There is an echo of the eighteenth century philosophy of an idyllic primitive age in this statement, but there is truth in it, too; for throughout the forest regions of tropical America idols are of rare occurrence, while shrines, if such they may be called, are confined to places of natural marvel, the wandering tribes being true nature worshippers, with eyes ever open for tokens of mysterious power. Fetishes or talismans are, however, common; and in this very connexion Humboldt mentions the botuto, or sacred trumpet, as an object of veneration to which fruits and intoxicating liquors were offered; sometimes the Great Spirit himself makes the botuto to resound, and, as in so many other parts of the world, women are put to death if they but see this sacrosanct instrument or the ceremonies of its cult (and here we are in the very presence of Mumbo Jumbo!). Certainly the use of the fetish-trumpet was widespread in South America and northward. Garcilasso tells of the use of dog-headed battle-trumpets by the wild tribes of Andean regions; while Boddam-Whetham affords us another indication of the trumpet's significance:[170] "Horn-blowing was a very useful accomplishment of our guide, as it kept us straight and frightened away the various evil spirits, from a water-mama to a wood-demon."
This latter author gives a vivid picture of the Orinoco Indian in the life of nature: "Above all other localities, an Indian is fond of an open, sandy beach whereon to pass the night.... There in the open, away from the dark, shadowy forest, he feels secure from the stealthy approach of the dreaded 'kanaima';... the magic rattle of the 'peaiman' ... has less terror for him when unaccompanied by the rustling of the waving branches; and there even the wild hooting of the 'didi' (the 'didi' is supposed to be a wild man of the woods, possessed of immense strength and covered with hair) is bereft of that intensity with which it pierces the gloomy depths of the surrounding woodland. It is strange that the superstitious fear of these Indians, who are bred and born in the forest and hills, should be chiefly based on natural forms and sounds. Certain rocks they will never point at with a finger, although your attention may be drawn to them by an inclination of the head. Some rocks they will not even look at, and others again they beat with green boughs. Common bird-cries become spirit-voices. Any place of difficult access, or little known, is invariably tenanted by huge snakes or horrible four-footed animals. Otters are transformed into mermaids, and water-tigers inhabit the deep pools and caves of their rivers."
This is the familiar picture of the animist, surrounded by monster-haunted marches, for which, in the works of many writers, the Guiana aborigines have afforded the repeated model. No description of the beliefs of these natives would be complete without mention of the superstitions and adorations associated with Mt. Roraima, by which all travellers seem to be impressed. Schomburgk[171] says that the native loves Roraima as the Swiss loves his Alps: "All their festal songs have Roraima for object.... Each morning and each evening came old and young ... to greet us with bakong baimong ('good day') or saponteng ('good night') ... adding each time the words, matti Roraima-tau, Roraima-tau ('there, see our Roraima!'), with the word tau very slowly and solemnly drawled"; and one of their songs, which might be a fragment out of the Greek, runs:
"Roraima of the red rocks, wrapped in clouds, ever-fertile source of streams!"
On Roraima, says im Thurn, the natives declare there are huge white jaguars, white eagles, and other such creatures; and to this class he would add the "didis," half man, half monkey, who may very likely be a mere personification of the howling monkeys which, as Humboldt states, the aborigines so heartily detest. Boddam-Whetham, who ascended the mountain, tells of many superstitions, as of a magic circle which surrounds it, and of a demon-guarded sanctuary on the summit: "About half way up we met an unpleasant-looking Indian who informed us that he was a great 'peaiman,' and the spirit which he possessed ordered us not to go to Roraima. The mountain, he said, was guarded by an enormous 'camoodi,' which could entwine a hundred people in its folds. He himself had once approached its den and seen demons running about as numerous as quails.... Our Indians were rejoiced to see us back again, as they had not expected that the mountain-demons would allow us to return."
Like great mountains, the orbs of heaven excite the native's adoration, though it is by no means necessary, on that account, to follow certain theorists and to solarize or astralize all his myths. Fray Ruiz Blanco states that "the supreme gods of the Indians are the sun and the moon, at eclipses of which they make great demonstrations, sounding warlike instruments and laying hold of weapons as a sign that they seek to defend them; they water their maize in order to placate them and in loud voice tell them that they will amend their ways, labour, and not be idle; and grasping their tools, they set themselves to toil at the hour of eclipse." Of similar reference is an observation of Humboldt's: "Some Indians who were acquainted with Spanish, assured us that zis signified not only the sun, but also the Deity. This appeared to me the more extraordinary since among all other American nations we find distinct words for God and the sun. The Carib does not confound Tamoussicabo, 'the Ancient of Heaven,' with veyou, 'the sun.'" In a similar connexion he remarks that in American idioms the moon is often called "the sun of night," or "the sun of sleep"; but that "our missionary asserted that jama, in Maco, indicated at the same time both the Supreme Being and the great orbs of night and day; while many other American tongues, for instance Tamanac and Caribbee, have distinct words to designate God, the Moon, and the Sun." It is, of course, quite possible that such terms as zis and jama belong to the class of Manito, Wakan, Huaca, and the like.
Humboldt records names for the Southern Cross and the Belt of Orion, and Brett mentions a constellation called Camudi from its fancied resemblance to the snake, though he does not identify it. The Carib, he says, call the Milky Way by two names, one of which signifies "the path of the tapir," while the other means "the path of the bearers of white clay"—a clay from which they make vessels: "The nebulous spots are supposed to be the track of spirits whose feet are smeared with that material"—a conceit which surely points to the well-nigh universal American idea of the Milky Way as the path of souls. The Carib also have names for Venus and Jupiter; and the Macusi, im Thurn says, regard the dew as the spittle of stars.
In a picturesque passage Humboldt describes the beliefs connected with the Grotto of Caripe, the source of the river of the same name. The cave is inhabited by nocturnal birds, guacharos (Steatornis caripensis); and the natives are convinced that the souls of their ancestors sojourn in its deep recesses. "Man," they say, "should avoid places which are enlightened neither by the sun nor by the moon"; and they maintain that poisoners and magicians conjure evil spirits before the entrance; while "to join the guacharos" is a phrase equivalent to being gathered to one's fathers in the tomb. Fray Ruiz records an analogous tenet: "They believe in the immortality of the soul and that departing from the body, it goes to another place—some souls to their own lands (heredades), but the most to a lake that they call Machira, where great serpents swallow them and carry them to a land of pleasure in which they entertain themselves with dancing and feasting." That ghosts of strong men return is an article of common credence: the soul of Lope de Aguirre, as reported not only by Humboldt, but by writers of our own day,[172] still haunts the savannahs in the form of a tongue of flame; and it may be supposed that the similar idea which Boddam-Whetham records among the negroes of Martinique with respect to the soul of Père Labat may be of American Indian origin. One striking statement, which Brett quotes from a Mr. M'Clintock, deserves repetition, as being perhaps as clear a statement as we have of that ambiguity of life and death, body and soul, from which the savage mind rarely works itself free: "He says that the Kapohn or Acawoio races (those who have embraced Christianity excepted) like to bury their dead in a standing posture, assigning this reason,—'Although my brother be in appearance dead, he (i. e. his soul) is still alive.' Therefore, to maintain by an outward sign this belief in immortality some of them bury their dead erect, which they say represents life, whereas lying down represents death. Others bury their dead in a sitting posture, assigning the same reason." It is unlikely that the Orinoco Indians have in mind such clear-cut symbolism of their custom as this passage suggests; but it is altogether probable that the true reason for disposing the bodies of the dead in life-like postures is man's fundamental difficulty wholly to dissociate life from the stark and unresponsive body; and doubtless it is this very attitude of mind which leads them also to what Fray Ruiz calls the error of ascribing souls to even irrational beings—the same underlying theory which makes of primitive men animists, and of philosophers idealists.