Observe the points of difference and likeness between them and the Louisiade Papuans. As both are dark-skinned, they have been dealt with as branches of one and the same family; for which a name (or rather a pair of names) derived from the Greek has been applied—Melanesian and Kelnonesian. Nesos means island; kelnos, dark; melas (melan-os), black. The latter compound is the better. They are certainly dark coloured; and it is equally certain that both New Guinea and Australia are islands. The exact relationship, however, is less certain. Nevertheless, the name Kelnonesian is adopted.
It has been said that the Papuan contrasts favourably with the Australian; the latter being the better known of the two.
The differences between the different Australian languages have long been known and definitely insisted upon.
Less marked differences in frame and physiognomy between the different Australian tribes, have also been long known and definitely insisted upon.
Differences of customs and manners have been similarly noticed and considered. Notwithstanding all this, however, there is no opinion more generally admitted than the fundamental unity of the Australian population from Swan River to Botany Bay, from the Gulf of Carpentaria to Bass’s Straits. Captain Grey, Schurman, Teichelman, and all who have devoted average attention to the language, have given their evidence to this; and they have supplied facts of various kinds, of their own collection, towards the proof of it. No man is less inclined to disturb this view than the present writer.
As to the physical conformation of the Australians, I believe that it is so uniform throughout the island, that it has never been made the basis of a division;—indeed I am inclined to believe that the similarity of external appearance has been over-rated; nevertheless, it is certain that there are deviations from the general slim and underfed condition of the body; and (which is of more importance), from the usual straight character of the hair. Such is the case, according to Mr. Earl, with the trepang fishers of Arnhem Bay. Then as to the hair—with the Jaako, or Croker Island tribe, it is coarse and bushy (the whiskers being thick, and curly) and so short, crisp, and abundant about the breast and shoulders as to conceal the skin; whereas, on the other hand, the Oitbo, or Bidjenelumbo, have straight silky hair, arched eyebrows, fair complexion, and occasionally the oblique eye.
The lowest form of humanity has been sought for in Australia, whilst the physical condition of the country and the absence of those animals and herbs that supply human food, have made it a likely quarter to exhibit it. Whether, however, so low a rank in the scale of human development be, upon the whole, a fact or exaggeration, it is certain that, upon several points, there has been considerable over-statement. One sample of this sort is the accredited opinion as to the absolute incapacity of the Australian of forming even the rudest elements of a mythology—an opinion which engenders the notion that their intellects are too sluggish for even the evolution of a superstition.
That this was not the case was indicated some years back by Captain Grey, and that there is some exponent of the religious feeling in the shape of a rude form of shamanism, has been shown in the account of the American Exploring Expedition; where the first published details of the Australian mythology, if so it may be called, are to be found:—“It is not true, however, as has been frequently asserted, that the natives have no idea of a Supreme Being, although they do not allow this idea to influence their actions. The Wellington tribes, at least, believe in the existence of a Deity called Baiamai, who lives on an island beyond the great sea to the East. His food is fish, which come up to him from the water when he calls them. Some of the natives consider him the maker of all things, while others attribute the creation of the world to his son Burambin. They say of him, that Baiamai spoke, and Burambin came into existence. When the missionaries first came to Wellington, the natives used to assemble once a year, in the month of February, to dance and sing a song in honour of Baiamai. This song was brought there from a distance by strange natives, who went about teaching it. Those who refused to join in the ceremony were supposed to incur the displeasure of the god. For the last three years the custom has been discontinued. In the tribe on Hunter’s River, there was a native famous for the composition of these songs or hymns; which, according to Mr. Threlkeld, were passed from tribe to tribe, to a great distance, till many of the words became at last unintelligible to those who sang them.
“Dararwirgal, a brother of Baiamai, lives in the far west. It was he who lately sent the small-pox among the natives, for no better reason than that he was vexed for want of a tomahawk. But now he is supposed to have obtained one, and the disease will come no more. The Bálumbal are a sort of angels, who are said to be of a white colour, and to live on a mountain at a great distance to the south-east: their food is honey, and their employment is to do good ‘like the Missionaries.’
“It is possible that some of these stories owe their origin to intercourse with the whites, though the great unwillingness which the natives always evince to adopt any customs or opinions from them, militates against such a supposition. But a being who is, beyond question, entirely the creation of Australian imagination, is one who is called in the Wellington dialect, Wandong; though the natives have learned from the whites to apply to him the name of devil. He is an object not of worship, but merely of superstitious dread. They describe him as going about under the form of a black man of superhuman stature and strength. He prowls at night through the woods around the encampments of the natives, seeking to entrap some unwary wanderer, whom he will seize upon; and, having dragged him to his fire, will there roast and devour him. They attribute all their afflictions to his malevolence. If they are ill, they say Wandong has bitten them. No one can see this being but the nújargir, or conjurors, who assert that they can kill him, but that he always returns to life. He may, however, be frightened away by throwing fire at him (though this statement seems inconsistent with that respecting his invisibility), and no native will go out at night without a firebrand to protect him from the demon.