In order to be able to practise his arts against any black man, the wizard must be in possession of some article that has belonged to him—say, some of his hair or of the food left in his camp, or some similar thing. On Herbert river the natives need only to know the name of the person in question, and for this reason they rarely use their proper names in addressing or speaking of each other, but simply their class-names. The wizard is, as a rule, a man far advanced in years, but I knew a youth of only twenty who enjoyed a great reputation for his sorcery. The wizard is also the physician of the tribe, and imagines that he can cure all diseases and that he has great power over the “devil-devil.”
I once met a black man who told me that he personally had been the victim of strange wizards, and that ever since that time he had been a sufferer from headache. One afternoon, many years ago, two wizards had captured him and bound him; they had taken out his entrails and put in grass instead, and had let him lie in this condition until sunrise. Then he suddenly recovered his senses and became tolerably well, a result for which he was indebted to a wizard of his own tribe, who thus proved himself more powerful than the two strangers. The blacks call an operation of this kind kóbi, and a man who is able to perform it, and who, as a matter of course, is very much respected and feared, is said to be “much kóbi,” a fact of which I, too, used to boast, for the purpose of maintaining my importance in the eyes of the blacks, and in this I was successful, at least in the beginning. “Kóbi” was the most dreadful thing imaginable. It usually ended in death, and although the life of the victim might be saved, he would for ever after have a reminder in the form of constant headache.
An old warrior in a tribe not far from Rockhampton was taken very ill. The tribe being at the time near a station, asked the manager, who was a friend of mine, to give the sick man some medicine. “Holloway’s pills,” the usual medicine in the bush, was accordingly supplied to him, but without making him any better. The doctor of the tribe had then to bring his powers into action. All the blacks attributed his illness to some strange black-fellows who had put some pieces of broken glass into him, and these the doctor was now willing to take out, in order to effect a cure. The old man was laid in front of a big fire; all the members of the tribe had placed themselves solemnly round him, some of his five “gins” crying. Suddenly out of the darkness appeared a huge black-fellow dressed up to his eyes in paint and feathers and carrying a long spear in his one hand, while in the other he held a small pouch made out of a kangaroo’s scrotum. Then began the most awful row one can imagine—crocodile tears flowing in streams. The doctor placed himself within reach of the patient, stretched out his spear and touched him with the point, and all the noise at once ceased; the eager look on all the dark faces round was something to see. Every time the doctor raised his spear he produced a piece of broken glass from his hair and put it into the bag, this performance being followed by a great yell from all those assembled. He produced altogether seven pieces of glass, and the crowd uttered a yell for each piece. When all was over, the doctor disappeared into the darkness, and the sick man recovered. All the blacks believed that he had drawn these pieces up the spear into his hair, and to try to convince them of the absurdity of such an opinion only made them sulkily say, “White-fellow stupid fellow.”
Strange to say, many of the civilised blacks believe that they will be changed hereafter into white men—that they will “jump up white-fellow,” and it is also an interesting fact that many tribes use the same word for “spirit” and for “white man.” It has frequently happened that the savages have taken white men to be their own deceased fellows, which confirms the theory prevalent in many parts of Australia that the natives believe in a future life. Near a station in Central Queensland the white population observed that a black woman repeatedly brought food to the grave of her deceased husband.
The Australian blacks do not, like many other savage tribes, attach any ideas of divinity to the sun or moon. On one of our expeditions the full moon rose large and red over the palm forest. Struck by the splendour of the scene, I pointed at the moon and asked my companions: “Who made it?” They answered: “Other blacks.” Thereupon I asked: “Who made the sun?” and I got the same answer. The natives also believe that they themselves can produce rain, particularly with the help of their wizards. To produce rain they call milka. When on our expeditions we were overtaken by violent tropical storms my blacks always became enraged at the strangers who had caused the rain. Even my naïve friend Yokkai once boasted that he and the young Mangola-Maggi, who was a wizard, had produced rain to worry other blacks.
I never succeeded in discovering myths and legends among the blacks of Herbert river; but they are close observers of the starry heavens, and I was surprised to find that they had different names for the planets, distinguishing them by their size. In other parts of Australia the fancy of the natives makes the stars inhabited, and in this way several beautiful myths have been developed.
The southern tribes of Australia not only occupy their minds with myths and legends, but they also have definite religious notions. Some very interesting information in regard to the idea of a God cherished by these southern natives has been furnished by Mr. Manning, who in 1845 discovered among some tribes of New South Wales a doctrine of the Trinity, which bears so striking a resemblance to that of the Christian religion that we are tempted to take it to be the result of the influence of missionaries.[[16]] But according to the author, the missionaries did not visit these tribes until many years later. They recognise a supreme, benevolent, omnipotent Being, Boyma, seated far away in the north-east on an immense throne made of transparent crystal and standing in a great lake. He has an omniscient son, Grogoragally, who brings men to his father’s throne, to be judged by the latter, and the son is the mediator. There is also a third person, half human, half divine, Moogeegally, who is the great lawgiver to men, and who makes Boyma’s will known to them. They also believe in a hell with everlasting fire, and a heaven, where the blessed dance and amuse themselves. Several other authors agree that the southern tribes of Australia believe in a supreme good Being, though they have nowhere found a religious system so perfectly developed as the one above described. Mr. Ridley’s statements concerning the Kamilaroy tribe are particularly remarkable. These natives believe in a creator, Bhaiamé, who is to judge mankind. The word is derived from baio, to cut or make—thus creator,—and is distinctly identical with Manning’s Boyma.
[16]. Transactions of Royal Society of New South Wales, 1882.
Others again, as for instance Mr. Mann (in New South Wales), who has made a thirty years’ study of the blacks, deny that the natives have any religion whatever except fear of the “devil-devil.”
It is not easy to understand this want of agreement among the authorities. If, however, the above-mentioned theory, that the south part of Australia is inhabited by a higher and more developed race than that in the north, is correct, then this supplies the solution of the problem.