The Golden Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion (Third...

But personal names are not the only words which superstitious fears have banished from everyday use. In many cases similar motives forbid certain persons at certain times to call common things by common names, thus obliging them either to refrain from mentioning these things altogether or to designate them by special terms or phrases reserved for such occasions. A consideration of these cases follows naturally on an examination of the taboos imposed upon personal names; for personal names are themselves very often ordinary terms of the language, so that an embargo laid on them necessarily extends to many expressions current in the commerce of daily life. And though a survey of some of the interdicts on common words is not strictly necessary for our immediate purpose, it may serve usefully to complete our view of the transforming influence which superstition has exercised on language. I shall make no attempt to subject the examples to a searching analysis or a rigid classification, but will set them down as they come in a rough geographical order. And since my native land furnishes as apt instances of the superstition as any other, we may start on our round from Scotland.

In the Atlantic Ocean, about six leagues to the west of Gallon Head in the Lewis, lies a small group of rocky islets known as the Flannan Islands. Sheep and wild fowl are now their only inhabitants, but remains of what are described as Druidical temples and the title of the Sacred Isles given them by Buchanan suggest that in days gone by piety or superstition may have found a safe retreat from the turmoil of the world in these remote solitudes, where the dashing of the waves and the strident scream of the sea-birds are almost the only sounds that break the silence. Once a year, in summer-time, the inhabitants of the adjacent lands of the Lewis, who have a right to these islands, cross over to them to fleece their sheep and kill the wild fowl for the sake both of their flesh and their feathers. They regard the islands as invested with a certain sanctity, and have been heard to say that none ever yet landed in them but found himself more [pg 393] disposed to devotion there than anywhere else. Accordingly the fowlers who go thither are bound, during the whole of the time that they ply their business, to observe very punctiliously certain quaint customs, the transgression of which would be sure, in their opinion, to entail some serious inconvenience. When they have landed and fastened their boat to the side of a rock, they clamber up into the island by a wooden ladder, and no sooner are they got to the top, than they all uncover their heads and make a turn sun-ways round about, thanking God for their safety.

On the biggest of the islands are the ruins of a chapel dedicated to St. Flannan. When the men come within about twenty paces of the altar, they all strip themselves of their upper garments at once and betake themselves to their devotions, praying thrice before they begin fowling. On the first day the first prayer is offered as they advance towards the chapel on their knees; the second is said as they go round the chapel; and the third is said in or hard by the ruins. They also pray thrice every evening, and account it unlawful to kill a fowl after evening prayers, as also to kill a fowl at any time with a stone. Another ancient custom forbids the crew to carry home in the boat any suet of the sheep they slaughter in the islands, however many they may kill. But what here chiefly concerns us is that so long as they stay on the islands they are strictly forbidden to use certain common words, and are obliged to substitute others for them. Thus it is absolutely unlawful to call the island of St. Kilda, which lies thirty leagues to the southward, by its proper Gaelic name of Hirt; they must call it only “the high country.”

They may not so much as once name the islands in which they are fowling by the ordinary name of Flannan; they must speak only of “the country.” “There are several other things that must not be called by their common names: e.g. visk, which in the language of the natives signifies water, they call burn; a rock, which in their language is creg, must here be called cruey, i.e. hard; shore in their language expressed by claddach, must here be called vah, i.e. a cave; sour in their language is expressed gort, but must here be called gaire, i.e. sharp; slippery, which is expressed bog, must be called soft; and several other things to this [pg 394] purpose.”1453 When Highlanders were in a boat at sea, whether sailing or fishing, they were forbidden to call things by the names by which they were known on land. Thus the boat-hook should not be called a croman, but a chliob; a knife not sgian, but “the sharp one” (a ghiar); a seal not ròn, but “the bald beast” (béisd mhaol); a fox not sionnach, but “the red dog” (madadh ruadh); the stone for anchoring the boat not clach, but “hardness” (cruaidh). This practice now prevails much more on the east coast than on the west, where it may be said to be generally extinct. It is reported to be carefully observed by the fishermen about the Cromarty Firth.1454 Among the words tabooed by fishermen in the north of Scotland when they are at sea are minister, salmon, hare, rabbit, rat, pig, and porpoise.

When Shetland fishermen are at sea, they employ a nomenclature peculiar to the occasion, and hardly anything may be mentioned by its usual name. The substituted terms are mostly of Norwegian origin, for the Norway men were reported to be good fishers.1456 In setting their lines the Shetland fishermen are bound to refer to certain objects only by some special words or phrases. Thus a knife is then called a skunie or tullie; a church becomes buanhoos or banehoos; a minister is upstanda or haydeen or prestingolva; the devil is da auld chield, da sorrow, da ill-healt (health), or da black tief; a cat is kirser, fitting, vengla, or foodin.1457 On the north-east coast of Scotland there are some villages, of which the inhabitants never pronounce certain words and family names when they are at sea; each village has its peculiar aversion to one or more of these words, among which are “minister,” “kirk,” “swine,” “salmon,” [pg 395] “trout,” and “dog.” When a church has to be referred to, as often happens, since some of the churches serve as land-marks to the fishermen at sea, it is spoken of as the “bell-hoose” instead of the “kirk.” A minister is called “the man wi' the black quyte.” It is particularly unlucky to utter the word “sow” or “swine” or “pig” while the line is being baited; if any one is foolish enough to do so, the line is sure to be lost. In some villages on the coast of Fife a fisherman who hears the ill-omened word spoken will cry out “Cold iron.”

In the village of Buckie there are some family names, especially Ross, and in a less degree Coull, which no fisherman will pronounce. If one of these names be mentioned in the hearing of a fisherman, he spits or, as he calls it, “chiffs.” Any one who bears the dreaded name is called a “chiffer-oot,” and is referred to only by a circumlocution such as “The man it diz so in so,” or “the laad it lives at such and such a place.” During the herring-season men who are unlucky enough to inherit the tabooed names have little chance of being hired in the fishing-boats; and sometimes, if they have been hired before their names were known, they have been refused their wages at the end of the season, because the boat in which they sailed had not been successful, and the bad luck was set down to their presence in it.1458 Although in Scotland superstitions of this kind appear to be specially incident to the callings of fishermen and fowlers, other occupations are not exempt from them. Thus in the Outer Hebrides the fire of a kiln is not called fire (teine) but aingeal. Such a fire, it is said, is a dangerous thing, and ought not to be referred to except by a euphemism. “Evil be to him who called it fire or who named fire in the kiln. It was considered the next thing to setting it on fire.”1459 Again, in some districts of Scotland a brewer would have resented the use of the word “water” in reference to the work in which he was engaged. “Water be your part of it,” was the common retort.

It was supposed that the use of the word would spoil the brewing.1460 The Highlanders say [pg 396] that when you meet a hobgoblin, and the fiend asks what is the name of your dirk, you should not call it a dirk (biodag), but “my father's sister” (piuthar m'athar) or “my grandmother's sister” (piuthar mo sheanamhair) or by some similar title. If you do not observe this precaution, the goblin will lay such an enchantment on the blade that you will be unable to stab him with it; the dirk will merely make a tinkling noise against the soft impalpable body of the fiend.1461

Manx fishermen think it unlucky to mention a horse or a mouse on board a fishing-boat.1462 The fishermen of Dieppe on board their boats will not speak of several things, for instance priests and cats.1463 German huntsmen, from motives of superstition, call everything by names different from those in common use.1464 In some parts of Bavaria the farmer will not mention a fox by its proper name, lest his poultry-yard should suffer from the ravages of the animal. So instead of Fuchs he calls the beast Loinl, Henoloinl, Henading, or Henabou.1465 In Prussia and Lithuania they say that in the month of December you should not call a wolf a wolf but “the vermin” (das Gewürm), otherwise you will be torn in pieces by the werewolves.1466 In various parts of Germany it is a rule that certain animals may not be mentioned by their proper names in the mystic season between Christmas and Twelfth Night. Thus in Thüringen they say that if you would be spared by the wolves you must not mention their name at this time.1467 In Mecklenburg people think that were they to name a wolf on one of these days the animal would appear. A shepherd would rather mention the devil than the wolf at this season; and we read of a farmer who had a bailiff named Wolf, but did not dare to call the man by his name between Christmas and Twelfth Night, referring to him instead as Herr Undeert (Mr. Monster). [pg 397] In Quatzow, a village of Mecklenburg, there are many animals whose common names are disused at this season and replaced by others: thus a fox is called “long-tail,” and a mouse “leg-runner” (Boenlöper).

Any person who disregards the custom has to pay a fine.1468 In the Mark of Brandenburg they say that between Christmas and Twelfth Night you should not speak of mice as mice but as dinger; otherwise the field-mice would multiply excessively.1469 According to the Swedish popular belief, there are certain animals which should never be spoken of by their proper names, but must always be signified by euphemisms and kind allusions to their character. Thus, if you speak slightingly of the cat or beat her, you must be sure not to mention her name; for she belongs to the hellish crew, and is a friend of the mountain troll, whom she often visits. Great caution is also needed in talking of the cuckoo, the owl, and the magpie, for they are birds of witchery. The fox must be called “blue-foot,” or “he that goes in the forest”; and rats are “the long-bodied,” mice “the small grey,” and the seal “brother Lars.” Swedish herd-girls, again, believe that if the wolf and the bear be called by other than their proper and legitimate names, they will not attack the herd. Hence they give these brutes names which they fancy will not hurt their feelings. The number of endearing appellations lavished by them on the wolf is legion; they call him “golden tooth,” “the silent one,” “grey legs,” and so on; while the bear is referred to by the respectful titles of “the old man,” “grandfather,” “twelve men's strength,” “golden feet,” and more of the same sort. Even inanimate things are not always to be called by their usual names.

For instance, fire is sometimes to be called “heat” (hetta) not eld or ell; water for brewing must be called lag or löu, not vatn, else the beer would not turn out so well.1470 The Huzuls of the Carpathians, a pastoral people, who dread the ravages of wild beasts on their flocks and herds, are unwilling to mention the bear by his proper name, so they call him [pg 398] respectfully “the little uncle” or “the big one.” In like manner and for similar reasons they name the wolf “the little one” and the serpent “the long one.”1471 They may not say that wool is scalded, or in the heat of summer the sheep would rub themselves till their sides were raw; so they merely say that the wool is warmed.1472 The Lapps fear to call the bear by his true name, lest he should ravage their herds; so they speak of him as “the old man with the coat of skin,” and in cooking his flesh to furnish a meal they may not refer to the work they are engaged in as “cooking,” but must designate it by a special term.1473 The Finns speak of the bear as “the apple of the wood,” “beautiful honey-paw,” “the pride of the thicket,” “the old man,” and so on.1474 And in general a Finnish hunter thinks that he will have poor sport if he calls animals by their real names; the beasts resent it. The fox and the hare are only spoken of as “game,” and the lynx is termed “the forest cat,” lest it should devour the sheep.1475 Esthonian peasants are very loth to mention wild beasts by their proper names, for they believe that the creatures will not do so much harm if only they are called by other names than their own.

The natives of Siberia are unwilling to call a bear a bear; they speak of him as “the little old man,” “the master of the forest,” “the sage,” “the respected one.” Some who are more familiar style him “my cousin.”1477 The Kamtchatkans reverence the whale, the bear, and the wolf from fear, and never mention their names when they meet them, believing that they understand human speech.1478 Further, they [pg 399] think that mice also understand the Kamtchatkan language; so in autumn, when they rob the field-mice of the bulbs which these little creatures have laid up in their burrows as a store against winter, they call everything by names different from the ordinary ones, lest the mice should know what they were saying. Moreover, they leave odds and ends, such as old rags, broken needles, cedar-nuts, and so forth, in the burrows, to make the mice think that the transaction has been not a robbery but a fair exchange. If they did not do that, they fancy that the mice would go and drown or hang themselves out of pure vexation; and then what would the Kamtchatkans do without the mice to gather the bulbs for them? They also speak kindly to the animals, and beg them not to take it ill, explaining that what they do is done out of pure friendship.1479 The Cherokee Indians regard the rattlesnake as a superior being and take great pains not to offend him. They never say that a man has been bitten by a snake but that he has been “scratched by a briar.” In like manner, when an eagle has been shot for a ceremonial dance, it is announced that “a snowbird has been killed.”

The purpose is to deceive the spirits of rattlesnakes or eagles which might be listening.1480 The Esquimaux of Bering Strait think that some animals can hear and understand what is said of them at a distance. Hence, when a hunter is going out to kill bears he will speak of them with the greatest respect and give out that he is going to hunt some other beast. Thus the bears will be deceived and taken unawares.1481 Among the Esquimaux of Baffin Land, women in mourning may not mention the names of any animals.1482 Among the Thompson Indians of British Columbia, children may not name the coyote or prairie wolf in winter, lest he should turn on his back and so bring cold weather.1483

The Arabs call a man who has been bitten by a snake “the sound one”; leprosy or the scab they designate “the blessed disease”; the left side they name “the lucky side”; they will not speak of a lion by his right name, but refer to him as for example “the fox.”1484 In Africa the lion is alluded to with the same ceremonious respect as the wolf and the bear in northern Europe and Asia. The Arabs of Algeria, who hunt the lion, speak of him as Mr. John Johnson (Johan-ben-el-Johan), because he has the noblest qualities of man and understands all languages. Hence, too, the first huntsman to catch sight of the beast points at him with his finger and says, “He is not there”; for if he were to say “He is there,” the lion would eat him up.1485 Except under dire necessity the Waziguas of eastern Africa never mention the name of the lion from fear of attracting him. They call him “the owner of the land” or “the great beast.”1486 The negroes of Angola always use the word ngana (“sir”) in speaking of the same noble animal, because they think that he is “fetish” and would not fail to punish them for disrespect if they omitted to do so.1487 Bushmen and Bechuanas both deem it unlucky to speak of the lion by his proper name; the Bechuanas call him “the boy with the beard.”1488 During an epidemic of smallpox in Mombasa, British East Africa, it was noticed that the people were unwilling to mention the native name (ndui) of the disease.

They referred to it either as “grains of corn” (tete) or simply as “the bad disease.”1489 So the Chinese of Amoy are averse to speak of fever by its proper name; they prefer to call it “beggar's disease,” hoping thereby to make the demons of fever imagine that they despise it and that therefore it would be useless to attack them.1490 Some of the natives of Nigeria [pg 401] dread the owl as a bird of ill omen and are loth to mention its name, preferring to speak of it by means of a circumlocution such as “the bird that makes one afraid.”1491 The Herero think that if they see a snake and call it by its name, the reptile will sting them, but that if they call it a strap (omuvia) it will lie still.1492 When Nandi warriors are out on an expedition, they may not call a knife a knife (chepkeswet); they must call it “an arrow for bleeding cattle” (loñget); and none of the party may utter the usual word employed in greeting males.1493 In Madagascar there seems to be an aversion to pronouncing the word for lightning (vàratra); the word for mud (fòtaka) is sometimes substituted for it.1494 Again, it is strictly forbidden to mention the word for crocodile (màmba) near some rivers of Madagascar; and if clothes should be wetted in certain other rivers of the island, you may not say that they are wet (lèna); you must say that they are on fire (may) or that they are drinking water (misòtro ràno).1495 A certain spirit, who used to inhabit a lake in Madagascar, entertained a rooted aversion to salt, so that whenever the thing was carried past the lake in which he resided it had to be called

by another name, or it would all have been dissolved and lost. The persons whom he inspired had to veil their references to the obnoxious article under the disguise of “sweet peppers.”1496 In a West African story we read of a man who was told that he would die if ever the word for salt was pronounced in his hearing. The fatal word was pronounced, and die he did sure enough, but he soon came to life again with the help of a magical wooden pestle of which he was the lucky possessor.1497

In India the animals whose names are most commonly tabooed are the snake and the tiger, but the same tribute of respect is paid to other beasts also. Sayids and Mussulmans [pg 402] of high rank in northern India say that you should never call a snake by its proper name, but always describe it either as a tiger (sher) or a string (rassi).1498 In Telingana the euphemistic name for a snake, which should always be employed, is worm or insect (purugu); if you call a cobra by its proper name, the creature will haunt you for seven years and bite you at the first opportunity.1499 Ignorant Bengalee women will not mention a snake or a thief by their proper names at night, for fear that one or other might appear. When they have to allude to a serpent, they call it “the creeping thing”; when they speak of a thief, they say “the unwelcome visitor.”1500 Other euphemisms for the snake in northern India are “maternal uncle” and “rope.” They say that if a snake bites you, you should not mention its name, but merely observe “A rope has touched me.”1501 Natives of Travancore are careful not to speak disrespectfully of serpents. A cobra is called “the good lord” (nalla tambiran) or “the good snake” (nalla pambu).

While the Malayalies of the Shervaray Hills are hunting the tiger, they speak of the beast only as “the dog.”1502 The Canarese of southern India call the tiger either “the dog” or “the jackal”; they think that if they called him by his proper name, he would be sure to carry off one of them.1503 The jungle people of northern India, who meet the tiger in his native haunts, will not pronounce his name, but speak of him as “the jackal” (gídar), or “the beast” (janwar), or use some other euphemistic term. In some places they treat the wolf and the bear in the same fashion.1504 The Pankas of South Mirzapur will not name the tiger, bear, camel, or donkey by their proper names; the camel they call “long neck.” Other tribes of the same district only scruple to mention certain animals in the morning. Thus, the Kharwars, a Dravidian tribe, will not name a pig, squirrel, hare, jackal, bear, monkey, or donkey in the morning hours; if [pg 403] they have to allude to these animals at that time, they call them by special names. For instance, they call the hare “the four-footed one” or “he that hides in the rocks”; while they speak of the bear as jigariya, which being interpreted means “he with the liver of compassion.” If the Bhuiyars are absolutely obliged to refer to a monkey or a bear in the morning, they speak of the monkey as “the tree-climber” and the bear as “the eater of white ants.” They would not mention a crocodile.

Among the Pataris the matutinal title of the bear is “the hairy creature.”1505 The Kols, a Dravidian race of northern India, will not speak of death or beasts of prey by their proper names in the morning. Their name for the tiger at that time of day is “he with the claws,” and for the elephant “he with the teeth.”1506 The forests of the Sundarbans, the district at the mouth of the Ganges, are full of man-eating tigers and the annual loss of life among the woodcutters is heavy. Here accordingly the ferocious animal is not called a tiger but a jackal (çial).1507

In Annam the fear inspired by tigers, elephants, and other wild animals induces the people to address these creatures with the greatest respect as “lord” or “grandfather,” lest the beasts should take umbrage and attack them.1508 The tiger reigns supreme in the forests of Tonquin and Cochin-China, and the peasants honour him as a maleficent deity. In talking of him they always call him ong, which means monsieur or grandfather. They are convinced that if they dared to speak of him disrespectfully, he would avenge the insult.1509 In Siam there are many people who would never venture to utter the words tiger or crocodile in a spot where these terrible creatures might be in hiding, lest [pg 404] the sound of their names should attract the attention of the beasts towards the speakers.1510 When the Malays of Patani Bay in Siam are in the jungle and think there is a tiger near, they will either speak of him in complimentary terms as the “grandfather of the woods” or only mention him in a whisper.1511 In Laos, while a man is out hunting elephants he is obliged to give conventional names to all common objects, which creates a sort of special language for elephant-hunters.1512 So when the Chams and Orang-Glaï of Indo-China are searching for the precious eagle-wood in the forest, they must employ an artificial jargon to designate most objects of everyday life; thus, for example, fire is called “the red,” a she-goat becomes “a spider,” and so on.

Some of the terms which compose the jargon are borrowed from the dialects of neighbouring tribes.1513 When the Mentras or aborigines of Malacca are searching for what they call gaharu (lignum aloes) they are obliged to use a special language, avoiding the words in ordinary use. At such times they call gaharu by the name of tabak, and they speak of a snake as “the long animal” and of the elephant as “the great animal.” They have also to observe a number of other taboos, particularly in the matter of diet. If a man has found a promising gaharu tree, and on going home dreams that the guardian spirit of the tree (hantu gaharu) demands a human victim as the price of his property, the dreamer will try next day to catch somebody asleep and to smear his forehead with lime. This is a sign to the guardian spirit of the tree, who accordingly carries away the soul of the sleeper to the land of the dead by means of a fever or other ailment, whereas the original dreamer gets a good supply of aloes wood.1514

At certain seasons of the year parties of Jakuns and Binuas go out to seek for camphor in the luxuriant forests of their native country, which is the narrow southern extremity of the Malay Peninsula, the Land's End of Asia. They are absent for three or four months together, and during the whole of this time the use of the ordinary Malay language is forbidden to them, and they have to speak a special language called by them the bassa kapor (camphor language) or pantang1515kapur. Indeed not only have the searchers to employ this peculiar language, but even the men and women who stay at home in the villages are obliged to speak it while the others are away looking for the camphor. They believe that a spirit presides over the camphor trees, and that without propitiating him they could not obtain the precious gum; the shrill cry of a species of cicada, heard at night, is supposed to be the voice of the spirit. If they failed to employ the camphor language, they think that they would have great difficulty in finding the camphor trees, and that even when they did find them the camphor would not yield itself up to the collector. The camphor language consists in great part of words which are either Malayan or of Malay origin; but it also contains many words which are not Malayan but are presumed to be remains of the original Jakun dialects now almost extinct in these districts. The words derived from Malayan are formed in many cases by merely substituting a descriptive phrase for the common term.

Thus instead of rice they say “grass fruit”; instead of gun they say “far sounding”; the epithet “short-legged” is substituted for hog; hair is referred to as “leaves,” and so on.1516 So when the Battas or Bataks of Sumatra have gone out to search for camphor, they must abandon the speech of daily life as soon as they reach the camphor [pg 406] forest. For example, if they wish to speak of the forest they may not use the ordinary word for it (hoetan), but must call it kerrengettetdoeng. When they have fixed on a spot in which to try their luck, they set up a booth and clear a space in front of it to serve as a place of sacrifice. Here, after summoning the camphor spirit (berroe ni kapoer) by playing on a flute, they offer sacrifice to him repeatedly. Then they lie down to dream of the place where camphor is to be found. If this succeeds, the leader goes and chooses the tree. When it has been cut down to the accompaniment of certain spells or incantations, one of the men runs and wraps the top of the fallen tree in a garment to prevent the camphor from escaping from the trunk before they have secured it. Then the tree is cleft and split up in the search for the camphor crystals, which are to be found in the fibres of the wood.1517 Similarly, when the Kayans of Borneo are searching for camphor, they talk a language invented solely for their use at this time. The camphor itself is never mentioned by its proper name, but is always referred to as “the thing that smells”; and all the tools employed in collecting the drug receive fanciful names.

Unless they conform to this rule they suppose that the camphor crystals, which are found only in the crevices of the wood, will elude them.1518 The Malanau tribes of Borneo observe the same custom very strictly, believing that the crystals would immediately dissolve if they spoke anything but the camphor language. For example, the common Malanau word for “return” is muli, but in presence of a camphor tree they say beteku. Again, “to hide” is palim in the Malanau language, but when they are looking for camphor they say krian. In like manner, all common names for implements and food are exchanged for others. In some tribes the camphor-seekers may never mention the names of chiefs and influential men; [pg 407] if they broke this rule, they would find no camphor in the trees.1519

In the western states of the Malay Peninsula the chief industry is tin-mining, and odd ideas prevail among the natives as to the nature and properties of the ore. They regard it as alive and growing, sometimes in the shape of a buffalo, which makes its way from place to place underground. Ore of inferior quality is excused on the score of its tender years; it will no doubt improve as it grows older. Not only is the tin believed to be under the protection and command of certain spirits who must be propitiated, but it is even supposed to have its own special likes and dislikes for certain persons and things. Hence the Malays deem it advisable to treat tin ore with respect, to consult its convenience, nay, to conduct the business of mining in such a way that the ore may, as it were, be extracted without its own knowledge. When such are their ideas about the mineral it is no wonder that the miners scruple to employ certain words in the mines, and replace them by others which are less likely to give offence to the ore or its guardian spirits. Thus, for example, the elephant must not be called an elephant but “the tall one who turns himself about”; and in like manner special words, different from those in common use, are employed by the miners to designate the cat, the buffalo, the snake, the centipede, tin sand, metallic tin, and lemons.

Lemons are particularly distasteful to the spirits; they may not be brought into the mines.1520 Again, the Malay wizard, who is engaged in snaring pigeons with the help of a decoy-bird and a calling-tube, must on no account call things by their common names. The tiny conical hut, in which he sits waiting for the wild pigeons to come fluttering about him, goes by the high-sounding name of the Magic Prince, perhaps with a delicate allusion to its noble inmate. The calling-tube is known as Prince [pg 408] Distraction, doubtless on account of the extraordinary fascination it exercises on the birds. The decoy-pigeon receives the name of the Squatting Princess, and the rod with a noose at the end of it, which serves to catch the unwary birds, is disguised under the title of Prince Invitation. Everything, in fact, is on a princely scale, so far at least as words can make it so. The very nooses destined to be slipped over the necks or legs of the little struggling prisoners are dignified by the title of King Solomon's necklaces and armlets; and the trap into which the birds are invited to walk is variously described as King Solomon's Audience Chamber, or a Palace Tower, or an Ivory Hall carpeted with silver and railed with amalgam. What pigeon could resist these manifold attractions, especially when it is addressed by the respectful title of Princess Kapor or Princess Sarap or Princess Puding?1521 Again, the fisher-folk on the east coast of the Malay Peninsula, like their brethren in Scotland, are reluctant to mention the names of birds or beasts while they are at sea.

All animals then go by the name of cheweh, a meaningless word which is believed not to be understood by the creatures to whom it refers. Particular kinds of animals are distinguished by appropriate epithets; the pig is “the grunting cheweh,” the buffalo is “the cheweh that says uak,” the snipe is “the cheweh that cries kek-kek,” and so on.1522 In this respect the fishermen of Patani Bay class together sea spirits, Buddhist monks, beasts, and reptiles; these are all cheweh and their common names may not be mentioned at sea. But, curiously enough, they lay no such embargo on the names of fish and birds, except the vulture and domestic fowls and ducks. At sea the vulture is named “bald head,” the tiger “striped,” the snake “weaver's sword,” the horse “fast,” and a species of monkey “long tail.” The human foot is called “tortoise,” and a Buddhist monk “yellow” on account of the colour of his robe. These Malay fishermen are at least as unwilling to speak of a Buddhist monk at sea as Scotch fishermen are to mention a minister in similar circumstances. If one of them mentions a monk, his mates will fall on him and beat him; whereas for other slips of the tongue they [pg 409] think it enough to throw a little bilge-water over the back of the transgressor and to say, “May the ill-luck be dismissed!” The use of this special language is even more obligatory by night than by day.

On shore the fishermen make very merry over those lubberly landsmen who cannot talk correctly at sea.1523 In like manner Achinese fishermen, in northern Sumatra, employ a special vocabulary when they are at sea. Thus they may not call a mountain a mountain, or mountain-high billows would swamp the boat; they refer to it as “high ground.” They may not speak of an elephant by its proper name of gadjah, but must call it pò meurah. If a man wishes to say that something is clear, he must not use the ordinary word for clear (lheuëh) because it bears the meaning also of “free,” “loose”; and the utterance of such a word might enable the fish to get free from the net and escape. Instead of lheuëh he must therefore employ the less dangerous synonym leungka. In like manner, we are told, among the fishermen of the north coast of Java whole lists of words might be compiled which are tabooed at sea and must be replaced by others.1524