling the guilty party to submit to the unpleasant ceremony called sembor ayer, a member of the family being required to eject (sembor) a mouthful of water upon the small of the culprit’s back.

In Selangor, again, a guest must stay three nights (not two) in the house, his departure on the first or second night being called “Insulting the Night” (menjolok malam). To avert the evil consequences of such an act, fumigation (rabun-rabun) is resorted to, the “recipe” for it running as follows:—“Take assafoetida, sulphur, kunyit t’rus (an evil-smelling root), onion skins, dried areca-nut husk, lemon-grass leaves, and an old mat or cloth, burn them, and leave the ashes for about an hour at sunset on the floor of the passage in front of the door.” That a sensible and self-respecting “demon” should avoid a house where such an unconscionable odour is raised is not in the least surprising!

In the event of an eclipse the customs of the two sister States appear to be nearly identical; the only difference being that in Selangor the woman is placed in the doorway (in the moonlight as far as possible), and is furnished with the basket-work stand of a cooking pot, as well as a wooden rice-spoon, the former as a trap to catch any unwary demon who may be so foolish as to put his head “into the noose,” and the latter as a weapon of offence, it being supposed that “the rattan binding of the spoon (which must, of course, be of the orthodox Malay pattern) will unwind itself and entangle the assailant” in the case of any real danger. Finally, the Bidan must be present to “massage” the woman, and repeat the necessary charms.

From the following passage it would appear that the corresponding Pahang custom does not materially differ from that of Perak and Selangor:—

“But during the period that the Moon’s fate hung in the balance, Selema has suffered many things. She has been seated motionless in the fireplace under the tray-like shelf, which hangs from the low rafters, trembling with terror of—she knows not what. The little basket-work stand, on which the hot rice-pot is wont to rest, is worn on her head as a cap, and in her girdle the long wooden rice-spoon is stuck dagger-wise. Neither she nor Umat know why these things are done, but they never dream of questioning their necessity. It is the custom. The men of olden days have decreed that women with child should do these things when the Moon is in trouble, and the consequences of neglect are too terrible to be risked; so Selema and Umat act according to their simple faith.”36

Of the purely Malay ceremonies performed at Adolescence, the most important are the “filing of the teeth” (berasah gigi),37 and the cutting of the first locks of hair, in cases where this latter operation has been postponed till the child’s marriage by a vow of its parents.

The following is a description of the rite of tonsure (berchukor), at which I was present in person:—

“Some time ago (in 1897) I received, through one of my local Malay headmen, an invitation to attend a tonsure ceremony.

“When I arrived (about two P.M.), in company of the headman referred to, the usual dancing and Koran-chanting was proceeding in the outer chamber or verandah, which was decked out for the occasion with the usual brilliantly coloured ceiling-cloth and striped wall-tapestry. After a short interval we were invited to enter an inner room, where a number of Malays of both sexes were awaiting the performance of the rite. The first thing, however, that caught the eye was a gracefully-draped figure standing with shrouded head, and with its back to the company, upon the lowest step of the dais (g’rei), which had been erected with a view to the prospective wedding ceremony. This was the bride. A dark-coloured veil, thrown over her head and shoulders, allowed seven luxuriant tresses of her wonderful raven-black hair to escape and roll down below her waist, a ring of precious metal being attached to the end of each tress. Close to the bride, and ready to support her, should she require it, in her motherly arms, stood the (on such occasions) familiar figure of the Duenna (Mak Inang), whose duty, however, in the present instance was confined to taking the left hand of the bride between her own, and supporting it in a horizontal position whilst each of the seven Representatives (orang waris)38 in turn was sprinkling it with the ‘Neutralising Rice-paste’ (tepong tawar) by means of the usual bunch or brush of leaves. A little in front of this pair stood a youth supporting in his hands an unhusked cocoa-nut shell. The crown of this cocoa-nut had been removed, and the edges at the top cut in such a way as to form a chevroned or ‘dog-tooth’ border. Upon the indentations of this rim was deposited a necklace, and a large pair of scissors about the size of a tailor’s shears were stuck point downwards in the rim. The cocoa-nut itself was perhaps half-filled with its ‘milk.’ Close to this youth stood another, supporting one of the usual circular brass trays (with high sides) containing all the ordinary accessories of the tepong tawar ceremony, i.e. a bowl of rice-paste, a brush of leaves, parched rice, washed saffron-stained rice, and benzoin or incense.

“I was now requested to open the proceedings, but at my express desire the Penghulu (Malay headman) did so for me, first scattering several handfuls (of the different sorts of rice) over the bride, and then sprinkling the rice-paste upon the palm of her left hand, which was held out to receive it as described above. The sprinkling over, he took the scissors and with great deliberation severed the end of the first lock, which was made to fall with a little splash, and with the ring attached to it, into the cocoa-nut with the ‘dog-tooth’ border.

“Five other waris (Representatives) and myself followed suit, the seven tresses with the rings attached to them being all received in the cocoa-nut as described.

“A child of the age of about two or three years underwent the tonsure at the same time, each of the Representatives, after severing the bride’s lock, snipping off a portion of the child’s hair. The child was in arms and was not veiled, but wore a shoulder-cloth (bidak) thrown over his shoulder. At the conclusion of the ceremony we left the room, and the Koran-chanting was resumed and continued until the arrival of the bridegroom in procession (at about five P.M.), when the bride and bridegroom went through the ceremony of being ‘seated side by side’ (bersanding), and the business of the day was concluded.

“The cocoa-nut containing the severed tresses and rings is carried to the foot of a barren fruit-tree (e.g. a pomegranate-tree), when the rings are extracted and the water (with the severed locks) poured out at the tree’s foot, the belief being that this proceeding will make the tree as luxuriant as the hair of the person shorn, a very clear example of ‘sympathetic magic.’ If the parents are poor, the cocoa-nut is generally turned upside down and left there; but if they are well-to-do, the locks are usually sent to Mecca in charge of a pilgrim, who casts them on his arrival into the well Zemzem.”

I will now describe the ceremony of filing or “sharpening” the teeth, from notes taken by myself during the actual ceremony (20th March, 1897).

The youth whose teeth I saw filed must have been quite fifteen or sixteen years of age, and had not long before undergone the rite of circumcision. When I arrived I found the house newly swept and clean, and all the accessories of the ceremony already prepared. These latter consisted of a round tray (dulang) containing the usual bowl of rice-paste (tepong tawar), with the brush of leaves,39 three cups (containing different sorts of rice), an egg,40 three rings of precious metals (gold, silver, and amalgam), a couple of limes, and two small files (to which a small tooth-saw and two small whetstones should be added).41

The ceremony now commences: the tooth-filer (Pawang gigi) first scatters the three sorts of rice and sprinkles the tepong tawar upon his instruments, etc., repeating the proper charm42 at the same time; the patient meanwhile, and throughout the operation, reclining upon his back on the floor with his head resting on a pillow. Next the Pawang, sitting beside the patient, “touches” the patient’s teeth, first with each of the three rings of precious metal and then with the egg, throwing each of these objects away as he does so, and repeating each time a charm (Hu, kata Allah, d. s. b.), which is given in the Appendix. Next he props open (di-sengkang) the patient’s mouth by means of a dried areca-nut, and repeats another charm (Hei, Bismi) in order to destroy the “venom” of the steel, laying the file upon the teeth,43 and drawing it thrice across them at the end of the charm. He then cuts off (di-k’rat) the crowns of the teeth (with one of the files), smooths their edges (di-papar) with one of the whetstones, and polishes them (melechek). During the whole of this part of the performance, which is a trying ordeal to witness, although it is borne with the utmost fortitude on the part of the sufferer, the latter holds a small mirror in front of his mouth in order to be assured that the operation is progressing to his satisfaction. When the actual filing is over, the areca-nut is extracted, and a piece of cocoa-nut husk or small block of pulai wood inserted in its stead, in order to facilitate the proper polishing of the now mutilated teeth. This latter part of the operation is accomplished by means of the file, a small piece of folded white cloth protecting the lips from injury.

Considerable interest attaches to the filing of the first tooth, on account of the omens which are taken from the position in which the crown happens to lie when it falls. If, when the tooth is filed through, the crown adheres to the file, it is taken as a sign that the patient will die at home; if it flies off and lies with its edge turned upwards, this means, on the contrary, that he will die abroad.

At the conclusion of the operation a species of poultice (ubat tasak), consisting mainly of cooked ginger (halia bara di-pahis-ki), which is intended to “deaden (the feeling of) the gums” (matikan daging gusi) is duly charmed44 and applied to the gums of the jaw which happens to be under treatment. The Pawang now lays one hand (the left) on the top of the patient’s head and the other upon the teeth of the upper jaw, and presses them together with a show of considerable force, making believe, as it were, that he is pressing the patient’s upper teeth firmly into their sockets. Finally, a portion of betel-leaf is charmed (with the charm Hong sarangin, etc.) and given to the patient to chew, after which, it is asserted, all pain immediately ceases. The Pawang then washes his hands, resharpens his tools, and those present sit down to a meal of saffron-stained pulut rice. This concludes the ceremony for the day, the lower jaw being similarly treated upon a subsequent occasion.

In the course of three such operations (the Pawang informed me) the teeth can be filed down even with the gums, in which case they are, I believe, in some instances somewhat roughly plated or cased with gold. Sometimes, however, they are merely filed into points, so that they resemble the teeth of a shark.45 Very frequently, too, they blacken them with a mixture of the empyreumatic oil of the cocoa-nut shell (baja or g’rang) and kamunting (Kl. karamunting) wood,46 which is also used for blackening the eyebrows. These customs, however, are already dying out in the more civilised Malay States.

Whenever I made inquiries as to the reason of this strange custom, I was invariably told that it not only beautified but preserved the teeth from the action of decay, which the Malays believe to be set up by the presence of a minute maggot or worm (ulat), their most usual way of expressing the fact that they are suffering from toothache being to say that the tooth in question is being “eaten by a maggot” (di-makan ulat).

The “Batak” Malays (a Mid-Sumatran tribe, many of whom have settled in Kuala Langat) are said to chip the teeth of their children into the desired shape by the use of a small chisel, the operation causing such exquisite agony that the sufferer will not unfrequently leap to his feet with a shriek.

Even when the file is used, the work of an unskilful performer (who does not know how to destroy the “venom” of his instruments) will cause the sufferer’s face to be completely swollen up (bakup) for a long period subsequent to the operation. Yet young people of both sexes cheerfully submit to the risk of this discomfort, and the only remark made by the youth whom I saw undergoing it was that it “made his mouth feel uncomfortable” (jelejeh rasa mulut-nya).

The ear-boring ceremony (bertindek) appears to have already lost much of its ceremonial character in Selangor, where I was told that it is now usually performed when the child is quite small, i.e. at the earliest, when the child is some five or seven months old, and when it is about a year old at the latest, whereas in Sumatra (according to Marsden) it is not performed until the child is eight or nine.47 Still, however, a special kind of round ear-ring, which is of filagree-work, and is called subang, is as much the emblem of virginity in the western States as it ever was. The “discarding” of these ear-rings (tanggal subang), which should take place about seven days after the conclusion of the marriage rites, is ceremonial in character, and it is even the custom when a widow (janda) is married for the second time, to provide her with a pair of subang (which should, however, it is said, be tied on to her ears instead of being inserted in the ear-holes, as in the case of a girl who has never been married).

The rite of circumcision is of course common to Muhammadans all over the world. Some analogous practices, however, have also been noticed among the non-Muhammadan Malayan races of the Eastern Archipelago, and it is at least doubtful whether circumcision as now practised by Malays is a purely Muhummadan rite. Among Malays it is performed by a functionary called the “Mudim,”48 with a slip of bamboo, at any age (in the case of boys) from about six or seven up to about sixteen years, the wound being often dressed (at least in town districts) with fine clay mixed with soot and the yolk of eggs, but when possible, the clay is mixed with cocoa-nut fibre (rabok niyor), selumur paku uban, and the young shoots of the k’lat plantain (puchok pisang k’lat), the compound being called in either case ubat tasak. The ceremony is associated with the common purificatory rite called tepong tawar, and with ayer tolak bala (lit. evil-dispelling water). Lights are kept burning in the house for several days (“until the wound has healed”), and the performance of the ceremony is always made the occasion for a banquet, together with music and dancing of the kind in which Malays take so much delight. The cause of these rejoicings is dressed for the occasion “like a bridegroom” (pengantin), and is said to be sometimes carried in procession.

Ceremonies and charms for protecting or rendering the person more attractive or formidable, form one of the largest, but not perhaps the most interesting or important division of the medicine-man’s repertory.

The following remarkable specimen of the charms belonging to the first of these classes was given me by ’Che ?Abas of Klanang in Selangor, a Kelantan Malay:—

As a general rule, however, this particular class of charms shows particularly strong traces of Arabic influence, most often, perhaps, taking the form of an injunction (addressed to Jins or Angels) to watch over the person of the petitioner.

To rightly understand charms of the second class, which includes Bathing and Betel-charming charms,49 we must have some idea of the Malay standard of beauty. This, I need hardly say, differs widely from that entertained by Europeans. In the case of manly beauty we should, perhaps, be able to acquiesce to some extent in the admiration which Malays express for “Brightness of Countenance” (chahia), which forms one of the chief objects of petition in almost every one of this class of charms;50 but none of our modern Ganymedes would be likely to petition for a “voice like the voice of the Prophet David”;51 or a “countenance like the countenance of the Prophet Joseph”; still less would he be likely to petition for a tongue “curled like a breaking wave,” or “a magic serpent,” or for teeth “like a herd of (black) elephants,” or for lips “like a procession of ants.”52

Malay descriptions of female beauty are no less curious. The “brow” (of the Malay Helen, for whose sake a thousand desperate battles are fought in Malay romances) “is like the one-day-old moon,”53 her eyebrows resemble “pictured clouds,”54 and are “arched like the fighting-cock’s (artificial) spur,”55 her cheek resembles “the sliced-off-cheek of a mango,”56 her nose “an opening jasmine bud,”57 her hair the “wavy blossom-shoots of the areca-palm,”58 slender59 is her neck, “with a triple row of dimples,”60 her bosom ripening,61 her waist “lissom as the stalk of a flower,”62 her head “of a perfect oval” (lit. bird’s-egg-shaped), her fingers like the leafy “spears of lemon-grass,”63 or the “quills of the porcupine,”64 her eyes “like the splendour of the planet Venus,”65 and her lips “like the fissure of a pomegranate.”66

The following is a specimen of an invocation for beautifying the person which is supposed to be used by children:—

When personal attractions begin to wane with the lapse of years, invocations are resorted to for the purpose of restoring the petitioner’s lost youth. In one of the invocations referred to (which is said to have been used by the Princess of Mount Ophir, Tuan Putri Gunong Ledang, to secure perpetual youth), the petitioner boasts that he (or she) was “born under the Inverted Banyan Tree,” and claims the granting of the boon applied for “by virtue of the use of the “Black Lenggundi Bush,” which when it has died, returns to life again,”67 the idea being, no doubt, that a judicious use of black magic will enable the petitioner to “live backwards.”

The third class of invocations, for rendering the person formidable, belong rather to the chapter on war, under which heading they will be included.

Betrothal is called tunangan or pinangan. When the parents of a marriageable youth perceive a suitable “match” for their son, they send a messenger to her parents to ask if she has yet been “bespoken” (kalau ada orang sebut). If the reply is satisfactory, the messenger is again despatched to intimate the desire of the youth’s parents to “bespeak” the hand of the favoured individual for his son, and to arrange a day for a meeting. These preliminaries are accompanied by the usual polite self-depreciation on both sides. Thus, the girl’s father begins by saying, “You wish to bespeak the hand of my daughter, who knows neither how to cook nor how to sew” (yang ta’tahu masak, ta’tahu menjait). But the custom is not carried to such extremes as it is in China.68

The girl’s parents next call four or five witnesses (saksi) of either sex to “witness” the betrothal, and after preparing a meal (nasi dan kueh) for their expected guests, await the arrival of the youth’s “Representatives,” the youth himself remaining at home. One of the party carries a betel-leaf tray furnished with the usual betel-chewing appliances, together with half a bhara of dollars ($11) according to the stricter custom; although (failing the dollars), a ring or bracelet, or other jewellery of that value, may be substituted.

Bearing these presents with them, the youth’s representatives proceed to the house of the girl’s parents, where they are invited to enter and partake of the betel-leaf provided for them. A meal is then served, Malay cakes (kueh-kueh) brought forward, and the company again partake of betel.

The two parties now sit down in a “family circle,” and one of the youth’s representatives pushes forward (di-sorongkan) the betel which they had brought with them, and offers it to the people of the house, saying, “This is a pledge of your daughter’s betrothal.” The girl’s father replies, “Be it so, I accept it,” or words to that effect, and inquires how long the engagement is to last, the answer being “six months” or “a year” as the case may be. Both parties then appeal to the witnesses to “hear what is said,” and the youth’s relatives return to their homes.

The marriage portion being fixed (in Selangor) by an almost universal custom at two bharas of dollars ($44), the amount is not usually mentioned at the betrothal, it being understood that the usual amount is intended. But if the girl’s parents should afterwards prove reluctant to proceed with the match, they forfeit twice the amount of the pledge-money which they have received; whereas if the youth refuses to proceed he merely forfeits the pledge-money ($11) already paid to the girl’s parents. Some families pay a marriage portion of $30 only, and others (such as the family of ’Toh Kaya Kechil of Klang) pay as much as $50, but exceptions are rare, $44 being now generally recognised as the customary wedding portion.

However, the girl’s family does not really receive anything like the full value of the $44, because if the $44 is paid in full the proposer has a right to demand a complete outfit (persalinan) of silk attire, to the value of about $20, so that the amount which actually changes hands is seldom more than about $24.

The Malay fiancÉe, unlike her European sister, is at the utmost pains to keep out of her lover’s way, and to attain this object she is said to be “as watchful as a tiger.” No engagement-ring is used in this neighbourhood, no priest (or Lebai) is present at the engagement ceremony, nor is the girl asked for her consent. On the other hand, a regular system of exchanging presents, after the engagement, is said to have been formerly in vogue in Selangor, the man sending betel-leaf, fruit, and eggs to his fiancÉe from time to time in net-work receptacles, and the woman sending specially prepared rice, etc. in rush-work receptacles of various patterns. It is said, too, that the woman would occasionally carve a chain, consisting of three or four links, out of a single areca-nut, in which case the prospective bridegroom was supposed to redeem it by the payment of as many dollars as there were links. The betel-nut presented on these occasions would be wrapped up in a gradation of three beautifully worked cloths, not unlike “D’oyleys” in general appearance, whilst the actual engagement ceremony in former days is said to have received additional interest and formality from the recital of verses appropriate to the occasion by chosen representatives of each party. Specimens of the betrothal verses formerly used in Selangor will be found in the Appendix. The following is a translation:—

If, however, there is a hitch in the proceedings, and the parties commence to lose their temper, the stanzas may end very differently; for instance, the girl’s father or representative will say:—

These last two lines constitute a direct challenge, and no more words need be wasted when once they have been uttered.

When the term of betrothal is drawing to its close, a suitable day (which is frequently a Tuesday) is chosen for the work of decoration (bergantong-gantong) by the parents of both parties, and notified to the relations and friends who wish to assist in the preparations for the wedding.75

Both houses are decorated with vertically striped hangings (p’lang tabir) and ornamental ceiling-cloths (langit-langit), and mats, rugs, carpets, etc. are laid down. In the bridegroom’s house little is done beyond erecting a small platform or dais (petarana) about six feet square, and raised about ten inches from the floor, upon which he is to don his wedding garments when he sets out to meet the bride. A similar platform (petarana) is erected in the bride’s house, and a low dais called rambat in front of her door, at the outer corners of which are fixed two standard candlesticks (tiang rambat), which are sometimes as much as six feet high, and each of which carries three candles, one in the centre and one on each side, those at the side being supported by ornamental brackets (sulor bayong). The rambat may measure some 14 feet in length by 5 feet in width, and should be about 14 inches in height.

A dais (with two steps to it) is then built as follows, generally opposite the doorway, but standing a little way back from it, and facing the rambat, so as to leave a narrow passage (tela kechil) between the threshold and the dais, which latter is decked with scarlet, or at least scarlet-bordered cloth (kain berumpok dengan sakalat). The lower step of the dais (ibu g’rei) is raised about 12 inches from the floor, and measures from 10 feet to 12 feet in length by 8 feet in width. The upper step (g’rei penapah) is a little smaller, and is only raised about 10 inches above the lower one. The top of the dais is covered with a mattress, and both steps are decorated with expensive borders, which at the wedding of a Raja are made of embossed gold or silver, and may easily cost as much as $150 each, or even more. The mattress is covered in its turn with a quilt (lihap or pelampap), made of coloured silk stuffed with cotton; upon this quilt is laid a white cotton sheet, and the whole is surmounted by a row of colossal “pillows” (of the size of small packing-cases), surmounted by others of moderate size.

A mosquito-curtain is hung over all, and the completed couch is called pelamin. The head of the pelamin, it must be added, where the pillows are piled, is always on the left-hand side as you look towards it.

The number of the pillows used is of the highest importance, as indicating the rank of the contracting parties. The larger ones are about 5 feet in length and 2 feet in height by 1½ feet in width. They are covered with rich embroidery at the exposed end, and are arranged in a horizontal row (sa-tunda), with their sides just touching, in the front left-hand corner of the mosquito-curtain, so as to leave a clear passage of about 3 feet behind them (at the back of the curtain) by which the bride and bridegroom may escape to the peraduan after the ceremony. These big pillows are white, with the exception of the embroidered ends, unless they are intended for a Raja, when the royal colour (yellow) is of course substituted. The one nearest the centre of the couch is called bantal tumpu, and usually has a hexagonal or (in the case of a Raja) octagonal bolster deposited beside it.

The smaller pillows are red (occasionally purple, ungu, or orange, jingga), and are called the “embroidered pillows” (bantal bertekat, or bantal p’rada). Occasionally a set of twelve small pillows is used (when they are called bantal dua-b’las, or the Twelve Pillows), but often there is only one of them to each “Big Pillow,” the set of twelve being said to be an innovation, probably introduced from Malacca. Sometimes, however, when many small pillows are piled upon each other, measures have to be taken to keep them from falling, in which case the space between the piles is said to be filled up with wool or cotton stuffing (penyelat), the front being covered with embroidered cloth, the upper border of which is carried up diagonally from the top of one pile to the top of the next.

As regards the permissible number of big pillows, according to a scale in use at Klang, the common people are allowed three big pillows (including the bantal tumpu); a wealthy man, four; and a Headman, such as the ’Toh Kaya Kechil, five; a Raja being presumably allowed one or two more. According to this scale it is only the big pillows that are of importance,76 and the people are allowed to use as few or as many small ones as they like. The topmost small pillow, however, is always triangular, and is called gunong-gunongan.

The mosquito-curtain (enclosing the couch on which the pillows rest) of course varies in size according to the dimensions of the pelamin, but may be roughly taken to be from 7 to 9 hasta77 in length, by 8 ft. in width, and 4 ft. to 5 ft. in height (reaching to the ceiling-cloth). Its upper edges (kansor) are stiffened externally with a square frame, consisting of four bamboo rods (galah k’lambu), and it is decorated in front with a beautifully embroidered fringe called “Bo-tree leaves” (daun budi). The front of this mosquito-curtain is rolled up78 to within 2 or 3 ft. of the top, instead of being drawn aside as usual. At the back of the curtain is suspended, except in the case of a Raja’s wedding, a bamboo clothes-rod (buluh sangkutkan kain). This rod terminates at each extremity in an ornamental piece of scroll-work (sulor bayong) covered with scarlet cloth, which is sometimes made to issue from a short stem of horn or ivory, and has a wooden collar called dulang-dulang. This dulang-dulang, moreover, is sometimes provided with small hollows (’mbat-’mbat) at the top, two in front which are filled with rose-water or perfume (ayer mawar or ayer wangi), and two at the back which are filled with flowers.

Above the clothes-rod, and between its suspending cords (tali penggantong)—which, by the way, are also covered with scarlet cloth—an inner fringe of “Bo-leaves” (daun budi dalam) is sometimes added at the top of the curtain.

At the wedding of a Raja nothing else should be put inside the curtain, but at an ordinary wedding a few small articles of typical marriage furniture are usually added as follows:—

Three or four small clothes boxes (saharah), such as are kept by every Malay family, and peti kapor (boxes whose corners are strengthened and decorated with brass) are ranged upon the mattress just below the clothes-rod. Upon these should be placed (a) the bangking, which is a kind of jar or urn of lacquered wood, ranging from about half a foot to a foot in height, and contains a portion of the bride’s wardrobe; and (b) the bun,79 which is either octagonal (pechah d’lapan), or hexagonal (pechah anam), as the case may be, and which may be described as a box of tin, or sometimes of lacquered wood, whose contents are as follows:—(1) a couple of combs (sikat dua bilah), one with large and one with small teeth; (2) a small cup or saucer of hair oil (a preparation of cocoa-nut oil), or attar of roses (minyak attar), or pomatum (kateneh); (3) a small pen-knife for paring the nails; (4) a pair of scissors; (5) a preparation of antimony (chelak), which is a sort of black ointment applied by the Malays to the inside edge of the eyelids; and (6) a Malay work-box (called dulang in Selangor and bintang at Malacca), which is a circular box of painted or lacquered wood, furnished with a lid, and containing needles, cotton, and the rest of the Malay housewife’s paraphernalia.

Near the door of the curtain is placed an earthenware water-jar, called gelok (gelok Kedah and gelok Perak are the usual “makes”); this jar stands upon a small brass or earthenware plate with high sides (bokor), and its mouth is covered with a brass or earthenware saucer (chepir), on which is laid the brass or earthenware bowl (penchedok ayer or batil) which is used for scooping up water from the water-jar, and which, when it is in use, is temporarily replaced by an ornamental cap woven from strips of screw-palm leaves. A couple of candlesticks placed near the water-jar, a betel tray (tepah or puan), a basin (batil besar) for washing off the lees of henna, and a “cuspadore” (ketor), all of which are placed inside the curtain, complete the preparations for this portion of the ceremony.

The day concludes, as far as the workers are concerned, with a meal in which all who have assisted in the preparations take part, and this is followed by various diversions dear to Malays, such as the chanting of passages from the Koran.80

At a royal wedding, either the “Story of ’Che Megat” (’Che Megat Mantri), or a royal cock-fight (main denok), or a performance by dancing girls or fencers (pedikir), may be substituted for these more devotional exercises.

These performances (whatever they may be) are kept up (with intervals for rest and refreshment) till four or five in the morning, when the guests disperse to their respective homes to sleep off the night’s fatigue.

Whilst the games are progressing (at about nine or ten P.M.) the first staining of the finger-nails of the bride and bridegroom is commenced, the ceremony on this occasion being conducted in the seclusion of the inner apartments, and hence called the “Stolen Henna-staining” (berhinei churi). Leaves of henna are taken and pounded together with a small piece of charcoal, and the “mash” is applied to the finger-nails of both hands (with the exception of the middle or “Devil’s finger,” jari hantu). The centre of each palm is also touched with the dye, the area stained being as much as would be covered by a dollar. A line (of a finger’s breadth) is also said to be drawn along the inner side of the sole of each foot, from the great toe to the heel (hinei kaus).

A couple of what we should call “pages,” of about ten years of age, are seated right and left of the bridegroom, and are called Pengapit.

The bride usually provides herself with one or more girl companions; but these are supposed to “hide themselves” when there is company, their place being taken by more staid duennas, who are called Tukang Andam (i.e. “coiffeurs”), and a personal attendant or nurse, called Ma’inang (Mak Inang), who appears to act as a sort of Mistress of the Ceremonies.

The second day is spent by the guests (as was said above) in sleeping off their night’s fatigue, and they do not reassemble till evening, at about five P.M.

When the last has arrived (at about seven P.M.) a meal is served, and at about half-past eight the games recommence; but after a round or so (zikir sa-jurus), say at about ten P.M., the bride at her house and bridegroom at his respectively make their first appearance in public, clad in their wedding garments, for the ceremony of staining the finger-nails, this time in public. When they are seated (between the two candlesticks, which are lighted to facilitate the operation) a tray is brought forward, furnished with the usual accessories of Malay magic, rice-paste (tepong tawar), washed rice, “saffron” rice, and parched rice, to which is added, in this instance, a sort of pudding of the pounded henna-leaves. A censer is next produced, and a brass tray with a foot to it (called semb’rip) is loaded with nasi berhinei (pulut or “glutinous” rice stained with saffron), in which are planted some ten to fifteen purple eggs (dyed with a mixture of brazil wood (sepang) and lime, and stuck upon ornamental sprays of bamboo decorated with coloured paper). The bride (or bridegroom) is then seated in a “begging” attitude, with the hands resting upon a cushion placed in the lap; the first of the guests then takes a pinch of incense from the tray and burns it in the brazier (tempat bara); next he takes a pinch of parched rice, a pinch of newly-washed rice, and a pinch of saffron rice, and, squeezing them together in the right fist, fumigates them by holding them for a moment over the burning incense, and then throws them towards the sitter, first towards the right, then towards the left, and finally into the sitter’s lap.

The “Neutralising Paste”81 is then brought and the usual leaf-brush dipped into the bowl of paste, with which the forehead of the sitter and the back of each hand are duly “painted.”

A pinch of the henna is then taken and dabbed upon the centre of each palm, the hands of the sitter being turned over to enable this to be done.

The sitter then salutes the guest by raising his (or her) hands with the palms together before the breast in an attitude of prayer; the guest replies by a similar action, and the ceremony is at an end.

The same operation is performed by from five to seven, or even nine, relations (Orang Waris, lit. “Heirs,”) the last operator concluding with an Arabic prayer.

While this ceremony is proceeding inside, music strikes up and a special dance, called the Henna Dance (menari hinei),82 is performed, a picturesque feature of which is a small cake of henna, which is contained in a brazen cup (gompong hinei) and surrounded by candles. This cup is carried by the dancer,83 who has to keep turning it over and over without letting the candles be extinguished by the wind arising from the rapid motion.

The step, which is a special one, is called the “Henna-dance Step” (Langkah tar’ hinei, i.e. tari hinei), and the tune is called the “Henna-staining tune” (Lagu berhinei).

This ceremony over, the “henna-staining” rice (nasi berhinei) is partaken of by those present, the remainder being distributed to the guests engaged in “main zikir.”

On the third night the same ceremonies are repeated without variation.

On the fourth morning, called the “Concluding Day” (Hari Langsong), everybody puts on his finest apparel and jewellery.

The bride’s hair is done up in a roll (sanggul) and this is surmounted with a head-dress of artificial flowers (called g’rak gempa), cut out of p’rada kresek (“crackling tinsel”) and raised on fine wires; her forehead is bound with a band or fillet of tinsel—gold-leaf (p’rada Siam) being used by the rich—which is called tekan kundei, and is carried round by the fringe of the hair (gigi rambut) down to the top of each ear (pelipis)84; for the rest the bride is clad in a “wedding jacket” (baju pengantin), which has tight-fitting sleeves extending down to the wrist, or sleeves with gathers (simak) over the arm, and which is generally made of “flowered satin” (siten berbunga) in the case of the rich, or of cloth dyed red with kasumba85 (kain kasumba) in the case of the poorer classes. This “wedding jacket” fits tightly round the neck, has a gold border (pendepun ’mas), is fastened with two or three gold buttons, and fits closely to the person; the wealthy add a necklace or crescent-shaped breast-ornament (rantei merjan or dokoh) round the bride’s neck. She also wears bracelets (g’lang) and ear-rings (subang) and perhaps anklets, of five different metals (keronchong panchalogam). A silk sarong, which takes the place of a skirt, and is girt about the waist with a waist-cord (but not usually, in Southern Selangor, fastened with belt and buckle), and a pair of silk trousers, complete her attire.

The groom, on the other hand, is clad in his best jacket and trousers, with the Malay skirt (sarong), fastened at the side, and girt above the knee (kain kembang). His head is adorned with the sigar, a peculiar head-dress of red cloth arranged turbanwise, with a peak on the right-hand side, from which artificial flowers (gunjei) depend, and which preserves its shape through being stuffed with cotton-wool. Its border is decorated with tinsel, and it has a gold fringe (kida-kida). Besides this head-dress the bridegroom has a small bunch of artificial flowers (sunting-sunting) stuck behind each ear, whilst two similar bunches are stuck in the head-dress (one on the right and the other on the left).

Bridegrooms, however, who belong to the richer classes wear what is called a lester (=destar?), whilst former Sultans of Selangor are said to have worn a gold cap (songkok leleng), which is reputed to have contained eighteen bongkal86 (or bungkal) of gold.

The remainder of the company are of course merely dressed in their best clothes.

The “Rice of the Presence” (nasi adap-adap) is now prepared for what is called the astakona or setakona, which may be described as a framework with an octagonal ground-plan, built in three tiers, and made of pulai or meranti or other light wood; it has a small mast (tiang) planted in the centre, with cross pieces (palang-palang) in each of the upper stories to keep it in its place; the framework is supported by four corner-posts, on which it is raised about a foot and a half from the floor. The box thus formed is filled to the top with “saffron rice” (nasi kunyit), and in the rice at the top are planted the aforesaid coloured eggs. Into a hole at the top of the mast is fitted the end of a short rattan or cane, which is split into four branches, each of which again is split into three twigs, whilst on the end of each twig is stuck one of the coloured eggs (telor joran), an artificial flower, and an ornamental streamer of red paper called layer,87 which is cut into all sorts of artistic and picturesque patterns.

The setakona is erected in front of the pelamin, on which the bride takes her seat at about 4 P.M. to await the coming of the bridegroom, the members of her own bridal party, including the Muhammadan priest or Imam, continuing the zikir maulud in the reception room at frequent intervals from 9 A.M. until the bridegroom’s arrival. The arrangements are completed by placing ready for the bridegroom the “Bridal Mat” (lapik nikah), which consists of a mat of screw-palm leaves (or in the case of a Raja, a small quilt, embroidered in the manner called jong sarat) five cubits of white cloth, which are rolled up and put on one side, and a tray of betel.

Returning to the bridegroom, holy water (ayer sembahyang) is now fetched in a cherek (a kettle-shaped vessel) or bucket, for the bridegroom to wash his face and hands, and he then proceeds to put on his wedding garments, as described above, after which a scarf (salendang) is slung across his shoulder. The marriage procession (perarakan) then sets out, the women heading it (penganjor) and the men following, the bridegroom carried upon somebody’s shoulders (di-sompoh), and right and left the musicians beating drums, tabors, etc., whilst those who have any skill amuse the company with exhibitions of Malay fencing (main silat) and dancing, etc., to the accompaniment of the zikir intoned by their companions.

The arrival of the bridegroom at the bride’s house is the signal for a mimic conflict for the person of the bride, which is called melawa, and is strangely reminiscent of similar customs which formerly obtained in Europe.

In some cases a rope or piece of red cloth would be stretched across the path to bar the progress of the bridegroom’s party, and a stout enough resistance would be offered by the defenders until the bridegroom consented to pay a fine which formerly amounted, it is said, to as much as $20, though not more than $3 or $4 would now be asked. Occasionally the bridegroom would pay the fine by pulling the ring off his finger and handing it to the bride’s relations, but the ceremony would not unfrequently end in a free fight. Verses were recited on these occasions, of which a few stanzas will be found in the Appendix.88

On arriving at the door the musicians strike up their liveliest tune, and as the bridegroom is carried up the steps he has to force his way through an Amazonian force consisting of the ladies of the bride’s party, who assemble to repel the invader from the threshold. A well-directed fire is maintained by others, who pour upon the foe over the heads of the defenders repeated volleys of saffron rice (or, at a royal wedding, ambor-ambor—i.e. clippings from a thin sheet of silver or gold which are thrown among the crowd as largess).

Meanwhile the bridegroom persists until his efforts are crowned with success, and he makes his way (assisted possibly by some well-meant act of treachery on the part of the garrison) to the reception room, when the mat already referred to is unrolled and the white cloth suspended over it. Here the bridegroom takes his seat and the priest comes out to perform the wedding ceremony.89 This, strangely enough, is performed with the bridegroom alone, the priest saying to him in the presence of three or four witnesses and his surety (wali), generally his father, “I wed you, A., to B., daughter of C., for a portion of two bharas.” To this the bridegroom has to respond without allowing an interval, “I accept this marriage with B., for a portion of two bharas” (or one bhara if one of the parties has been married before). Even this short sentence, however, is a great deal too much for the nerves of some Malay bridegrooms, who have been known to spend a couple of hours in abortive attempts before they could get the Imam to “pass” it. As soon, however, as this obstacle has been surmounted, the priest asks those present if they will bear witness to its correctness, and on their replying in the affirmative, it is followed by the “bacha salawat,” which consists of repeated shouts from the company of “Peace be with thee.” This part of the ceremony completed, one of the brothers or near relations of the bridegroom leads him into the bridal chamber, and seats him in the usual cross-legged position on the left side of the bride, who sits with her feet tucked up on his right. Even the process of seating the couple (bersanding) is a very fatiguing one; each of them has to bend the knees slowly until a sitting posture is reached, and then return to a standing posture by slowly straightening the knees, a gymnastic exercise which has to be repeated thrice, and which requires the assistance of friends.90

The seating having been accomplished, friends put in the right hands of bride and bridegroom respectively handfuls of rice taken from the nasi setakona; with this the two feed each other simultaneously, each of them reaching out the hand containing the rice to the other’s mouth. (This part of the ceremony is often made the occasion for a race.)

The bridegroom is then carried off by his friends to the outer chamber, where he has to pay his respects (minta’ ma?af, lit. “ask pardon”) to the company, after which he is carried back to his old post, the bride in the meantime having moved off a little in the mosquito curtain.

The sweetmeats are then brought and handed round, the setakona is broken up, and the bundles of rice wrapped in plantain leaves which it contains distributed to the company as largess or berkat. Each of the company gets one of the telor chachak, the telor joran being reserved for the Imam and any person of high rank who may attend, e.g. a Raja.91

This completes the wedding ceremony, but the bridegroom is nominally expected to remain under the roof (and eye) of his mother-in-law for about two years (reduced to forty-four days in the case of “royalty”), after which he may be allowed to remove to a house of his own. No Kathi92 was present until quite recently at marriages in Selangor, nor has it in the past been the practice, so far as I could find out, for him to attend. Sir S. Raffles gives as part of the formula used in Java:—“If you travel at sea for a year, or ashore for six months, without sending either money or message to your wife, she will complain to the judge and obtain one talak (the preliminary stage of divorce),” and this condition should, strictly speaking, be included in the Malay formula. It is now growing obsolete, but was in former days repeated first by the priest, and then by the bridegroom after him. The marriage portion (isi kahwin, Arabic mahar) is here generally called b’lanja kahwin or mas kahwin.93 No wedding-ring should, strictly, be given.

For three days lustrations are continued by the newly-married pair, but before they are completed, and as soon as possible after the wedding, friends and acquaintances once more put on their finery, and proceed to the house to pay their respects, to bathe, and to receive largess.

On the third day after the hari langsong there is a very curious ceremony called mandi tolak bala, or mandi ayer salamat (bathing for good luck).

On the night in question the relatives of the bridegroom assemble under cover of the darkness and make a bonfire under the house of the newly-married couple by collecting and burning rubbish; into the fire thus kindled they throw cocoa-nut husks and pepper, or anything likely to make it unpleasant for those within, and presently raise such a smoke that the bridegroom comes hastily down the steps, ostensibly to see what is the matter, but as soon as he makes his appearance, he is seized by his relatives and carried off bodily to his own parents’ house; these proceedings being known as the stealing of the bridegroom (churi pengantin). Next day there is a grand procession to escort him back to the house of his bride, which he reaches about one o’clock in the afternoon, the processionists carrying “Rice of the Presence” (nasi adap-adap) with the eggs stuck into it as on the last day of the wedding, two sorts of holy water in pitchers, called respectively ayer salamat (water of good luck), and ayer tolak bala (water to avert ill-luck), vases of flowers (gumba) containing blossom-spikes of the cocoa-nut and areca-nut palms, and young cocoa-nut leaves rudely plaited into the semblance of spikes of palm-blossom, k’risses, etc. etc., together with a large number of rude syringes manufactured from joints of bamboo, and called panah ayer, or “water-bows.”

A set of similar objects (including nasi adap-adap), is prepared by the relatives of the bride, and deposited upon the ground in the place selected for the bathing ceremony. A bench being added for the bride and bridegroom to sit upon, the ceremony commences with the customary rite of tepong tawar, after which the two kinds of holy water, ayer tolak bala and ayer salamat, are successively thrown over the pair.

Now, according to the proper custom, during the proceedings which follow, all the bride’s relatives should surround the bride’s seat, and the bridegroom’s relatives should stand at a distance; but, in order to save themselves from a wetting, the women of both parties now usually assemble round the bride and bridegroom, where they are protected by a sheet which is hung between them and the men; for all the young men now proceed to discharge their “water arrows,” and as they are stopped by the sheet they proceed to turn their syringes against each other, until all are thoroughly wetted.

Meanwhile a young cocoa-nut frond, twisted into a slip-knot with V-shaped ends (something like the “merry thought” of a fowl), is presented to the bride and bridegroom, each of whom takes hold of one end, and blowing on it (sembor) thrice, pulls it till it comes undone, and the lepas-lepas rite is concluded. Finally, a girdle of thread is passed seven times over the heads and under the feet of the bride and bridegroom, when the bridegroom breaks through the thread and they are all free to return homewards. This latter ceremony is called ’lat-’lat. The guests then return to their homes, divest themselves of their wet garments, and put on their wedding attire. The bersuap-suapan, or feeding ceremony, is then performed (both vessels of adap-adap rice being used), and then all parties disperse for the usual games. Seven days after the “Concluding Day” (Hari Langsong), the ceremony of Discarding the Earrings (i.e. subang, the emblems of virginity) is performed by the bride.

Raja BÔt of Selangor, who attaches great importance to the lustration ceremony, and says that it ought not to take place later than the seventh day (at a Raja’s wedding), thus describes the full ceremony as once arranged by himself:—A small bath-house was built at the top of a flight of seven steps, and water was pumped up to it through a pipe, whose upper end was made fast under the roof of the shed, and terminated in the head of a dragon (naga), from whose jaws the water spouted. The steps were completely lined with women, of whom there must have been an immense number (no men being allowed to be present), and the Raja and his bride bathed before them. A royal bath-house of this kind is called balei pancha persada, and should be used not only at “royal” weddings, but at coronations (waktu di-naubatkan); it is described in the following lines:—

which may be translated:—

It must not be supposed that, with such a mass of detail, many things may not have been overlooked, but it may be remarked as some sort of a practical conclusion to this account, that the Malay wedding ceremony, even as carried out by the poorer classes, shows that the contracting parties are treated as royalty, that is to say, as sacred human beings, and if any further proof is required, in addition to the evidence which may be drawn from the general character of the ceremony, I may mention, firstly, the fact that the bride and bridegroom are actually called Raja Sari, (i.e. Raja sa-hari, the “sovereigns of a day”); and, secondly, that it is a polite fiction that no command of theirs, during their one day of sovereignty, may be disobeyed.

I will now give accounts of two Malay weddings which took place at Klang: both accounts were composed by respectable Malays, the first one being translated by Mr. Douglas Campbell of Selangor, and the second by the present writer:—

“The following account of the ceremonies connected with the marriage of Siti Meriam, a daughter of the Orang Kaya Badu,94 of Selangor, to Wan Mahamed Esa, a son of Datoh Mentri95 Ibrahim of Perak, has been furnished by a Malay contributor, Haji Karrim, and in translating it into English an endeavour has been made to follow, as far as possible, the style of the native writer.

“On Monday, the 1st of August, the house was prepared and the hangings and curtains put up, and on that evening the ceremony of dyeing the fingers of the bridegroom with henna was performed for the first time. Then there were readings from the Koran, with much beating of drums and kettledrums and Malay dances, and when this had gone on for some time, supper was served to all the men present in the balei, or separate hall, and to the women in the house adjoining. Supper over, readings from the Koran and beating of drums were continued till daylight.

“On Tuesday evening the dyeing of the fingers of the bridegroom was performed for the second time, as on the preceding evening.

“The third occasion of dyeing the fingers of the bridegroom took place on Wednesday evening, but with much more ceremony than previously. The bridegroom, after being dressed in silks and cloth of gold, was paraded in an open carriage. On each side of him was seated a groom’sman shading him with a fan, and behind, holding an umbrella over him, was another. And thus, with many followers beating drums and singing, and with the Royal sireh96-box, on which are seated the dragons known as naga pura and naga taru, and with two Royal spears carried before him and two behind, the bridegroom was taken through the streets in procession. On arriving at the bride’s house he was received with showers of rose-water, and then conveyed by the elders to the raised dais on which the bride and bridegroom awaited their friends.

“The bridegroom being seated, fourteen of the elders came forward and dyed his fingers with henna, and afterwards others, who were clever at this, followed their example. While this was going on there was much beating of gongs and drums, and then the same process of dyeing was repeated on the bride by women. Next the Imam came, and, after stating that the dowry was $100 cash, heard Wan Mahamed Esa publicly receive Siti Meriam as his wife, whereupon the Bilal97 read a prayer and afterwards pronounced a blessing.

“Supper was then served to all the guests present as before, the men having their meal in the balei and the women in the house adjoining, and singing and dancing was kept up until daylight.

“On Thursday afternoon the bride, dressed in her best, with her father and relations, received the Resident, who was accompanied by Mrs. Birch, the Senior District Officer and Mrs. Turney, Captain and Mrs. Syers, Mr. Edwards, and many other ladies and gentlemen. Cakes and preserves were served, of which the ladies and gentlemen present partook. Then the bridegroom arrived, seated in an open carriage with a groom’sman on each side of him, while one, carrying the Royal silk umbrella, kindly lent by H.H. the Sultan, went before him.

“The procession was headed by one of the Royal spears, and two more were carried before the bridegroom and two behind him, and so, accompanied by the Selangor Band, kindly lent by the Resident, and by a crowd of people singing and beating gongs and drums, he was conveyed to the bride’s house. His arrival was greeted with showers of rice, and he was seated, together with the bride, on the dais, where they, with the assistance of Mr. and Mrs. Birch, helped each other to partake of yellow rice.

“So the marriage was completed satisfactorily, and then, as it was evening, the Resident and Mrs. Birch, and the other ladies and gentlemen present, returned to Kuala Lumpur; the people who remained amusing themselves with dagger dances (main dabus).

“On Friday evening the bride and bridegroom left for Jugra in the Esmeralda, which had been lent by the Resident, to pay their respects to H.H. the Sultan, returning to Klang on Saturday.

“On the same afternoon the ceremony of the bath was performed, to the great satisfaction of every one present, and was kept up till six o’clock, by which time every one was wet through.

“This was the last ceremony in connection with the marriage, and then every one wished the bride and bridegroom much happiness.”98

The following account was translated by the writer:—

“Preparations for the wedding of Inche Halimah, daughter of Sheikh ?Abdul Mohit Baktal, and Said ?Abdul Rahman Al Jafri, commenced on Monday, the 2nd of August 1895.

“The mosquito-curtain, tapestries and canopies were suspended, and decorations, including the marriage furniture (peti betuah dan bangking), arranged. Moreover, the bridal couch was adorned with decorations of gold and mattresses raised one above the other, one with a facing of gold and the other with a facing of silver, and four pillows with gold facings, and five piled-up pillows with silver facings; and the kitchen apparatus was got ready, including ten pans and coppers of the largest size, and the sheds for those who were to cook rice and the meats eaten therewith. On this day, moreover, a buffalo was sent by Towkay Teck Chong, with the full accompaniments of music, and so forth.

“On Tuesday, the 3rd day of the month, took place the first Henna-staining, the bride being led forth by her Coiffeur and seated upon the marriage throne. And the bride seated herself against the large pillow, which is called ‘The Pillow against which One Rests,’ or bantal saraga. And towards evening all the relatives on the woman’s side sprinkled the tepong tawar (upon the forehead and hands of the bride), and after the Henna-staining, dishes of confectionery and preserved fruits were offered to all the guests who were present in the reception-room.

“And on the 3rd99 day of the month there took place in like manner the second Henna-staining. And on the 5th day of the month took place the Private Henna-staining (berhinei churi); the bride’s hair being dressed after the fashion known as Sanggul Lintang, and further adorned with ornaments of gold and diamonds to the value of about $5000. And after this Henna-staining all persons present descended to the rooms below, where fencing and dagger dances, and music and dancing were kept up at pleasure.

“On the 6th day of the month, being Friday, Inche Mohamad Kassim, Penghulu of the Mukim of Bukit Raja, was commissioned by Datoh Penghulu Mohit to summon the bridegroom, inasmuch as that day was fixed for the marriage rite. And the bridegroom, wearing the robe called jubah and a turban tied after the Arab fashion,100 arrived at about three o’clock, and was met by the priest (Tuan Imam) at the house. Very many were the guests on that day, and many ladies and gentlemen, and his renowned Highness the Tungku Dia-Uddin, were assembled in the house.

“And the Tuan Imam read the marriage service, Datoh Penghulu Mohit giving his permission for Tuan Haji Mohamad Said Mufti to wed Inche Halimah to Said ?Abdul Rahman Al Jafri, with a marriage portion of $100. And after the marriage rite Tuan Imam proceeded to read prayers for their welfare. And afterwards dishes of rice were brought, of which the guests present were invited to partake. And when all had eaten, the Coiffeur led forth the bride to the scaffolding for the ceremony called ‘Bathing in State.’ And upon that same evening took place the Great Henna-staining, and the guests assembled in exceeding great numbers, both men and women, and filled the house above and below to overflowing. And when the henna-staining was completed, all the men who were present chanted (bacha maulud) until daybreak.

“And upon the 7th day of the month, being Saturday, the bride being adorned, the bridegroom seated in a buggy was drawn in procession at about 5 o’clock from the house of his renowned Highness Tungku Dia-Uddin, accompanied by the Government Band and all kinds of music, to the house of the Datoh Penghulu, where he was met and sprinkled with saffron-rice and rose-water. Afterwards, being seated on the marriage throne side by side, both husband and wife, they offered each other in turn the mouthfuls of saffron-rice which were presented by the ladies and gentlemen and His Highness Tungku Dia-Uddin.

“And afterwards the elder relatives on the side of both husband and bride presented the rice, and Inche Mohamad Kassim presented red eggs (telor berjoran) to all the ladies and gentlemen, and the bridegroom led the bride with him into the bridal chamber by the finger, walking upon cloth of purple and gold. And afterwards all the ladies and gentlemen were invited to eat and drink, and the band played, fireworks and artificial fires were burned, and great was the brightness thereof, and all the young people danced and sang at their pleasure until the evening was spent.”101

The marriage customs hitherto described have been only such as are based on a peaceful understanding between the parents of the contracting parties. An account of Malay marriage customs would not, however, be complete without some mention of the customs which regulate, strange as it may seem, even the forcible abduction of a wife. Of these customs Sir W. E. Maxwell says:—

“The word panjat in Malay means literally ‘to climb,’ but it is used in PÊrak, and perhaps in other Malay States, to signify a forcible entry into a house for the purpose of securing as a wife a woman whom her relations have already refused to the intruder. This high-handed proceeding is recognised by Malay custom, and is regulated by certain well-known rules.

“Panjat is of two kinds—panjat angkara and panjat ’adat—entry by violence and entry by custom. In the first case, the man makes his way into the house armed with his kris, or other weapon, and entering the women’s apartment, or posting himself at the door, secures the person of his intended bride, or prevents her escape. He runs the risk of being killed on the spot by the girl’s relations, and his safety depends upon his reputation for courage and strength, and upon the number of his friends and the influence of his family. A wooer who adopts this violent method of compelling the assent of unwilling relations to his marriage to one of their kin must, say the Malays, have three qualifications—

‘A strong party to back him, plenty of money, and no lack of bravery.’

“Plenty of money is necessary, because, by accepted custom, if the relations yield and give their consent all the customary payments are doubled; the fine for the trespass, which would ordinarily be twenty-five dollars, becomes fifty dollars; the dower is likewise doubled, and the usual present of clothes (salin) must consist of two of each of the three garments (salendang, baju, kain), instead of one as usual. The fine for panjat angkara may be of any amount, according to the pleasure of the woman’s relations, and they fix it high or low according to the man’s position. I have heard of one case in PÊrak, where the fine was five hundred dollars, and another in which the suitor, to obtain his bride, had to pay one thousand seven hundred and fifty dollars, namely, one thousand two hundred and fifty dollars as a fine, and five hundred dollars for the marriage expenses. But in this case the girl was already betrothed to another, and one thousand dollars out of the fine went to the disappointed rival.

“Sometimes the relations hold out, or the man, for want of one of the three qualifications mentioned above, has to beat an ignominious retreat. In the reign of Sultan Ali, one Mat Taib, a budak raja, or personal attendant on the Sultan, asked for Wan DÊna, the daughter of the Bandahara of Kedah (she then being at Kota Lama in PÊrak) in marriage. Being refused he forced his way into the house, and seizing the girl by her long hair drew his kris, and defied everybody. No one dared to interfere by force, for the man, if attacked, would have driven his kris into the girl’s body. This state of things is said to have lasted three days and three nights, during which the man neither ate nor slept. Eventually he was drugged by an old woman from whom he accepted some food or water, and when he fell asleep the girl was released from his grasp and taken to the Sultan’s palace, where she was married off straightway to one Mat Arshad. Mat Taib had his revenge, for within a year he amoked at Bandar, where Mat Arshad lived, killing the latter and wounding Wan DÊna.

“Panjat ’adat is a less lawless proceeding. A man who is in love with a girl, the consent of whose parents or relations he cannot obtain, sends his kris to their house with a message to the effect that he is ready with the dower, presents, etc., doubled according to custom, and that he is ready to make good any demands they may make.

“The kris is symbolical of the violent entry, which in this case is dispensed with. If the girl’s guardians are still obdurate they send back the kris, but with it they must send double the amount of the dower offered by the man.102”

When a man dies, the corpse (called Maiat, except in the case of a Raja, when it is called Jenaja or Jenazah) is laid on its back, and composed with the feet towards Mecca, and the hands crossed (the right wrist resting upon the left just below the breast-bone, and the right fore-finger on the top of the left arm). It is next shrouded from head to foot in fine new sarongs, one of which usually covers the body from the feet upwards to the waist, the other covering it from the waist to the head. There are generally (in the case of the peasantry) three or four thicknesses of these sarongs, but when a rich man (orang kaya) dies, as many as seven may be used, each of the seven being made in one long piece, so as to cover the body from the head to the feet, the cloth being of fine texture, of no recognised colour, but richly interwoven with gold thread, while the body is laid upon a mattress, which in turn rests upon a new mat of pandanus leaf; finally, all but the very poorest display the hangings used on great occasions. At the head of the corpse are then piled five or six new pillows, with two more on the right and left side of the body resting against the ribs, while just below the folded hands are laid a pair of betel-nut scissors (kachip besi), and on the matting at either side a bowl for burning incense is placed. Some say that the origin of laying the betel-nut scissors on the breast is that once upon a time a cat brushed against the body of a dead person, thereby causing the evil influence (badi) which resides in cats to enter the body, so that it rose and stood upon its feet. The “contact with iron”104 prevents the dead body from rising again should it happen by any mischance that a cat (which is generally the only animal kept in the house, and which should be driven out of the house before the funeral ceremonies commence) should enter unawares and brush against it. From this moment until the body is laid in the grave the “wake” must be religiously observed, and the body be watched both by day and night to see that nothing which is forbidden (pantang) may come near it.105 The Imam, Bilal, or Khatib, or in their absence the Pah Doja, or Pah Lebai, is then summoned, and early notice of the funeral is given to all relations and friends to give them an opportunity of attending. Meanwhile the preparations are going on at the house of the deceased. The shroud (kain kapan) and plank or planks for the coffin are got ready: of coffins there are three kinds, the papan sakeping (the simplest form, generally consisting of a simple plank of pulai or jelutong wood about six feet long by three spans wide), the karanda (a plain, oblong plank box, of the same dimensions), and the long (consisting either of two planks which form a sort of gable with closed ends called kajang rungkop, or the long betul, which is like three sides of a box with its sides bulging out, both ends open, and no bottom). Varnish or paint is forbidden in Malay coffins, but the planks are washed to insure their cleanliness, and lined with white cloth (alas puteh). About three inches of earth is put into the karanda ordinarily, but if the coffin is to be kept, about a span’s depth of earth, quicklime, and several katis106 of tea-leaves, rush-piths (sumbu kumpai), and camphor are also deposited in it, in successive layers, the rush-piths at the top. Afterwards when the corpse has been laid on the top, tea-leaves are put at front and back of the corpse as it lies.

The next operation is to wash the corpse, which is carried for this purpose into the front or outer room. If there are four people to be found who are willing to undertake this disagreeable duty, they are told to sit upon the floor in a row, all looking the same way, and with their legs stretched out (belunjor kaki), the body being then laid across their laps (riba). Several men are then told off to fetch water in jars, scoop it out of the jars and pour it on the body in small quantities by means of the “scoop” (penchedok ayer), which is usually a small bowl, saucer, or cocoa-nut shell (tempurong). It frequently happens, however, that this unpleasant task finds no volunteers, in which case five banana stems are turned into improvised “rollers” (galang), on which the body is raised from the floor during the process of washing (meruang). When the body is ready for washing, a chief washer (orang meruang) is engaged for a fee of about a dollar; this is usually the Bilal or Imam, who “shampoos” the body whilst the rest are pouring water on it. The body then undergoes a second washing, this time with the cosmetic called ayer bedak which is prepared by taking a handful of rice (sa-genggam b’ras), two or three “dips” of lime (cholek kapur),and a pinch of gambier (gambir sa-chubit)—the last three being the usual concomitants of a single “chew” of the betel-leaf—and pounding them up together with the rice. When pounded they are mixed with water (di-banchor107) in a large bowl holding about two gallons, the water at the top being poured off into a vessel of similar capacity, and scooped up and sprinkled as before on the corpse. The next washing is with juice of limes. Four or five limes (limau nipis) are taken, the ends cut off, and each lime slashed crosswise on the top without completely severing the parts. These limes are then squeezed (di-ramaskan) into another large bowl containing water, and the washing repeated. The final washing, or “Nine Waters” (ayer sambilan, so called from the water being scooped up, and poured thrice to the right, thrice to the left, and thrice over the front of the corpse from head to foot) is performed with fresh water as at first, and the whole ceremony when completed is called bedara. The washing completed, the orifices—e.g. ears, nostrils, eyes—are generally stopped with cotton, and the body is carried back to its mattress, and laid in a shroud of white cotton cloth, which should be about seven feet long by four feet in width (salabuh), so that the edges meet over the breast. After this the last kiss is given by the nearest relatives, who must not, however, disturb the corpse by letting their tears fall upon its features. The shroud is usually of three thicknesses in the case of poor people, but wealthier families use five, and even seven-fold shrouds. In Selangor, however, each shroud is usually a separate piece of cloth. The dead body of a child is sometimes covered in addition with a fine sort of white powder (abok tanah or tayamam), which is sprinkled over the face and arms. Five knots are used in fastening the shroud, the ends being drawn up and tied (kochong) by means of the unravelled hem or selvage of the shroud torn into tape-like strips,108 which are bound thrice round the body at the breast, the knees, and the hips respectively, as well as above the head and below the feet. The corpse is then laid on the mattress or mat again, this time with its head to the north, and on its right side looking towards the west (Mecca), which is the position it is to occupy in the grave. Prayers are then offered by four or five “praying-men” (orang menyembahyang), who know the burial service by heart, the Bilal or Imam joining in the service, and all turning towards the west in the usual way. One “praying-man” is sufficient, if no more are to be had, his fee ranging from 50 cents to a dollar in the case of the poorer classes, and among the rich often amounting to $5 or $6. This service is held about 1 P.M. so as to give plenty of time to carry the body to the grave and return before nightfall.

A jugful of eagle-wood (gharu) and sandal-wood (chendana) water is then prepared, a small piece of each wood being taken and grated on a stone over the jug until the water becomes appreciably scented; about twenty leaves of the sweet-scented pandanus (pandan wangi) are then added, together with a bunch of fragrant areca-palm blossoms, and other scented flowers, such as the champaka and kenanga, which are shredded (di-iris) into a wooden tray and mixed together, whilst fragrant essences, such as rose-water (ayer mawar), lavender water (ayer labenda), attar of roses (minyak attar or turki) are added when obtainable. A betel-leaf tray containing all the articles required for chewing betel is then prepared, together with a new mat of pandanus-leaf, in which are rolled up five hasta109 of white cloth, and a brass bowl or alms box, in which latter are to be placed the contributions (sedekah) of the deceased’s relations. The preparations are completed by bringing in the bier (usongan), which has to be made on purpose, except in towns where a bier is kept in the mosque.

In the case of the single plank coffin the body is laid on the plank (which is carried on the bier) and a sort of wicker-work covering (lerang-lerang) of split bamboo is placed over the corpse, so as to protect it on its way to the grave. In the case of the karanda the body is laid in the coffin, which is carried on the bier; and in the case of the long, there being no bottom in this form of coffin, the body lies on a mat. In each case the bier is covered with a pall (kain tudong) of as good coloured cloth (never white, but often green) as may be obtainable. There are generally two or three of these coverings, and floral decorations are sometimes thrown across them, the blossoms of the areca-palm and the scented pandanus being woven into exquisite floral strips, called “Centipedes’ Feet” (jari lipan), about three feet long by two fingers in breadth, and laid at short intervals across the pall. There are generally from five to six of these floral strips, the areca blossom alternating with the pandanus. The number of bearers depends on the rank of the deceased; in the case of a Sultan as many as possible bear a hand in sending him to the grave, partly because of the pahala or merit thereby obtained, and partly (no doubt) for the sake of the sedekah or alms given to bearers. The procession then starts for the grave; none of the mourners or followers here wear any special dress or sign of mourning, such as the white sash with coloured ribbon which is sometimes worn at Singapore (unless the kabong puteh or strip of white cloth which is distributed as a funeral favour at the death of a Sultan may be so reckoned). The only mourning which appears to be known to Malays is the rare use of a kind of black edging for the envelopes of letters, and that is no doubt copied from the English custom, though I may add that a letter which announces a death should have no kapala.110 Loud wailing and weeping is forbidden by the Imam for fear of disturbing the dead. The mosque drum is not usually beaten for funerals in Selangor, nor is the body usually carried into the mosque, but is borne straight to the tomb. If the coffin is a single plank one, on arriving at the grave (which should have been dug early in the morning) an excavation is made on the left side of the grave for the reception of the corpse, the cavity being called liang lahad. Three men then lower the corpse into the grave, where three others are waiting to receive it, and the corpse is deposited in the cavity on its right side (mengiring ka lambong kanan), looking towards the west (Mecca), and with the head therefore lying towards the north. Four pegs (daka-daka) are then driven in to keep the plank in a diagonal position and prevent it from falling on the body, while the plank in turn protects the corpse from being struck by falling earth.

The karanda is lowered into the centre of the grave in the same way as a European coffin, the body, however, being invariably deposited in the position just described; whilst the long acts as a sort of lid to a shallow trench (just big enough to contain the body) which is dug (di-k’roh) in the middle of the grave-pit. The five bands swathing the corpse (lima tali-pengikat maiat) are then removed, and at this point the bystanders occasionally hand lumps of earth (tanah sa-kepal) to the men standing in the pit, who, after putting them to the nostrils of the deceased “to be smelled,” deposit them at the side of the grave, when they are shovelled in by those standing at the top.111 The filling of the grave then proceeds, but as it is “taboo” (pantang) to let the earth strike against the coffin in its fall, the grave-diggers, who are still standing in the pit, receive it as it falls upon a sort of small hurdle or screen made of branches, and thence tilt it into the grave. As the grave (which is usually dug to about the level of a man’s ear) fills up, the grave-diggers, who are forbidden to shovel in the soil themselves, tread down the earth and level it, and they are not allowed to leave the pit till it is filled up to the top. One of the relations then takes a piece of any hard wood, and rudely fashions with a knife a temporary grave-post (nisan or nishan), which is round in the case of a man and flattened in the case of a woman; one of these grave-posts is placed exactly over the head (rantau kapala) and the other over the waist (rantau pinggang), not at the feet as in the case of Europeans. Thus the two grave-posts are ordinarily about three feet apart, but tradition says that over the grave of a kramat or saint, they will always be found some five or six feet at least apart, one at the head and one at the feet, and it is said to be the saint himself who moves them. To the knob of the grave-post is tied a strip of white cloth as a sign of recent death.112

Leaves are then strewn on the ground at the left of the grave, and the five cubits of white cloth alluded to above are spread out to form a mat, upon which the Imam takes his seat, the rest of the company being seated upon the leaves. Eagle-wood and sandal-wood water (ayer gharu chendana) is then brought to the Imam, who pours it out in three libations, each time sprinkling the grave from the head to the foot. If any water is left, the Imam sprinkles it upon any other graves which may be near, whilst the shredded flowers (bunga rampai) are then similarly disposed of. Next is read the talkin, which is an exhortation (ajaran) addressed to the deceased. It is said that during the process of reading the Talkin the corpse momentarily revives, and, still lying upon its side, raises itself to a listening position by reclining upon its right elbow (bertelku) and resting its head upon its hand.113 This is the reason114 for removing the bands of the shroud, as the body is left free to move, and thus in groping about (meraba-raba) with its left hand feels that its garment is without a hem or selvage, and then first realising that it must be really dead, composes itself to listen quietly to whatever the Imam may say, until at the close of the exhortation it falls back really lifeless! Hence the most absolute silence must be observed during the exhortation. The Imam then repeats, by way of “doxology,” the tahalil or meratib, “la-ilaha-illa-’llah” (“there is no god but God”), in company with the rest of the assembly, all present turning their heads and rocking themselves from side to side as they sit, whilst they reiterate the words a hundred times, commencing slowly till thirty-three times are reached, then increasing the pace up to the sixty-sixth time, and concluding with great rapidity. The contributions in the alms-basin (batil) are then divided among the entire company as alms (sedekah). The master of the house then invites those present to partake at about five p.m. of the funeral feast, which in no way differs from an ordinary Malay banquet, the more solid portion of the meal (makan nasi) being followed by the usual confectionery and preserved fruits. The Imam then reads prayers, and the company breaks up. The decorations for the funeral are left for three days undisturbed. During these three days the nearer neighbours are feasted, both in the morning and evening, at the usual Malay hours; and for three days every night at about ten P.M. the service called “Reading the Koran to the Corpse” (mengajikan maiat) is performed, either by the Imam or somebody hired for the purpose. This is an important duty, the slightest slip being regarded as a great sin. At the end of the three days there is yet another feast, at one P.M. (kanduri meniga hari), when those who are farther off are invited, and after this meal the tahalil is repeated as before.

On the seventh day a similar feast (called kanduri menujoh hari) is followed by the tahalil, which necessitates a further distribution of fees (sedekah tahalil); but in the case of poor people this second tahalil may be omitted, or the master of the house may say to the company, “I ask (to be let off) the praying fees” (Sahya minta’ sedekah tahalil), in which case the tahalil is free.

Yet another feast is held on the fourteenth day (kanduri dua kali tujoh hari), when the ceremonies are at end, except in the case of the richer classes who keep the kanduri ampat puloh hari, or forty days’ feast, and the kanduri meratus hari, or 100 days’ feast, whilst the anniversary is also kept as a holiday by all who wish to show respect for the deceased. This closes the usual funeral ceremonies, but a day is generally chosen at pleasure in the month of Ramthan or Maulud for the purpose of offering prayers and feasting the ancestors.

The only difference made in the case of the death of a woman is that the washing of the corpse devolves upon women, whilst in the case of very young infants the talkin is sometimes omitted. The woman’s nisan, as has been explained, is distinguished by its shape.115 The temporary nisan may be replaced by a permanent one at any time after the funeral. At the time the grave is made up, four planks (dapor-dapor), with the upper edges and ends roughly carved and scalloped, are placed round the grave mound (tanah mati) to keep the earth from falling down. Whenever the grave is thus finally made up a feast is held, but from the necessities of the case this pious duty is generally left to the rich.

“The successful practice of (Malay) medicine must be based on the fundamental principle of ‘preserving the balance of power’ among the four elements. This is chiefly to be effected by constant attention to, and moderation in, diet. To enforce these golden precepts, passages from the Koran are plentifully quoted against excess in eating or drinking. Air, they say, is the cause of heat and moisture, and earth of cold and dryness. They assimilate the constitution and passions of man to the twelve signs of the Zodiac, and the seven planets, etc.”

“The mysterious sympathy between man and external nature ... was the basis of that system of supernatural magic which prevailed in Europe during the Middle Ages.”116

The foregoing quotation shows that the distinctive features of the Aristotelian hygienic theory, as borrowed by the Arabs, did eventually filter through (in some cases) until they reached the Malays. Such direct references, however, to Greek theories are of the rarest character, and can hardly be considered typical.

Most of the more important rites practised by the Malay medicine-men (Bomor117) may be divided into two well-defined parts. Commencing with a ceremonial “inspection” (the counterpart of our modern “diagnosis”), the Bomor proceeds to carry out a therapeutic ceremony, the nature of which is decided by the results of the “inspection.” For the purposes of the diagnosis he resorts to divination, by means of omens taken from the smoke of the burning censer, from the position of coins thrown into water-jars (batu buyong), and parched rice floating upon the water’s surface.

The therapeutic rites, on the other hand, may be roughly classified as follows according to their types:118—

• 1. Propitiatory Ceremonies (limas, ambangan, etc.).
• 2. “Neutralisatory” Ceremonies for destroying the evil principle (tawar).
• 3. “Expulsory” Ceremonies (for the casting out of the evil principle;119 of which the “sucking charm” rite (mengalin) is an example).
• 4. “Revivificatory” Ceremonies (for recalling a sick person’s soul, riang semangat).

I shall take each of the types in order.

For the water-jar ceremony three jars (buyong) containing water are brought to the sick man’s room and decorated with the fringe or necklace of plaited cocoa-nut leaves, which is called “Centipedes’ Feet” (jari ’lipan). A fourth jar should contain a sort of bouquet of artificial flowers to serve as an attraction to the sick man’s soul (semangat). You will also require a tray filled with the usual accessories of Malay magic ceremonies (incense, three sorts of rice, etc.), besides three wax tapers, one of which you will plant upon the brim of each of the three jars.

When all is ready, drop the incense upon the embers, and as the smoke rises repeat this charm:—

As you say this, “catch” the first puff of smoke and inhale it (tangkap-lah puchok asap, chium), as it rises towards you. If the smell is pleasant (sedap) it is a good sign; if it has a scorched smell (hangit) it is bad; but if it smells offensive (busok) no medicine can save the patient.

Next, before you look into the jars, take handfuls of “parched,” “washed,” and “saffron” rice, and after fumigating them over the incense, strew them all round the row of jars, saying as you do so:—

Here strew (tabor) the rice first to the right, then to the left, and then to the right again.

Before removing the calladium-leaves from the jar-mouths, repeat the following:—

Here remove the calladium-leaves from the jar-mouths, and taking one of the wax tapers, wave it in the smoke of the censer seven times towards the right, and say:—

Here plant the taper firmly upon the edge of the jar, and “gaze” into the water “to see the signs” (?alamat-nya).

Thus if there is an oily scum on the water (ayer berk’rak lemak) it is a bad sign; and to this may be added that if the calladium-leaf covering has acquired a faded look (layu) in the interim, it is a sign of severe sickness.

Fumigate the outside of the jars with the smoke of the incense (the medicine-man does this by “washing” his hands in the smoke and then rubbing over the outside of the jars as if he were “shampooing” them); and anoint them with “oil of Celebes” (minyak Bugis). Then take a “closed fistful” (sa-genggam) of parched rice, and holding it over the smoke of the censer (ganggang di asap kem’nyan), repeat this charm:—

Here throw the parched rice into the jars, and say:—

And observe these signs:—

• 1. If the water is perfectly still it is a bad sign.
• 2. If it is a little disturbed it is a good sign.
• 3. If the rice floats in a line across the sun’s path (berator melintang matahari) it is a fatal sign.
• 4. If you see a solitary grain travelling by itself (bersiar) you may know the sickness to be caused by the making of an image (buatan orang).
• 5. If the parched rice travels towards the right of the jar the patient will recover quickly.
• 6. If it travels towards the left of the jar he will recover, but slowly.
• 7. If, however, it floats right underneath the candle it is generally a fatal sign.

Next, see what patterns are formed by the rice-grains as they lie on the water:—

• 1. If they take the shape either of a boat or a crocodile, this means that the spirit demands the launching of a spirit-boat (lanchang).
• 2. If they take a square shape, a tray of offerings (anchak) is demanded.
• 3. If they take the shape of a house, a ‘state-hall’ (balei) is demanded.

Now take all kinds of fragrant flowers and shred them (buat bunga rampai), add the shredded blossoms of four which are scentless (for instance, blossoms of the selaguri, pulut-pulut, bali-adap, and kedudok), mix them and throw them into the jars, then plant in each jar the flower-spathe of an areca-palm (mayang pinang). Throw into each a “jar-stone” (i.e. a dollar), and the jars will be ready. You should then read the foregoing charms over each of them.

The extra jar which is filled with a sort of big nosegay (gumba) represents a pleasure-garden (taman bunga), and is intended to attract the soul (semangat) of the sick man.

Now take parched rice and hold it over the incense (di-ganggang) saying:—

Now scatter the parched rice upon the surface of the water in the jars, and watch for the signs:—

• 1. If the rice is lumped together (bulat or berlubok) it is a good sign.
• 2. If it extends itself crosswise (panjang melintang) it is a bad sign.
• 3. If it takes the shape of a spirit-boat (lanchang) you must make a spirit-boat; that is what is wanted.
• 4. If it keeps travelling either to the left or the right, it is a stream-spirit (anak sungei) which has affected the patient.
• 5. If it takes the shape of a crocodile, or anything of that sort, it is an earth-spirit (puaka) which has affected the patient.

The most popular method of propitiating evil spirits consists in the use of the sacrificial tray called Anchak.

This is “a small frame of bamboo or wood,”122 usually from two to three feet square and turned up at the sides, which are decorated with a long fringe (jari’lipan) of plaited cocoa-nut leaf. Four rattan “suspenders” of equal length (tali penggantong) are fastened to the four corners, and are thence carried up to meet at a point which may be from two to three feet above the tray.

These trays appear to be divisible into two classes, according to the objects which they are intended to serve. In the one case certain offerings (to be described presently) are laid upon the tray, which is carried out of the house to a suitable spot and there suspended to enable the spirits for whom it is designed to feed upon its contents.123 In the other case certain objects are deposited upon it, into which the evil spirits are ceremoniously invited to enter, in which case it must obviously be got rid of after the ceremony, and is therefore hung up in the jungle, or set adrift in the sea or the nearest river; in the latter case it is called the “keeled sacrifice-tray” (anchak pelunas), and falls into line with other objects which are occasionally set adrift for the same purpose.

The offerings placed on the sacrificial tray vary considerably, according to the object of the ceremony, the means of the person for whose benefit they are offered, the caprice of the medicine-man who carries out the ceremony, and so on.124

I shall therefore, in the present place, merely describe the contents of a more or less typical tray, with the main points of the accompanying ritual.

The bottom of the tray having been lined with banana-leaf, and thickly strewn with parched rice, there are deposited in the tray itself five “chews” of betel-leaf, five native “cigarettes” (rokok), five wax tapers, five small water-receptacles or limas (made of banana-leaf and skewered together at each end), and five copper cents (or dollars). The articles just enumerated are divided into five portions, one of which is deposited in the centre of the tray, and the remainder in its four corners. Besides this there are to be deposited in the tray fourteen portions of meat (of fowl, goat, or buffalo, as the case may be), and fourteen portions of Malay “cakes,” care being taken in each case to see that there are seven portions of cooked and seven portions of uncooked food provided. The rattan “suspenders,” again, are hung with two sets of ornamental rice-receptacles made of plaited cocoa-nut leaf (fourteen of the long-shaped kind, or lepat, and fourteen of the diamond-shaped kind, or ketupat). Besides this, two sets of (cooked and uncooked) packets of rice (each stained a different colour) are sometimes deposited in the tray, the colours used being white, yellow, red, black, blue, green, and purple. The only other articles required for the tray are a couple of eggs, of which one must, of course, be cooked and the other raw.

Of the water-receptacles, those in alternate corners are filled with water and cane-juice, the central receptacle being filled with the blood of the fowl (or other animal slain for the sacrifice).

Upon the ground, exactly underneath the tray, should be deposited the feathers, feet, entrails, etc., of the fowl, portions of whose flesh have been used for the tray, together with the refuse of the parched rice and a censer. Strictly speaking, a white and a black fowl should be killed, but only half of each cooked, the remainder being left raw. The “portions” of fowl are as small as they can possibly be, a mere symbol (?isharat) of each kind of food being all that the spirits are supposed to require. Sometimes funnel-shaped rice-receptacles are used, which are skewered with a bamboo skewer and called keronchot. Occasionally a standard censer (sangga?) is used, the end of a piece of bamboo being split up and bent or opened outwards for several inches, and a piece of rattan (cane) being wound in and out among the split ends, so as to form a sort of funnel (about nine inches in diameter at the top), which is lined with banana leaf, filled with earth, and planted vertically in the ground, great care being taken to see that it does not lean out of the perpendicular. Live embers are placed upon it, incense crumbled over it (between the finger and thumb), and the appropriate charm recited. A specimen of a charm or formula used during the burning of incense will be found in the Appendix.125

The ketupats are called—(1) S’ri neg’ri (seven-cornered), or the “luck of the country”; (2) Buah k’ras (six-cornered), or the “candle-nut”; (3) Bawang puteh (six-cornered), or “garlic”; (4) Ulu pengayoh (four-cornered), or the “paddle-handle”; (5) Pasar (five-cornered), or the “market”; (6) Bawang merah (six-cornered), or the “onion”; (7) Pasar Pahang (six-cornered), or the “Pahang market”; (8) Telor, or the “hen’s egg.”

The lepats are called—(1) Lepat daun niyor (5–6 inches long and made of cocoa-nut leaves); (2) Lepat tilam (of plantain leaves); (3) Lepat daun palas (of palas leaves, three-sided).

Diminutive models of various objects (also made of cocoa-nut leaves) are often added, e.g. burong ponggok, the owl; ker’bau, the buffalo; rusa, the stag; tekukur, the ground-dove; ketam, the crab; and (but very rarely) kuda, the horse.

The things deposited in the tray are intended for the spirits (Hantus) themselves; the refuse on the ground beneath it for their slaves (hamba).

Of the food in the tray, the cooked food is for the king of the spirits (Raja Hantu), who is sometimes said to be the Wild Huntsman (Hantu Pemburu) and sometimes Batara Guru, and the uncooked for his following. But of the two eggs, the uncooked one is alleged to be for the Land-spirit (i.e. the Wild Huntsman), and the cooked for the Sea-spirit; this assertion, however, requires some further investigation before it can be unreservedly accepted.

The following passage is an account of a characteristic Malay dance, the Joget:—

“Malays are not dancers, but they pay professional performers to dance for their amusement, and consider that ‘the better part’ is with those who watch, at their ease, the exertions of a small class, whose members are not held in the highest respect. The spectacle usually provided is strangely wanting in attraction: a couple of women shuffling their feet and swaying their hands in gestures that are practically devoid of grace or even variety—that is the Malay dance—and it is accompanied by the beating of native drums, the striking together of two short sticks held in either hand, and the occasional boom of a metal gong. The entertainment has an undoubted fascination for Malays, but it generally forms part of a theatrical performance, and for Western spectators it is immeasurably dull.150

“In one of the Malay States, however, Pahang, it has for years been the custom for the ruler and one or two of his near relatives to keep trained dancing girls, who perform what is called the ‘JÔget’—a real dance with an accompaniment of something like real music, though the orchestral instruments are very rude indeed.

“The dancers, bÛdak jÔget, belong to the Raja’s household, they may even be attached to him by a closer tie; they perform seldom, only for the amusement of their lord and his friends, and the public are not admitted. Years ago I saw such a dance,151 and though peculiar to Pahang, as far as the Malay States are concerned, it is probable that it came originally from Java; the instruments used by the orchestra and the airs played are certainly far more common in Java and Sumatra than in the Peninsula.

“I had gone to Pahang on a political mission accompanied by a friend, and we were vainly courting sleep in a miserable lodging, when at 1 A.M. a message came from the Sultan inviting us to witness a jÔget. We accepted with alacrity, and at once made our way to the astÂna, a picturesque, well-built, and commodious house on the right bank of the Pahang river. A palisade enclosed the courtyard, and the front of the house was a very large hall, open on three sides, but covered by a lofty roof of fantastic design supported on pillars. The floor of this hall was approached by three wide steps continued round the three open sides, the fourth being closed by a wooden wall which entirely shut off the private apartments save for one central door over which hung a heavy curtain. The three steps were to provide sitting accommodation according to their rank for those admitted to the astÂna. The middle of the floor on the night in question was covered by a large carpet, chairs were placed for us, and the rest of the guests sat on the steps of the dais.

“When we entered, we saw, seated on the carpet, four girls, two of them about eighteen and two about eleven years old, all attractive according to Malay ideas of beauty, and all gorgeously and picturesquely clothed. On their heads they each wore a large and curious but very pretty ornament of delicate workmanship—a sort of square flower garden where all the flowers were gold, trembling and glittering with every movement of the wearer. These ornaments were secured to the head by twisted cords of silver and gold. The girls’ hair, combed down in a fringe, was cut in a perfect oval round their foreheads and very becomingly dressed behind.

“The bodices of their dresses were made of tight-fitting silk, leaving the neck and arms bare, whilst a white band of fine cambric (about one and a half inches wide), passing round the neck, came down on the front of the bodice in the form of a V, and was there fastened by a golden flower. Round their waists were belts fastened with large and curiously-worked pinding or buckles of gold, so large that they reached quite across the waist. The rest of the costume consisted of a skirt of cloth of gold (not at all like the sÂrong), reaching to the ankles, while a scarf of the same material, fastened in its centre to the waist-buckle, hung down to the hem of the skirt.

“All four dancers were dressed alike, except that the older girls wore white silk bodices with a red and gold handkerchief, folded corner-wise, tied under the arms and knotted in front. The points of the handkerchief hung to the middle of the back. In the case of the two younger girls the entire dress was of one material. On their arms the dancers wore numbers of gold bangles, and their fingers were covered with diamond rings. In their ears were fastened the diamond buttons so much affected by Malays, and indeed now by Western ladies. Their feet, of course, were bare. We had ample time to minutely observe these details before the dance commenced, for when we came into the hall the four girls were sitting down in the usual152 Eastern fashion on the carpet, bending forward, their elbows resting on their thighs, and hiding the sides of their faces, which were towards the audience, with fans made of crimson and gilt paper which sparkled in the light.

“On our entrance the band struck up, and our special attention was called to the orchestra, as the instruments are seldom seen in the Malay Peninsula. There were two chief performers: one playing on a sort of harmonicon, the notes of which he struck with pieces of stick held in each hand. The other, with similar pieces of wood, played on inverted metal bowls. Both these performers seemed to have sufficiently hard work, but they played with the greatest spirit from 10 P.M. till 5 A.M.

“The harmonicon is called by Malays chelempong, and the inverted bowls, which give a pleasant and musical sound like the noise of rippling water, gambang. The other members of the orchestra consisted of a very small boy who played, with a very large and thick stick, on a gigantic gong, an old woman who beat a drum with two sticks, and several other boys who played on instruments like triangles called chÂnang. All these performers, we were told with much solemnity, were artists of the first order, masters and a mistress in their craft, and if vigour of execution counts for excellence they proved the justice of the praise.

“The Hall, of considerable size, capable of accommodating several hundreds of people, was only dimly lighted, but the fact that, while the audience was in semi-darkness, the light was concentrated on the performers added to the effect. Besides ourselves, I question whether there were more than twenty spectators, but sitting on the top of the dais, near to the dancers, it was hard to pierce the surrounding gloom. The orchestra was placed on the left of the entrance to the Hall, that is, rather to the side and rather in the background, a position evidently chosen with due regard to the feelings of the audience.

“From the elaborate and vehement execution of the players, and the want of regular time in the music, I judged, and rightly, that we had entered as the overture began. During its performance the dancers sat leaning forward, hiding their faces as I have described; but when it concluded and, without any break, the music changed into the regular rhythm for dancing, the four girls dropped their fans, raised their hands in the act of Sembah or homage, and then began the dance by swaying their bodies and slowly waving their arms and hands in the most graceful movements making much and effective use all the while of the scarf hanging from their belts. Gradually raising themselves from a sitting to a kneeling posture, acting in perfect accord in every motion, then rising to their feet, they floated through a series of figures hardly to be exceeded in grace and difficulty, considering that the movements are essentially slow, the arms, hands, and body being the real performers, whilst the feet are scarcely noticed and for half the time not visible.

“They danced five or six dances, each lasting quite half an hour, with materially different figures and time in the music. All these dances, I was told, were symbolical: one of agriculture, with the tilling of the soil, the sowing of the seed, the reaping and winnowing of the grain, might easily have been guessed from the dancer’s movements. But those of the audience whom I was near enough to question were, Malay-like, unable to give me much information. Attendants stood or sat near the dancers, and from time to time, as the girls tossed one thing on the floor, handed them another. Sometimes it was a fan or a mirror they held, sometimes a flower or small vessel, but oftener their hands were empty, as it is in the management of the fingers that the chief art of Malay dancers consists.

“The last dance, symbolical of war, was perhaps the best, the music being much faster, almost inspiriting, and the movements of the dancers more free and even abandoned. For the latter half of the dance they each held a wand, to represent a sword, bound with three rings of burnished gold which glittered in the light like precious stones. This nautch, which began soberly like the others, grew to a wild revel until the dancers were, or pretended to be, possessed by the Spirit of Dancing, hantu menÂri as they called it, and leaving the Hall for a moment to smear their fingers and faces with a fragrant oil, they returned, and the two eldest, striking at each other with their wands, seemed inclined to turn the symbolical into a real battle. They were, however, after some trouble, caught by four or five women and carried forcibly out of the Hall, but not until their captors had been made to feel the weight of the magic wands. The two younger girls, who looked as if they too would like to be “possessed,” but did not know how to accomplish it, were easily caught and removed.

“The bands, whose strains had been increasing in wildness and in time, ceased playing on the removal of the dancers, and the nautch, which had begun at 10 P.M., was over.

“The Raja, who had only appeared at 4 A.M., told me that one of the elder girls, when she became “properly possessed,” lived for months on nothing but flowers, a pretty and poetic conceit.

“As we left the Astana, and taking boat rowed slowly to the vessel waiting for us off the river’s mouth, the rising sun was driving the fog from the numbers of lovely green islets, that seemed to float like dew-drenched lotus leaves on the surface of the shallow stream.153”

The religious origin of almost all Malay dances is still to be seen in the performance of such ritualistic observances as the burning of incense, the scattering of rice, and the invocation of the Dance-spirit according to certain set forms, the spirit being duly exorcised again (or “escorted homewards,” as it is called) at the end of the performance.

The dances which have best preserved the older ritual are precisely those which are the least often seen, such as the “Gambor Dance” (main gambor), the “Monkey Dance” (main b’rok), the “Palm-blossom Dance” (main mayang), and the “Fish-trap Dance” (main lukah). These I will take in the order mentioned.

The “Gambor Dance” (lit. Gambor Play) should be performed by girls just entering upon womanhood. The dÉbutante is attired in an attractive coat and skirt (sarong), is girt about at the waist with a yellow (royal) sash, and is further provided with an elaborate head-dress, crescent-shaped pendants (dokoh) for the breast, and a fan. The only other “necessary” is the “Pleasure-garden” (taman bunga), which is represented by a large water-jar containing a bunch of long sprays, from the ends of which are made to depend artificial flowers, fruit, and birds, the whole being intended to attract the spirit (Hantu Gambor). In addition there is the usual circular tray, with its complement of sacrificial rice and incense. Everything being ready, the dÉbutante lies down and is covered over with a sheet, and incense is burnt, the sacrificial rice sprinkled, and the invocation of the spirit is chanted by a woman to the accompaniment of the tambourines. Ere it has ended, if all goes well, the charm will have begun to work, the spirit descends, and the dance commences.

At the end of this dance, as has already been said, the spirit is exorcised, that is, he is “escorted back” to the seventh heaven from whence he came.

The invocations, which are used both at the commencement and the conclusion of the performance, consist of poems which belong unmistakably to the “Panji” cycle of stories; here and there they contain old words which are still used in Java.

The “Monkey Dance” is achieved by causing the “Monkey spirit” to enter into a girl of some ten years of age. She is first rocked to and fro in a Malay infant’s swinging-cot (buayan), and fed with areca-nut and salt (pinang garam). When she is sufficiently dizzy or “dazed” (mabok), an invocation addressed to the “Monkey spirit” is chanted (to tambourine accompaniments), and at its close the child commences to perform a dance, in the course of which she is said sometimes to achieve some extraordinary climbing feats which she could never have achieved unless “possessed.” When it is time for her to recover her senses she is called upon by name, and if that fails to recall her, is bathed all over with cocoa-nut milk (ayer niyor hijau).

The foregoing does not, of course, in any way exhaust the list of Malay dances. Others will be found described in various parts of this book, amongst them the “Henna Dance” (at weddings); the medicine-man’s dance, as performed at the bedside of a sick person; the dance performed in honour of a dead tiger; theatrical dances, and many kinds of sword and dagger dances, or posture-dances (such as the main bersilat, or main berpenchak), whether performed for the diversion of the beholders or by way of defiance (as in war). The main dabus is a dance performed with a species of iron spits, whose upper ends are furnished with hoops, upon which small iron rings are strung, and which accordingly give out a jingling noise when shaken. Two of these spits (buah dabus) are charmed (to deaden their bite), and taken up, one in each hand, by the dancer, who shakes them at each step that he takes. When he is properly possessed, he drives the points of these spits through the muscle of each forearm, and lets them hang down whilst he takes up a second pair. He then keeps all four spits jingling at once until the dance ceases. The point of each spit goes right through the muscle, but if skilfully done, draws no blood.154

We now come to a class of dances in which certain inanimate objects, that are believed to be temporarily animated, are the performers, and which therefore closely correspond to the performances of our own spiritualists.

The Palm-blossom dance is a very curious exhibition, which I once saw performed in the Langat District of Selangor. Two freshly-gathered sheaves of areca-palm blossom (each several feet in length) were deposited upon a new mat, near a tray containing a censer and the three kinds of sacrificial rice.

The magician (’Che Ganti by name) commenced the performance by playing a prelude on his violin. Presently his wife (an aged Selangor woman) took some of the rice in her hand and commenced to chant the words of the invocation, she being almost immediately joined in the chant by a younger woman. Starting with the words, “Thus I brace up, I brace up the Palm-blossom” (’ku anggit mayang ’ku anggit), their voices rose higher and higher until the seventh stanza was reached, when the old woman covered the two sheaves of Palm-blossom with a Malay plaid skirt (sarong) and the usual “five cubits of white cloth” (folded double), both of which had of course first been fumigated. Then followed seven more stanzas (“Borrow the hammer, Borrow the anvil,” and its companion verses), and rice having been thrown over one of the sheaves of palm-blossom, its sheath was opened and the contents fumigated. Then the old woman took the newly-fumigated sheaf between her hands, and the chant recommenced with the third septet of stanzas (“Dig up, dig up, the wild ginger plant”), as the erect palm-blossom swayed from side to side in time to the music. Finally the fiddle stopped and tambourines were substituted, and at this point the sheaf of blossom commenced to jump about on its stalk, as if it were indeed possessed, and eventually dashed itself upon the ground. After one or two repetitions of this performance, other persons present were invited to try it, and did so with varying success, which depended, I was told, upon the impressionability of their souls, as the palm-blossom would not dance for anybody whose soul was not impressionable (lemah semangat).

When the first blossom-sheaf had been destroyed by the rough treatment which it had to undergo, the second was duly fumigated and introduced to the company, and finally the performance was brought to a close by the chanting of the stanzas in which the spirit is requested to return to his own place. The two spoiled sheaves of blossom were then carried respectfully out of the house and laid on the ground beneath a banana-tree.

The Dancing Fish-trap (main lukah) is a spiritualistic performance, in which a fish-trap (lukah) is substituted for the sheaf of palm-blossom, and a different invocation is used. In other respects there is very little difference between the two. The fish-trap is dressed up much in the same way as a “scare-crow,” so as to present a rough and ready resemblance to the human figure, i.e. it is dressed in a woman’s coat and plaid skirt (sarong), both of which must, if possible, have been worn previously; a stick is run through it to serve as the arms of the figure, and a (sterile) cocoa-nut shell (tempurong jantan) clapped on the top to serve as a head. The invocation is then chanted in the same manner and to the same accompaniment as that used for the “Palm-blossom.” At its conclusion the magician whispers, so to speak, into the fish-trap’s ear, bidding it “not to disgrace him,” but rise up and dance, and the fish-trap presently commences to rock to and fro, and to leap about in a manner which of course proves it to be “possessed” by the spirit. Two different specimens of the invocations used will be found in the Appendix.

“The Malays are passionately addicted to buffalo and cock fighting. Whole poems are devoted to enthusiastic descriptions of these ‘sports of princes,’ and laws laid down for the latter as minute as those of the Hoyleian code.”155

“The bulls have been trained and medicined for months beforehand, with much careful tending, many strength-giving potions, and volumes of the old-world charms, which put valour and courage into a beast. They stand at each end of a piece of grassy lawn, with their knots of admirers around them, descanting on their various points, and with the proud trainer, who is at once keeper and medicine-man, holding them by the cord which is passed through their nose-rings. Until you have seen the water-buffalo stripped for the fight, it is impossible to conceive how handsome the ugly brute can look. One has been accustomed to see him with his neck bowed to the yoke he hates, and breaks whenever the opportunity offers; or else in the pÂdi fields. In the former case he looks out of place,—an anachronism belonging to a prehistoric period, drawing a cart which seems also to date back to the days before the Deluge. In the fields the buffalo has usually a complete suit of grey mud, and during the quiet evening hour goggles at you through the clouds of flies which surround his flapping ears and brutal nose, the only parts that can be seen of him above the surface of the mud-hole or the running water of the river. In both cases he is unlovely, but in the bull-ring he has something magnificent about him. His black coat has a gloss upon it which would not disgrace a London carriage horse, and which shows him to be in tip-top condition. His neck seems thicker and more powerful than that of any other animal, and it glistens with the chili water, which has been poured over it in order to increase his excitement. His resolute shoulders, his straining quarters,—each vying with the other for the prize for strength,—and his great girth, give a look of astonishing vigour and vitality to the animal. It is the head of the buffalo, however, which it is best to look at on these occasions. Its great spread of horns is very imposing, and the eyes, which are usually sleepy, cynically contemptuous and indifferent, or sullenly cruel, are for once full of life, anger, passion, and excitement. He stands there quivering and stamping, blowing great clouds of smoke from his mouth and nose:—

“The wild joy of battle is sending the blood boiling through the great arteries of the beast, and his accustomed lethargic existence is galvanised into a new fierce life. You can see that he is longing for the battle with an ardour that would have distanced that of a Quixote, and, for the first time, you begin to see something to admire even in the water-buffalo.

“A crowd of RÂjas, Chiefs, and commoners are assembled, in their gaily-coloured garments, which always serve to give life and beauty to every Malay picture, with its setting of brilliant never-fading green. The women in their gaudy silks, and dainty veils, glance coquettishly from behind the fenced enclosure which has been prepared for their protection, and where they are quite safe from injury. The young RÂjas stalk about, examine the bulls, and give loud and contradictory orders as to the manner in which the fight is to be conducted. The keepers, fortunately, are so deafened by the row which every one near them is making, that they are utterly incapable of following directions which they cannot hear. Malays love many people and many things, and one of the latter is the sound of their own voices. When they are excited—and in the bull-ring they are always wild with excitement—they wax very noisy indeed, and, as they all talk, and no one listens to what any one else is saying, the green sward on which the combat is to take place speedily becomes a pandemonium, compared with which the Tower of Babel was a quiet corner in Sleepy Hollow.

“At last the word to begin is given, and the keepers of the buffaloes let out the lines made fast to the bulls’ noses, and lead their charges to the centre of the green. The lines are crossed, and then gradually drawn taut, so that the bulls are soon facing one another. Then the knots are loosed, and the cords slip from the nose-rings. A dead silence falls upon the people, and for a moment the combatants eye one another. Then they rush together, forehead to forehead, with a mighty impact. A fresh roar rends the sky, the backers of each beast shrieking advice and encouragement to the bull which carries their money.

“After the first rush, the bulls no longer charge, but stand with interlaced horns, straining shoulders, and quivering quarters, bringing tremendous pressure to bear one upon the other, while each strives to get a grip with the point of its horns upon the neck, or cheeks, or face of its opponent. A buffalo’s horn is not sharp, but the weight of the animal is enormous, and you must remember that the horns are driven with the whole of the brute’s bulk for lever and sledgehammer. Such force as is exerted would be almost sufficient to push a crowbar through a stone wall, and, tough though they are, the hardest of old bull buffaloes is not proof against the terrible pressure brought to bear. The bulls show wonderful activity and skill in these fencing matches. Each beast gives way the instant that it is warned by the touch of the horn-tip that its opponent has found an opening, and woe betide the bull that puts its weight into a stab which the other has time to elude. In the flick of an eye—as the Malay phrase has it—advantage is taken of the blunder, and, before the bull has time to recover its lost balance, its opponent has found an opening, and has wedged its horn-point into the neck or cheek. When at last a firm grip has been won, and the horn has been driven into the yielding flesh, as far as the struggles of its opponent render possible, the stabber makes his great effort. Pulling his hind-legs well under him, and straightening his fore-legs to the utmost extent, till the skin is drawn taut over the projecting bosses of bone at the shoulders, and the knots of muscle stand out like cordage on a crate, he lifts his opponent. His head is skewed on one side, so that the horn on which his adversary is hooked is raised to the highest level possible, and his massive neck strains and quivers with the tremendous effort. If the stab is sufficiently low down, say in the neck or under the cheek-bone, the wounded bull is often lifted clean off his fore-feet, and hangs there helpless and motionless ‘while a man might count a score.’ The exertion of lifting, however, is too great to admit of its being continued for any length of time, and as soon as the wounded buffalo regains its power of motion—that is to say, as soon as its fore-feet are again on the ground—it speedily releases itself from its adversary’s horn. Then, since the latter is often spent by the extraordinary effort which has been made, it frequently happens that it is stabbed and lifted in its turn before balance has been completely recovered.

“Once, and only once, have I seen a bull succeed in throwing his opponent, after he had lifted it off its feet. The vanquished bull turned over on its back before it succeeded in regaining its feet, but the victor was itself too used up to more than make a ghost of a stab at the exposed stomach of its adversary. This throw is still spoken of in Pahang as the most marvellous example of skill and strength which has ever been called forth within living memory by any of these contests.

“As the stabs follow one another, to the sound of the clicking of the horns and the mighty blowing and snorting of the breathless bulls, lift succeeds lift with amazing rapidity. The green turf is stamped into mud by the great hoofs of the labouring brutes, and at length one bull owns himself to be beaten. Down goes his head—that sure sign of exhaustion—and in a moment he has turned round and is off on a bee-line, hotly pursued by the victor. The chase is never a long one, as the conqueror always abandons it at the end of a few hundred yards, but while it lasts it is fast and furious, and woe betide the man who finds himself in the way of either of the excited animals.

“Mr. Kipling has told us all about the Law of the Jungle—which after all is only the code of man, adapted to the use of the beasts by Mr. Rudyard Kipling—but those who know the ways of buffaloes are aware that they possess one very well-recognised law. This is, ‘Thou shalt not commit trespass.’ Every buffalo-bull has its own ground; and into this no other bull willingly comes. If he is brought there to do battle, he fights with very little heart, and is easily vanquished by an opponent of half his strength and bulk who happens to be fighting on his own land. When bulls are equally matched, they are taken to fight on neutral ground. When they are badly matched the land owned by the weaker is selected for the scene of the contest.

“All these fights are brutal, and in time they will, we trust, be made illegal. To pass a prohibitionary regulation, however, without the full consent of the Chiefs and people of Pahang would be a distinct breach of the understanding on which British Protection was accepted by them. The Government is pledged not to interfere with native customs, and the sports in which animals are engaged are among the most cherished institutions of the people of Pahang. To fully appreciate the light in which any interference with these things would be viewed by the native population, it is necessary to put oneself in the position of a keen member of the Quorn, who saw Parliament making hunting illegal, on the grounds that the sufferings inflicted on the fox rendered it an inhuman pastime. As I have said in a former chapter, the natives of Pahang are, in their own way, very keen sportsmen indeed; and, when all is said and done, it is doubtful whether hunting is not more cruel than anything which takes place in a Malay cock-pit or bull-ring. The longer the run the better the sport, and more intense and prolonged the agony of the fox, that strives to run for his life, even when he is so stiff with exertion that he can do little more than roll along. All of us have, at one time or another, experienced in nightmares the agony of attempting to fly from some pursuing phantom, when our limbs refuse to serve us. This, I fancy, is much what a fox suffers, only his pains are intensified by the grimness of stern reality. If he stops he loses his life, therefore he rolls, and flounders, and creeps along when every movement has become a fresh torture. The cock, quail, dove, bull, ram, or fish,156 on the other hand, fights because it is his nature to do so, and when he has had his fill he stops. His pluck, his pride, and his hatred of defeat alone urge him to continue the contest. He is never driven by the relentless whip of stern, inexorable necessity. This it is which makes fights between animals, that are properly conducted, less cruel than one is apt to imagine.”157

I will now pass to the subject of cock-fighting, of which the following vivid description is also taken from Mr. Clifford’s In Court and Kampong.158

“In the Archipelago, and on the West Coast of the Peninsula, cock-fights are conducted in the manner known to the Malays as ber-tÂji, the birds being armed with long artificial spurs, sharp as razors, and curved like a Malay woman’s eyebrow. These weapons make cruel wounds, and cause the death of one or other of the combatants almost before the sport has well begun. To the Malay of the East Coast this form of cock-fighting is regarded as stupid and unsportsmanlike, an opinion which I fully share. It is the marvellous pluck and endurance of the birds that lend an interest to a cock-fight—qualities which are in no way required if the birds are armed with weapons other than those with which they are furnished by nature.

“A cock-fight between two well-known birds is a serious affair in Pahang. The rival qualities of the combatants have furnished food for endless discussion for weeks, or even months, before, and every one of standing has visited and examined the cocks, and has made a book upon the event. On the day fixed for the fight a crowd collects before the palace, and some of the King’s youths set up the cock-pit, which is a ring, about three feet in diameter, enclosed by canvas walls, supported on stakes driven into the ground. Presently the JuÂra, or cock-fighters, appear, each carrying his bird under his left arm. They enter the cock-pit, squat down, and begin pulling at, and shampooing the legs and wings of their birds, in the manner which Malays believe loosen the muscles, and get the reefs out of the cocks’ limbs. Then the word is given to start the fight, and the birds, released, fly straight at one another, striking with their spurs, and sending feathers flying in all directions. This lasts for perhaps three minutes, when the cocks begin to lose their wind, and the fight is carried on as much with their beaks as with their spurs. Each bird tries to get its head under its opponent’s wing, running forward to strike at the back of its antagonist’s head, as soon as its own emerges from under its temporary shelter. This is varied by an occasional blow with the spurs, and the Malays herald each stroke with loud cries of approval. BÂsah! BÂsah! ‘Thou hast wetted him! Thou hast drawn blood!’ Ah itu dia! ‘That is it! That is a good one!’ Ah sÂkit-lah itu! ‘Ah, that was a nasty one!’ And the birds are exhorted to make fresh efforts, amid occasional burst of the shrill chorus of yells, called sÔrak, their backers cheering them on, and crying to them by name.

“Presently time is called, the watch being a small section of cocoa-nut in which a hole has been bored, that is set floating on the surface of a jar of water, until it gradually becomes filled and sinks. At the word, each cock-fighter seizes his bird, drenches it with water, cleans out with a feather the phlegm which has collected in its throat, and shampoos its legs and body. Then, at the given word, the birds are again released, and they fly at one another with renewed energy. They lose their wind more speedily this time, and thereafter they pursue the tactics already described until time is again called. When some ten rounds have been fought, and both the birds are beginning to show signs of distress, the interest of the contest reaches its height, for the fight is at an end if either bird raises its back feathers in a peculiar manner, by which cocks declare themselves to be vanquished. Early in the tenth round the right eye-ball of one cock is broken, and, shortly after, the left eye is bunged up, so that for the time it is blind. Nevertheless, it refuses to throw up the sponge, and fights on gallantly to the end of the round, taking terrible punishment, and doing but little harm to its opponent. One cannot but be full of pity and admiration for the brave bird, which thus gives so marvellous an example of its pluck and endurance. At last time is called, and the cock-fighter who is in charge of the blinded bird, after examining it carefully, asks for a needle and thread, and the swollen lower lid of the still uninjured eye-ball is sewn to the piece of membrane on the bird’s cheek, and its sight is thus once more partially restored. Again time is called, and the birds resume their contest, the cock with the injured eye repaying its adversary so handsomely for the punishment which it had received in the previous round, that, before the cocoa-nut shell is half full of water, its opponent has surrendered, and has immediately been snatched up by the keeper in charge of it. The victorious bird, draggled and woebegone, with great patches of red flesh showing through its wet plumage, with the membrane of its face and its short gills and comb swollen and bloody, with one eye put out, and the other only kept open by the thread attached to its eyelid, yet makes shift to strut, with staggering gait, across the cock-pit, and to notify its victory by giving vent to a lamentable ghost of a crow. Then it is carried off followed by an admiring, gesticulating, vociferous crowd, to be elaborately tended and nursed, as befits so gallant a bird. The beauty of the sport is that either bird can stop fighting at any moment. They are never forced to continue the conflict if once they have declared themselves defeated, and the only real element of cruelty is thus removed. The birds in fighting follow the instinct which nature has implanted in them, and their marvellous courage and endurance surpass anything to be found in any other animals, human or otherwise, with which I am acquainted. Most birds fight more or less—from the little fierce quail to the sucking doves which ignorant Europeans, before their illusions have been dispelled by a sojourn in the East, are accustomed to regard as the emblems of peace and purity; but no bird, or beast, or fish, or human being fights so well, or takes such pleasure in the fierce joy of battle, as does a plucky, lanky, ugly, hard-bit old fighting-cock.

“The Malays regard these birds with immense respect, and value their fighting-cocks next to their children. A few years ago, a boy, who was in charge of a cock which belonged to a RÂja of my acquaintance, accidentally pulled some feathers from the bird’s tail. ‘What did you do that for? Devil!’ cried the RÂja.

“‘It was not done on purpose, Ungku!’ said the boy.

“‘Thou art marvellous clever at repartee!’ quoth the Prince, and, so saying, he lifted a billet of wood, which chanced to be lying near at hand, and smote the boy on the head so that he died.

“‘That will teach my people to have a care how they use my fighting-cocks!’ said the RÂja; and that was his servant’s epitaph.

“‘It is a mere boyish prank,’ said the father of the young RÂja, when the matter was reported to him, ‘and, moreover, it is well that he should slay one or two with his own hand, else how should men learn to fear him?’ And there the matter ended; but it should be borne in mind that the fighting-cock of a Malay Prince is not to be lightly trifled with.”

Of the form of cock-fighting practised on the West Coast of the Peninsula Newbold writes:—

“The following is a specimen from a Malay MS. on the subject, commencing with remarks on the various breeds of this noble bird:—

“The best breeds of game-cocks are the Biring, the Jalak, the Teddong, the Chenantan,159 the Ijou, the Pilas, the Bongkas,160 the Su, the Belurong,161 and the Krabu.162

“The colour of the Biring is red with yellow feet and beak.

“The Jalak is white mixed with black, with yellow feet, and beak also yellow mixed with black.

“The Teddong has black eyes and legs, red and black plumage, and a black beak. It is named from a sort of serpent, whose bite is accounted mortal.

“The Chenantan has white feathers, feet, and beak.

“The Ijou has a greenish black beak, feathers black mixed with white, legs green.

“The Pilas has a black beak, red and black feathers, legs white mixed with black.

“The Bongkas has a yellow beak, white feathers and yellow feet.

“The Su has a white beak with white spots, plumage white and black, legs white with black spots.

“The Belurong has a white beak with red spots, plumage red, white feet.

“The Krabu has a red beak mixed with yellow, red feathers and yellow feet.

“There are two kinds of spurs: first, the Golok Golok, in the form of a straight knife known by this name and in use with the Malays; and, secondly, the Taji Benkok, or curved spur: the last is most in vogue.

“There are various modes of tying on the spur, viz. Salik, or below the natural spur; Kumbar, on a level with it; Panggong, above the spur; Sa ibu Tangan, a thumb’s breadth below the knee joint; Sa Kalinking, a little finger’s breadth; Andas Bulu, close to the feathers under the knee; Jankir, upon the little toe; Sauh wongkang, on the middle toe; Berchingkama, tying the three large toes together with the spur—this is the most advantageous; Golok, binding the little toe and the toe on the left with the spur; Golok di Battang, below the natural spur. It is necessary to observe that the Malays generally use one spur; though two spurs are sometimes given to match a weaker against a stronger bird.

“1. The winner takes the dead bird.

“2. If a drawn battle (Sri) each takes his own.

“3. No person but the holder shall interfere with the cocks after they have been once set to, even if one of them run away, except by the permission of the Juara, or setter-to. Should any person do so, and the cock eventually win the battle, the owners shall be entitled to half the stakes only.

“4. Should one of the cocks run away, and the wounded one pursue it, both birds shall be caught and held by their Juaras. Should the runaway cock refuse to peck at its adversary three times, the wings shall be twined over the back, and it shall be put on the ground for its adversary to peck at; should he too refuse, after it has been three times presented, it is a Sri, or drawn battle. The cock that pecks wins.

“5. The stakes on both sides must be forthcoming and deposited on the spot.

“6. A cock shall not be taken up unless the spur be broken, even by the Juaras.

“When a cock has won his disposition changes.

“A cock is called Cheyma when he chooses round grains of paddy, or fights with his shadow, or spurs or pecks at people.

“The Malays believe in the influence of certain periods in the day over the breeds of cocks. They will not bet upon a bird with black plumage that is matched against one with yellow and white at the period Kutika Miswara; nor against a black one set to with a white one at the period Kutika Kala. Kutika Sri is favourable in this case for the white feathered bird. Kutika Brahma is propitious to a red cock matched against a light grey; and Kutika Vishnu for a green cock.163

“I once witnessed a grand contest between two Malayan States at the breaking up of the Ramazan fast. Most of the cock-fighters presented themselves at the Golongan or cock-pit with a game-cock under each arm. The birds were not trimmed as in England, but fought in full feather. The spurs used on this occasion were about two and a half inches long, in shape like the blade of a scythe, and were sharpened on the spot by means of a fine whetstone; large gashes were inflicted by these murderous instruments, and it rarely happened that both cocks survived the battle. Cocks of the same colour are seldom matched. The weight is adjusted by the setters-to passing them to and from each other’s hands as they sit facing each other in the Golongan. Should there be any difference, it is brought down to an equality by the spur being fixed so many scales higher on the leg of the heavier cock, or according to rules adverted to, as deemed fair by both parties. One spur only is used, and is generally fastened near the natural spur on the inside of the left leg. In adjusting these preliminaries the professional skill of the setters-to is called into action, and much time is taken up in grave deliberation, which often terminates in wrangling. The birds, after various methods of irritating them have been practised, are then set to. During the continuance of the battle, the excitement and interest taken by the Malays in the barbarous exhibition is vividly depicted in their animated looks and gestures—everything they possess in the world being often staked on the issue.

“The breed of cocks on the Peninsula more resembles the game-fowl of England than the large lanky breed known in Europe under the term ‘Malay.’ Great attention is paid by natives to the breed and feeding of game-cocks.”164

“Gambling of various descriptions, both with dice and with cards, is much in vogue. These, as well as the poe-table, have been introduced by the Chinese, who are even greater adepts than the Malays in all that relates to this pernicious vice.

“Saparaga165 is a game resembling football, played by ten or twenty youths and men, who stand in a circle, keeping up a hollow ratan ball in the air, which is passed to and fro by the action of the knees and feet—the object being to prevent the ball from touching the ground; it is frequently, however, taken at the rebound. The awkwardness of novices occasions great merriment.

“The Sangheta166 is a game implicating broken heads; but, properly speaking, is a ‘vi et armis’ mode of arbitration in matters of dispute between two Sukus or tribes. A certain number of men from each tribe turn out and pelt each other with sticks and logs of wood, until one of the parties gives in. The victors in this petty tourney are presumed to have the right on their side.

“The Malays are remarkably attached to singing reciprocal Pantuns, stanzas comprising four alternate rhyming lines, of which notice has been taken elsewhere. Poetical contests in the Bucolic style are often carried on to a great length by means of Pantuns. To music Malays are passionately devoted, particularly to that of the violin. They evince a good ear, and great readiness in committing to memory even European airs. A voyage or journey of any length is seldom undertaken by the better classes without a minstrel.

“Takki Takki167 are riddles and enigmas, to the propounding and solving of which the females and educated classes of the people are much inclined.

“The games played by children are Tujoh Lobang,168 Punting, Chimpli, Kechil Krat, Kuboh, etc.”169

Of all minor games, top-spinning and kite-flying are perhaps the most popular. The kites are called layang-layang, which means a “swallow,” but are sometimes of great size, one which was brought to me at Langat measuring some six feet in height by about seven feet between the tips of the wings. The peculiarity of the Malay kite is that it presents a convex, instead of a concave, surface to the wind, and that no “tail” is required, the kite being steadied by means of a beak which projects forward at the top of the framework. They are also usually provided with a thin, horizontal slip of bamboo (dengong) stretched tightly behind the beak, and which hums loudly in the wind. They are of a great number of different but well-recognised patterns, such as the “Fighting Dragons” (Naga berjuang), the Crescent (Sahari bulan), the Eagle (Rajawali), the Bird of Paradise (Chendrawasih), and so forth. A small kind of roughly-made kite is, as is well known, used at Singapore for fishing purposes, but I have never yet met with any instance of their being used ceremonially, though it is quite certain that grown-ups will fly them with quite as much zest as children.

Top-spinning, again, is a favourite pastime among the Malays, and is played by old and young of all ranks with the same eagerness.170 The most usual form of top is not unlike the English pegtop, but has a shorter peg. It is spun in the same way and with the same object as our own pegtop, the object being to split the top of one’s opponent.

Teetotums are also used, and I have seen in Selangor a species of bamboo humming-top, but was told that it was copied from a humming-top used by the Chinese.

“The game of chess, which has been introduced from Arabia,171 is played in almost precisely the same manner as among Europeans, but the queen, instead of being placed upon her own colour, is stationed at the right hand of the king. In the Malay game the king, if he has not been checked, can be castled, but over one space only, not over two, as in the English game. The king may, also, before he is checked or moved from his own square, move once, like a knight, either to left or right, and he may also, if he has not moved or been checked, move once over two vacant squares instead of one.” The following are the names of the pieces:—

• 1. Raja, the King.
• 2. Mentri (“Minister”), the Queen.
• 3. TÊr or Tor, the Castle.
• 4. Gajah (“Elephant”), the Bishop.
• 5. Kuda (“Horse”), the Knight.
• 6. Bidak, the Pawns.172

Main chongkak, again, is a game played with a board (papan chongkak) consisting of a boat-shaped block.

In the top of this block (where the boat’s deck would be) are sunk a double row of holes, the rows containing eight holes each, and two more holes are added, one at each end. Each of the eight holes (in both rows) is filled at starting with eight buah gorek (the buah gorek being the fruit of a common tree, also called kelichi in Malacca). There are usually two players who pick the buah gorek out of the holes in turn, and deposit them in the next hole according to certain fixed rules of numerical combination, a solitary buah gorek, wherever it is found, being put back and compelled to recommence its journey down the board.

A similar game is, I believe, known in many parts of the East, and was formerly much played even by Malay slaves, who used to make the double row of holes in the ground when no board was obtainable.

The Malay game of Draughts (main dam) is played, I believe, in exactly the same manner as the English game. Backgammon (main tabal), on the other hand, is played in two different ways.

The “Tiger” Game (main rimau), or “Tiger and Goat” Game (main rimau kambing), is a game which has a distinct resemblance to our own “fox and goose,” there being usually four tigers to a dozen of the goats.

“Cards are called Kertas sakopong. The Malays are fond of card games, but few Europeans have taken the trouble to understand or describe them. The late Sir W. E. Maxwell contributed the following description of daun tiga ’lei to the Notes and Queries of the Journal of the Straits Asiatic Society. It refers to the game in question as played in Perak:—

“Three cards are dealt out to each player. The highest hand counting by pips is that which contains the greatest number of pips after the tens are deducted. Thus a knave, ten, and nine is a good hand.

“The best hand is three aces, Sat tiga.

“The next best is three court-cards, Kuda; naik kuda.

“The next is nine.

“The next is eight.

“All these four hands are known as terus. A hand of three threes is really a good hand, being nine, but it is considered a propitiation of good luck to throw it down (without exposing it), and announce that one is buta, in the hopes of getting good luck afterwards.

“Each player makes two stakes—kapala and ekor. They may be of equal value, or the ekor may be of greater value than the kapala.

“The kapala must not be of greater value than the ekor; that is called tual ka ujong (tual = berat).

“Or there may be a single stake only, which is called podul.

“Betting between players is called sorong, or tuwi, or sorong tuwi.

“A pool, tuwi tengah.

“The ekor stake is only paid to the dealer if he holds one of the hands called terus, and if a smaller hand is held by a player, then the dealer takes both kapala and ekor (mengelong).

“A player who holds thirty exactly (except when he has three court-cards, kuda) is said to be out (buta).

“Any one except the player on the right of the dealer may cut. The player who cuts looks at the bottom card of those that he lifts, and if he thinks it is a lucky cut he accepts it and puts down the card he has lifted (pengerat).

“The dealer then puts the rest of the pack on top of the cut, and in his turn lifts a portion of the pack (pengangkat), and looks at the bottom card.

“There are all sorts of names for different cards and combinations of cards of various degrees of luck, and these are quoted by the cutter and dealer, each declaring his confidence in the luck coming to him by reason of the cutting or lifting of a particular card.

“A player does not hastily look at his three cards and learn his fate at once, but he prolongs the excitement by holding his cards tight together, and looking alternately at the outside ones, and last of all at the middle one, sliding out the latter between the two others little by little. Thus it is left uncertain for some time whether a card is an eight or a seven, a nine or a ten.

“A man to whom a court-card, an eight, and an ace is dealt (if the eight is in the middle), on finding that he has eleven by the two outside ones, says, for instance, Handak kaki tiga, and then commences to slide out the middle card, hoping that it is going to be an eight, or at all events a seven (three pips on each side). This particular hand is called lang siput, because it is certain to carry off something.

“A man who has just held a winning hand will say, in expressing a hope of continued good luck, ‘Teman handak pisang sarabu, sudah sa-batang sa-batang pula.’ (The plantain called sarabu is one which puts out fruit from every stem of the perdu about the same time, or one immediately after another.)”173

The following account of card games as played in Selangor was compiled some years ago by the writer. The names of the cards used in Selangor are these:—

The three most important card games are—(1) main sakopong, (2) main chabut, (3) main tiga ’lei, or pakau.

1. In the game called sakopong all cards from two to six are cast out, and five cards are dealt out to each of the players (who may be from two to four in number); a player leads (turunkan) the card, and the next player has either to follow suit (turunkan daun sagaji) or throw down a card, turning it over (susupkan). If the next player is able to follow suit, whoever plays the highest card of the suit wins. If each player wins a trick it is declared drawn (s’ri), and in this case all stakes are returned.

2. Main chabut is a species of vingt-et-un, and is played with either twenty-one or thirty-one points. If twenty-one points only is the game, court-cards are not counted; but if the game is thirty-one points they are also added in. Two cards are dealt by the dealer (perdi) to each player, who draws (chabut) fresh cards from the bottom of the pack in his turn, and gets as near as possible to thirty-one. If he thinks he cannot safely draw another card (e.g. after twenty-six pips are in his hand) he “passes” (which is called b’lit kechil if he stops at twenty-six, twenty-seven, or twenty-eight, and b’lit besar if he stops at twenty-nine or thirty).

If he obtains exactly thirty-one pips he is said to “enter the points” (masok mata); but no player can draw more than seven cards, and if he has, after drawing to the full limit, still failed to obtain as many pips as he wants, he is said to “enter the pack” (masok daun). I may add that the first two cards are called lunas or “keels,” and this may be of various kinds, e.g.:—

• 1. Lunas nikah, i.e. angkong dengan sat (a court-card and an ace).
• 2. Kachang di-rendang di-tugalkan, i.e. two aces; a very convenient hand, as the aces may be reckoned as either one or eleven, as occasion may require.
• 3. Lunas sa-glabat, or sagaji ampat-b’las, i.e. angkong dengan daun ampat (court-card and four).
• 4. Lunas dua jalor, two threes.
• 5. Ace and two, which is the best of all.

In playing chabut or “casting out,” the tens should be thrown away (di-buang daun puloh). When two players have the same number of pips—e.g. nine and nine or eight and eight—the coincidence is described in the words, Jumpa di jalan, di-adu, kalah, di-chabut, mati. To be “bluffed” is called kena ranjau (wounded by a caltrop).

And again, when a player has obtained, let us say, twenty-six pips with six cards, and so has only one more chance, and is afraid to risk it, his position is ridiculed in the phrase, Sa-nepak Ulu Klang, a jest of obviously local coinage.

The phrase Tengah tiang (half mast), again, is applied to twenty-five pips held irrespective of the number of cards; and if more than thirty-one are obtained, the player is said to be out (mati, or masok piring).

3. Daun tiga ’lei or Pakau is played here as follows:—

Three cards are dealt by the dealer to each player, and the winner is he who holds the greatest number of pips, with certain exceptions.

A hand of three threes, it will be observed, is the second best hand in Selangor, whereas in Perak, according to Sir W. E. Maxwell, it is thrown away as the worst.

The stakes, which are deposited in two heaps by each player, are here called kapala or “head,” and buntut (or ekor), the “tail,” respectively; the kapala being generally, though perhaps not always, greater than the ekor in Selangor, instead of the reverse. The latter can only be lost when a player sweeps the board. A single stake, again, is podul (or occasionally tual), but bertuwi is applied to betting between players, and sorong or tokong means to put down a stake before your rival replies with a counter-stake (berteban or topah). A player who holds thirty exactly is not out here—e.g., he may hold a court-card and two tens. To look at the bottom card is menengo’ angkatan.

Sir W. E. Maxwell gives a number of names and phrases applied to particular cards and combinations of cards, to which I may add—

• Two nines and a two—China Keh mengandar ayer.
• An eight and an ace (making nine) with a court-card, or a ten and two nines—Sembilang bertelor.
• Two court-cards and a nine—Parak hari ’nak siang.
• The four of any suit—Tiang jamban Lebai ?Ali.

The explanation of handak kaki tiga, as applied to an eight, appears to be that the eight has three pips on each side. It is also called berisi sa-b’lah. Minta’ penoh (I ask for a full one) means I want a nine (?), and minta’ tombak (I ask for a lance), I want two pips (or three, as the case may be).

Besides the above, there are miniature or bijou cards (cheki)—e.g. cheki dua-b’las, cheki lima-b’las and ’tan or beretan daun sambilan, etc., the daun cheki being distinguished by their borders, e.g. iyu kuching, iyu nyonya, iyu panjang, iyu merak besar, iyu kasut; and again gapet, gapet k’rang, gapet rintek, gapet lichin; babi, babi rintek, babi pusat, babi lichin; kau merah, kau bulat, kau lichin; layer, layer rintek, layer pitis, layer lichin. Six to seven people play these games. A sort of whist is also played from time to time under the name of main trup. At this game a trick is called sapudi; to sweep the board is pukol tani; and the players who get no tricks at all are said to be sold up (kena kot).174

I will now give some specimens of the games I have seen played by children:—

“Throwing the Flower across” (champak bunga sa-b’lah) is a game which I have seen thus played by boys.

A handkerchief was twisted up (like a rope) from corner to corner, folded in half, and then tied together at the ends.

Two couples stood facing one another at a few yards’ distance, and at a given signal one of the boys in each couple took his companion up on to his shoulders. The two who were mounted threw the handkerchief across to each other, and back again by turns. When the one failed to catch it, both riders dismounted and offered backs to their late “mounts,” who thus became riders, and threw the handkerchief in their turn. Each time, however, that a catch was made both parties crossed over. When three catches were made in unbroken succession (kelerik) the riders had the privilege of being carried across three times before recommencing play.

I should add that a coin was tossed up at the outset of the game to decide who were to start as the riders, and who were to be the ridden.

Main Sesel (or Kachau kueh) bears a strong family resemblance to our own “Hen and chickens.” When I witnessed it, a big boy played the “Paterfamilias” with a string of children at his back, each of whom was holding on to the one in front of him. Presently a “Cakeseller” presented himself, and the following conversation ensued:—

Here the Cakeseller hands a ball of earth to Paterfamilias, who passes it down the line of children to the youngest child at the end of the row. The conversation then recommenced—

Here a desperate effort was made by the poor Cakeseller to dodge past Paterfamilias and get at the boy, whom he eventually succeeded in carrying off.

Main Tul is a game somewhat resembling our own “Puss in the corner,” but with only one “home.” The “home” consisted of a stake planted upright, and the first “Puss” (orang tul) was selected by a species of divination depending upon repetition of the same formula as is used to select the blind man in Blind Man’s Buff (Main China Buta). There was (as I have said) only one home in this game, from which the players sallied forth to taunt the orang tul, and which they were obliged to touch in order to save themselves when closely pursued.

Main Seladang (Wild Bull game) is an excellent game for children with the shoeless feet of the East. A “wild bull” having been selected by repetition of the Ping hilang formula, went upon all fours, and entered into the following conversation between himself and one of the other players specially selected for the purpose. The latter opened negotiations with the clearly non-committal, if not very lucid remark, “Tam tam kul” to which the “Bull” replied, “Buat apa guna bakul” (What are you going to do with your basket?)

The Bull at the end of this baiting was ready to “charge” anybody and everything, and did accordingly run at the rest of the players, kicking out with all his might at anybody who came near. As he had to move on all fours he could not go very fast, and the other players took advantage of this to bait him still further by slapping him on the back and jumping over him. Whenever they came near enough he lashed out with his heels, and when he succeeded in kicking another player below the knee, the latter became a Bull in his turn. Much agility is displayed in this game, which is thoroughly enjoyed by the players.

“Blind Man’s Buff” (Main China Buta, or “Blind Chinaman”) is played in exactly the same manner as our own Blind Man’s Buff; one of the party, with bandaged eyes, being required to catch any one who comes near him.

The first blind man—at the commencement of the game—is chosen as follows: the intending players sit down together in a close circle, each of them putting down the tips of their forefingers in the centre of the circle; then somebody who is not playing taps each of them on the head in turn, repeating at each tap a word of the following formula:—

The meaning of this formula (as is the case with so many “nursery” rhymes) is very obscure, several words being unintelligible or at least doubtful. It is, however, the regular formula used for such games and is quite common.175

Chan chan siku rembat is a game which I saw played in Selangor as follows:—

The intending players stood in a row, looking straight in front of them, but with their hands behind their backs, whilst another boy, who had a piece of wood in his hand, walked down the line touching their hands and counting as he went the words of the following refrain:—

The “fruit” (or piece of wood, as the case may be) was left in the palm of one of the boys, and as soon as the reciter came to the end of the rhyme the boy with the token had to jump out of the ranks before he was stopped by the boys on each side of him, each of whom suddenly stretched out his legs for the purpose of tripping up the runaway. When they touched him he lost his turn, but if he succeeded in getting clear without being touched he obtained the privilege of going to the other end of the ground and calling any boy he chose out of the ranks to carry him back again, at the invitation of the late spokesman. On his return he was stopped in front of the ranks with the challenge:—

In reply to this last question the pass (i.e. the fruit or piece of wood) was shown and both boys rejoined the ranks, whereupon the game recommenced da capo.

Hantu Musang or “The Pole-cat Fiend,” is a game in which a boy sits down (between two others) with a cloth thrown over his head, the ends of which are twisted up (like rope ends) by the two boys on each side of him; the cloth fits his head like a cap, with a long end at the back and in front. First the boy in front pulls his end of the cloth and then the boy at the back pulls his end, thus causing the boy between them to rock to and fro. This treatment is continued for some time while they repeat the following rhyme:—

As soon as this rhyme is finished the two outside boys make off as fast as they can, pursued by the “pole-cat,” who is allowed to give a really good bite (in the arm) to the first person he overtakes.

Main Tunggul.—This game I saw played with four boys a side. A boy was selected to represent the tunggul or stump, and took up his position at a little distance (about half-way between the two parties as they stood facing each other a few yards apart). Up to the stump (tunggul) a boy from each of the sides alternately ran and whispered the name of a boy belonging to the opposite party. This whispering was continued until the names of the two boys selected happened to agree, the tunggul then making a gesture, at which the boys of one of the sides crossed over and carried back on their shoulders the boys belonging to the opposite side.

Kuching (the Cat Game) was a mere guessing game. The “guesser,” or witness (saksi), stood at a little distance with his face turned away whilst another boy was selected to play “puss,” and yet another boy was permitted to twitch him on the ear or wherever else he might prefer. Then the “witness” was told to turn round, and going up to the “cat” he made his guess.

Sorok-sorok is merely the Malay equivalent of our hide-and-seek, with the exception that whereas hide-and-seek may be played by day as well as by night, the game of sorok-sorok should properly be played at night alone.

Main Galah Panjang.—A square of ground is marked out into four quarters by a cross (as in the accompanying figure), and on it a game not unlike our own “Tom Tiddler’s Ground” is played (by three players on each side). The name means the “Long Pole” game.

Another child’s game is called Sanebang, and is played as follows:—

Two players sit down on the floor facing each other and chant the following rhyme, one of them lightly touching the other’s left arm in time to the music:—

The well-known game called Sapu-sapu ’Ringin I have seen played as follows:—

Two players sit down on the floor opposite each other, with their legs stretched out straight in front of them and their hands in their laps, and join in singing these lines:—

Here both players double up one leg under them as they sit; then they repeat the lines just quoted, doubling up the left leg at the end of the recital; then they close the fists and pile them one on each other, the lowest resting on one of the player’s knees, and say—

Here the lowest fist is flattened out. In the same way each of the four eggs (i.e. fists) is broken till the top is reached, when the four hands are moved up and down on the left knee of one of the players as the chant recommences—

Here both players raise their hands above their heads; then one player commences to rock to and fro (with arms now folded), the other holding him (or her) by the arms and crying—

Here they hook their little fingers together, and rock their bodies to and fro, singing—

Finally they sit still with hands clasped on knees, and sing—

Of minor children’s games the following may be mentioned:—

(1) Tuju (not tujoh,179) lobang, which appears to be identifiable with “Koba,” and which is played by throwing coins as near as possible to a hole (or holes?) in the ground.

(2) Chimplek, which is a sort of “heads and tails” game; “heads” being called chaping, and “tails” sim.

(3) Porok, which consists in kicking (with the side of the foot) a small cocoa-nut shell, with the object of hitting a similar shell a few yards off.

This game appears to be identical with what is called main gayau in Selangor, in which, however, a fruit or seed called buah gandu is substituted for the cocoa-nut shell and propelled by the big toe of the player’s foot.

(4) Main seremban, which is played with cockle-shells by two girls at a time, each player taking twenty cockle-shells (kulit k’rang) into her lap. Each player in turn has to toss up one of the cockle-shells and catch, simultaneously snatching a fresh shell from the heap. If the girl who is playing fails in either task, she loses to her opponent.

The Malay Drama, taking the word in its widest sense as comprising every kind of theatrical exhibition, includes performances of several different types, which derive their origin from various distinct sources. Most of them bear some traces of their foreign extraction, and though they have been much modified by the Malays, and are now quite “naturalised” in the Peninsula, it is pretty clear that the greater part have been borrowed from India, Siam, China, and possibly other countries. It is noteworthy that many, perhaps most, of the plots represented in these performances owe their origin to the old classical Indian Epics, and especially to the story of the Ramayana, which has been handed down traditionally, much modified by local colouring, in Java and Siam as well as in the Malay Peninsula.

It is not within the scope of this work to give anything like a full description of these different kinds of dramatic representations, but it is desirable to give some account of the ritual which accompanies them, and the ideas and superstitions which they seem to involve.

The most important of the ceremonies which relate to the Malay theatre is that of inaugurating or “opening” (as it is called) a site for the performance. The following is an account (by Mr. Hugh Clifford) of the performance of this ceremony:—

“When one of these companies arrives at a place where it intends to ‘open,’ it erects a small, square shed, open at all four sides, but carefully roofed in, and with a hand-rail running round it about two feet from the ground. This shed is called a Bangsal, and the space which its sides enclose is termed Panggong. Before the play begins, the ceremony called BÛka Panggong, which has for its object the invocation and propitiation of certain spirits, is gone through....

“The ceremony, which is a curious one, is performed in the following manner: The company having entered the shed and taken their seats, a brazier is placed in front of the PÂwang, or Medicine-Man, who is also the head of the theatrical troop. In this brazier precious woods and spices are burned, and while the incense ascends, the PÂwang intones the following incantation, the other members of the troop repeating each sentence in chorus as he concludes it.

“‘Peace be unto Thee, whose mother is from the earth, and whose father has ascended to the Heavens! Smite not the male and female actors, and the old and young buffoons with Thy cruelty, nor yet with the curse of poverty! Oh, do not threaten with punishment the members of this company, for I come not hither to vie with Thee in wisdom or skill or talent: not such is my desire in coming hither. If I come unto this place, I do so placing my faith in all the people,180 my masters who own this village. Therefore suffer not any one to oppress, or envy, or do a mischief unto all the body of male and female actors, together with the young and old buffoons, and the minstrels and bridegroom,181 together with Sri GemÛroh, Sri Berdengong.182 Oh, suffer them not to be hurt or destroyed, injured, or maimed; let not the male or female actors be contused or battered, and let them not be injured or maimed; let them not be afflicted with headache, nor with undue physical heat, nor yet with throbbing pains or with shooting aches. Oh, let them not be injured by collisions like unto ships, the bows of which are telescoped,183 nor afflicted with excessive voiding. Suffer them not to vomit freely, nor to be overcome by heavy weariness or fatigue or weakness. I ask that Thou wilt suffer them to be as they have been accustomed to be in former times, and to feel cool and fresh like unto the snake, the chinta-mÂni.184

“‘Peace be unto Thee, O Black Awang,185 who art King of the Earth! Be not startled nor deranged, and be not offended, for Thou art wont to wander in the veins of the ground, and to take Thy rest in the portals of the Earth.186 I come not hither to vie with Thee in wisdom, for I only place my trust in Thee, and would surrender myself wholly into thy hands; and I beg Thee to retire but three paces from the four corners of our shed, and that Thou shalt refrain from wandering hither and thither, for under Thy care I place the male and female actors, and all the buffoons, both young and old, together with all the musicians and the bridegrooms. I place them under Thy care, and do not oppress or envy them, neither suffer evil to befall them, do not strike against them as Thou passest by. I place them under Thy charge, together with the actors and actresses, the musicians and bridegrooms, the buffoons, both young and old, also the spectators and the owners of this house and compound; suffer them not to be afflicted with headaches, throbbing pains, nor yet with shooting pains, nor yet with toothache, nor with itchings and skin irritations, nor with burning sensations; for I pray that they may be suffered to get cool and refreshed like unto the snake, the chinta-mÂni.’

“The PÂwang here scatters parched rice stained with saffron in every direction, and chants the following incantation the while: ?Peace be unto thee! I am about to move from within this enclosure four paces in each direction of the four corners of the universe. O ye Holy Ones who are present in this place, within the space of these four paces towards the four extremities of the universe, be not startled nor deranged, do not remove to a distance, and be not angry or wrathful, for thy servant cometh not hither to vie with ye in wisdom within this thy territory and village. Your servant cometh to satisfy the desires of all the people who own this place, and your servant desires to abandon himself unto ye, his guardians, the Holy Ones of this place, and thus presuming he asks pardon of ye, and would commend to your care himself, and the actors and actresses, O Grandsires, ye Holy Ones of this place; and in like manner would he commend unto ye the musicians and the bridegrooms, the buffoons, both old and young; and he prays ye not to show envy towards them, nor yet to oppress them, nor do them any injury; suffer them not to be destroyed or injured; and he entreats thee, his Grandsires, and all your many imps, to refrain from striking against them as ye pass by them, neither to address them, nor to pinch or nip them, and let not your youths, O Grandsires, remove our means of livelihood; and your servant prays ye to refrain from destroying or damaging, injuring or hurting the whole company of the ma’iong, and suffer them to be cool and refreshed like unto the snake, the chinta-mÂni.

“‘Peace be unto Thee! I am about to remove from thee my Grandsire who art styled Petera GÛru, the original teacher, who art from the beginning, and who art incarnate from thy birth. Teacher who dwellest as a hermit in the recesses of the Moon, and who practisest thy magic arts in the womb of the Sun; teacher of mine whose coat is wrought of green beads, whose blood is white, who hast stumps for bones, the hairs of whose body are turned the wrong way, and the veins of whose body are adamant, whose neck is black, whose tongue is fluent, whose spittle is brine!187 Oh, because thou, my Grandsire, art a man of magic, whose prayers are answered, whose desires come to pass, do not, O Grandsire, show cruelty, or afflict with poverty or with punishment any of the actors or actresses, the musicians and bridegrooms, and the buffoons both young and old! And I pray thee, O Grandsire, to stretch forth thy feet—the feet at which I prostrate myself; and thy hands—the hands which I take in salutation. And I beg from thee, O Grandsire, the white charm (antidote), the medong ber-sÎla; cause to descend upon me three drops thereof together with thy magic, O Grandsire; I wish to sprinkle therewith all the actors and actresses, the buffoons both young and old, together with all the musicians and bridegrooms, and suffer them not to be destroyed or injured, and let them not be laid open or exposed to any evil influence; I pray thee not to suffer them to be injured, maimed, or battered. And now I will arouse all the actors and actresses from within the seven Chambers of the seven Palaces, the seven Pavilions—the Palaces which are on high, the Palaces which were from the beginning, which in the beginning came into being in their entirety.188 I am about to open the portals of the seven Chambers of the seven Palaces; I am about to open the closed doors from the exterior even unto the inner portals of the seven chambers of the seven Palaces. Let them be opened together with the Gates of Lusts and Passion, together with the Gate of Desire and Faith, together with the Gates of Longing and Supreme Desire. The Longing which lasts from Dawn unto Dawn, which causes food to cease to satisfy, and renders sleep uneasy, which remembering causes to remember unceasingly, hearing to hear, seeing to see! I will awake all from the exterior even unto the inner Chambers of the seven Apartments of the seven Palaces! remain not plunged in slumber, but awake! One and all awake and hear my tidings and my words! Awake and hearken unto my words, for they vanish not, neither are my senses slumbering, nor is my memory a blank! Awake, O actors and actresses, and await one upon another! Awake, O buffoons, together awake! Awake, ye drummers, together awake! Awake, ye gong-smiters, together awake! Awake, ye bridegrooms, together awake! Be not removed far from your means of livelihood, nor destroyed or injured! Oh, suffer them not to be hurt or damaged—all this company of actors and actresses, all this company of players who sit within this shed!’

“When this incantation is finished the player, whose turn it is to begin the performance, prostrates himself before the Herbab, or large Malay fiddle, washes his face in some imaginary essence which the gong is supposed to contain, and then arises and begins to act his part.”189

A similar ceremony was witnessed in 1897 by Mr. Everard Fielding and the present writer at the back of the Bungalow at Jugra (in Selangor). The object of the ceremony was to drive away evil spirits from the spot where the performance was to take place, and the performers were a little band of players from Penang who had settled in the neighbourhood and had planted their holdings with Liberian coffee.

The Pawang or magician in this instance was a Malay named ’Che Hussein, who acted as clown, and subsequently wrote out at my request rough transcripts of more than a dozen of the plays acted by his company.

A big mat or mats having been laid upon the ground in a spot carefully selected for the purpose, four corner posts were planted and a big awning or ceiling-cloth (langit-langit) stretched between them. The square space between the posts was then fenced off by carrying a couple of cords round it horizontally from post to post, one at the height of two, and the other about five feet above the ground. From these cords were suspended various ornamental objects made of plaited strips of cocoa-nut leaf, fashioned into rough resemblances of animals, birds, fruit and flowers, a few bananas being added at intervals, these latter serving as light refreshments for the players whenever they felt so minded. Stems of banana trees with their leaves fastened at each post made the structure complete, and the general effect, enhanced by the bright costumes of the performers, was extremely picturesque, and, as it was intended to be, extremely rural.190

A tray with the usual brazier of incense and small bowls of rice variously prepared was then brought in, and all the instruments, though not necessarily the players, being in their places, the ceremony commenced as follows:—

First came the Lagu Pemanggil, or Invocation, a peculiar air performed on the instruments and accompanied by the Pawang. The latter heaped incense on a brazier in front of him, and “waved” in the incense first the fiddle (rebab) and then the masks, wooden daggers, and other “properties” of the company, until they were well fumigated. He next lighted three tapers, which he charmed and took between the closed palms of his hands (held in front of him), with the fingers straight and the thumbs crossed. He then proceeded to “wave” these tapers, pointing them first to the right, then in front of him, and finally to the left, and then distributed the tapers, putting the first on the rebab, and the second on the big gong, and the third on the edge of a brazen ring in front of the place where he is sitting. He now reached for the betel-leaf box (which should be close by), and dipping the tip of his finger into the moist lime which it contained, smeared the metal all round with it, and made the sign of the cross inside the ring. Next he shrouded his head with a black cloth, and taking a handful of rice in his closed fist held it in the incense, sprinkled some of it over the brazier and “charmed” it, holding it close to his mouth. Then he suddenly scattered it first to the right, then in front, and lastly to the left, the scattering being in each case accompanied by a single boom of the big gong.

The distribution of the rice being completed, he took four “chews” of betel and handed one to each of the two drummers (juru-gendang); the third he threw on to the top of the ceiling-cloth (or roof in the case of a shed, bumbong bangsal), and the fourth he buried underneath the bottom mat.191 With his head still shrouded he now placed the tip of his right thumb within the metal ring, in the very centre of the cross, called the Heart of the Earth (pusat bumi or hati tanah), and pressing downwards with it, worked it round to the left and back again repeatedly whilst he recited the necessary charm. After this he leaned in turn on the upper end of each of the drums, which he inclined over the brazier and “charmed,” concluding in each case with three loud taps on the drum which he was “charming,” each tap being accompanied by similar taps on the other two drums. Finally, the Pawang put the flageolet (serunei) to his lips, and the other instruments accompanied him in the performance of the tune called taboh.192

As has already been observed, the performances at these theatrical exhibitions are of several distinct kinds, and vary considerably in different places. The Joget, a kind of dramatic and symbolical dance, has been described under the head of Dances. The Ma’yong is a theatrical performance which includes both dancing (or posturing as Europeans would be tempted to call it) and singing. It is generally performed by travelling companies of professional actors and actresses, who go on tour and perform either at the houses of Rajas or other persons of some social standing, or before the general public in some public place.193 Just as the dances of the Joget are supposed to be symbolical of different actions and ideas, and are accompanied by appropriate music, so in the Ma’yong there is quite a long list of tunes, each of which is considered to be appropriate to a particular action, or to some one or more of the dramatis personÆ. In fact, one may almost say that we have here, in principle, the rude germ of the Wagnerian Leitmotif. Thus when one of the performers is supposed to be sent to sleep, the Lagu Legor Radin is the one used; in the representation of a death, the Lagu Merayu; when a character is supposed to be entering the jungle, the Lagu Samsam; when any one sits down, the Lagu Patani Tuah. Similarly the Lagu Puyuh, the Lagu Dang Dondang Lanjut Kedah, and the Lagu Sendayong Dualapis Putri are appropriated to the Princess (Putri), one of the stock characters of this species of play, while other tunes can be used only by the Princess and the Raja or principal male character (Pa’yong); and others, again, are employed indifferently to accompany any of the parts, whether prince, princess, clown (P’ran), or maid (Inang).

The costumes of the performers in the various kinds of dramatic exhibitions vary, of course, with the subject-matter of the representation. The clown’s masks and the forest demon (hantu hutan), of which illustrations are given, will serve as specimens to indicate the nature of some of the accessories in use. A fairly full list of their Malay names will be found in the classification given below.

The Ma’yong is perhaps the most typical form of Malay theatrical representations, but another very characteristic performance is the Shadow-Play, properly termed Wayang, a name that has been loosely extended to cover theatrical exhibitions in general.

“The show is called Wayang Kulit, or leather puppets. It is exhibited in a rough shed, which has a flooring raised about three feet from the ground; the building is usually twenty feet square and enclosed on three sides, the front alone being open; across this opening a white sheet is stretched on which the shadows of the puppets are thrown and seen through by the audience; the latter sit or stand in the open air.

“The show seems to be of Hindu origin, if we may judge from the strong resemblance the figures bear to the representations of gods and goddesses worshipped by the Hindus of India; it is probably obtained from Java.

“The figures are made of buffalo hide, and the arms alone are movable; they are moved by slips of wood attached to them, which are very clumsily contrived, and as their shadows are seen with the puppets the effect is very much destroyed. Various scenes of a domestic nature are exhibited, and they take the shape of a play, but with no definite plot running through or connecting the different scenes.

“The following is a specimen:—

“An old man appears weeping for a long-lost son, and moves to and fro for some time bewailing his loss; the showman speaks each figure’s part, and alters the tone of his voice to suit the age of the speaker; a second figure comes on, representing a young man armed with a kris, who endeavours to pick a quarrel with the first comer, and the conversation is witty and characteristic, eliciting roars of laughter from the lookers-on; a fight ensues, and the old man is wounded; he falls and cries out that were he a young man, or if his lost son were present, his adversary should not thus triumph over him. In his conversation he happens to mention his son’s name; the young man intimates that his name is the same, an explanation ensues, and it ends by the old man discovering in his late adversary his long-lost son. The old fellow weeps and laughs alternately, caresses his son frequently, and declares they shall never part again; the scene ends by the youth shedding tears over his late inhuman conduct, and he finally walks off with the old gentleman on his back.

“The conversation is carried on solely in the Malayan dialect. Warlike scenes please most: a warrior comes on the stage and challenges his invisible enemy to mortal combat; suddenly another figure comes on at the opposite side and a desperate fight ensues, which lasts for a very long time, and ends in one of the combatants being killed. Occasionally a battle in which ten or twelve figures join takes place, and for hours will the Malays look on at such scenes.

“The show concludes with an exhibition of various animals—deer, horses, tigers, crocodiles, etc., also birds and fishes. The figures are perforated to represent the eyes, shape of the dress, etc.

“At the back of the shed, concealed by the sheet, sit the musicians, who keep up an incessant din on drums and cymbals.”194

The puppets for these shadow-plays are usually cut out of deer-skin (not buffalo hide) and it is worth remarking that they are all considered to be more or less animated; a stringent propitiatory ceremony has to be performed in their honour, incense being burnt and rice scattered about, just as in the Ma’yong ceremony already described.

The present writer, while in Selangor, bought from a Kelantan Malay named ’Che ?Abas, a performer of shadow-plays, his entire stock-in-trade, including not only his musical instruments (amongst which were some curious drums called gedu and gedombak), but also his candle (with its shade), the rice used for the ceremony, and his entire stock of shadow-pictures, all of which are now in the Cambridge Museum.

The following classification of the more important kinds of theatrical performances, which was drawn up for the present writer by ’Che Hussein of Penang, the actor of whom mention has already been made, may be of interest, and will serve to indicate briefly their several characteristic features, though it does not profess to be absolutely exhaustive:—

Classification of Theatrical Performances known to Malays of the Peninsula

Such charms as might be used in time of war, or in case of danger from wild beasts or other enemies, are partly what may be called “defensive” and partly “offensive” in character.

The Malays who use them pray, on the one hand, for a supernatural appearance wherewith to scare their enemies and protect themselves, and on the other for supernatural powers to assist in the destruction of their foes.

Thus, one of their charms runs:—

The use of such charms is supplemented in various ways: thus a champion (penglima) will sometimes draw a line in front of him, which he believes his enemy will be unable to pass;196 this is done by simply scraping the ground with the right foot and threatening the foe with a dire curse if he attempts to cross it.

According to another method of gaining martial vigour and immunity in fighting, you take a wick as long as the short span between your thumb and first finger (sa-jengkal telunjok), and after passing it over your body upwards (di-naikkan) thrice, take it between your two hands and try and turn it round while you repeat the charm. The ceremony must take place at the time of full moon, and if you do not succeed in turning it the first time, you can try again at the next full moon, and so on up to three full moons. At night, if you succeed you will (according to the Malay account) see the vision of a man, a sign, it is to be supposed, that the charm has been effectual, and that the prayer has been heard.

The charm begins as follows:—

The charm concludes with the following magnificent boast:—

In a somewhat similar charm, a warrior prays that he may be

and another expresses the wish that his enemies may be

In actual warfare a number of rules are laid down, the observance of which is supposed to be necessary in order to achieve success. As in several other pursuits,197 there is, of course, a “taboo” language of war (bhasa pantang p’rang), of which the following are examples:—

• Dagger (k’ris) = pisau (lit. knife).
• Bullet (peluru senapang) = kumbang puteh (lit. white beetle).
• Ball of swivel-gun (peluru lela) = kumbang hitam (lit. black beetle).
• Stockade (kubu) = batang melintang (lit. transverse trunk), or balei melintang.
• Cannon (meriam) = batang kabu-kabu (lit. cotton-tree trunk), or batang buloh (lit. trunk of bamboo).
• Cannon-ball = buah niyor (lit. cocoa-nut).

When a man is out in the wars his pillows and sleeping-mat at home have to be kept rolled up. If any one else were to use them the absent warrior’s courage would fail, and disaster would befall him (ter-tentu-lah kachau hati tuan-nya yang di p’rang itu, datang-lah mara). His wife and children must not have their hair cut (ta’ buleh potong rambut atau berandam) during his absence, nor may he himself. Strict chastity must be observed in a stockade, or the bullets of the garrison will lose their power (peluru jinak di kubu-nya), and it is also forbidden to abuse or mock at the enemy, or even at their weapons.198

Bullets are frequently, if not always, “charmed” before being used, and their efficacy is supposed to be increased thereby. The Orang Kaya Pahlawan, a chief of some local notoriety in recent times, claimed to be invulnerable (kebal) to the extent that nothing but a silver bullet would hurt him.

The following legendary tale illustrates a somewhat similar idea:—The assailant, one Magat Terawis, an unknown warrior who had joined the Sultan’s investing army, had four bullets, on each of which were inscribed the words: “This is the son of the concubine of the Raja of Pagar-ruyong; his name is Magat Terawis; wherever his bullet falls he will become a Chief.”

“Magat Terawis levelled his matchlock and fired, and his bullet struck Tan Saban’s leg. The skin was hardly broken, and the bullet fell to the ground at the chief’s feet; but, on taking it up and reading the inscription, he knew that he had received his death-wound. He retired to his house, and, after ordering his flag to be hauled down, despatched a messenger to the opposite camp to call the warrior whose name he had read on the bullet. Inquiries for Magat Terawis were fruitless at first, for no one knew the name. At length he declared himself, and went across the river with Tan Saban’s messenger, who brought him into the presence of the dying man. The latter said to him, ‘Magat Terawis, thou art my son in this world and the next, and my property is thine. I likewise give thee my daughter in marriage, and do thou serve the Raja faithfully in my place, and not be rebellious as I have been.’ Tan Saban then sued for the Sultan’s pardon, which was granted to him, and the marriage of his daughter with Magat Terawis was permitted to take place. Then Tan Saban died, and was buried with all the honours due to a Malay chief.”199

The national and favourite weapon of the Malays is the k’ris,200 a short dagger usually with an undulating or wavy blade set in a handle of peculiarly carved pattern, as to the probable origin of which some allusion has already been made,201 and furnished with a sheath which is generally of wood and quite plain, but sometimes of metal chased, hammered, and set with gems in the most elaborate and lavish style. The blade is quite different in appearance from the steel or iron blades to which we are accustomed, being prepared in a peculiar way by a process of “damasking” which produces a variety of designs on the roughened surface. To the shape of these designs much importance is attached, as will appear from the following passage extracted from Newbold’s British Settlements in the Straits of Malacca:—

“Translation of Malayan MS. on Krises and Process of Damasking

“Fasl I.—On the Pamur, or Damasking of Krises

“If the damasking of a kris only reach within a finger’s breadth of the point, and if it reach the edge, it is inauspicious for combat. Should the damask not be even with the point, a stab made with such a kris would err; but if even, then the kris will never deviate, although its possessor lose strength to thrust; still, by the grace of God, it will hit the mark should he cast it at his adversary. If it be damasked on both sides, it is good; but not so should the damask be separated at intervals.

“If the damask on the point be that of Alif besar (a damask running in the shape of the Arabian letter Alif), the kris is good for combat; but it is not lucky to wear such a weapon while trading, nor one in which the damask runs from the pangkal (the stem which runs into the handle), to the tali.

“If it possess the Alif damask near the handle, the middle, and point, it is very auspicious for commercial transactions; men cannot resist the force of the possessor’s arguments; should it be worn whilst planting, the crop will be fruitful. The possessor will be irresistible in fight, nor can any person thwart his wishes.

“If the kris (called Tuah) have the pamur kutilang, or the bird’s-eye damask, at its point and stem, it becomes entitled to the appellation Manikam202 di Ujong Gala (the ruby at the end of the pole). The possessor of such a kris is most lucky. If the damask be that of battu ampar, and reach to the ganja (the lower part of the blade immediately above the ikat tali), it ensures the safety of the wearer.

“Fasl II.—On the Blade of the Kris

“If the blade of the kris be split in the direction of the tali tali (the silk and ratan appendage by which the kris is fastened in the girdle), you cannot return an adversary’s thrust with it. If the betala be cracked to the ikat tali (or bottom welt), it is not auspicious. Should the point of the kris be split, it is a sign that it requires blood; if this want be not gratified, the possessor becomes sick.

“Fasl III.—On the Badik, or Sendrik

“If the blade of the badik be damasked all over to its edge, it is lucky to wear while trading or dividing property. If the back bear the damask Alif, it is also good for trading with, or for combat, by God’s assistance. If the blade have the pamur gunong, or mountain damask, it softens the hearts of men, and is good for trading and warlike excursions. If the lines of damask be of equal breadth from the pangkal to the tali, and straight, it is auspicious.

“Should the belly of the blade be veined, it is lucky to trade, and good for making a stab with, as the possessor’s antagonist will not be able to return the thrust. If the damask be that called pamur kait (or the damask like a hook), it is auspicious.

“Should the back of the blade be damasked and streaked, it is good; and also, if it has the pamur belanga203 in one or two places only, and on its back. If the damask run waving from the top to the bottom of the back, it is very auspicious.204

“How to damask krises.—Place on the blade a mixture of boiled rice, sulphur, and salt beat together, first taking the precaution to cover the edges of the weapon with a thin coat of virgin wax. After this has remained on seven days, the damask will have risen to the surface; take the composition off, and immerse the blade in the water of a young cocoa-nut, or the juice of a pineapple, for seven days longer, and wash it well with the juice of a sour lemon. After the rust has been cleared away, rub it with warangan (arsenic) dissolved in lime juice; wash it well with spring water; dry, and anoint it with cocoa-nut oil.

“Fasl IV.—Measurement of Krises

“Measure the kris with a string below its aring (a jutting out of the blade near its bottom) to its point; cut the string and fold it trebly; cut off one of the trebles, and with the remaining two measure up the blade of the kris, then make a mark how far the string reaches. Measure the blade across at this mark, and find how many times its breadth is contained in two-thirds of its length; cut the string into as many pieces. These form the sloca, or measure, of which the kris consists. If none of the string remain over, the blade is perfect, if a minute portion remain, it is less perfect, but if half the breadth remain, or more, it is chelaka, unlucky.”

Newbold adds:—

“The krises most preferred are those of the kinds termed Simpana, Cherita, and Sapokal. The kris panjang is worn generally by the Malayan aristocracy and bridegrooms. I have seen some beautiful specimens of this weapon in Rumbowe, worn by the chiefs of that state. The blades resembled that of a long, keen poniard of Damascus steel; the handles of ebony, covered with flowered gold, and sheaths richly ornamented with the same metal; they are used in the execution of criminals. Malays do not prize their krises entirely by the quantity of gold with which they may be inlaid, but more for their accurate proportions agreeably to the measurement which is laid down in their treatises on this subject; the damask on the blade; the antiquity and a certain lucky quality that they may possess either from accurate proportions, the damask, the having shed human blood, or from supernatural endowment, like the famous sword “Excalibur.” This property is termed betuah, which signifies literally exempt from accident, invulnerable. The reverse is termed chelaka, ill-omened. They believe the betuah in some cases imparts invulnerability to the possessor of such a kris, which is handed down as an heirloom from father to son, and honoured as something divine. The kris is, as with the Javanese, an indispensable article in dress on particular occasions, and there are numerous regulations regarding the wearing of it. The Undang Undang Malacca205 contains strict injunctions, which are observed to this day, against a person of inferior birth wearing a kris ornamented with gold.”206

Besides the mode above described, several other methods of measuring the k’ris are also in vogue. They differ in various matters of detail, and will be found in the Appendix.

The measurement of one-edged weapons is effected as follows:—

Measure the length of the weapon from hilt to point, and fold the string so measured in two. Measure off this half-length from the hilt and see how often the breadth of the blade is contained in the whole length of the string. Each time, however, that the edge is reached, the string must be marked or dented, and the long end wrapped round and round the blade, so that the measurement of each breadth is consecutive to the preceding breadth, the portion of the string which is stretched across the back of the blade not being counted.

This method is called ukor mata sa-b’lah, and is used by Sumatran Malays, especially in Menangkabau.

Spearheads can also be measured:—

Measure off the length of the spearhead and fold the string in two; see how often the breadth is contained in the half of the string; if the blade is a good one, it must be five and a half times (tengah anam). This is called ukor orang Perak or ukor tengah anam.

Another superstition connected with weapons is described as follows by Sir Frank Swettenham. It illustrates the magic powers attributed to the Pawang in so many departments of nature and life, but does not seem to have any special object or meaning.

“A great many Malays and one or two Europeans may be found who profess to have seen water drawn from a kris. The modus operandi is simple. The pÂwang (I dare not call him conjurer) works with bare arms to show there is no deception. He takes the kris (yours, if you prefer it) from its wooden handle, and, holding the steel point downwards in his left hand, he recites a short incantation to the effect that he knows all about iron, and where it comes from, and that it must obey his orders. He then with the thumb and first two fingers of his right hand proceeds to gently squeeze the steel, moving his fingers up and down the blade. After a little while a few drops of water fall from the point of the kris, and these drops quickly develop into a stream that will fill a cup. The pÂwang will then hand round the blade and tell you to bend it; this you will find no difficulty in doing, but by making two or three passes over the kris the pÂwang can render it again so hard that it cannot be bent.

“The only drawback to this trick or miracle is that the process ruins the temper of the steel, and a kris that has been thus treated is useless.”207

The subject of this section, more perhaps than any of the others, has lost its former importance, and become almost a matter of merely historical interest. In the Malay Peninsula, at least in the States which are under British protection, offensive weapons are seldom worn now-a-days except on State occasions and for purely ceremonial purposes; and warfare, it may be hoped, is now a thing of the past. In spite of the halo of romance thrown round it in native writings, Malay warfare (in modern times, at least) has never been anything but the barest and most bloodthirsty piracy by sea, and the merest “bushwhacking” and stockade-fighting on land; its final suppression, even if in some degree it should involve a slackening of fibre in the Malay character, is not a matter for regret. With it will disappear much of the curious lore that surrounded it, and indeed a good deal of it must have been lost already. Little has been said here of the methods of divination used in warfare which take up so much space in Malay treatises on the subject; success in war is held to depend on a great number of minute observances, and to be capable of being foretold by careful attention to omens and signs. But the divination applied in warfare does not seem to differ in principle from that which is used in all the other avocations of life, and a sufficient idea of its nature will be gathered from the account given in the next section.

The significance of ominous signs and dreams is a subject which possesses vast ramifications, extending so deeply into every department of the Malay national life, that it will be impossible to do it anything like full justice within the narrow limits of this book. My object will be merely to indicate the main lines on which these two important doctrines of the Malay natural religion appear to have been developed.

Briefly, then, omens may be drawn either from the acts of men or the events of nature. Examples of the ominous import attributed to the acts of man will at once suggest themselves. Thus sneezing is said to be fortunate as tending to drive away the demons of disease;208 yawning is a bad sign, for obvious reasons, if the breath is loudly emitted, but if a quiet yawn occurs when the stomach is craving for food, it imports that it will soon be filled. So too stumbling is a bad omen, especially if the person who stumbles is about to set out on a journey.209 Then, again, “to be long in getting up after a meal is said to be a bad omen. It means that the person, if unmarried, will meet with a bad reception from his or her parents-in-law hereafter. The Malay saying in the vernacular is ‘Lambat bangket deri tampat makan, lambat di-tegur mentuwak.’ Clothes which have been nibbled by rats or mice must not be worn again. They are sure to bring misfortune, and are generally given away in charity. ... When a Malay dinner is served, the younger members of the family sometimes amuse themselves by throwing rice into the pan from which the curry has just been taken, stirring it round in the gravy that remains and then eating it. This is not permitted when one of them is to be married on the following day, as it would be sure to bring rainy weather. It is unlucky for a child to lie on his face (menyehrap), and kick his feet together in the air (menyabong kaki). It betokens that either his father or mother will die. A child seen doing this is instantly rebuked and stopped....

“The evil eye is dreaded by Malays. Not only are particular people supposed to be possessed of a quality which causes ill-luck to accompany their glance (the mal’occhio of the Italians), but the influence of the evil eye is often supposed to affect children, who are taken notice of by people kindly disposed towards them. For instance, it is unlucky to remark on the fatness and healthiness of a baby, and a Malay will employ some purely nonsensical word, or convey his meaning in a roundabout form, rather than incur possible misfortune by using the actual word ‘fat.’ ‘Ai bukan-nia poh-poh gental budak ini?’ (‘Isn’t this child nice and round?’) is the sort of phrase which is permissible.”210

Among omens drawn from natural events are the following:—

“When a star is seen in apparent proximity to the moon, old people say there will be a wedding shortly....

“The entrance into a house of an animal which does not generally seek to share the abode of man is regarded by the Malays as ominous of misfortune. If a wild bird flies into a house it must be carefully caught and smeared with oil, and must then be released in the open air, a formula being recited in which it is bidden to fly away with all the ill-luck and misfortunes (sial jambalang) of the occupier. An iguana, a tortoise, and a snake, are perhaps the most dreaded of these unnatural visitors. They are sprinkled with ashes, if possible, to counteract their evil influence.

“A swarm of bees settling near a house is an unlucky omen, and prognosticates misfortune.”211

So, too, omens are taken either from the flight or cries of certain birds, such as the night-owl, the crow, some kinds of wild doves, and the bird called the “Rice’s Husband” (laki padi).

Passing from the idea of mere omens drawn from fortuitous events we easily arrive at the idea of a conscious attempt on the part of the worshipper to ascertain the divine pleasure with respect to a sacrifice newly offered. This effort of the worshippers becomes crystallised in time into a sub-rite, which yet forms an integral portion of most, if not all, of the more important ceremonies,212 and eventually develops into a special and separate rite called Tilek (divination), of which examples will now be given.

One form of this rite was taught by a Malay of Penang extraction, whose instructions, taken down by me at the time, ran as follows:—

Take a lemon (limau purut), a hen’s egg, a taper made of bees’-wax (lilin lebah), four bananas, four Malay (palm-leaf covered) cigarettes, four “chews” of betel-leaf, a handful of parched rice, washed rice, and rice stained with turmeric (saffron), one of the prickles or “thorns” (duri) of a thorn-backed mudfish, a needle with a torn eye (taken out of one of the sets of a “score” in which they are sold—jarum rabit dalam sekudi), and a couple of small whips, or rather birches, one of which must be composed of seven, and the other of twelve, leaf-ribs of the “green” cocoa-nut palm (niyor hijau).

Two of the bananas, two cigarettes, two chews of “betel,” half of each of the three kinds of rice, the egg, and the birch of seven twigs, must now be taken outside the house and set down under a tree selected for the purpose. When setting it down the egg must be cracked, the cigarettes lighted, and finally the taper also. On one occasion when I witnessed the performance, the taper, after being taken up between the outstretched fingers of my friend’s two hands, was waved slowly to and fro—first to the right and then to the left; finally it was set down on the ground and began to burn blue, the flame becoming more and more dim until it almost expired. On seeing this the medicine-man exclaimed, “He has promised” (dia mengaku), and led the way back to the house, where he proceeded to go through the remainder of the ceremony.

First, he deposited the brazier with incense upon the leaf of a banana-tree, then took the prickle of the fish and thrust it horizontally through the lower end of the lemon, leaving both ends exposed; then he thrust the needle through in a transverse direction, so as to form a cross, the ends of the needle being likewise exposed, and slipped the noosed end of a piece of silken thread of seven different colours over the points thus exposed.

Next he scattered the rice round the censer and fumigated the birch and the lemon, recited a charm as he held the latter in his right hand, recited the charm for the second time213 as he took the birch in both hands, with the upper end close to his mouth and the lower (spreading) end over the brazier, and finally repeated the charm for a third time, suspending, as he did so, the lemon over the brazier by means of the thread held in his left hand and holding the birch in the right.

Everything being ready, he now began to put questions to the lemon into which the spirit was supposed to have entered, rebuking it and threatening it with the birch whenever it failed to answer distinctly and to the point. The conversational powers of this spirit were extremely limited, being confined to two signs signifying “Yes” and “No.” The affirmative was indicated by a pendulum-like swaying of the lemon, which rocked to and fro with more or less vehemence according to the emphasis (as my friend informed me) with which the reply was to be delivered. Negation, on the other hand, was indicated by a complete cessation of motion on the part of the lemon.

When it is required to discover, for instance, the name of a thief, the names of all those who are at all likely to have committed the theft are written on scraps of paper and arranged in a circle round the brazier, when the lemon will at once swing in the direction of the name of the guilty party. The best night for the performance of this ceremony is a Tuesday.

Sir Frank Swettenham’s account of a similar ceremony of which he was an eye-witness will serve as a good illustration of the methods in use for this purpose:—

“It was my misfortune some years ago to be robbed of some valuable property, and several Malay friends strongly advised me to take the advice of an astrologer, or other learned person who (so they said) would be able to give the name of the thief, and probably recover most of the stolen things. I fear that I had no great faith in this method of detection, but I was anxious to see what could be done, for the East is a curious place, and no one with an inquiring mind can have lived in it long without seeing phenomena that are not always explained by modern text-books on Natural Philosophy.

“I was first introduced to an Arab of very remarkable appearance. He was about fifty years old, tall, with pleasant features and extraordinary gray-blue eyes, clear and far-seeing, a man of striking and impressive personality. I was travelling when I met him, and tried to persuade him to return with me, but that he said he could not do, though he promised to follow me by an early steamer. He said he would be able to tell me all about the robbery, who committed it, where the stolen property then was, and that all he would want was an empty house wherein he might fast in solitude for three days, without which preparation, he said, he would not be able to see what he sought. He told me that after his vigil, fast, and prayer, he would lay in his hand a small piece of paper on which there would be some writing; into this he would pour a little water, and in that extemporised mirror he would see a vision of the whole transaction. He declared that, after gazing intently into this divining-glass, the inquirer first recognised the figure of a little old man. That having duly saluted this Jin, it was necessary to ask him to conjure up the scene of the robbery, when all the details would be re-enacted in the liquid glass under the eyes of the gazer, who would there and then describe all that he saw. I had heard all this before, only it had been stated to me then that the medium through whose eyes the vision could alone be seen must be a young child of such tender years that it could have never told a lie! The Arab, however, professed himself not only able to conjure up the scene, but to let me see it for myself if I would follow his directions. Unfortunately, my gray-eyed friend failed to keep his promise, and I never met him again.

“A local Chief, however, declared his power to read the past by this method, if only he could find the truthful child. In this he appeared to succeed, but when, on the following day, he came to disclose to me the results of his skill, he said that a difficulty had arisen, because just when the child (a little boy) was beginning to relate what he saw he suddenly became unconscious, and it took the astrologer two hours to restore him to his normal state. All the mothers of tender-aged and possibly truthful children declined after this to lend their offspring for the ordeal.

“My friend was not, however, at the end of his resources, and, though only an amateur in divination, he undertook to try by other methods to find the culprit. For this purpose he asked me to give him the names of every one in the house at the time the robbery was committed. I did so, and the next day he gave me one of those names as that of the thief. I asked how he had arrived at this knowledge; he described the method, and consented to repeat the experiment in my presence. That afternoon I went with him to a small house belonging to his sister. Here I found the Chief, his sister, and two men whom I did not recognise. We all sat in a very small room, the Chief in the centre with a copy of the KorÂn on a reading-stand, near to him the two men opposite to each other, the sister against one wall, and I in a corner. A clean, new, unglazed earthenware bowl with a wide rim was produced. This was filled with water and a piece of fair white cotton cloth tied over the top, making a surface like that of a drum.

“I was asked to write the name of each person present in the house when the robbery was committed on a small piece of paper, and to fold each paper up so that all should be alike, and then to place one of the names on the cover of the vessel. I did so, and the proceedings began by the two men placing each the middle joint of the fore-finger of his right hand under the rim of the bowl on opposite sides, and so supporting it about six inches above the floor. The vessel being large and full of water was heavy, and the men supported the strain by resting their right elbows on their knees as they sat cross-legged on the floor and face to face. It was then that I selected one of the folded papers, and placed it on the cover of the vessel. The Chief read a page of the KorÂn, and as nothing happened he said that was not the name of the guilty person, and I changed the paper for another. This occurred four times, but at the fifth the reading had scarcely commenced when the bowl began to slowly turn round from left to right, the supporters letting their hands go round with it, until it twisted itself out of their fingers and fell on the floor with a considerable bang and a great spluttering of water through the thin cover. ‘That,’ said the Chief, ‘is the name of the thief.’

“It was the name of the person already mentioned by him.

“I did not, however, impart that piece of information to the company, but went on to the end of my papers, nothing more happening.

“I said I should like to try the test again, and as the Chief at once consented we began afresh, and this time I put the name of the suspected person on first, and once more the vessel turned round and twisted itself out of the hands of the holders till it fell on the floor, and I was surprised it did not break. After trying a few more I said I was satisfied, and the ordeal of the bowl was over. Then the Chief asked me whose name had been on the vessel when it moved, and I told him. It was a curious coincidence certainly. I wrote the names in English, which no one could read; moreover, I was so placed that no one could see what I wrote, and they none of them attempted to do so. Then the papers were folded up so as to be all exactly alike; they were shuffled together, and I did not know one from the other till I looked inside myself. Each time I went from my corner and placed a name on the vessel already held on the fingers of its supporters. No one except I touched the papers, and no one but the Chief ever spoke till the sÉance was over. I asked the men who held the bowl why they made it turn round at that particular moment, but they declared they had nothing to do with it, and that the vessel twisted itself off their fingers against their inclination.

“The name disclosed by this experiment was certainly that of the person whom there was most reason to suspect, but beyond that I learnt nothing.

“Another plan for surprising the secret of the suspected person is to get into the room where that person is sleeping, and after making certain passes to question the slumberer, when he may truthfully answer all the questions put to him. This is a favourite device of the suspicious husband.

“Yet another plan is to place in the hand of a pÂwang, magician, or medium, a divining-rod formed of three lengths of rattan, tied together at one end, and when he gets close to the person ‘wanted,’ or to the place where anything stolen is concealed, the rod vibrates in a remarkable manner.”214

A somewhat analogous practice is the ordeal by diving, described by the late Sir W. E. Maxwell as “a method of deciding a disputed point which was occasionally resorted to in Perak in former times. I got the following account of the manner of conducting the ordeal from a Malay chief who saw it carried out once at Tanjong Sanendang near Pasir Sala, in the reign of Sultan Abdullah Mohamed Shah, father of the present Raja Muda Yusuf:—

“The ordeal by diving requires the sanction of the Sultan himself, and must be conducted in the presence of the Orang Besar Ampat, or Four Chiefs of the first rank. If two disputants in an important question agree to settle their difference in this way they apply to the Raja, who fixes a day (usually three days off) for the purpose, and orders that a certain sum of money shall abide the event. This appointment of time and place is the first stage in the proceedings, and is called bertepat janji, and the laying of the bet or deposit of stakes is called bertiban taroh. On the day appointed the parties attend with their friends at the Raja’s balei,215 and there, in the presence of the Court, a krani216 writes down a solemn declaration for each person, each maintaining the truth of his side of the question. The first, invoking the name of God, the intercession of the Prophet, and the tombs of the deceased Sultans of the country, asserts the affirmative proposition, and his adversary with the same solemnity records his denial. This is called bertangkap mangmang or ‘taking up the challenge.’ Each paper is then carefully rolled up by the krani, and is placed by him in a separate bamboo tube; the ends of both are then sealed up. When thus prepared the bamboo tubes are exactly alike, and no one, not even the krani, can tell which contains the assertion and which the denial. Two boys are then selected; one of the bamboos is given to each, and they are led down to the river, where the Raja and Chiefs take up their station, and the people flock down in crowds. Two stakes have been driven into the bed of the river in a pool previously selected, and the boys are placed beside them, up to their necks in water. A pole is placed horizontally on their heads, and on a given signal this is pressed downwards, and the boys are made to sink at the same moment. Each holds on to his post under water and remains below as long as he can. As soon as one gives in and appears above water his bamboo tube is snatched from him and hurled far out into the stream. The victor is led up in triumph to the balei, and the crowd surges up to hear the result. His bamboo is then opened and the winner declared.

“The Perak Malays believe this to be an infallible test of the truth of a cause. The boy who holds the false declaration is half-drowned, they say, as soon as his head is under the water, whereas the champion of the truth is able to remain below until the bystanders drag the post out of the river with the boy still clinging to it. Such is the power of the truth backed by the sacred names and persons invoked!

“The loser is often fined in addition to suffering the loss of his stakes (one-half of which goes to the Raja). He also has to pay the customary fees, namely, $6.25 for the use of the balei, $12.50 to the krani, and $5 to each of the boys.

“This ordeal is not peculiar to Perak. I find a short description of a similar custom in Pegu in Hamilton’s New Accounts of the East Indies (1727). In Pegu, he says, the ordeal by water is managed ‘by driving a stake of wood into a river and making the accuser and accused take hold of the stake and keep their heads and bodies under water, and he who stays longest under water is the person to be credited.’”217

But by far the largest class of divinatory rites consists of astrological calculations based on the supposed values of times and seasons, or the properties of numbers. For the purposes of the native astrologer, exhaustive tables of lucky and unlucky times and seasons have been compiled, which are too long to be all examined here in detail, but of which specimens will be found in the Appendix. Few of them are likely to be original productions, most, if not all, being undoubtedly translated from similar books in vogue either in India or Arabia. Besides these tables, however, use is frequently made of geometrical (and even of natural) diagrams, to the more important parts of which certain numerical values are assigned.218

Perhaps the oldest and best known of the systems of lucky and unlucky times is the one called Katika219 Lima, or the Five Times. Under it the day is divided into five parts, and five days form a cycle220: to each of these divisions is assigned a name, the names being Maswara (Maheswara), Kala, S’ri, Brahma, and Bisnu (Vishnu), which recur in the order shown in the following table or diagram:—

These names are the names of Hindu divinities, Maheswara being Shiva, and constituting with Brahma and Vishnu the so-called Hindu Trinity, while Kala is either another title of Shiva, or stands for Kali, his wife, and S’ri is a general title of all Hindu gods221; but it may be doubted whether this division of time is not of Javanese or Malayan origin, although the importance of the number five is also recognised by the Hindus.222

The same mystic notions of colour and the like are attached to these divisions by the Malays as obtain in the case of the Javanese days of the week: thus Maheswara’s colour is yellow-white (puteh kuning): if you go out you will meet a man of yellow-white complexion, or wearing yellow-white clothes; it is a lucky time for asking a boon from a Raja, or for doing any kind of work; good news then received is true, bad news is false, and so on.

Kala’s colour is a reddish black (hitam merah223); if you go out you will meet a bad man or have a quarrel; it is an unlucky time altogether: the good news one hears turns out untrue, and the bad true; illness occurring at this time is due to a ghost (hantu orang), and the remedy is a black fowl; in cock-fighting a black cock will beat a white one at this time, but when setting him to fight you must not face towards the west, etc.

Similarly S’ri’s colour is white, Brahma’s is red, Vishnu’s is green, and each division has its respective advantages or disadvantages.224

Another version of this system, known as the Five Moments (sa?at), is based on a somewhat similar diagram, but has orthodox Muhammadan names for its divisions, viz. Ahmad, Jibra’il (Gabriel), Ibrahim (Abraham), Yusuf (Joseph), and ?Azra’il (Azrael).

Its diagram, as will be seen, is not quite the same as that of the Katika Lima, though the general scheme of the two systems corresponds closely.

So in Ahmad’s division if you lose a buffalo or a bullock, it has gone to the southward and will be recovered; good news then received is true, bad news is false; the time is auspicious for any kind of work, for going on a voyage, sailing, or planting, and very profitable for trading; it is a lucky time for going to war, but you must wear white clothes and face southwards by a little east, and pray to God Almighty. Jibra’il’s time is fairly lucky too, being good for planting and profitable for trading, and if gold or silver is lost then, it will be quickly found, but there may be some trouble in getting it back; a lost buffalo or bullock has gone southwards, but will be recovered after some slight trouble; if you go to war at this time you must wear green, but must not face towards the south. Ibrahim’s time is most unlucky, and going out then is sure to involve bloodshed or other misfortune; bad news is true, good is false; things lost then will not be recovered; going to war is ruinous, and if you do go, the only way of safety is to face to the north, but it is best to stay at home altogether at this time.

Yusuf’s time is lucky in some respects, but unlucky in others; in warfare one must face towards the west, and wear yellow. ?Azra’il’s time is most unlucky; to go to war then is most disastrous; any business pending at this ill-omened time should be postponed to a more favourable occasion.226

Besides these two there is a system in which each of the seven days of the ordinary week is divided into five parts, each of which is characterised by one of the words ampa, bangkei, rezki, and aral (for ?aradl), symbolical apparently of No Success, Death, Success, and Unforeseen Obstacle.227

Another scheme (Katika Tujoh), based on the Seven Heavenly Bodies, divides each day into seven parts, each of which is distinguished by the Arabic name of one of the Heavenly Bodies.

The first day runs,—

and the times are—early morning (pagi-pagi), morning (tengah naik), just before noon (hampir tengah hari), noon (tengah hari), afternoon (dlohr), late afternoon (?asr), and sunset (maghrib).

For the second day the series begins with the Moon, and goes on in the above order to Mercury; and for the third day it begins with Mars; so that each day of the week begins with its appropriate planet in the usual order, which is best seen in the French names Mardi, Mercredi, Jeudi, Vendredi, and the English Saturday, Sunday and Monday.

Each of the seven divisions has its lucky or unlucky characteristics, much as in the systems already described.

Besides these, each day of the week has its own appropriate occupations, according to another system, at times ascertained by measuring the length of one’s shadow. Further, it would appear that some days are unlucky altogether: one account gives seven unlucky days in every month; another asserts that Thursday is unlucky in the months Dhu-’l-hijjah, Muharram, and Safar; Tuesday in Rabi?-al-awal, Rabi?-al-akhir, and Jumada-’l-awal; Saturday in Jumada-’l-akhir, Rejab and Sha?ban; Sunday in Ramadhan, Shawal, and Dhu-’l-ka?idah; a third specifies twelve other most inauspicious days in every year, viz. the 28th of Muharram, the 10th of Safar, the 14th of Rabi?-al-awal, and so on, while for greater convenience a calendar has been drawn up, which is far too long to be reproduced here, but which closely resembles the weather chart illustrated on another page, and gives the whole list of days of the Muhammadan year classified under the heads lucky (baik), somewhat unlucky, very unlucky, and neutral.

Besides this, whole years are lucky or unlucky according as the first of Muharram falls on a Sunday, Monday, etc.; and, moreover, years vary in luck according to the letter they bear in the Cycle of Eight.228

Most of these systems of divination involve the construction of a sort of calendar, and require some degree of astronomical knowledge; but of astronomy properly so-called the Malays have scarcely even a smattering, its place being taken by the, to them, far more important science of astrology. “Their meagre ideas regarding the motions of the heavenly bodies are derived, through the Arabs, from the Ptolemaic system.”229

The seven Heavenly Bodies (Bintang Tujoh), mentioned above, whose motions they believe to be produced by the agency of angels,230 retain their Arabic names,231 and are believed to rule the “seven ominous moments” (Katika Tujoh), which are supposed to depend on the influences of these several sidereal bodies.232

The signs of the Zodiac similarly bear Arabic appellations, the form of divination in which they bear the principal part being called the Twelve Constellations (Bintang Dua-b’las).233

This form of divination is not quite so common as are those of the Five Ominous Times (5-square) and the Seven Heavenly Bodies (7-square), and I have not been able to find out much about the methods of working it, but a copy of one of the diagrams used for the purpose will be found on another page.

According to one view, which is perhaps the prevalent one, every man’s luck is determined by one or other of the zodiacal constellations, and in order to find out which one it is, the following direction is given:—

“Reckon the numerical equivalent of the person’s name and of the name of his mother by the values of the letters according to the system of the Abjad; add the two numerical equivalents together, and divide the total by twelve; if the remainder is 1, his sign is the Ram, if 2, the Bull, and so on.”

Each constellation has a series of characteristics which are supposed to influence the whole life of the person who is subject to it.234

Besides the above, a few of the other constellations are known to possess Malay names, and wherever this is the case, the name given appears usually to be quite original, having no connection with the nomenclature obtaining among nations with which we are more familiar.235

In addition to the above, the Malays possess a curious system by which the lunar month is divided into a number of parts called Rejang. According to Newbold, “the twenty-eight Rejangs resemble the Nacshatras or lunar mansions of the Hindoos, rather than the Anwa of the Arabs”;236 and it is a priori very probable that they owe their origin to this Hindu system. But by the Malays their application has been generally misunderstood, and their number is usually raised to thirty so as to fit the days of the lunar month. Each of these divisions has its symbol, which is usually an animal, and the first animal in the list is (in almost all versions) the horse. A horse’s head is also the figure of the first of the Hindu Nakshatras, but there seems to be little trace of identity in the remaining figures, which for the sake of comparison are given, side by side with the Malay symbols, in the Appendix. The Malays have embodied this system in a series of mnemonic verses (known as Sha?ir Rejang), of which there are several versions, e.g. the Rejang of ’Che Busu, the Rejang Sindiran Maiat, and others.237

The Rejangs are also dealt with at length in prose treatises: one of these, which identifies the Rejangs with the days of the lunar month, begins “on the first day of the month, whose rejang is a horse, God Almighty created the prophet Adam; this day is good for planting, travelling, and sailing, and trading on this day will be profitable; it is also a good day for a wedding, and on this day it is lucky to be attacked (i.e. in war), but rather unlucky to take the offensive; ... good news received (at this time) is true, bad news is false; property lost (on this day) will soon be recovered; the man who stole it is short of stature, with scanty hair, a round face, a slender figure and a yellow complexion; the property has been placed in a house, ... under the care of a dark man; ... if a child is born on this day it will be extremely fortunate; if one is ill on this day, one will quickly recover; the proper remedy for driving away the evil (tolak bala), is to make a representation of a horse and throw it away towards the (East?)”238 In other respects this system of divination seems to agree in its main features with those which have already been described.

Having mentioned the divisions of the calendar which are chiefly used in divination, it seems desirable, for the sake of completeness, to allude briefly to those that remain.

“The better informed Malays acknowledge the solar year of 365 days, which they term the toun (tahun) shemsiah, but in obedience to their Mohammedan instructors, adopt the lunar year (toun kumriah) of 354 days.”239

This remark is still true, no doubt, of the up-country Malays on the West Coast, but in most districts, and to an extent commensurate with European influence, the solar year is now being gradually introduced.

The same remark applies to the method of reckoning months, a dual system being now in vogue in many places where there is most contact with Europeans. Regarding the native methods the following quotation is to the point:—

“There are three ways of reckoning the months. First, the Arabian, computing thirty days to the first month, and twenty-nine to the second month, and so on alternately to the end of the year.

“Second, the Persian mode, viz. thirty days to each month; and, thirdly, that of Rum, i.e. thirty-one days to the month. The first is in general use. Some few, with greater accuracy, calculate their year at 354 days eight hours, intercalating every three years twenty-four hours, or one day to make up the deficiency, and thirty-three days for the difference between the solar and lunar years.

“But the majority of the lower classes estimate their year by the fruit seasons and by their crops of rice only. Many, however, obstinately adhere to the lunar months, and plant their paddy at the annual return of the lunar month.”

“The Malay months have been divided into weeks of seven days, marked by the return of the Mohammedan Sabbath. Natives who have had intercourse with Europeans divide the day and night into twenty-four parts, but the majority measure the day by the sun’s apparent progress through the heavens, the crow of the cock, etc. The religious day commences at sunset, like that of the Arabs and Hebrews.”

“There are two cycles borrowed from the Arabs, and known only to a few, viz. one of 120 years, the dour240 besar, and the other of eight, dour kechil. The latter is sometimes seen in dates of letters, and resembles the mode adopted by us of distinguishing by letters the different days of the week, substituting eight years for the seven days. The order of the letters is as follows: Alif-ha-jim-za-dal-ba-wau-dal-Ahajazdabuda. The present year (1251) is the year Toun-za.

“In a Malay MS. history of Patani, in my possession, I find the Siamese mode of designating the different years of the cycle by the names of animals adopted.”241

Most if not all these systems of reckoning seem to have been treated by the Malays from the astrological point of view as forming a basis for divination, and these crude notions of the lucky or unlucky nature of certain times and seasons are to some extent systematised by or in some degree mixed up with the idea of the mystic influence of numbers and geometrical figures.

Of the mystic figures used in divination, the first in importance is, no doubt, what has been called the “magic square,” a term applied to “a set of numbers arranged in a square in such a manner that the vertical, horizontal, and diagonal columns shall give the same sums.”

The ordinary form of magic square, which was formerly in use in Europe, is the following; it is occasionally found even among the Malays.

Magic Square of 3.

Magic Square of 5.

Magic Square of 7.

But the form of magic square generally used by the Malays is the same figure reversed.

Magic Square of 3.242

Magic Square of 5.242

Magic Square of 7.242

The ordinary Malay astrologer most likely understands very little of the peculiar properties of a magic square, and consequently he not unfrequently makes mistakes in the arrangement of the figures. I believe, also, that in using the squares for purposes of divination he now usually begins at one corner and counts straight on, the beginning place being almost always distinguished by a small solitary crescent or crescent and star just over the square.243 When coloured squares are introduced, as is the case with several of the 5-squares, the sum of 25 squares is subdivided into five sets or groups of five squares each, a different colour being assigned to each group. These colours would no doubt retain the comparative values usually assigned to them by Malay astrologers. Thus white would be the best of all; yellow, as the royal colour, little, if at all inferior to white; brown, blue, or red would be medium colours; black would be bad, and so on.

Sometimes, again, the names of the five Hindu deities already mentioned will be found similarly arranged, in which case they appear to refer to the divisions of the day, described above under the name of Katika Lima. Besides this class of magic squares, however, there are other kinds which present irregularities, and are not so easily explainable. Some of these violate the fundamental rule of the magic square, which insists that each square shall have an equal number of small squares running each way, and that this number shall be an odd one.

Others exhibit the right number of small squares (3 × 3 or 5 × 5 or 7 × 7), but instead of a subdivision into sub-groups, have merely an arrangement of alternative emblems, such as a bud and a full-blown flower, or the like.

An analysis of the squares whose figures are given in the illustrations shows that the order of the colours, deities, and planets is by no means always the same.

Thus, in the matter of the order of the five colours, we have:—

And in the matter of the order of the Five Deities we find:—

And yet another 5-square containing the names of Deities (Pl. 26, Fig. 2) is composed as follows:—

From Pl. 26, Fig. 2, it would appear that this form of the 5-square is used to ascertain the best time of day to commence an operation, e.g. to start on a journey.

In a 7-square we find the following:—

This 7-square is based on a heptacle in which every alternate day is skipped, thus:—

This form of square is evidently used to ascertain the best day of the week to commence any operation.

Next in importance to the methods of divination by the use of magic squares, come those which depend upon “aspect,” and involve the use of diagrams which I propose to call “aspect-compasses.” Of these the commonest form is a drawing, in which the places usually occupied by the points of the compass are occupied by the names of certain things (usually animals or birds) which are supposed to be naturally opposed to each other. Thus in one of these compass-like figures we find (vide Pl. 25, Fig. 2):—

Another has:—

And a third:—

whilst a fourth has alternately cape and bay.

The way in which these figures were used for divination is very clearly shown by Pl. 25, Fig. 1, which is copied from a figure in one of my (Selangor) charm-books, which had the days of the month, from the 1st to the 30th, written round it in blue ink. Starting from the north aspect, you count round to the left until (allowing one day to each aspect) you arrive at the aspect corresponding to the number of the day of the month upon which you wish to start your journey. If it coincides with an aspect assigned to one of the weaker influences, it will be most imprudent to start on that day. Start on a day assigned to one of the stronger influences, and you will be all right. If the first aspect-compass which you consult is not accommodating enough for your requirements, go on consulting others until you find one which is satisfactory.

Other forms of the compass-figure are used for divining whether if he starts on a certain day the man will get the better of his enemy, or meet with a person (e.g. a slave or a thief) who has run away. In the former case a double circle of human figures is used, the figures of the inner circle representing the person who seeks the information, and those of the outer circle his enemy. The counting is carried out in precisely the same manner as before, and the headless figure in each case represents the man who will lose. In the case of a drawn battle neither party, of course, loses his head.

In the case of an absconder, a single circle of figures is used, the figures pointing towards the centre signifying that the absconding party will return or be caught, and those pointing away from the centre signifying the opposite. In one case (Pl. 25, Fig. 2) there are fourteen human figures arranged in two opposing rows of seven, every alternate figure being headless. In this case you start the counting at the right-hand figure of the bottom row, and count towards the left. Yet another form of divination in which the human figure is made use of, is shown in Pl. 25, Fig. 1; a number of small red circles (which should be alternately dark and light) are drawn at the salient points of the figure, and counted down to the left in order, beginning at the head. All I have yet been able to discover about the villainous-looking individual here portrayed is the fact that he is said to represent one “Unggas Telang,” who was described to me as an “old war-chief” (hulubalang tua) of the Sea-gypsies (Orang Laut) and the Malay pirates.

Figures of dragons (naga) and scorpions (kala) are sometimes used in a similar manner; and there is also an aspect-compass known as the Rajal-al-ghaib or Jinazah Sayidna ?Ali ibn Abu Talib (the body or bier of Our Lord ?Ali, the son of Abu Talib), which, according to this notion, “is continually being carried by angels247 towards the different quarters of the heavens, and must not be faced; for if one faces towards it, one is sure to be defeated in battle or fight.” The aspect to be avoided varies from day to day, turning towards each of the eight points of the ordinary Malay compass three or four times in the lunar month.

The subject of omens in general has been shortly dealt with at the beginning of this section, and also incidentally mentioned in connection with various departments of nature and human life. It would hardly be possible to make a complete or systematic list of the things from which omens are taken. Apart from those depending merely on Times, Seasons, Numbers, and Aspect, which have been already dealt with at quite sufficient length, it may be noted that omens are drawn from earthquakes, thunder, “house-lizards, rats, and other four-footed things,” according to the times at which they are observed, from the colour, smell, and nature of soil (in choosing building-sites), from birds, and, in fact, from a very large variety of matters which cannot be classified under any general head. The lines of the hand are, of course, interpreted among the Malays, as elsewhere, as signs of good and evil fortune. It has not been possible to collect much information on the subject of Malay chiromancy, but for the benefit of European adepts in “palmistry” (as it seems to be usually styled nowadays) it may be worth while mentioning that the Malays attach importance, as an indication of long life (?alamat panjang ?umor),248 to the intersection of the line round the base of the thumb249 with the one which runs round the wrist (simpeian ?Ali), while a broken line across the palm (retak putus) is believed by them to be a sign of invulnerability (tanda penggetas, ta’ buleh di-tikam). Upright lines running up the lower joints of the fingers, in the same line as the fingers themselves, are a sign of prospective wealth (?alamat ’nak di-panjat de’ duit, tanda orang kaya), and a whorl of circular lines on the fingers (pusat belanak) is a sign of a craftsman (?alamat orang tukang).

More important, perhaps, are the omens believed to be derived from dreams, of which there seem to be several different methods of interpretation. According to one system the initial letter of the thing dreamt of determines the luck: thus to dream of a thing beginning with T is very lucky indeed, to dream of a thing beginning with H means that a visitor from a distance is to be expected; N indicates sorrow, L is a hint to give alms to the poor and needy, and so forth. According to another system, a purely arbitrary meaning is put upon the subject-matter of the dream, or, at most, some slight analogy is the basis of the interpretation. Thus to dream of a gale of wind in the early morning is an omen of sorrow, to dream of hail means acquisition of property, to dream of bathing in a heavy shower of rain indicates escape from a very great danger, a dream about mosquitoes, flies, and the like, means that an enemy is coming to the village, to dream about eating jack-fruit (nangka) or plantain (pisang) is an indication of great trouble impending, and so on; an extract from a treatise on this subject is given in the Appendix, and it is impossible to dwell at greater length upon it here. Among Malay gamblers special importance is attached to dreams as an indication of luck in gambling (mimpi paksa or dapat paksa). If the gambler dreams of “sweeping out the gambling farm” (menyapu pajak), i.e. “breaking the bank,” or of running amok in it (mengamok pajak), or of bailing out the ocean (menimba lautan), or of the ocean running dry (lautan k’ring), or even of his breeding maggots on his person (badan berulat), he is confident of great good fortune in the near future.

As a specimen of the importance traditionally ascribed to dreams, it seems worth while to give the following popular legend, which also illustrates the type of folk-tales in which hidden treasure plays a great part:—

“Che Puteh Jambai and his wife were very poor people, who lived many generations ago at Pulo Kambiri on the Perak river. They had so few clothes between them that when one went out the other had to stay at home. Nothing seemed to prosper with them, so leaving Pulo Kambiri, where their poverty made them ashamed to meet their neighbours, they moved up the river to the spot since called Jambai. Shortly after they had settled here Che Puteh was troubled by a portent which has disturbed the slumbers of many great men from the time of Pharaoh downwards. He dreamed a dream. And in his dream he was warned by a supernatural visitant to slay his wife, this being, he was assured, the only means by which he could hope to better his miserable condition.

“Sorely disturbed in mind, but never doubting that the proper course was to obey, Che Puteh confided to his wife the commands which he had received, and desired her to prepare for death. The unhappy lady acquiesced with that conjugal submissiveness which in Malay legends, as in the Arabian Nights, is so characteristic of the Oriental female when landed in some terrible predicament. But she craved and obtained permission to first go down to the river and wash herself with lime juice. So taking a handful of limes she went forth, and, standing on the rock called Batu Pembunoh, she proceeded to perform her ablutions after the Malay fashion. The prospect of approaching death, we may presume, unnerved her, for in dividing the limes with a knife she managed to cut her own hand and the blood dripped down on the rocks and into the river; as each drop was borne away by the current, a large jar immediately rose to the surface and floated, in defiance of all natural laws, up-stream to the spot whence the blood came. As each jar floated up Che Puteh’s wife tapped it with her knife and pulled it in to the edge of the rocks. On opening them she found them all full of gold. She then went in search of her husband and told him of the treasure of which she had suddenly become possessed. He spared her life, and they lived together in the enjoyment of great wealth and prosperity for many years. Their old age was clouded, it is believed, by the anxiety attending the possession of a beautiful daughter, who was born to them after they became rich. She grew up to the perfection of loveliness, and all the Rajas and Chiefs of the neighbouring countries were her suitors. The multitude of rival claims so bewildered the unhappy parents that, after concealing a great part of their riches in various places, they disappeared and have never since been seen. Their property was never found by their children, though, in obedience to instructions received in dreams, they braved sea-voyages and went to seek for it in the distant lands of Kachapuri and Jamulepor.

“Several places near Jambai connected with the legend of Che Puteh are still pointed out; at Bukit Bunyian the treasure was buried and still lies concealed. A deep gorge leading down to the river is the ghaut down which Che Puteh’s vast flocks of buffaloes used to go to the river. Its size is evidence of the great number of the animals, and therefore of the wealth of their owner. Two deep pools, called respectively Lubuk Gong and Lubuk Sarunai, contain a golden gong and a golden flute which were sunk here by Che Puteh Jambai. The flute may sometimes be seen lying on one of the surrounding rocks, but always disappears into the depths of the pool before any mortal can approach it. The treasures of Lubuk Gong might before now have passed into human possession, had it not been for the covetousness of the individual selected as their recipient. A Malay of Ulu Perak was told in a dream to go and fish in the pool of the gong and to take a pair of betel-nut scissors (kachip) with him. He was to use the kachip immediately on being told to do so. Next morning he was at the pool early, and at his first cast hooked something heavy and commenced to draw it up. When the hook appeared above water there was a gold chain attached to it. The lucky fisherman then commenced to pull up the chain into his canoe, and hauled up fathoms of it, hand over hand, until the boat could hardly hold any more. Just then a little bird alighted on a branch close by and piped out a couple of notes, which sounded for all the world like kachip. The man heard, but he wanted a little more, and he went on hauling. ‘Kachip,’ said the bird again. ‘Just a very little more,’ thought the fisherman, and he still continued dragging up the chain. Again and again the warning note sounded, but in vain, and suddenly a strong pull from the bottom of the pool dragged back the chain, and before the Malay had time to divide it with his tweezers, the last link of it had disappeared beneath the water.”250

While by divination and by inferences from omens and dreams, Malays attempt to ascertain the course of fate, so by charms of the nature of amulets and talismans they sometimes endeavour to influence its direction or modify its force. Charms of the nature of invocations have been dealt with already under different headings in connection with a variety of matters, and it will only be necessary to refer here to a few miscellaneous ones of a less elaborate character. It should be observed that some charms are directly effective or protective, like amulets or talismans, while others are supposed to work only by influencing the volition of another mind. Under the latter head come the great mass of love-charms, charms for securing conjugal fidelity, or for compelling the revelation by another person of his or her secret thoughts, and the like, of which Malay books of magic are full; while under the former come sundry recipes of a more or less medicinal nature for the purpose of curing various diseases, of increasing physical power or virility, or of protecting the person against evil influences, natural or supernatural. In most of these cases the modus operandi is of the simplest character; the charm consists usually of a short Arabic prayer or a few letters and figures, sometimes quite meaningless and conventional, sometimes making up one or more of the sacred names (Allah, Muhammad, ?Ali, etc.). These charms are written on paper or cloth and worn on the person; sometimes they are written on the body itself, especially on the part to be affected; occasionally they are written on a cup which is then used for drinking purposes. Such prescriptions are infinite in number, and are to be found in Malay charm-books, wedged in amongst matter of a more strictly medical kind; in fact, it would be quite correct to say that letter-charms (rajah, ?azimat) and sacred names have their place in the Malay Pharmacopoeia side by side with spices, herbs, roots, and the like. But such charms are also used for many other purposes: “to ward off demons (sheitan), to make children feed at the breast properly, to prevent them from crying and from going into convulsions, to prevent the rice-crops from being devoured by pigs, rats, and maggots,” are consecutive instances of the charms contained in a page of one of the numerous Malay treatises on these matters. It would, from the nature of the case, be utterly impossible to exhaust this endless subject, and it is not necessary to dwell upon it at greater length, as the details of the charms used (of which a few are quoted in the Appendix) do not as a rule offer any features of general interest.251

Far more interesting is that form of the Black Art which attempts to “abduct,” or in some way “get at” another person’s soul, whether (as in the case of the ordinary love-charm), in order to influence it in the operator’s favour, or, on the other hand, with a view to doing the victim some harm, which may take the form of madness, disease, or even death.

These results can be arrived at by a variety of methods: in some of them the influence works entirely without contact, in others there is some sort of contact between the victim and the receptacle into which his soul is to be enticed. A few specimens of the methods employed will conclude this part of the subject; they are necessarily somewhat of a miscellaneous character; but it will be seen that they are really only different applications of the same general principle, the nature of which has already been indicated in the section on the Soul.252

The following is an instance of direct contact between the soul receptacle and its owner’s body—

“Take soil from the centre of the footprint (hati-hati tapak) of the person you wish to charm, and ‘treat it ceremonially’ (di-puja) for about three days.

“The ‘ceremonial treatment’ consists in wrapping it up in pieces of red, black, and yellow cloth253 (the yellow being outside), and hanging it from the centre of your mosquito-curtain with parti-coloured thread (penggantong-nya benang pancharona). It will then become (the domicile of) your victim’s soul (jadi semangat). You must, however, to complete the ceremony, switch it with a birch of seven leaf-ribs taken from a ‘green’ cocoa-nut (penyembat-nya lidi niyor hijau tujoh ’lei) seven times at sundown, seven times at midnight, and seven times at sunrise, continuing this for three days, and saying as you do so:—

“Then bury it in the middle of a path where your victim is sure to step over it (supaya buleh di-langkah-nya), and he will certainly become distraught. The only taboo in connection with it is that you should let no one share your sleeping-mat.” The soul-receptacle in this case is the lump of earth taken from the centre of the victim’s footprint. It is said to actually “become (the victim’s) soul,” but no doubt this is merely figurative, though it completely proves the identification of the soul with its receptacle in the Malay mind. The object of the birching is not self-evident, but may be intended to dispel evil influences, and so purify it for the incoming soul.

Another way of obtaining the required result is to scrape off some of the wood of the floor from the place where your intended victim has been sitting. Having secured this, take some of the soil from his or her footprint and mix them both together with wax from a deserted bees’ comb, moulding the figure into his or her likeness. Fumigate it with incense, and “beckon” to the soul by waving a cloth (lambei semangat) every night for three nights successively, reciting this charm:—

Another method is as follows:—

Take parings of nails, hair, eyebrows, saliva, etc. of your intended victim (sufficient to represent every part of his person), and make them up into his likeness with wax from a deserted bees’ comb. Scorch the figure slowly by holding it over a lamp every night for seven nights, and say:—

After the seventh time burn the figure, and your victim will die.

The description of the next ceremony is taken word for word from a charm-book which I obtained from a Langat Malay (named ’Che Indut), and which is still in my possession. As it illustrates several new points about these wax figures, and as such charms are exceedingly rare and all but impossible to obtain, I here give a word for word translation of the whole text, the original Malay version of which will be found in the Appendix:254—

“This refers to making images to harm people. You make an image to resemble a corpse out of wax from an empty bees’ comb,255 and of the length of a footstep. If you want to cause sickness, you pierce the eye and blindness results; or you pierce the waist and the stomach (lit. the waist) gets sick, or you pierce the head and the head gets sick, or you pierce the breast and the breast gets sick. If you want to cause death, you transfix it from the head right through to the buttocks, the ‘transfixer’ being a gomuti-palm256 twig; then you enshroud the image as you would a corpse, and you pray over it as if you were praying over the dead; then you bury it in the middle of the path (which goes to) the place of the person whom you wish to charm, so that he may step across it. This refers to when you want to bury the image—

There are, as I have said, several new points to be got from this charm. You must make the image resemble a corpse; you must make it of the length of the footstep (doubtless that of the intended victim); you must pierce the part which you want to affect; if you want to kill your man, you must transfix him from the head downwards with the twig of a gomuti-palm (that is to say, with one of the black splinters used as pens by the Malays257); you must wrap the image in a shroud, and read the burial service over it; and, finally, in order to absolve yourself from blood-guiltiness, you shift the burden of your crime on to the shoulders of the Archangel Gabriel!!!

There are, of course, many slight variations of the actual ceremony. Sometimes the wizard, during the insertion of the pins into the image, exclaims:—

And then, after “waving” the figure in the smoke of the incense, and depositing it in the centre of a sacrificial tray (anchak), he invites the spirits to banquet upon his victim’s body:—

When the ceremony is over the image is buried in the usual way in front of the victim’s door-step.

Another method is described as follows:—

“Make the wax figure in the usual way and with the usual ingredients. At sundown take parched rice, with white, black, green, and yellow (saffron) rice, a “chew” of betel-leaf, a wax taper and an egg—this latter as the representative of a fowl (?isharat ayam). Burn incense, and recite this charm:—

This is a charm for sowing dissension between husband and wife (pembenchi):—

Make two of the wax figures in the ordinary way, but taking care that one resembles the husband and the other the wife. Sit down with your legs stretched out before you, and hold the figures face to face while you repeat the charm thrice, and at the end of each repetition breathe upon their heads. Then lay the man upon the ground on your right side close to your thigh, but looking away from it; and the woman at the side of the left thigh in a similar position, so that they both look away from each other. Then burn incense and recite the same charm twenty-two times over the man and twenty-two times over the woman. Now put them back to back, and wrap them up in seven thicknesses of the leaves of tukas,260 and tie them round with thread of seven colours wrapped seven times round them, repeat the charm and bury them. Dig them up after seven days and see if they are still there. If you find them the charm has failed, but if not, it will work, and they will assuredly be divorced. The charm runs as follows:—

Which, so far as it is intelligible, appears to mean:—

The following is a clear example of soul abduction without contact:—

The simplest way, perhaps, of abducting another person’s soul is to go out, when the sun clears (matahari mencharak, at sunrise?), or when the newly-risen moon looks red, and standing with the big toe of the right foot resting on the big toe of the left, to make a trumpet of your right hand and recite the appropriate charm through this improvised speaking-trumpet thrice. At the end of each recital you blow through the hollowed fist. The charm runs as follows:—

A second method is to beat your own shadow,261 ceremonially; according to this method you take a cane (of rattan or rotan sega), in length as long as your body, fumigate it with incense and recite a charm over it seven times, striking your own shadow with the cane once after each recital. Repeat this at sundown, midnight, and early morning, and sleep under a coverlet made of five cubits of white cloth, and the soul you wish for will assuredly come to you. The following is the charm, a very curious one:—

Another method of abducting another person’s soul is as follows:—

“Take a lime branch which has seven limes on a single stalk, and suspend it from the top of your mosquito-curtain on three successive nights. When you suspend it recite the charm already given262 (beginning ‘Om! shout it again and again!’).”

The following ceremony is one in which the soul of another person is abducted without any direct contact between the soul-receptacle, which in this case is a head-cloth, and the soul-owner. The directions are as follows:—

“Go out on the fourteenth night of the lunar month (full moon) and two successive nights; seat yourself on a male ant-hill (busut jantan) facing the moon, burn incense, and repeat the charm:—

Here wave the end of your head-cloth (puncha detar) in the direction of the moon seven times every night for three successive nights. Then take the turban (detar) home and place it under your pillow (for the three nights). If you want to use it by day, burn incense, and say:—

At sundown, when the sun is hovering on the brink of the horizon (matahari ayun termayun), chew betel, and spit out (semborkan) the chewed leaf thrice. Then stand opposite the door, looking if possible towards the west, burn incense, and repeat this charm:—

Although this looks at first sight not unlike a love-charm, the last two lines show that it is really intended to induce a wandering soul (semangat riang) to return to its owner. In fact, the wizard who gave me this charm told me that it was taboo to let any one pass during the whole evening, when this charm was used, between the light and the patient.

It seems possible, however, that it might be used on occasion, and mutatis mutandis, as a love charm as well.

The following ceremony is professedly a species of divination (tilek or penilek), but as it is clearly only another form of soul-abduction I give it here. The instructions are as follows:—

“First take some wax from a deserted bees’ comb and make a wax taper out of it as well as you can; stick it upon the rim of a white cup, and repeat this charm, when you will be able to see the person you wish to affect in the taper’s flame (buleh di-tengo’ orang-nya didalam puchok api). The charm runs as follows:—

“Next you take a fathom’s length of thread, with seven strands, and seven colours running through the strands (benang tujoh urat, tujoh warna melintang benang), and a pen made of a splinter of the sugar-palm (puchok kabong), and draw a portrait of the person you wish to charm (menulis gambar orang itu). When the portrait is finished you suspend it from the end of a pole by means of the parti-coloured thread, and make fast the lower end of the pole to the branch of a tree, fixing it at an angle, so that the portrait may hang free and be blown to and fro without ceasing by every breath of wind. This will cause her heart to love you.”

It will be noticed that a general similarity underlies these several methods of soul-abduction in spite of their apparent variety, and the diversity of the objects in view in the different cases. On this point it is impossible to enlarge here: the purpose of this book has been primarily to collect authentic specimens of the various magic practices in vogue among the Malays of the Malay Peninsula, and to indicate the nature of the beliefs on which these practices are based, leaving it for others to draw from them such inferences and to make such comparisons as may throw further light on the subject. It has not been deemed desirable to anticipate such inferences and comparisons here; but, without trespassing beyond the scope of the present work, it may be noticed that there is a special appropriateness in concluding it with the above account of the various methods of soul-abduction. From them, taken together with what has already been said on the subject,264 a fairly complete idea can be gathered of the Malay conception of the Soul; and it is hardly too much to say that this conception is the central feature of the whole system of Malay magic and folklore, from which all the different branches with their various applications appear to spring.

The root-idea seems to be an all-pervading Animism, involving a certain common vital principle (semangat) in Man and Nature, which, for want of a more suitable word, has been here called the Soul. The application of this general theory of the universe to the requirements of the individual man constitutes the Magic Art, which, as conceived by the Malays, may be said to consist of the methods by which this Soul, whether in gods, men, animals, vegetables, minerals, or what not, may be influenced, captured, subdued, or in some way made subject to the will of the magician.

It would, however, probably be a mistake to push this analysis too far; for side by side with the theory of a universe animated by souls, which by the use of the appropriate words and forms can be cajoled or threatened, there are the ideas of Luck and Ill-luck, and the notion, strong in Muhammadans all over the world, of a preordained course of events. Sometimes, presumably in extreme cases, there is no escape from this destiny: if a man is fated to die at a certain time, die he must, whatever he may do. But to a great extent ill-luck can be avoided if one knows how; though we cannot stop it, we need not expose ourselves to its influence. Thus a particular hour may be unlucky for the doing of a certain act; but if we know that it is so, we need not incur the danger.

There are, therefore, for a Malay three alternatives, it would seem: viz. Charms, for occasions where moral pressure can be brought to bear; Divination, to assist in detecting dangers which in the ordinary course must come but can be avoided; and, finally, Islam (Resignation), when he has to meet the inevitable, whether it be regarded as the course of Fate or the eternal purpose of God.

1 “To return to the elemental spirits, it was explained to me by a Malay, with whom I discussed the subject at leisure, that apart from the spirits which are an object of reverence, and which when treated with proper deference are usually beneficent, there are a variety of others. To begin with, spirits (the word used on this occasion was hantu) are of at least two kinds—wild ones, whose normal habitat is the jungle, and those that are, so to say, domesticated. The latter, which seem to correspond to what in Western magic are called ‘familiars,’ vary in character with their owners or the persons to whom they are attached. Thus in this particular village of Bukit Senggeh, a few years ago, there was a good deal of alarm on account of the arrival of two or three strangers believed to be of bad character, who were supposed to keep a familiar spirit of a peculiarly malignant disposition, which was in the habit of attacking people in their sleep by throttling them. One or two cases of this kind occurred, and it was seriously suggested that I should make the matter the subject of a magisterial inquiry, which, however, I did not find it necessary to do. But the familiar spirits are by no means necessarily evil.... The chief point of importance is to keep these wild spirits in their proper place, viz. the jungle, and to prevent them taking up their abode in the villages. For this reason charms are hung up at the borders of the villages, and whenever a wild spirit breaks bounds and encroaches on human habitations it is necessary to get him turned out.”—Blagden in J.R.A.S., S.B. No. 29, p. 4.?

2 Vide Klinkert, v.d. Wall, and Pijnappel, sub voce.?

3 This “Bajang” was copied for me by ’Che Sam (for many years Malay munshi and clerk at Kuala Lumpur, Selangor), from the original which was posted up on the door of one of his neighbours. The outlines of the figure are made up from varying combinations of the names “Allah,” “Muhammad,” “?Ali,” etc., in the Arabic character.?

4 “In all parts of the Peninsula the Bajang is said to be of the male gender, while the Langsuir is supposed to be a female. It is usually believed by Malays that the Bajang is merely a malignant spirit which haunts mankind, and whose presence foretells disaster. In Perak and some other parts of the Peninsula, however, the Bajang is regarded as one of the several kinds of demons which, the Malays hold, can be enslaved by man and become his familiar spirit. Such familiars, it is believed, are handed down in certain families as heirlooms. The master of the familiar is said to keep it imprisoned in a tabong, or vessel made from a joint of the bamboo, which is closed by a stopper made from the leaves of the Cotyledon laciniata, the Daun chekar bebek, or Daun sadingin, as they are variously termed by the Malays. Both the case and the stopper are prepared by certain magic arts before they can be employed in this way. The familiar is fed with eggs and milk. When its master wishes to make use of it he sends it forth to possess and prey upon the vitals of any one whom his malice may select as a victim. The individual thus persecuted is at once seized by a deadly and unaccountable ailment, which can only be cured by magic agencies. If the Bajang is neglected by its owner, and if the latter omits to feed it regularly, it is said that he often falls a victim to his own familiar.”—Clifford and Swett., Mal. Dic., s.v. Bajang.?

5 Swett., Mal. Sketches, p. 194, seqq.?

6 Swett., Mal. Sketches, pp. 198, 199.?

7 J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 7, p. 28. Cp. “Langsuior, the female familiar, differs hardly at all from the bÂjang, except that she is a little more baneful, and when under the control of a man he sometimes becomes the victim of her attractions, and she will even bear him elfin children.”—Swett., Mal. Sketches, p. 198.?

8 “Pontianak” appears to be synonymous with “Mati-anak,” which may perhaps be a shorter form of Mati beranak (“stillborn”); indeed, one of the charms against the Pontianak which I collected, commenced with the words, “Pontianak mati beranak.”?

9 Mr. Clifford (of Pahang), however, speaks of “that weird little white animal, the Mati-Ânak, that makes beast noises round the graves of children.”—In Court and Kampong, p. 231.?

10 Cp., however, “The Penangal, that horrible wraith of a woman who has died in childbirth, and who comes to torment small children in the guise of a fearful face and bust, with many feet of bloody, trailing entrails in her wake.”—Clifford, loc. cit.

“He (Mr. M.) said, ‘Very well then, tell me about the penanggalan only, I should like to hear it and to write it down in English so that Europeans may know how foolish those persons are who believe in such things.’ I then drew a picture representing a woman’s head and neck only, with the intestines hanging down. Mr. M. caused this to be engraved on wood by a Chinese, and inserted it with the story belonging to it in a publication called the Anglo-Chinese Gleaner. And I said, ‘Sir, listen to the account of the penanggalan. It was originally a woman. She used the magic arts of a devil in whom she believed, and she devoted herself to his service night and day until the period of her agreement with her teacher had expired and she was able to fly. Her head and neck were then loosened from the body, the intestines being attached to them, and hanging down in strings. The body remained where it was. Wherever the person whom it was wished to injure happened to live, thither flew the head and bowels to suck his blood, and the person whose blood was sucked was sure to die. If the blood and water which dripped from the intestines touched any person, serious illness immediately followed and his body broke out in open sores. The penanggalan likes to suck the blood of women in childbirth. For this reason it is customary at all houses where a birth occurs to hang up jeruju11 leaves at the doors and windows, or to place thorns wherever there is any blood, lest the penanggalan should come and suck it, for the penanggalan has, it seems, a dread of thorns in which her intestines may happen to get caught. It is said that a penanggalan once came to a man’s house in the middle of the night to suck his blood, and her intestines were caught in some thorns near the hedge, and she had to remain there until daylight, when the people saw and killed her.

“‘The person who has the power of becoming a penanggalan always keeps at her house a quantity of vinegar in a jar or vessel of some kind. The use of this is to soak the intestines in, for when they issue forth from the body they immediately swell up and cannot be put back, but after being soaked in vinegar they shrink to their former size and enter the body again. There are many people who have seen the penanggalan flying along with its entrails dangling down and shining at night like fire-flies.

“‘Such is the story of the penanggalan as I have heard it from my forefathers but I do not believe it in the least. God forbid that I should.’”—Hikayat Abdullah, p. 143.?

11 A kind of thistle.?

12 “The origin of the Polong is this:—The blood of a murdered man must be taken and placed in a bottle (buli-buli, a bottle having a spherical or wide body and a long narrow neck). Then prayers are said over it, and something or other is read, I don’t know what, but it has to be learnt. After seven days of this worship, according to some people, or after twice seven days according to others, a sound is heard in the bottle like the chirping of young birds. The operator then cuts his finger and inserts it into the bottle and the Polong sucks it. The person who thus supports the Polong is called his father, or, if it happens to be a woman, she is his mother. Every day the parent feeds it with his (or her) blood. The object of doing this and the advantage to be gained from it are these:—if he entertains a feeling of anger against any one he orders the Polong to go and afflict him, that is to say, to cause him pain or sickness; or if a third person is at enmity with another he goes in secret to the person who keeps the Polong, and gives him a sum of money to send the Polong to attack the person against whom he bears ill-will. This is the use of it. The person who is tormented by the Polong, whether a virgin, or a married woman, or a man, cries out and loses consciousness of what he (or she) is doing, and tears and throws off his (or her) clothing, biting and striking the people near, blind and deaf to everything, and does all sorts of other things. Wise men are called in to prescribe remedies; some come and chant formulas over the head of the patient, others pinch his thumb and apply medicines to it. When the remedy is successful the sick person cries out, ‘Let me go, I want to go home.’ The doctor replies, ‘I will not let you go if you do not make known who it is that has sent you here, and why you have come, and who are your father and mother.’ Sometimes he (the Polong in the patient) remains silent and will not confess or give the names of his parents; sometimes he confesses, and says ‘Let me go, my father is such-a-one and lives at such-and-such a kampong, and my mother is so-and-so. The reason that I have come here is that such-a-one came to my parents and asked for their aid, and gave them a sum of money because he bore ill-will against this person’ (or whatever the reason may have been). Sometimes he makes a false statement, and mentions entirely wrong persons in order to conceal the names of his parents. As soon as the people know the name of the person who has contrived the attack and the reason, they let him go, and the sick person at once recovers his consciousness, but he is left weak and feeble. When a Polong attacks a person and will confess nothing, the person who is attacked shrieks and yells in anger, and after a day or two he dies. After death blood pours forth bubbling (ber-kopak-kopak) from the mouth, and the whole body is blue with bruises.”—Hikayat Abdullah, p. 143. Notes and Queries, S.B.R.A.S. No. 4, sec. 98, issued with No. 17 of the Journal.?

13 Merepet kata kuching.?

14 Cp. Clifford, In Court and Kampong, pp. 230–244. “PÔlong and pelsit are but other names for bÂjang, the latter is chiefly used in the state of Kedah, where it is considered rather chic to have a pelsit. A Kedah lady the other day, eulogising the advantage of possessing a familiar spirit (she said that, amongst other things, it gave her absolute control over her husband and the power of annoying people who offended her), thus described the method of securing this useful ally:—

“‘You go out,’ she said, ‘on the night before the full moon, and stand with your back to the moon, and your face to an ant-hill, so that your shadow falls on the ant-hill. Then you recite certain jampi (incantations), and bending forward try to embrace your shadow. If you fail, try again several times, repeating more incantations. If not successful, go the next night and make a further effort, and the night after, if necessary—three nights in all. If you cannot then catch your shadow, wait till the same day on the following month and renew the attempt. Sooner or later you will succeed, and, as you stand there in the brilliance of the moonlight, you will see that you have drawn your shadow into yourself, and your body will never again cast a shade. Go home, and in the night, whether sleeping or waking, the form of a child will appear before you and put out its tongue; that seize, and it will remain while the rest of the child disappears. In a little while the tongue will turn into something that breathes, a small animal, reptile, or insect, and when you see the creature has life put it in a bottle and the pelsit is yours.’

“It sounds easy enough, and one is not surprised to hear that every one in Kedah, who is anybody, keeps a pelsit.” Swett., Malay Sketches, pp. 197, 198.?

15 No less than seven “Bidans,” it is said, were formerly requisitioned at the birth of a Raja’s child, and occasions when even nine are mentioned are to be met with in Malay romances. The most general custom, however, seems to have been to summon seven “Bidans” only, the number being possibly due to the Malay theory of a sevenfold soul (v. Soul). The profession was an honourable one, and the Bidans received the title of “Dato’ (abbreviated to ’Toh) Bidan”; but if the child of a Raja happened to die, the Bidan who was adjudged to be responsible paid the penalty with her life.?

16 Vide also N. & Q. No. 3, sec. 65, issued with J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 16.?

17 If the betel-leaf adheres to the cherana it is a bad sign (uri melekat tiada mahu k’luar).?

18 Vide p. 551, infra.?

19 Vide App. clxxxiv.?

20 So, too, in the report of the Dutch Expedition to Mid-Sumatra, vol. i. p. 266, it is stated that delivery took place “in a sitting posture.”?

21 T’rong asam.?

22 One account says that the Penanggalan (or Manjang, i.e. Pemanjangan another name for her) if she comes will be caught in this snare, and that next morning when the fowls are let loose out of the fowl-house they will peck at the sac of her stomach to get at its contents. Thus she will be detected, and can be punished by having her stomach filled up with ground glass and sherds of earthenware, which will kill her in about seven days’ time!?

23 When the “sickness” is severe, the Bidan draws upon her almost inexhaustible stock of Malay charms, a specimen of which will be found in the Appendix. Salt and asam are taken (apparently by the Bidan?) into the mouth (di-kemam asam garam) while the selected charm is repeated.?

24 Vide McNair, Perak and the Malays, p. 231. “The children of the Malays are received into the world quite in religious form, prayer being said, and the Azan or Allah Akbar pronounced by the father with his lips close to the tender infant’s ear.” The bang, according to ’Che Sam, a Malay pandit of Kuala Lumpor, ran somewhat as follows:—Allahu Akbar (twice), ashahadun la-ilaha-illa-’llah (twice), ashahadun Muhammad al-Rasul Allah (twice), hei ?Ali al-saleh (twice), hei ?Ali al-faleh (twice), Allahu akbar (twice), la-ilaha-illa-’llah (twice); and the kamat as follows:—

Allahu akbar (twice), ashahadun la-ilaha-illa-’llah, ashahadun Muhammad al-Rasul Allah. Hei ?Ali al-saleh, hei ?Ali al-faleh, kad kamat al-salata (twice), la-ilaha-illa-’llah.?

25 Vide App. cl.?

26 Mr. H. N. Ridley, Director of Gardens and Forests at Singapore, in a pamphlet on Malay Materia Medica (dated 1894) describes a somewhat similar ceremony as follows:—

“When a child suffers from sampuh pachut, that is to say, when it persistently cries and will not take its food, it is treated in the following way: the leaves of Hedyotis congesta, Br., a tall jungle weed, known as Lida Jin [lidah jin, lit. Demon’s Tongue] or Poko’ Sampuh Pachut, are boiled with some other leaves till one-third of the liquor is evaporated, and the decoction exposed to the dew for a night, and the child is bathed with it; or a quantity of road-side rubbish, dead-leaves, sticks, chewed sugar-cane, etc. is boiled and the child is bathed in the liquid (it is washed afterwards), and it is then smoked over a fire consisting of a nest of a weaver-bird (sarang tampur), the skin of a bottle-gourd (labu), and a piece of wood which has been struck by lightning.”?

27 Kur, semangat Muhammad ini! Kur, semangat Fatimah ini!?

28 Vide pp. 353–355, infra.?

29 Of the Pahang customs Mr. Clifford writes:—

“Umat rushes off to the most famous midwife in the place, and presents her with a little brass dish filled with smooth green sÎrih leaves, and sixpence of our money (25 cents) in copper, for such is the retaining fee prescribed by Malay custom. The recipient of these treasures is thereafter held bound to attend the patient whenever she may be called upon to do so, and when the confinement is over she can claim other moneys in payment of her services. These latter fees are not ruinously high, according to our standard, two dollars being charged for attending a woman in her first confinement, a dollar or a dollar and a half on the next occasion, and twenty-five, or at the most fifty cents being deemed sufficient for each subsequent event.”—Clifford, Studies in Brown Hum., pp. 47, 48.?

30 To each corner of this hearth is fastened a bunch of lemon-grass leaves, each of which is separately charmed by ejecting betel-leaf upon it (di-sembor); at the same time a pillow is prepared for it by the insertion of a needle at each end. The fire (api saleian) is always lighted by the Bidan, and must never be allowed to go out for the whole of the 44 days. To light it the Bidan should take a brand from the house-fire (api dapor), and when it is once properly kindled, nothing must be cooked at it, or the child will suffer. Moreover, whenever during this same period there happens to be a hen sitting on its eggs in the house, the blades of weapons, such as daggers (k’risses) and spears, must not be reset in their handles (membalau) either over the hearth-fire or the fire of the saleian.?

31 J. D. Vaughan in vol. xi. of J.I.A.

Cp. the following passage:—

“Later, comes a day when Selema nearly loses her life by reason of the barbarities which Malay science considers necessary if a woman is to win through her confinement without mishap.”—Clifford, Stud. in Br. Hum., p. 51.?

32 The following methods are resorted to for the curing of faintness: (a) the patient is made to smell (di-isapkan), first with one and then with the other nostril, the bottom of the copper (or brass) receptacle (pekaporan) in which the lime, which is one of the invariable concomitants of the betel-chewing apparatus, is kept; (b) the “rattan” (rotan sega) “cure,” which is said to consist in charring the end of a piece of rattan (rotan sega), taking the burnt end in the mouth, and blowing the smoke into the patient’s ear (di-embuskan).?

33 Clifford, Stud. in Brown Hum., pp. 48–50.?

34 The following is the list of actual ingredients so far as I could ascertain them: bark of the jambus, sentul, b’ruas, rambutan, kachang kayu, ’leban, dedap, petaling, rambei, lawang, kayu manis, serapat, and memp’las hari; and the following herbs, roots, or spices, such as kunyit t’rus, lada hitam, bawang puteh, bawang merah, chingkeh pala, buah pelaga, katumbar, jemuju Jawa, jemuju kersani, chabei tali, chabei pintal, changkoh, sudu ayer, mur daging, mur tulang, pekak, jintan puteh, jintan hitam, manjakani, manjarawai or menjelawai (?), akar manis, biji sawi, jadam, puchok ganti, mesur, alim, mustakim, chuchor atap, kemukus, and kadekai.?

35 J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 7, p. 19.?

36 Clifford, Stud. in Brown Hum., p. 51.?

37 Lit. “sharpening of the teeth.”?

38 Lit. “heirs” (warith), but often, as here, used in the sense of representative members of the family.?

39 The leaf-brush in this case consisted of leaves of the sapenoh, pulut-pulut, sapanggil, sambau dara, and selaguri, and was bound up with ribu-ribu (a kind of creeper).?

40 Into this egg, it is supposed, all evil influences proceeding from the teeth enter. Hence it is regarded after the ceremony as sial (unlucky), and cannot be eaten—indeed it is considered “bad” (temb’lang).?

41 Besides the tray containing the articles described, there stood at one side of the room what is called a dulang-dulang. This consists of a tray full of unhusked rice surmounted by a tray full of husked rice and a roughly-husked cocoa-nut (niyor gubalan) which rests upon the latter. The pointed top of the cocoa-nut referred to is encircled by a hank of “Java” thread (benang Jawa), which is said to avert injury to the tooth-filer’s eyes whenever, as sometimes happens, the evil influence (badi) issues from the teeth. This dulang-dulang is valued at a quarter of a dollar, and is taken as part payment of the tooth-filer’s services, or it may be retained by the householder when the full fee of fifty cents is paid. This dulang-dulang is thought, moreover, to dispel evil influences (membuang sial), the hank of yarn being used by the Pawang to wipe his eyes should any harm to them accrue from evil influences residing in the teeth. Such evil influences (badi), however, can only accrue when people are having their teeth filed for the first time (orang bungaran).?

42 Vide App. cli.?

43 Vide App. cliii.?

44 Vide App. clv.?

45 “Both sexes have the extraordinary custom of filing and otherwise disfiguring their teeth, which are naturally very white and beautiful, from the simplicity of their food. For files they make use of small whetstones, and the patients lie on their backs during the operation. Many, particularly the women of the Lampong country, have their teeth rubbed down quite even with the gums; others have them formed in points, and some file off no more than the outer coat and extremities in order that they may the better receive and retain the jetty blackness with which they almost universally adorn them. The black used on these occasions is the empyreumatic oil of the cocoa-nut shell. When this is not applied the filing does not, by destroying what we term the enamel, diminish the whiteness of the teeth.... The great men sometimes set theirs in gold by casing with a plate of that metal the under row; and this ornament, contrasted with the black dye, has, by lamp or candle light, a very splendid effect. It is sometimes indented to the shape of the teeth, but more usually quite plain. They do not remove it either to eat or sleep.”—Marsden, Hist. of Sumatra (ed. 1811), pp. 52, 53.?

46 The oil used for this purpose is also obtained by burning the leaves of the lime-tree (Clifford and Swett., Mal. Dict., s.v. BÂja) or (in Selangor) the wood of certain trees, such as the jambu biawas and mer’poyan.?

47 “At the age of about eight or nine they bore the ears and file the teeth of the female children; which are ceremonies that must necessarily precede their marriage. The former they call betende, and the latter bedabong; and these operations are regarded in the family as the occasion of a festival. They do not here, as in some of the adjacent islands (of Nias in particular), increase the aperture of the ear to a monstrous size, so as in many instances to be large enough to admit the hand, the lower parts being stretched till they touch the shoulders. Their ear-rings are mostly of gold filagree, and fastened, not with a clasp, but in the manner of a rivet or nut screwed to the inner part.”—Marsden, Hist. of Sumatra (ed. 1811), p. 53.?

48 The formula (shahadat) used by the Mudim (tukang memotong) runs as follows:—

“Ashahadun la-ilaha-illa-’llah wa ashahadun Muhammad al-Rasul Allah allahumma aja?lni mina ’l-tawabina wa aja?lni mina ’l-matatahirrina.”?

49 Some of these charms are also Love-charms, vide App. clxv.?

50 Vide App. clxiii.?

51 Ibid.?

52 Ibid.?

53 Sa-hari bulan.?

54 Awan di-tulis.?

55 Bentok taji.?

56 Pauh di-layang.?

57 Kuntum melor belum kembang.?

58 Ikal mayang.?

59 Jinjang.?

60 Getak (ketak) tiga.?

61 Bidang.?

62 Ramping saperti tangkei bunga.?

63 Tombak serai.?

64 Duri landak.?

65 Chahia bintang Zuhrah.?

66 Dalima mer’kah.?

67 Vide App. clxxv.?

68 The youth’s representatives had further the right to interview the girl, and personally assure themselves that she was “without blemish and without spot.” This interview passed by the name of the “Inspection of the Buffalo-calf,” and was conducted somewhat as follows:—When the youth’s representatives (the Wooing Party) go to inspect the girl, one of them says—

“See how fruitful are the satela yams,

Where the hills of Bantan rise by the sea;

I know not whether good luck or calamity will follow it,

But my heart turns towards you.”

Here one of the girl’s representatives says, “Look well at this buffalo-calf of mine that has been allowed to forage for itself. Maybe its coat is torn, its limbs broken, or its sight lost.” The youth’s representative, if all is satisfactory, then replies—

?

69 Diamond, i.e. the girl about whom the wooing party has come to treat.?

70 The kati is the “Indian” pound (1? pound avoir.), and the tahil is its sixteenth part. The phrase sakati lima is explained by Klinkert as an elliptical expression = sa-keti lima laksa, i.e. 150,000 cash (pitis). Vide Kl. sub voce.?

71 i.e. when the sago is being extracted from the stem.?

72 The native substitute for a rowlock.?

73 Lit. indigo.?

74 This line is obscure, the word “bingku” (which I have translated rim, on the supposition that it may be merely a longer form of biku), not appearing in any dictionary. The next line also is not quite clear, but it would appear to mean “let us make sacrifice,” rice stained with saffron being always used sacrificially.?

75 In Denys’ Descriptive Dictionary of British Malaya, under the word “Marriage,” we find:—

“The only terms for marriage in Malay are the Arabic and Persian ones, respectively nikah and kahwin, the native ones having probably been displaced by these and forgotten.”

Both these words are used in Selangor, the first (nikah), which properly signifies the mere ceremony or “wedding,” being more commonly used by the better class of Malays than the more comprehensive kahwin, which corresponds pretty nearly to the English word “marriage.” Words describing the married state with reference to one of the parties only, however, are in frequent use: such as the bersuami and beristri of the higher classes, and the berlaki and berbini of the common people; and yet again there is the word berumah-rumah, which is applied indifferently to either of the two parties or to both, and is the politest word that can be used with reference to the common people, but is never applied to Rajas, in whose case bersuami and beristri alone are used.

I may add, on the authority of Mr. H. Conway Belfield, lately Acting-Resident of Selangor, that a curious periphrastic expression is sometimes used by Perak women in talking of their husbands, whom they call rumah tangga, which literally means “House and House-ladder,” and which is tantamount to saying, “My household,” instead of “My husband.”?

76 I remember Mr. C. H. A. Turney (then Senior District Officer at Klang) telling me of a great disturbance that arose at Klang because too many of these big pillows were being used at a Malay wedding. Order was only restored by the intervention of the police.?

77 A hasta is the length of the forearm from the elbow to the tip of the middle finger, or about eighteen inches.?

78 There is, I believe, a special ceremony connected with the opening of this curtain which is performed by the bridegroom after the wedding ceremony, special cakes, called “curtain-openers” (kueh pembuka k’lambu), being eaten.?

79 C. and S. give—“Bun (Dutch), a large tin or copper box for tobacco or sirih leaves—Van der Tuuk.” “Bun” is given as a “trunk” in a Dutch Dictionary.?

80 This is called main zikir—or, more commonly, jikir—maulud if it is unaccompanied, and zikir berdah if accompanied by musical instruments.?

81 Tepong tawar, or “Neutralising Paste,” is believed to avert ill-luck (membuang sial); for further details vide Chap. III. pp. 77–81, supra.?

82 Not at a Raja’s wedding.?

83 This ceremony is also called menyelang or berlebat.?

84 One of these fillets, which was purchased by the writer, had for its pattern two dragons (naga), which looked different ways, and a couple of butterflies as pendants at each end. The substitute used by poor people is frequently manufactured from the leaf of the thatch-palm (nipah).?

85 According to v. d. Wall this plant is Carthamus tinctorius.?

86 A weight used for weighing the precious metals. According to C. and S. Dict., s.v. BÛngkal, it is equal to 822 grains troy; according to Maxwell, Manual of the Mal. Lang., p. 141, to 832.?

87 The mast with its branches carrying artificial flowers, streamers, and coloured eggs, appears to be emblematic of a fruit-tree, the eggs representing the fruit, the artificial blossoms its flowers, and the streamers its leaves.?

88 For instance, in reply to an appeal from the Bride’s Relations to “take into account the duty which is the custom of the country,” one of the Bridegroom’s Relations would repeat the following:—

?

89 It is said that this is a departure from the old custom, according to which the wedding ceremony took place the day before the procession (except at the re-marriage of a widow who has no children, kahwin janda berhias). In the case of the re-marriage of a widow who has no children by her former husband there is no procession at all, and the ceremonies are somewhat abridged. I may add that a childless widow has the subang (ear-rings which are the symbol of virginity) tied on to her ears. Vide p. 360, supra.?

90 A couple of matronly ladies are generally told off for this service, the ceremony being as follows:—

1. They raise first the man and then the woman slowly to a standing posture; when it is reached the bridegroom says to the bride, “Take heed, care for thy husband, care for my good name, care for me” (Baik-baik jaga laki awak, jaga nama sahya, jagakan aku); to this the bride responds in a similar strain, mutatis mutandis, and they are then as slowly re-seated.

2. They are similarly raised, and repeat as before, in turn, the words, “Assuredly I will not do thee any shame whatever” (Sahya ta’buleh buat satu apa kamaluan di-atas awak).

3. When raised for the third and last time they say, “I ask the Lord God to give us both long life, and that all our handiwork may prosper” (Sahya minta’ kapada Tuhan Allah bersama-sama panjang ?umor, samua kerja dengan salamat).?

91 It used to be considered an insult to omit offering one of these eggs to a guest, so much so, that I was assured that in former days a woman whose husband had been thus slighted would have a right to sue for a divorce.?

92 The Kathi is an official having superintendence over several mosques and jurisdiction in matters connected with marriage, divorce, and ecclesiastical affairs generally. The Imam is the chief elder of one mosque.?

93 There is a difference between b’lanja and mas kahwin, the former usually meaning the wedding expenses, the latter the dower; at least this is the Malacca terminology, which probably also obtains elsewhere.?

94 The descendant of one of the four great Chiefs (Orang Besar ber-ampat) of Selangor.?

95 Ex-Prime Minister of Perak.?

96 Sireh or sirih, the betel leaf.?

97 The Bilal is an elder of the mosque; in western Muhammadan countries he is styled Muezzin.?

98 Selangor Journal, vol. i. No. 2, p. 23.?

99 Probably this should be 4th.?

100 He was of Arab extraction. But wearing clothes in the Arab fashion is not unusual even in the case of purely Malay bridegrooms.?

101 Selangor Journal, vol. iv. No. 2, pp. 23–5. The list of presents sent by friends on this occasion included buffaloes, a bullock, goats, spices, plate, and jewellery.?

102 Sir William Maxwell in N. and Q., No. 4, sec. 91, issued with No. 17 of the J.R.A.S., S.B.?

103 “At their funerals the corpse is carried to the place of interment on a broad plank, which is kept for the public service of the dusun, and lasts for generations. It is constantly rubbed with lime, either to preserve it from decay or to keep it pure. No coffin is made use of, the body being simply wrapped in white cloth, particularly of the sort called hummums. In forming the grave (kubur), after digging to a convenient depth they make a cavity in the side, at bottom, of sufficient dimensions to contain the body, which is there deposited on its right side. By this mode the earth literally lies light upon it; and the cavity, after strewing flowers in it, they stop up by two boards fastened angularly to each other, so that the one is on the top of the corpse, whilst the other defends it on the open side, the edge resting on the bottom of the grave. The outer excavation is then filled up with earth; and little white flags, or streamers, are stuck in order around. They likewise plant a shrub, bearing a white flower, called kumbangkamboja (Plumeria obtusa), and in some places wild marjoram. The women who attend the funeral make a hideous noise, not much unlike the Irish howl. On the third and seventh day the relations perform a ceremony at the grave, and at the end of twelve months that of tegga batu, or setting up a few long elliptical stones, at the head and foot, which, being scarce in some parts of the country, bear a considerable price. On this occasion they kill and feast on a buffalo, and leave the head to decay on the spot, as a token of the honour they have done to the deceased in eating to his memory. The ancient burying-places are called krammat, and are supposed to have been those of the holy men by whom their ancestors were converted to the faith. They are held in extraordinary reverence, and the least disturbance or violation of the ground, though all traces of the graves be obliterated, is regarded as an unpardonable sacrilege,”—Marsden, Hist. of Sumatra (ed. 1811), pp. 287, 288.?

104 The explanation usually given by Malays is that the betel-nut scissors symbolise iron. Short weapons are sometimes substituted.?

105 Tradition says that formerly the corpse was watched for three days before burial, and that sometimes it was kept for a week or even a longer period. One Raja S’nei is reported to have been kept 40 days in her coffin above ground! It is also stated that before the introduction of Muhammadanism the dead were burned.

It is still the custom to keep both the hearth-fire (api dapor) and lamps (palita) burning not only for so long as the corpse may be in the house, but for seven days and nights after occurrence of the death. It is also the custom to open the sick person’s mosquito-curtain when death is approaching, and in some cases, at all events, the dying are taken out of their beds and laid upon the floor. I may add that the material for fumigation (perabun) is placed upon the hearth-fire after death, to scare away the evil spirits, just as salt is thrown upon the fire during a thunderstorm, in order that it may counteract the explosions of thunder (membalas petir), and thus drive away the demons who are believed to be casting the thunderbolts.?

106 The kati is a weight equivalent to 1? lb. avoirdupois.?

107 The form found in most dictionaries is banchoh or banchuh.?

108 Whence the expression “charik kapan,” which means literally to tear the shroud (i.e. to tear off the selvage of the shroud, and not to tear off a piece of cloth to form the shroud).?

109 Cubit, the length of the forearm.?

110 The short motto which usually heads Malay letters.?

111 I may add that in pre-Muhammadan days certain articles are said to have been buried with the corpse, viz. “b’ras sa-p’riok, asam, garam,” together with (in the case of a man) rough wooden models of the deceased’s weapons.?

112 Tradition says that originally one grave-post (nisan) was used, and that the earlier form of a tomb was a circular mound with a single grave-post in the centre. It is said that such mounds were formerly used in Sungei Ujong, but I am unable to say if this is so. Sultan Zeinal ?Abidin of Johor is also described as having a tomb of this description at Kota Tinggi.?

113 This notion probably arose from an erroneous idea of etymological connection between the words talkin and bertelku.?

114 Of course if the karanda is used the bands have to be removed before it is nailed down. On their removal these bands are handed to the next-of-kin, who tear them up and plait the strips into a rough sort of bracelet, which they wear as long as it lasts in memory of the deceased. Little children are made to pass thrice underneath the karanda of their parents when it is first lifted in the chamber, “to prevent them from pining for the deceased.”?

115 From observing a good many of these grave-posts in different localities, I should be inclined to suppose that the grave-post used for men had been evolved from a phallic emblem, whilst that used for women occasionally assumes a rude resemblance to a human being.?

116 Newbold, Malacca, vol. ii. p. 352.?

117 As to the titles Bomor and Pawang, see Chapter III. p. 56, note.?

118 There are, it need hardly be said, innumerable charms and talismans which are valued by the Malays for their supposed efficacy in preventing disease; there are also an immense number of short charms (often mere texts from the Koran) which are considered invaluable for checking minor ailments. It being impossible, however, in the scope of this work to give specimens of the entire “materia medica” of the Malays, examples of the more important branches only are given.?

119 The Pawang may either effect this himself, by luring the evil spirits out of the sick person’s body into some object, such as an egg, a substituted image or scapegoat (tukar ganti), a “Spirit-Hall,” or spirit-boat, in which the evil spirits are carried out of the house and got rid of; or else he may induce a stronger spirit, e.g., the Tiger Spirit (vide infra), to enter into his own person, and assist him in the task of evicting the offender.?

120 Jikalau sa-rasi dengan aku, mengadap-lah angkau, asap, kapada’ku, kalau ta’ sa-rasi, melintang-lah ’kau dengan aku, atau ka kiri, atau ka kanan.?

121 Kur! Semangat Si Anu ka-tujoh-nya! Mari-lah kita bersama-sama ini, Tengo’kan ubat, semangat Si Anu!?

122 If ashore, it is usually suspended from a tree. If at sea, from a wooden tripod, or a projecting pole affixed to the seaward end of a fishing-stake.?

123 Another method is described by Messrs. Clifford and Swettenham (vide their Malay Dictionary, s.v. Anchak) as follows: “The (anchak perbingkas) is fastened to the end of a branch, which is pulled down almost to the ground, and held there while the medicine-man goes through his incantation or invocation, after which it is allowed to fly up, and all the things on it are scattered by this means,” but it is not yet clear to which class this use of the anchak should be referred.?

124 Some of them are enumerated under Fishing Ceremonies, pp. 311 seqq., supra. See also pp. 76, 257, 260.?

125 Vide App. xii.?

126 So called in Malay (tali penggantong); they consist of the four cords which start from the four corners of the tray respectively, and are carried up to meet at a point some two or three feet above the centre of the tray, from which point upwards a single cord only is used.?

127 Ketupat and lepat. There were fourteen of each kind of bag, the ketupats being diamond-shaped and the lepats cylindrical. Each set of fourteen bags contains seven portions of cooked and seven portions of uncooked food. Vide also supra.?

128 Abong = full to overflowing; cp. merabong, etc.?

129 As to these stones, vide p. 274, supra.?

130 Kalau kena kelingking, k’rat-lah kelingking, kalau kena daun dayong, di-chatok-nya, champak-lah dayong. Numerous sea-snakes do, as a fact, exist in the seas of the Malay Peninsula and Archipelago. They are all, I believe, venomous. Vide Miscell. Papers relating to Indo-China, First Series, vol. ii. pp. 226–238.?

131 Ipoh ra?yat laut, kalau kena sa-orang di-sandarkan sa-orang, mati sampei tujoh orang bersandar.?

132 Supposed to be identical with Lukmanu-’l-hakim, a mysterious person mentioned in the Koran. Vide Hughes, Dict. of Islam, s.v. Luqman.?

133 For the Wild Huntsman, vide Birds and Bird-charms, Chap. V. pp. 113–120, supra.?

134 Apparently v. d. W. means the fascination which a tiger has for its prey. In Selangor this fascination is called g’run or pengg’run in the case of a tiger, and badi only in the case of a snake—the person affected by it being said to be kena g’run or kena badi, as the case may be.?

135 Vide App. lx., lxxii., lxxix. The different names under which “Badi” is invoked are worth noting; e.g. “Badiyu, Mak Badi, Badi Panji, Mak Buta,” in an elephant-charm (App. lx.); and again “Ah Badi, Mak Badi” in a deer-charm (v. App. lxxii.), and in a later deer-charm, “Hei Badi Serang, Badi Mak Buta, Si Panchur, Mak Tuli” (v. App. lxxix.), and again “Sang Marak, Sang Badi” (v. App. lxxix.), and “Jembalang Badi” (v. App. lxxx.). I may remark that Sabaliyu is given by Logan in the J. I. A. vol. i. p. 263, as meaning a deer in the Camphor Language (bhasa kapor or pantang kapor) of Johor, and this word was afterwards confirmed by Mr. D. F. A. Hervey.?

136 Influence of the Breath in Healing.—In Notes and Queries, No. 1, p. 24, a Malay bomor, or doctor, is described as blowing upon something to be used as medicine. Breathing upon sick persons and upon food, water, medicines, etc., to be administered to them is a common ceremony among Malay doctors and midwives. The following note would seem to show that the Malays have learnt it from their Muhammadan teachers:—

“Healing by the breath [Arab. Nafahal, breathings, benefits, the Heb. Neshamah, opp. to Nephest (soul), and Ruach (spirit)] is a popular idea throughout the East, and not unknown to Western magnetists and mesmerists. The miraculous cures of the Messiah were, according to Moslems, mostly performed by aspiration. They hold that in the days of Isa, physic had reached its highest development, and that his miracles were mostly miracles of medicine; whereas in Mohammed’s time eloquence had attained its climax, and, accordingly, his miracles were those of eloquence, as shown in the Koran and Ahadis.”—The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, Burton, vol. v. p. 30.—Notes and Queries, J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 4, sec. 92, issued with No. 17.?

137 Vide pp. 569–574, infra.?

138 Vide pp. 418 seqq., supra.

Strictly speaking, money (which is called batu-batu lanchang or lanchang stones) should always form part of them. In Kedah three kenderi (one kenderi amounting to three cents) are said to be used; in Perak three wang, and in Selangor three duits (cents).?

139 I believe this usually takes place immediately after the ceremony, but one medicine-man whom I knew (’Che Amal of Jugra) used to keep the boat into which the spirits were thought to have entered until the patient recovered, and then set it adrift. When the medicine-man is launching it, he takes the boat in both hands, and repeatedly gives it a rotatory movement towards the left (as if he were using a sieve), and repeats the charm. A small portion of each dish deposited in the lanchang has to be carried back to the patient’s house, and there administered to the patient, together with water scooped up in a bowl from underneath the lanchang as it lay in the water before drifting away. As the sick man receives the offerings, the person who administers them says, addressing the spirit of evil, “Here is your wage, return not back here unto So-and-So; and cause him to be sick no more,” and the spirit replies through the man’s mouth, “I will never return.”?

140 Arong also means “to cross the water,” and there may be some doubt as to the precise meaning of this line. See the original in App. cciv.?

141 i.e. the Crocodile-spirit (vide pp. 286 (note), 298, supra.)?

142 In this connection it may be added that there are sundry medical “taboos” in use on various occasions: e.g. it is sometimes forbidden to enter the house where the sick man lies or to approach it by a particular path, and a string, with cocoa-nut leaves hung on it, is often drawn across the path as an indication of such prohibition. The fine for breaking such a taboo (langgar gawar-gawar) was “half a bhara,” or in the case of a Raja “two bharas.”?

143 Swettenham, Malay Sketches, pp. 153–159. Another excellent account, also by an eye-witness, of a similar ceremony will be found in J.R.A.S. S.B., No. 12, pp. 222–232.?

144 Studies in Brown Humanity, p. 46.?

145 Bintang, a star, means “the eye” in Malay ghost language.?

146 About ? lb. avoirdupois.?

147 A maiam is 1/16th of a bungkal and equal to 52 grains.?

148 The peeling-knife (pisau raut) is mentioned because it is dreaded by the demons, who hurt themselves (it is alleged) by treading on one end of it, when, owing to its curved blade, the other end flies up and wounds them. Such spirits as the Wild Huntsman are specially mentioned as being afraid of it. Vide p. 118, supra.?

149 Swettenham, Malay Sketches, pp. 208–210.?

150 This is a description of Malay dancing from the European point of view; the reason of the “undoubted fascination which it has for the Malays” being no doubt the fact that for them it has a real meaning, which by Europeans (like that of the Malay four-rhymed stanza or pantun) is quite inadequately understood.?

151 In 1875.?

152 The attitude is that obtained by transferring the body directly from a kneeling to a sitting position.?

153 Swettenham, Malay Sketches, ch. vii. pp. 44–52.?

154 This dance is said to be borrowed from the Arabs.?

155 Newbold, Malacca, vol. ii. p. 179.?

156 “I have said that all birds fight more or less, but birds are not alone in this. The little, wide-mouthed, goggled-eyed fishes, which Malay ladies keep in bottles and old kerosine tins, fight like demons. Goats sit up and strike with their cloven hoofs, and butt and stab with their horns. The silly sheep canter gaily to the battle, deliver thundering blows on one another’s foreheads, and then retire and charge once more. The impact of their horny foreheads is sufficient to reduce a man’s hand to a shapeless pulp should it find its way between the combatants’ skulls. Tigers box like pugilists, and bite like French school-boys; and buffaloes fight clumsily, violently, and vindictively, after the manner of their kind.”—In Court and Kampong, p. 52.?

157 Ibid. pp. 54–61.?

158 Ibid. pp. 48–52.?

159 Sic, correctly Kenantan.?

160 Sic, better Bangkas.?

161 Sic, correctly Belurang.?

162 Sic, correctly K’labu.?

163 Vide pp. 545–547, infra.?

164 Newbold, Malacca, vol. ii. pp. 179–183.?

165 i.e. Sepak raga, which means “kick the wicker-work (ball).”?

166 Also Singketa.?

167 Also Teki-teki. Examples are,—What is it which you leave behind when you remember it, and take it with you when you forget it?” Ans. “A leech.” “What is it that builds a house within a house, getting the materials out of his own body?” Ans. “A spider.”?

168 i.e. “Tuju lobang,” which means “Aim at the Hole.”?

169 Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. pp. 183–185.?

170

“Yes, it’s sweet

... to grouse about the crops,

And sweet to hear the tales the natives tell,

To watch the king and chieftains playing leisurely at tops,

While the country’s bowling gaily down to hell.”

—Hugh Clifford (adapted from Rudyard Kipling).?

171 More probably India or Persia (?).?

172 Taken from Clifford and Swett., Mal. Dict., s.v. ChÂtor.?

173 Notes and Queries No. 1, sec. 23, issued with J.R.A.S., S.B. No. 14. Quoted in Denys, Descriptive Dictionary of British Malaya, s.v. Cards.?

174 Selangor Journal, vol. v. No. 13, pp. 210–12. I may add that luck in gaming is largely thought by the Malays to depend upon fortunate dreams. Vide p. 563, infra.?

175 I cannot find either ping, ning, or biling in the dictionaries, and the only chance perhaps of finding out the meaning will be to collate the rhymes used for this game in other States. I have heard it several times here, and it has always been the same.?

176 Probably the species of sea-turtle known by that name.?

177 The ordinary Indian name for “clarified butter,” which is used largely in Eastern cookery.?

178 It is almost impossible to translate nursery rhymes satisfactorily, and the versions here given must be regarded as tentative and necessarily imperfect.?

179 Vide supra, p. 484, note.?

180 Literally, “Brothers and Sisters and Chiefs”; this refers to the Spirits who inhabit the villages, and not to the Humans.?

181 The term used is Penjak pengantin, which means musicians and bridegroom. The former term includes all people belonging to the Ma’iong who make a noise. The latter term means a man whose wedding is being celebrated, but in this connection it is applied to the Pa’iong or jeune premier.?

182 These names are given by the Ma’iong people to the two big gongs used by them (tetÂwak or tÂwak-tÂwak). GemÛroh is formed from gÛroh (= thunder), in exactly the same way as kemÛning, the yellow wood used for the cross-pieces of kris scabbards, is formed from kÛning (= yellow). Dengong is the word used to describe the noise made by a gong, by the wind, or any other sonorous sound.?

183 The phrase in the original is HalÛan sÛsun. The former word means the bows of a boat, the latter is applied to things fitted together, as sirih leaves are fitted when one leaf is laid on the top of another. The use of this phrase is very curious, and I believe it to convey the sense which I have rendered. I have never heard the phrase in any other connection, nor have I met with it except in this incantation. [Should not the correct reading be halun (= alun) susun, which is a fairly common Malay phrase used of the waves “crowding” one upon another on a stormy day?—W.S.]?

184 Chinta-mÂni, the name of a very short snake of a golden yellow colour, the presence of which is regarded as a lucky omen.?

185 Awang is a very common male proper name among the natives of Kelantan, and in addressing any man whose name is not known it is always used, much as KÛlop is employed among the natives of Perak.?

186 Malays believe Spirits to be extremely sensitive as regards their origin and their habits, and any knowledge possessed by a human being on these subjects renders the spirit harmless. [The same idea has been noticed supra with reference to animals, etc.]?

187 The least sensitive spirit in the world might not unreasonably dislike so many personal remarks of such a frankly unflattering nature.?

188 This is hardly an accurate description of the temporary shed in which ma’iong people perform. Seven among the Malays, as with other Orientals, is the mystic number.?

189 Selangor Journal, vol. ii. No. 26, pp. 423–429.?

190 If the performance is to last for more than one or two nights, a proper shed (bangsal) may be erected.?

191 The third is for the Jin Puteh, or “White Genie,” and the fourth for the Jin Hitam, or “Black (Earth) Genie.”?

192 The Malay account of this ceremony with the text of the charms used will be found in App. ccxxiv. seqq.?

193 Vide J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 2, p. 163.?

194 J. D. Vaughan in J.I.A., quoted in Denys, Desc. Dict. of Brit. Mal., s.v. Puppet Shows.?

195 Vide App. ccxxxi.?

196 Even wild beasts, it is said, can be stopped in this way; see Beast Charms, p. 156, supra.?

197 Vide Eagle-wood tree, Camphor, Fishing, etc., supra.?

198 Defiance is intimated by a war-dance on the ramparts (penglima bersilat or berentak di-atas kubu). Cp. Begbie, Malayan Peninsula, p. 170.?

199 This legendary war of Tan Saban with the second king of Perak owes its origin probably to mythological accounts of the wars of Salivahana and Vikramaditya, which Hindu settlers, not improbably, brought to Malay countries. Saban is a natural corruption of Salivahana.—J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 9, p. 94.?

200 When swearing fidelity, alliance, etc., water in which daggers, spears (lembing), or bullets have been dipped is drunk, the drinker saying, “If I turn traitor, may I be eaten up by this dagger” or “spear,” etc., as the case may be (jika aku belut, aku di-makan k’ris ini d.s.b.)?

201 Vide supra, p. 4, note.?

202 In original, Manikou.?

203 In original, belangur.?

204 The original text proceeds to give an explanation of certain patterns of damask given in a plate, which is not reproduced here.?

205 The Code of Sultan Mahmud Shah, the last Malay Raja of Malacca, who was expelled by the Portuguese under Albuquerque in A.D. 1511.

This Code was probably founded on earlier regulations ascribed to Sultan Muhammad Shah, the first Muhammadan Raja of Malacca, and Sultan Mudhafar Shah, his son. Nothing is known about the laws of the last named, except that (according to the Sejarah Malayu, chap, xii.), “he ordered the Book of Institutes, or Kitab Undang-Undang, to be compiled,” but the preceding chapter of the same work has a good deal to say about the laws of Sultan Muhammad Shah, and mentions that he “prohibited the ornamenting of creeses with gold, etc.” See Leyden, op. cit., pp. 94, 118.

A similar prohibition occurs in section i. of Sultan Mahmud’s Code, of which a translation will be found in Newbold, Malacca, vol. ii. pp. 231 seq.?

206 Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. pp. 202–208. Vide Chap. II. p. 33, supra.?

207 Swettenham, Malay Sketches, pp. 207, 208.?

208 Yet the act of sneezing is considered so fraught with the risk of the soul’s escaping, that not unfrequently after a severer sneeze than usual, a Malay will attempt to call his soul back by ejaculating “Cluck! Soul!” (kur, semangat!) as if he were calling a chicken, and the regular use of the phrase “Al-hamdu li’llah” (Praised be God), after sneezing suggests that he may be relieved to find his soul still in his own possession.?

209 See J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 7, pp. 19, 20.?

210 J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 7, pp. 26–28. In Selangor “Kursemangat, tuboh budak ini,” “My soul! the body of the boy,” or some such phrase is occasionally used.?

211 J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 7, p. 27.?

212 Examples are:—(1) the burning of incense ... (vide Medicine, pp. 410 seqq. and elsewhere, passim); (2) the inspection of the water in the “Three Jars” ceremony, ibid.; (3) the scattering of parched rice, ibid.; (4) the application of the “Rice-Paste” (tepong-tawar) ceremony (vide Marriage, Fishing, etc.); (5) the sound of water struck by a canoe paddle (vide Crocodile-catching); (6) the manner of falling of the filed-off portion of a tooth (vide Adolescence); (7) the whisper of the sap in the bark of a gharu-tree, when the latter is struck by a cutlass (vide Vegetation Charms), and a host of others.?

213 My informant did not make it plain whether the same charm was repeated on each of these three occasions, or whether a different charm was used in each case. Probably the latter would be the more correct course.?

214 Swettenham, Malay Sketches, pp. 201–207.?

215 Hall.?

216 Clerk.?

217 J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 3, pp. 30, 31. Ordeals by immersion of the hands in boiling oil or molten tin are also mentioned in the old Johor Code of Laws. Vide Crawford, Dict. of Ind. Isl., s.v. Ordeal.?

218 A number of these diagrams, all of which are in the author’s possession, are shown in the illustrations to this section. They seem to be closely connected with the system of “magic squares,” which has probably come to Europe from the East.?

219 Or Kutika.?

220 “The original Javanese week, like that of the Mexicans, consists of five days, and its principal use, like that of the same people, is to determine the markets or fairs held in the principal villages or districts. This arbitrary period has probably no better foundation than the relation of the numbers to that of the fingers of the hand. The names of the days of this week are as follows:—Laggi, Pahing, Pon, Wagi, Kliwon.... The Javanese consider the names of the days of their native week to have a mystical relation to colours, and to the divisions of the horizon.

“According to this whimsical interpretation, the first means white, and the east; the second, red, and the south; the third, yellow, and the west; the fourth, black and the north; the fifth, mixed colour, and focus, or centre. It is highly probable that, like the week of the continental nations of Asia and Europe, the days were named after the national gods. In an ancient manuscript found in Java, which will be afterwards referred to, the week of five days is represented by five human figures, two of which are female and three male.”—Crawfurd, Hist. of the Indian Archipelago, vol. i. pp. 289, 290.?

221 Communicated by Sir George Birdwood of the India Office.

But in Bali S’ri is the wife of Vishnu, or more usually of Shiva. “As goddess of the rice-fields she is called S’rÎ ... and has temples on the sawahs [rice-fields], and on the roads between them.”—Misc. Papers relating to Indo-China, etc., Second Series, vol. ii. p. 105.

She is frequently mentioned in Malay invocations connected with rice-planting; vide p. 89, supra, and App. cix.?

222 Cf. such words in Malay as panchawarna or pancharona (lit. of five colours), panchalogam (lit. of five metals), which are of Indian origin, with the Indian pancharangi, panchatantra, etc.?

223 Or does this mean “black or red”? But red is Brahma’s colour, and for Kala one would a priori expect black to be appropriate.?

224 See App. ccxliii. for an extract from a treatise on these subjects.?

225 Both this table and that of the Katika Lima have been reversed in translating from the originals, which, being in the Arabic character, run from right to left.?

226 See App. ccxliv. for an extract from a short treatise on this subject.?

227 The table is given in App. ccxlv.?

228 Vide p. 554, infra.?

229 Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. p. 354.?

230 Ibid. p. 358.?

231 The names are given supra. Katib is another name for Mercury, and Venus is sometimes known as Bintang Kajura and Bintang Babi; vide Kl., s.v. Bintang.?

232 Maxwell in J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 7, p. 21.?

233 Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. p. 355.?

234 There is a treatise on the Bintang Dua-b’las, too long to give in full, of which a short extract will be found in App. ccliv.?

235 The following names of constellations are taken from Klinkert, s.v. Bintang and elsewhere:

Bintang Mayang, the Virgin (lit. the Spathe of Palm-blossom).

Bintang Pari, the Southern Cross (lit. the Skate or Sting-ray).

Bintang B’lantek (C. and S.) i.e. the Spring-gun, or rather Spring-spear-trap (also called by its Arabic name al-jubar), Orion.

Bintang Bidok, or Bintang Jong, the Great Bear (lit. the Boat or Junk).

Others bear more familiar names, e.g.:—

Bintang Utara or Kotub (?), the Pole-Star (lit. North Star).

Bintang Kala, the Scorpion.

Whilst Bintang Alnasj (Alnash) is the “Wain.”?

236 Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. p. 355. Cf. Colebrooke’s Life and Essays, vol. iii. p. 284.?

237 A Sha?ir Rejang has been published at Singapore, and for an extract from the Rejang of ’Che Busu, the reader is referred to the Appendix.?

238 The MS. here and in the blanks above is defective or illegible. But the prescriptions for the other days show that the image is to be thrown either in some definite direction or into the jungle, simply; on each day the thing to be thrown away of course corresponds with the symbol of the particular day.?

239 Newbold, op. cit. vol. ii. pp. 356, 357.?

240 Qu. dawar??

241 Newbold, loc. cit.?

242 Occasionally these squares, instead of being reversed, are turned sideways, thus:—

?

243 The crescent, or crescent and star, are here used as emblems of the 1st day of the (lunar) month.?

244 The order should (it would seem) be Kala, S’ri.?

245 For ?Utarid.?

246 For Zuhrah.?

247 Possibly this notion is partly responsible for the ridiculous European legend about Muhammad’s coffin being suspended between heaven and earth, of which idea there seems to be no trace amongst the Muhammadans themselves.?

248 Another such indication is hair growing close to the ears.?

249 Double lines round the base of the thumb are called retak madu.?

250 J.R.A.S., S.B., No. 9, pp. 23–26.?

251 An analysis of them would, however, show what objects are most generally aimed at by those who use them. It may be safely estimated that the sexual relations are here of the first importance, the majority of the charms having reference to them, directly or indirectly.?

252 Supra, pp. 49, 50. The methods here given are closely akin to those of medicine (v. pp. 452–456, supra); but the ends are different. The medical man always professes to aim at the cure of his patient, whereas here the intention is to cause harm to the person to be affected, or at least to acquire an influence over him for the operator’s own benefit or satisfaction (as in love-charms).?

253 For the colours of the cloth used, and the purport of the number seven, vide pp. 50, 51, supra.?

254 Vide App. cclxvi.?

255 I class this with the instances of indirect contact (between the soul and the body of its owner), because there is no doubt whatever that the usual ingredients (clippings of hair, paring of nails, etc.) would have to be worked up with the wax, and that they are not mentioned, because understood.?

256 Generally called kabong when cultivated, or (h)eenau when wild (Arenga saccharifera, L., PalmeÆ).?

257 Cp. the charm on p. 183, supra, and App. lxxxiii.?

258

Bukan-nya aku membantai lilin

Aku membantai hati, jantong, limpa Si Anu.

?

259

?

260 Probably Ventilago leiocarpa, Benth. (RhamneÆ).?

261 The explanation of this ceremony is that the shadow is supposed in some way to embody or at least represent the soul. Thus the female reapers of the first ripe padi are specially enjoined to reap in a straight line facing the sun, so that their shadow may not fall upon the rice-soul in the basket at their sides (vide pp. 242–244, supra). No doubt the speaker’s shadow-soul is expected to fetch the woman’s body-soul, and the beating of the shadow-soul is perhaps purely ceremonial, to drive away evil influences from it, before it starts on its journey, but this latter suggestion is merely conjectural. The first line of the charm, however, in which the speaker addresses his shadow by name (Irupi) as he strikes it with the cane, points out most clearly the connection between the body-soul (or puppet-soul) and the shadow-soul, to which I have referred. The coverlet or white cloth is no doubt the soul-cloth, into which the woman’s soul is expected to enter when it arrives.?

262 p. 570, supra.?

263 Bukan-nya aku membawa detar, aku kandong semangat Si Anu.?

264 Supra, pp. 47–54, 76, 77, 452–456, and under the headings Birds, Beasts, Vegetation, Minerals, etc.?