But they go further: in all the greater degrees of mourning at least they indicate grief at his loss that is calculated to call down the pity and compassion of every beholder, and to deprecate the wrath or ill-humour of the deceased. It is very striking that while coarse and scanty garments (sackcloth or bark-cloths among peoples who usually wear cotton or wool, and mere loin-cloths or nothing at all among peoples usually clad) are worn in place of more luxurious stuffs, a frequently recurring prescription is old worn-out clothes. In the Tonga Islands the mourners (who are always women) are “habited in large old ragged mats—the more ragged, the more fit for the occasion, as being more emblematical of a spirit broken down, or, as it were, torn to pieces by grief.”[261.1] In the hinterland of the Sherbro in West Africa, on the mourning for a chief’s death, the people most closely connected with him “presented an unkempt and slovenly appearance, their bodies draped in the oldest and dirtiest of their cloths.”[261.2] Among the Baganda on the other side of the continent the mourning garb for an ordinary man is “old bark-cloths and a girdle of dry plantain leaves: the hair is unkempt, the nails are allowed to grow long like birds’ claws, and on the chest is a white patch, a mixture of water and ashes.”[261.3] The custom of strewing ashes on the person is very widely practised: more than one example has been incidentally given. Among the Hebrews its use was not confined to mourning for the dead; repentance in dust and ashes is a familiar figure in English speech, and is derived from the Bible. The general air of neglect and misery produced by these practices might be paralleled in the mourning customs of most countries. Even in our own island little more than a hundred years ago it was noted that the chief mourner at a funeral in the parish of Llanvetherine, Monmouthshire, and elsewhere wore a dirty cloth about his head.[261.4] And of many peoples the description by a French writer of the mourning garb among the Agni of Sanwi on the Ivory Coast would hold literally true: “Old black loin-cloths, unwashed for a long time. On ne se peigne pas—on ne fait pas de toilette—on reste modeste.”[261.5]

This is not all. Mourners fast, abstaining altogether from food or indulging only in restricted diet, and that of an inferior kind. On the island of Aurora all who are in mourning refrain from certain food. The immediate relatives may not eat any cultivated food. They are limited to gigantic caladium, bread-fruit, cocoa-nuts, mallow, and other things which must be sought in the bush where they grow.[262.1] The ancient Hurons were forbidden, even in cold weather, to eat warm food.[262.2] Among the Charruas of South America the adult sons of a dead man remain for two days entirely naked in their huts and almost without food.[262.3] In Togoland the Ewhe widow is forbidden beans, flesh, fish, palm-wine and rum; any infringement of these prohibitions would cost her life.[262.4]

Many nations add to their other rites that of laceration or even mutilation of the body. In Central Australia the Warramunga women fight with one another and cut one another’s scalps, and all who stand in any near relation to the deceased, reckoned according to the classificatory system—which greatly widens the area of relationship—also cut their own scalps open with yam-sticks, the actual widows even searing the wound with red-hot fire-sticks.[262.5] It was forbidden to the ancient Hebrews, by what was evidently a reform of a pre-existing custom, to make a baldness between the eyes for the dead—in other words, to cut themselves on the brow.[262.6] Among the Arawaks a drinking-feast is held, at which all the men of the village assemble and scourge one another with whips made of a climbing plant, until the blood runs in streams and strips of skin and muscle hang down. Those who participate in the rite often die of their wounds.[262.7] As if mere wounding were not enough, finger-joints are frequently cut off. In the Fiji Islands the amputation of a finger-joint is a common sign of mourning. In one case in Tonga when a king died orders were issued that one hundred fingers should be cut off.[263.1] In Montana, one of the north-western states of America, on the execution of four aborigines for murder in December 1890, they were mourned by two squaws, who scalped their children. One of them gashed her own face, while the other cut off two of her fingers and threw them into the grave.[263.2] When a Charrua dies his widow and his married daughters and sisters amputate each of them a finger-joint, besides inflicting other wounds on themselves.[263.3]

The illustration of practices like these might be multiplied indefinitely. The same reason holds good for them all. In the lower culture grief at a death is often intensified by fear—on the one hand, of an accusation of witchcraft—on the other hand, of the ill-will of the deceased himself, who is naturally disgusted to find himself dead. Against the latter danger at any rate the forlorn condition of the survivors, stiff with wounds, thrust like him from the company of their friends and fellow-tribesmen, made to wear a distinctive garb, often in rags or dirt, wailing, watching, fasting, would constitute an appeal that even the ghost of a savage would feel hard to resist. That this is actually the effect intended, in some instances at least, is certain. A widow among the Salivas of South America cuts her hair, and is not allowed to anoint herself as usual, nor to wear any ornament, in order, we are expressly told, not to irritate the departed, but to humble herself before him.[263.4] Nor must it be overlooked that wailing and lamenting, so usually part of the rites practised especially by the chief mourners, such as widows and near relations, would not favour concealment. On the contrary, they would draw attention to the grief, and help even the simplest and most easily deluded of ghosts to identify the mourner, which they would seem indeed to be meant to do. But they would powerfully deprecate his malice or revenge. In this connection the belief of the Bañarwanda on the east of Lake Kivu, in German East Africa, is interesting. To them the bazimu (plural of muzimu) or souls of the departed are by no means always kindly disposed, even the best of them. They must be continually propitiated with offerings, or they will cause calamities, either of themselves directly, or indirectly by setting in motion the imandwa, semi-apotheosized heroes. But the muzimu does not begin his mischievous activities until the mourning ceremonies are at an end. So long as they last the survivors are quite safe from him, for he will not during that period attack the living.[264.1]

Many customs, sometimes born of widely differing motives, converge in a similarity of expression. Hence it is impossible in the present state of our knowledge dogmatically to assert a single origin for practices of a like character extending over so wide an area as those we have just passed in review. They are the expression of the psychological reaction caused by the shock of death and the consequent breach of the circle of kinship or other social bonds. The taboo results from the bewilderment and terror caused by the entry of death into the circle. The conduct and garb of the mourners are the outcome of grief and sympathy, but also of fear. That fear has for its object survivors who have it in their power to involve the mourners in even a more terrible doom by an accusation of witchcraft. Even more, it has regard to death itself, and to the inimical designs of him whose earthly life has been severed, and who has thereby been converted into an envious, and if not a malicious, at least a peevish and easily angered, being, armed by his death with greater, because more mysterious, powers. Mourning garb is often a device to secure his compassion; it is often a defence against his overt attacks; but on the whole tangible proof is lacking that it is a disguise to deceive him.

THE RITE AT THE TEMPLE
OF MYLITTA

Among the religious rites of antiquity there was none more alien to modern feeling than the sacrifice of chastity by every Babylonian woman at the temple of Mylitta. It is described first and in most detail by Herodotus, whose denunciation of it shows that to the Greeks of the fifth century B.C. it was as abhorrent as it is to us. According to this account, every woman once in her life was required to sit down in the precincts of the temple of Mylitta wearing a wreath of cord about her head, and there to wait until a stranger should throw a silver coin into her lap and summon her with ritual words in the name of the goddess to follow him. She was not allowed to refuse, but was compelled to follow the first man who threw, and to have sexual intercourse with him outside the temple. She might then depart to her home, her duty to the goddess being fulfilled.[266.1] The historian lets fall the observation that there was a similar custom in some places in Cyprus. This has been supposed to be referred to by Justin, who wrote probably after the establishment of Christianity, but whose work consists of selections from Trogus Pompeius, a lost writer of the Augustan age. He reports that it was the Cypriote custom to send maidens before their marriage on certain days to seek their dowry by prostitution on the seashore, and to pay the offerings to Venus for their future chastity. Dido on her way to Carthage touched at the island at the very time, and took on board her fleet eighty of these damsels, to be wives to her followers and assist in peopling the city she was going to found.[267.1] We shall further consider Justin’s statement hereafter. For the moment we pass on to Heliopolis (Baalbec), where, the ecclesiastical historian Socrates affirms, virgins were offered in prostitution to strangers.[267.2] He does not, any more than Justin, connect this with a temple or a divinity; but from Sozomen we gather that it was a religious observance, inasmuch as the prostitution of virgins prior to their marriage is stated to have been abolished by Constantine when he destroyed the temple of Aphrodite.[267.3] A similar custom, according to Ælian, was followed by the Lydians. And he expressly says that when once the rite had been performed the woman remained ever afterwards chaste, nor would a repetition be forgiven her on any plea.[267.4] Herodotus, however, states that the daughters of the common people in Lydia earned their dowries by a life of prostitution.[267.5] The two writers are obviously referring to two different customs. A third custom distinct from either is mentioned by Strabo as practised by the Armenians, among whom even the highest families of the nation consecrated their virgin daughters to the service of the goddess Anaitis, to remain as prostitutes at her temple before their marriage.[267.6]

What is the relation of these three customs? They have usually been considered as closely connected. It may be, as Dr Frazer suspects, that the real motive for the custom described as that of earning dowries by prostitution was religious, rather than economical, although my own suspicions point in another direction. But putting that custom aside for further examination, both the others are certainly portrayed as religious. As practised by the nations of Western Asia for a thousand years prior to the fall of paganism they were annexed to the cult of certain divinities. There is, however, a broad distinction to be drawn between a custom requiring every woman once in her lifetime to submit to the embraces of a stranger, and one which consecrated a life of prostitution. Such a life was one of devotion to the goddess as a more or less permanent servant. The other custom demanded a single act which freed the worshipper for the rest of her days. It may be freely conceded that the goddess at whose temple, or on whose feast-day, the act was performed was endowed with similar characteristics to those of the goddess in whose service the life of prostitution was lived. It may even have been that sometimes the same goddess had bands of harlots attached to her shrine, and also required the sacrifice of the virginity of all other women in the manner described. This perhaps, as we shall see, was the case in Lydia. We should still need to investigate separately the two customs. One of the most fertile sources of error in the interpretation of custom is the fatal tendency of rites distinct, or even altogether different in origin and intention, but similar in expression, to converge. This convergence is accelerated by a variety of causes. The natural vagueness of tradition, the forgetfulness of the exact original meaning, the gradual predominance of one idea over another owing to circumstances which, for want of knowledge, we call accidental, the tendency to repeat by way of precaution in one rite acts which essentially belong to another, are all causes of the kind referred to. Moreover, we have so often found in the similarity of rite the real key to a common interpretation, that where convergence does not in fact occur there is a temptation to read identity of meaning into two rites having a superficial likeness. It behoves us, therefore, to be on our guard, and to scrutinize with some scepticism all cases where the identity both of act and intention is not demonstrably complete.

The practices I have enumerated have all been interpreted as expiations for marriage. Marriage, it is said,—the appropriation of one or more women to one man—is an evolution from the primeval condition of promiscuity. Religious prostitution, the jus primæ noctis and other customs are expiations exacted by society from women who are thus appropriated. They witness to the primeval common rights of the male sex, thus asserted for the last time by one or more on behalf of all on abandoning the woman to the exclusive possession of one of their number.

Now, if the interpretation in question be suitable for any of these customs, it is more suitable for the single rite such as that at the temple of Mylitta than for the exercise of prostitution over an extended period; and it is to this rite that I desire more particularly to call attention. I need hardly observe that the explanation of the rite as an expiation for marriage does not by any means follow of necessity from the theory of primitive promiscuity. On the contrary it overlooks one of the peculiar features of the rite. Alike at Babylon, at Heliopolis, and apparently at Cyprus (if Cyprus be a case in point) the act has to be accomplished with a stranger. If it were a forfeit rendered to the general body of men, who might have had a claim to temporary union but for the institution of marriage, or if it were a formal witness of that claim, it would seem, prima facie, more natural that it should be accomplished with some one or more of the claimants, that is to say, with a member or members of the same community. A similar rite of intercourse with a stranger was practised, as Lucian relates, at Byblus. There it was the custom at the mourning for Adonis to perform the well-known mourning rite of cutting off the hair. Any woman who refused to do this was required to exhibit herself on one day of the festival and undergo prostitution to one of the strangers who resorted thither, handing over the price to the goddess called by Lucian the Byblian Aphrodite.[270.1] The rite as there practised therefore was, at all events in the second century A.D., an alternative to the dedication of hair: it was a redemption for the tresses that should have been sacrificed. Thus the woman would repeat the expiation once a year, whether married or single, so long as she was unwilling to shear her locks, or preferred the alternative sacrifice of her chastity. There is no evidence that it ever had anything to do with marriage; it certainly had not when Lucian wrote.