The History of Melanesian Society, Volume 2

CHAPTER XV

INTRODUCTION

In entering upon the theoretical discussion of the material presented in the first volume of this book, it will be well to begin with a short consideration of the principles upon which the study and the mode of arrangement of the argument will be based.

At the present moment there exists a very wide divergence between different schools of thought in their attitude towards ethnographical material. While some are almost exclusively interested in the evolution of custom and institution, others devote their energies as exclusively to the study of geographical distribution with the aim of discovering how the cultures now existing on the earth have been built up. As I have recorded elsewhere1, my own standpoint altered very profoundly while I was writing the theoretical discussion contained in this volume. I began as a firm adherent of the current English school, being almost exclusively interested in the evolution of belief, custom and institution, paying little attention to the com¬ plexity of individual cultures, except where it was perfectly obvious that changes had been set up from without, as in the case of recent Polynesian influence in Melanesia. At a definite point in my argument I was led to see that Melanesian society is complex. I began my theoretical consideration with a comparative study of the systems of relationship which have been recorded in the first volume, and at first attended purely to their structure, neglecting the geographical distribu¬ tion of the terms of relationship as linguistic facts. On the basis of this purely morphological study I was enabled to build up a scheme of the evolution of Melanesian social structure. It was only after I had followed out as far as possible the

1 Presidential Address to Section H, British Association, 1911. See Rep. Brit. Assoc., 1911, p. 490, and Nature , 1911, lxxxvii, 350.

R. M. S. 11.

I

path suggested by the comparative study of the forms of the systems and their associated functions that I turned to the consideration of the systems as collections of linguistic facts. On considering the geographical distribution of these in conjunction with the scheme I had already reached, it became apparent that the development I had traced had not taken place in a simple and homogeneous society, but had come about as part of the general interaction of two peoples. From this point it became my task to endeavour to analyse the complexity presented by Melanesian society into its component elements. As the argument proceeded I was forced into the conviction that Melanesian culture is even more complex than had at first appeared ; it became evident that an understanding of this complexity must be a necessary pre¬ liminary to any complete knowledge of the development, not only of Melanesian culture as a whole, but of each of the individual customs and institutions which make it up.

The change which had taken place in my standpoint during the course of the work suggested that the mode of arrangement of the material with which I had begun might be unsuited to the final setting out of the results; but, for reasons I shall shortly consider, I was led to see that the order I had followed was that most suited to the study of the subject and is one I should again pursue if I were to undertake a similar survey of any other ethnographic province. It was only as the process of analysis developed that it became apparent how, through my belief in the fundamental importance of the study of relationship, I had been led to base this analysis on a sure foundation. Especially did I find this to be true with regard to one of the most difficult features of ethnological analysis, the arrangement in order of time of the constituent elements of which a culture is composed. I have therefore made little change in the earlier chapters of this volume. With a few unimportant exceptions, they stand as they were written when I was wholly under the sway of the old evolutionary standpoint. In these chapters there are passages which I should not write in the same way if I were to start again from the beginning, but I have left them as they were written as examples to illustrate the purely evolutionary standpoint.

In the task of analysing Melanesian culture into its component elements, I began with features, such as the

The Analysis of Culture

secret societies, which had come especially under my own notice. Here again, when I had finished, the problem arose whether the order of the argument which I had myself fol¬ lowed was that best suited for the demonstration of its results to others.

In this case also it has seemed best to preserve the order of my own argument, but the motive in this case differs from that which has led me to begin with an account of the evolution of Melanesian society. In this case I have pre¬ served my original order, not because I believe it to be that best adapted to the conditions I had to meet, still less to those of other ethnographic provinces. I have preserved the order of the argument which I myself followed because it seems important in the present state of our knowledge to preserve the record of the line of argument by which conclusions are reached in ethnology, even if this line be unduly tortuous. Here, as in all other ways by which we are striving to follow the course of human culture, the immediate problem before us is that of method. The task of the analysis of rude cultures into their component elements is quite new, and it is as a contribution to the methodology of this analysis that I hope the chief value of this book will lie. In the present state of the subject, the method by which a conclusion is reached is as important as the conclusion itself; the errors of a method may be as valuable as the truths which are reached by its means. I have therefore kept to my original order, even when I know that I should have followed a different course if I had possessed at the beginning the knowledge I had gained at the end.

It is important to lay stress in every possible way on the principles and method of my own inquiry because they differ fundamentally from those which have been adopted in the chief previous attempt to analyse Melanesian culture. This attempt, which we owe to Graebner1, differs in its line of approach, in its general method, and in its main assumptions and principles so deeply from those of my own work, that it is difficult to say that there is any element common to us except our belief in the great complexity of Melanesian culture and the need for its analysis. The fact that two attempts to attack a problem should differ so widely as those of Graebner and myself shows only too cogently the need

1 See Zeitsch. f Ethnol ., 1905, xxxvn and Anthrofios , 1909, iv, 7 26 and 998.

there is for the study of methods and principles, and makes it unnecessary to apologize for a mode of treatment which will help in any way to illustrate this study.

It may be useful to consider here the main difference which, I believe, separates the general method of this book from that of Graebner, for this difference stands in a de¬ finite relation to the mode of arrangement of my argument. To Graebner, the introduction of a new form of social organi¬ sation, a new language or a new religion seems to be a process of the same order as the introduction of an element of material culture. To him, the introduction of the dual organisation of society or of an Austronesian tongue seems to present no greater difficulty than the introduction of a new weapon or implement. To me, on the other hand, social organisation, language and religion seem to be bound up with the life of a people so far more intimately than material objects that it is not enough to say they have been introduced. It is the duty of one who attempts to analyse a culture to formulate a mechanism whereby an introduced element of culture has become part of the complex in which it is now found.

The cases of language and religion present no fundamental difficulty. We possess historical examples of the processes by which people assume a new language or a new religion ; it is even one which is going on before our eyes at the present moment in different parts of the world. Though it may be difficult to frame a satisfactory scheme of the process whereby such changes came about in the early stages of Melanesian history, the matter presents no fundamental difficulty ; the difficulty is one of mechanism, not of principle.

It is very different if we are to establish a change of social organisation as one of the results of influence upon a people from without. The basic idea which underlies the whole argument of this book is the deeply seated and intimate character of social structure. It seems at first sight impos¬ sible that a society can change this structure and yet continue to exist.

It is, of course, easy to understand how a new form of social structure may be imposed by a conquering people who reduce the earlier inhabitants to a condition of complete sub¬ servience. Here we should have to do with the replacing of

Evolution and History 5

one social structure by another associated with the replacing of one people by another.

It is clear, however, that this has not occurred in Melanesia. Most of the changes which have taken place in Melanesia seem to have been due to the influence of relatively small bodies of immigrants, and it is therefore necessary to discover mechanisms whereby such small bodies of people succeeded in influencing the social institu¬ tions of those among whom they settled. Such changes must be slow and gradual ; in other words, they must have those characters which we are accustomed to regard as be¬ longing to evolution. It is owing to this fact that I am justified in preserving the order of treatment which I have followed in this volume. It is because I believe the evo¬ lutionary treatment of the early chapters of this volume to be the right line of approach that I have preserved it. In spite of the change in standpoint which took place in the course of my study of the subject, the early evolutionary treatment holds good because it is only by a process such as we are accustomed to regard as evolutionary that it is possible for changes in social structure to come about.

The method of this book thus lies between that of the evolutionary school and that of the modern historical school of Germany. Its standpoint remains essentially evolutionary in spite of its method becoming historical, a combination forced upon me because it was with social structure that I was primarily concerned.

I do not suppose for one moment, however, that this combination of two modes of treatment applies only to social structure. It is as necessary in the study of language and religion, of art and morals, and even of material objects, although in these aspects of culture it is less obvious. It is only because my chief interest lay in social organisation, and because I began with that aspect of Melanesian culture, that I was led to recognise and shall, I hope, succeed in demon¬ strating that the proper path lies between the evolutionary and historical schools. It is because Graebner began with material culture, where the signs of evolution are so far more doubtful and fragmentary, that he has been led to ignore so largely the evolutionary character of the blending of cultures. The general mode of treatment of this book holds a middle course between those of the evolutionary and historical schools

because the principle underlying it is that the contact of peoples and the blending of their cultures act as the chief stimuli setting in action the forces which lead to human progress.

I have so far dealt with only one of the divergencies of method and standpoint which divide students of human culture at the present time. Here I have followed a middle course which I hope may reconcile the advocates of those views between which it lies. There is another difference of method and standpoint which, though less obviously important to the scheme of the book, yet cannot be passed over in silence.

In framing a scheme of the course of history among peoples widely separated from ourselves in time and mode of life, the question arises how far we are justified in ascribing to them modes of behaviour similar to our own. Change in human culture, due directly or indirectly to the blending of peoples, is a process of which history gives us abundant knowledge, one which can still be observed in many parts of the world. Are we justified in assuming that the motives which actuate people now, and have actuated them in historical times, will also have been effective in remote ages and among people widely different from ourselves ? I approach here the most difficult problem in the whole range of the science which deals with man and his culture, a problem which takes us into the domain of social psychology. There are those who believe it to be the first duty of students of human culture to attend to this social psychology. They hold that until we know far more than at present about the modes of thought and action proper to people with cultures widely different from our own, it is an unprofitable task to attempt to unravel the history of the social institutions of mankind. According to these, this volume may only be regarded as a premature attempt to study a subject not yet ripe for scientific treatment.

My own view is rather that the historical study of human culture forms one of the chief means by which we may hope to obtain knowledge of many departments of social psychology, though there are many other paths by which such knowledge may be gained. I do not hold therefore that either kind of study should have priority, but that it is only through the concurrent study of the two kinds that we can hope to reach

Psychology and Anthropology 7

any exact knowledge of the behaviour of mankind as members of society.

If, however, the two studies are thus to go on side by side, it is impossible that either can progress without making assumptions based on knowledge which belongs properly to the domain of the other, and this is especially true of the historical mode of treatment. If we assume that, in remote ages and in an environment widely different from our own, man was actuated by the same general motives as ourselves, we are making an assumption the validity of which can only be established by the science of social psychology.

I believe that it is much safer to make such an assumption in connection with such historical schemes as are the subject of this volume than if we were dealing with the origins of human institutions. The revolt against the psychological assumptions current in the anthropology of the past is especially justified in the study of origins. It is a most dangerous process to assume that, at the extremely remote times at which we must suppose the chief human institutions to have had their origin, mankind was actuated by motives similar to those of civilised men as members of society and still more as individuals. When, however, we are dealing with the outcome of the blending of peoples, of whom some may have had a relatively high culture, the assumption in question is far less dangerous.. I propose in this volume to assume that the laws governing the results which emerge from the contact of peoples are of the same general order as those of which we know in historical times and through the experience of the present day. Our know¬ ledge of the social psychology of peoples of rude culture is, however, already large enough to make it possible to suggest differences, and I shall not infrequently avail myself of such knowledge to ascribe to the peoples I suppose to have fused in Melanesia modes of thought different from those of civilised and modern man.

A word must be said here about the title of the book. It was originally intended that it should be called “ The Evolution of Melanesian Society.” As I have pointed out, the general line taken in this book lies between that of the purely evolutionary school of British anthropologists and the purely historical school of Germany, but in choosing a title, I have preferred history to evolution in order to emphasise

my belief that it is the historical aspect of human progress, rather than the evolution which accompanies it, which should for the present be our main occupation.

Again, I have called the book a history of Melanesian society rather than of Melanesian culture, because it is with social forms and functions in the narrower sense that I chiefly deal. A history of Melanesian culture should deal more fully than I have done with all aspects of this culture.

Lastly, it may seem that this book is almost as much an attempt to portray the history of Polynesian as of Melanesian society. My primary purpose was to deal with Polynesia only incidentally and in so far as it helped to lighten the dark places of Melanesian history, but in the course of the work I was led to pay far more attention to Polynesia than I had intended. I am glad, however, to be able to show by my title that this book does not profess to deal fully or adequately with Polynesian institutions, though I have un¬ avoidably been led to formulate a scheme of the main outlines of its history.

CHAPTER XVI

THE MORPHOLOGICAL COMPARISON OF SYSTEMS OF

RELATIONSHIP

I propose in this chapter to deal with a number of general features of the systems of relationship which have been recorded in the first volume of this book. The termin¬ ology of relationship can be considered from two points of view. A system of relationship involves, and is an expression of, certain principles of classification ; two systems may be compared with the object of seeing how far relatives are classed together and how far they are put into different categories in the two systems. Such a com¬ parison deals with the structure of the systems and may be called morphological.

A system of relationship is also, however, a collection of linguistic terms. Two systems which classify relatives in precisely the same way may nevertheless use very different terms for the purpose, and it is possible to compare these terms as linguistic facts.

I propose in this chapter to make a survey of Oceanic systems of relationship, attending only to their structure and principles of classification, and to reserve the linguistic com¬ parison for a later chapter. I begin by pointing out certain general features of Oceanic systems of relationship which will be studied in detail in this chapter.

Perhaps the fact which will have seemed most remarkable to those who have studied the records of the first volume is the very great diversity of Oceanic systems of relationship. No two systems recorded in this book are exactly alike. There are not only the vast differences which separate such systems as those of Pentecost and Anaiteum, or those

io Melanesian Society

of the coastal and mountain peoples ot Fiji, but there are also the minor differences which are found within even so small a group as the Banks Islands. Those who have hitherto studied classificatory systems of relationship have been mainly concerned with the demonstration of their similarity throughout the world. The special feature of the present work is that it accepts the fundamental similarity as fully established and is devoted entirely to the study of the differences, both small and great, which exist in Melanesian and Polynesian systems.

On attending to these differences, one fact becomes at once apparent. In Oceania, contiguous peoples often differ more widely from one another in their method of denoting relationship than others who live far apart, and some of the closest resemblances occur among widely separated peoples. Thus, there is far more similarity between such widely sepa¬ rated regions as the coast of Viti Levu in Fiji, the southern New Hebrides, and Guadalcanar in the Solomons than that which exists between coastal and inland Fiji or between the northern and southern New Hebrides. Similarly, the systems of Ulawa and Eddystone Island in the Solomons resemble those of Polynesia far more closely than they resemble most other Melanesian systems. People who seem alien to one another in race show a greater resemblance in this respect than people who differ little from one another in physical appearance or in general culture. This at once suggests that the nature of systems of relationship depends on forms of social structure rather than on differences of race. If it can be shown that the widely separated communities which possess similar systems of relationship also possess similar social institutions, and that contiguous communities with widely different systems differ also widely in social structure, much will have been done to establish a generalisation on which to build further. One of the tasks, then, of this chapter will be to see how far systems of relationship can be brought into systematic connection with social institutions, and especially with forms of marriage. Much in this direction has already been done in the first volume. In several places there has been shown to be the closest relation between features of systems of relationship and the cross-cousin marriage, while other peculiar features of relationship have been brought into connection with

Complexity of Nomenclature 1 1

exceptional forms of marriage, such as those with the wife of the mother’s brother and with the daughter’s daughter. My aim in this and succeeding chapters will be to show that all the diverse features of Oceanic systems of relation¬ ship are due to social causes and depend on differences in the social conditions out of which they have sprung. In some cases, this will not be possible owing to lack of evidence ; in other cases, such reference to social conditions will not pass beyond the range of probability ; but I hope in many cases to succeed in showing that the nomenclature of relationship has been determined by social conditions.

Another feature of the systems I have recorded which must have struck everyone is their variety in com¬ plexity and in richness of nomenclature, some of these systems having more than twice as many terms as others. While some systems, such as those of Polynesia and parts of the Solomons, are so simple that no one can have any difficulty in grasping their character, others, such as those of Pentecost and Buin, form such confused, and at first sight lawless, masses of detail that without a key they might seem only to mirror the vagueness and confusion which many believe to be characteristic of the thought of primitive man. Some of my readers may even have been tempted to suppose that human beings can never have con¬ ducted their lives on so complex a social basis, and that these records are merely the results of misunderstanding on the part of the recorder.

Further, it may have been observed that there is a general relation between complexity and richness in ter¬ minology. The most complex systems of Pentecost and Fiji are the richest in terms, while the simple systems of Polynesia and Eddystone Island have the fewest terms. It will perhaps prevent possible misunderstanding if I go out¬ side my special province for an example to show that this association between complexity and richness, and between simplicity and poorness of terminology, is not universal. In Australia the systems of relationship are in general even richer in terms than any I have recorded, but they are not complex in the way that the systems of Pentecost, Buin and Fiji are complex. One of our tasks, then, will be to ascertain why there should be this association in Oceania between complexity and richness in nomenclature.

Another fact may perhaps have attracted attention. I have recorded a large number of special functions associated with bonds of relationship, special rights or privileges pos¬ sessed by certain relatives, and duties and restrictions on con¬ duct which accompany these rights and privileges. It will have been seen that, in general, these functions are espe¬ cially numerous, well defined and important among those people who possess the more complex and rich systems, while among those with simple systems these functions may be completely absent. There is thus suggested an association between richness and complexity of nomencla¬ ture on the one hand, and number and importance of specific functions of relationship on the other hand, and this is another point to which attention will have to be directed.

In the detailed comparison of Oceanic systems of rela¬ tionship to which this chapter will be devoted, I shall attend chiefly to the relation between the mode of using the terms and forms of marriage and to the connection between the richness of the systems and the presence of special functions. I shall also consider certain features of Oceanic systems, such as the connection between terms of relationship and personal names and the use of descriptive terms, but I shall have to leave the full explanation of the association of complexity and richness of nomenclature for a later chapter.

The detailed comparison may most conveniently be carried out by taking groups of relationships characteristic of the classificatory system, such as the groups formed by : (i) parents and children ; (ii) brothers and sisters ; (iii) the father’s brother and the mother’s sister’s husband, on the one hand, and the mother’s sister and the father’s brother’s wife, on the other hand, together with their children ; (iv) the mother’s brother and the father’s sister, their consorts and children ; (v) grandparents and grandchildren ; and (vi) rela¬ tives by marriage1.

1 The chief terms of the systems I use in this survey have been put together in a comparative table at the end of the first volume.

Terms for Parents and Children

(i) Parents and children.

The chief topic to be considered under this heading is the occasional absence of terms to distinguish father and mother from one another on the one hand, and the almost universal absence, on the other hand, of any means of dis¬ tinguishing sons from daughters. Throughout Melanesia father and mother are always denoted by distinct and sepa¬ rate terms, but in some parts of Polynesia there is only a common term for parent, makna or matua ; in order to distinguish sex, one or other of the words kane or tane and wahine have to be added. Strangely enough, while it is only in Polynesia that father and mother are not dis¬ tinguished from one another, it is only here that there are distinctive terms for son and daughter. Throughout Melanesia we find only one term for child, although it is probable that in many places there are subsidiary terms which can be used if it is necessary to make it clear whether the person spoken of is male or female. Thus, in Pentecost, in addition to the usual term, nitu , for child, there are words, mala and met , used for son and daughter respec¬ tively. There seems to be no doubt, however, that the common term for child is that used in general conversation or address. In Samoa, on the other hand, where the terms of relationship are on the whole few in number, there are not only separate words for son and daughter, but even two words for son, one of which, atalii, is used by a man while the other, tama , is only used, or should properly only be used, by the mother. The same peculiarity is found in Tonga, where a son is called foha by his father and tama by his mother, while both call their daughter ofefine.

I must be content here to point out these features of the nomenclature of parents and children. Those who are not fully imbued with the idea that the terminology of rela¬ tionship has been determined by social conditions may be satisfied to regard the failure to distinguish parents from one another in Polynesia as an expression of the tendency to use terms of relationship in a wide and comprehensive manner. Such an indeterminate way of regarding the matter becomes, however, impossible when we find the Polynesians making a distinction in the nomenclature for children which

does not occur in Melanesia with its far more ample ter¬ minology. If the terminology of relationship be determined by social factors, it will be necessary to discover some social condition which leads the Tongan or Samoan father to use for his son a term different from that used by his wife. The usage would become intelligible if the father and mother belonged to different social groups1 and had little to do with one another after the birth or weaning of their children, but we know of nothing of this kind in Tonga and Samoa. We must await further knowledge of the social conditions of these islands before it will be possible to assign this feature of nomenclature to its source.

(ii) Brothers and sisters.

In Polynesia, brothers and sisters address and speak of one another in a very special way which is generally charac¬ teristic of Oceania. Two brothers address one another by terms differing according to age, and usually two sisters use the same terms, also according to relative age. A brother and sister, on the other hand, follow another mode of address¬ ing or speaking of one another, using either one reciprocal term or two different terms, but even in the latter case there is no distinction according to age. The distinction according to sex is even present in the extremely simple system of Samoa.

In Fiji, similar distinctions are made by the people of the coast, especially in the Mbau and Rewa systems, but among the tribes of the mountainous interior of Viti Levu these distinctions, though present in some degree, are less definite. Distinctions of the same nature as those of Polynesia and the coast are undoubtedly present, but the terms used between persons of the same sex are often applied by a man to his sister or by a woman to her brother. Further, in some cases the brother-sister term is not used in address, but only when a man is speaking of his sister or a woman of her brother.

In the Solomons we find a state very similar to that of the inland people of Viti Levu. Distinctions exactly corre¬ sponding to those of Polynesia are undoubtedly present but often are not employed. Thus, in Eddy stone Island there is a definite term for the brother-sister relationship, lulu} but a

1 See also Chapter xxili.

Brothers and Sisters

man often addresses and speaks of his sister as Iasi. It may be noted here that tasi is used as a collective term for the relationship between brothers and sisters ; a group of those who call one another by the terms used for brother and sister being tamatasi. This suggests that tasi is a general term for the relationship between brothers and sisters. It seems possible that, through the use of this collective term, the people have become familiar with the idea of a sister as tasi and tend to call her so instead of by the proper term. A good example of extreme simplicity is found in the Saa system of Malaita which has only one term for all varieties of brother and sister, this being the only feature in which it differs from the almost equally simple system of Ulawa. In this case there is a corresponding degree of simplicity in the nomencla¬ ture for other relationships. The system of Rafurafu in San Cristoval is interesting in that distinctions corresponding to those of Polynesia are made, but by means of the masculine and feminine prefixes which occur in this district.

In the Banks and Torres Islands matters are much as in the Solomons ; the distinction according to sex undoubtedly exists, but there seems to be a tendency to ignore it, so that a man addresses his sister as he wrould his brother. In Pentecost the distinction seems to be more constant, but in Anaiteum again it is little used if my information be correct.

The special feature of interest in the nomenclature of brothers and sisters is thus the presence of a very definite distinction according as those to whom the terms apply are of the same or of different sex. In those cases where this distinction is absent there is reason to believe that it was formerly present and is now in course of disappearance; it would seem therefore to be an original feature of Oceanic nomenclature.

In seeking for an explanation of the distinction it will, in accordance with the working assumption of this chapter, be necessary to look for some social condition or conditions which would put those of the same sex into one social category and those of different sex into another. At present, however, with the exception of the obvious sameness or difference of sex, I have no evidence of such conditions to offer and must leave this feature of the nomenclature of relationship unexplained.

i6

Melanesian Society

(iii) The father s brother and mother s sister and

their children.

The systems I have recorded, both Polynesian and Mela¬ nesian, agree in the mode of naming the father s brother and mother’s sister, their consorts and children. In nearly every case the father’s brother receives the same designation as the father, his wife as the mother and his children as own brothers and sisters1. Similarly, the mothers sister has a common designation with the mother, and her husband with the father, while her children fall into the same category as own brothers and sisters and the children of the lather s brother. This holds good not only of own brothers of the father and own sisters of the mother, but it applies also to more distant relatives who fall into the same categories under the classificatory principle. We have here a fundamental feature of Melanesian and Polynesian systems of relationship. In peoples with patrilineal descent the community of desig¬ nation for the father and father’s brother, for their consorts and children, follows naturally if the system be founded on the clan-organisation. Similarly, the corresponding com¬ munity of nomenclature for the mother and her sister, their consorts and children, is equally obvious among peoples with matrilineal descent. It is not, however, so obvious why both kinds of community of designation should hold good in each mode of descent. Wherever the dual system exists, women of one moiety must necessarily marry men who belong to the other moiety, so that the children of the two men would be of the same moiety through their mothers. There is, however, no direct reason why this feature of relationship should exist where there are more than two social groups. There is thus suggested an origin of all forms of Melanesian systems in a dual organisation of society, such as is still found in several parts of Melanesia. The nomenclature for the father’s brother and mother’s sister, their consorts and children points to the dual organisation having at one time been universal in Melanesia.

i 'j'jjg only exception is the island of Rows, in the Bunks Islands where it was said that the father’s brother is called by his personal name, but here as else¬ where his children are not distinguished in nomenclature from own brothers and sisters. In the Nandrau and Nambombudho systems of Fiji there are special terms for the younger brothers of the father, while the elder brothers of the father, following the usual rule, receive the same designation as the father himself.

The Mother s Brother

(iv) The mother s brother and father s sister and

their children.

The mothers brother and father’s sister with their consorts and children form a class of relatives of great interest and theoretical importance, and the systems of relationship which have been recorded contribute materially to the proper under¬ standing of the social position and functions of these relatives. It is in this feature of relationship that there comes out so very clearly the connection between the classificatory system and lorms of marriage. It may be pointed out at the outset that the mother’s brother and father’s sister must always be¬ long to different social groups wherever there is exogamy, and this must be so whether descent be patrilineal or matrilineal. Similarly, their children must always belong to different social groups.

The mother s brother. In the great majority of the systems which have been recorded the mother’s brother is denoted by a special term. It is only in certain Polynesian communities and in the Western British Solomons that he is classed with the father, though elsewhere he is identified in nomenclature with the father-in-law. It is only in systems with generally scanty nomenclature that there is not found a distinctive position of the mother’s brother as belonging to a category different from that of the father. In many cases, the term for the sister’s son is the same as that for the mother’s brother, i.e., there is only one reciprocal term to denote the two relatives. In other cases, and especially in Tonga, Tikopia, Samoa1, some parts of Fiji and in Vella Lavella, there is a special term to denote a man’s sisters son.

It is significant that in Eddystone Island, where the mother’s brother and the father are classed together as tamay there is a special term for the sister’s son of a man. It may be that this is an old reciprocal term for mother’s brother and sister’s son which has persisted for occasional application to the sister’s son, while the mother’s brother has come to be classed with the father.

The relationship of mother’s brother is one which brings out in the clearest manner the connection between the absence of a special term for a relative and absence of function.

1 G. Brown, Melanesians and Polynesians , 1910, p. 41.

)

Throughout Polynesia, so far as we know, the mother s brother has no special duties or privileges except in places where he has a special designation. Both in Tonga and Tikopia, where he is called tuastna or tuatina , the maternal uncle has the same kind of social position in relation to his nephew as is found in many parts of Melanesia, and in Tonga this position seems to be almost as highly developed as in Fiji. The uncle is classed with the father in the Hawaian Islands, and I could not discover that he had any special social functions. This is also the case among the Maoris1. In Samoa where, according to Dr George Brown2, the sister s child is denoted by a special term, tamasa or tamafafine , this relative has special powers and privileges. In Eddystone, where the mother’s brother is classed with the father and father’s brother, I could not discover that he has special functions. Thus, wherever the mother’s brother and sister’s child have special functions, terms are used which distinguish them from other relatives.

The wife of the mother s brother. In Polynesia and in some parts of Melanesia, as in Eddystone, Saa and Ulawa, the wife of the mother’s brother is classed in nomenclature with the mother and with the wife of the father’s brother, and in these cases she has no special functions which would make it necessary to distinguish her from those persons with whom she is classed. In other regions of Melanesia, including many parts of Fiji, the wife of the mother s brother receives the same name as the father’s sister ; in others again she is classed with the mother-in-law. The significance of these features will be considered later.

A special interest in the position of this relative arises in those places where she is the potential wife of her husband’s sister’s son. In Mota in the Banks group and in Pentecost in the New Hebrides, the term used for the wife of the mother’s brother is one, such as mateima or lalagi , which is applied to other potential wives (see i, 34 and 195), and where this kind of nomenclature exists, there is clear evidence of marriage with this relative. When in former times polygyny was practised, it was the custom for a man to give one or more of his wives to his sister’s son ; even now, it is proper for a man to take the widow of his mother’s brother if

1 See Elsdon Best ,Journ. Anth. Inst., 1902, xxxii, 112.

2 Loc. cit.

PVife of Mother s Brother

he be not already married. In these islands, then, there is a clear connection between the terminology for the uncle’s wife and social function. In other of the Banks Islands and in Loh in the Torres Islands, the wife of the mother’s brother is classed with the mother and with the wife of the father’s brother. When a relative is classed in nomenclature with the mother, it may be expected to follow that marriage with this relative would be prohibited. I have, however, too little information about the regulation ot marriage in these islands to be able to say whether this mode of nomenclature is asso¬ ciated with a prohibition of the marriage which is orthodox in other islands of the groups.

In the I orres Islands the wife of the mother’s brother may be addressed by her personal name, at any rate in Hiw. We have evidence1 that, in this part of Melanesia, the use of the personal name of a woman by a man indicates that the woman may become his wife. It is therefore noteworthy that a man is allowed to marry the wife of his mother’s brother in Hiw. This suggests that, in those islands of the Banks group where this relative is now classed with the mother, she was formerly addressed by her personal name, and that the classing with the mother was associated with the disap¬ pearance of her status as a potential wife.

As already indicated (i, 48), we have in the position of the wife of the mother’s brother the clue to one of the peculiar features of Melanesian relationship, that according to which cross-cousins, the children of brother and sister, stand to one another in the relation of parent and child, the children of the father’s sister being classed in nomenclature with the parents and the children of the mother’s brother with the children. The first point to note is the agreement in distri¬ bution of the feature in question with that of the special form of marriage. The classing of cross-cousins with parents and children is found in the Banks Islands and in Pentecost Island, and in both places marriage with the wife of the mother’s brother is orthodox. In the Banks Islands this stands beyond all doubt, and though in Pentecost my in¬ formation was not so trustworthy, the use of the term lalagi for the wife of the mother’s brother and for certain potential wives leaves little doubt that this form of marriage has been practised in the island in the past, even if it be no longer the

1 See especially I, 183.

custom. In the Torres Islands the evidence is less definite; a man may still marry the wife of his mother’s brother in the island of Hiw, but yet the characteristic Banksian feature of the nomenclature for cross-cousins is absent. It is clear, however, that the cross-cousin marriage is definitely practised in this island and that it is this form of marriage which now determines the nomenclature for cross-cousins. There is thus a definite agreement in distribution between the classing of cross-cousins as parent and child and the marriage with the wife of the mother’s brother. It is obvious that the feature in question would be the natural consequence of the marriage ; if a man marries the wife of his mother’s brother, he comes to occupy the position of father to his uncle’s children and would class them with his own children, while conversely they would now call him father, his previous relation to them having been that of father’s sister’s son.

One feature of this mode of nomenclature must be men¬ tioned which does not immediately follow from the marriage which I suppose to have determined the other correspondences. If a man marry his mother’s brother’s wife, the classificatory principle makes it intelligible that not only he, but other men who stand in the relation of father’s sister’s son, should be classed with the father. It does not follow so obviously, however, why the father’s sister’s daughter should be classed with the mother. We should expect rather that she would be classed with the father’s sister. It may be that in the Banks Islands this is so, for since both the mother and the father’s sister are denoted by the term veve, it is not possible to tell with which of the two relatives the father’s sister’s daughter is being classed. To make the argument com¬ plete, it would be necessary to find the features in question among some people who distinguish the father’s sister from the mother and yet class the father’s sister’s child with the former rather than with the latter.

Though the process I have suggested provides by far the most probable explanation of the characteristic feature of the Banks system, it must be pointed out that there is another possibility, viz., that the marriage regulation in question may be the result and not the cause of the relationship. Thus, if for some reason a man and his sister’s son are regarded as being of the same generation and as having the same status, it might follow that the custom of the Levirate, which exists in

The Father s Sister

these islands, might have been modified so that the uncle’s wife should be looked on in the same light as the brother’s wife. The transference of wife from uncle to nephew would be an extension of the transference of a wife from brother to brother. This would, however, still leave unexplained why a man and his sister’s son should be treated as if of the same generation.

The fathers sister . A special term for this relative is much less frequent than for the mother’s brother. In Poly¬ nesia, the father’s sister is denoted by a special term only in Tonga and Tikopia, viz., in those places where she has very definite rights and duties ; elsewhere in Polynesia she is classed with the mother. The Reef Islands are exceptional in that the father’s sister is classed with the grandmother. The father’s sister is classed with the mother in the Solomons, except in the Fiu and Lau districts of Malaita where she has a special term shared in Fiu with the wife of the mother’s brother. In Guadalcanar the father’s sister is distinguished from the mother, but is classed with the mother’s brother’s wife and the mother-in-law. A descriptive term is used for the father’s sister in Santa Cruz. The father’s sister is never classed with the mother in Fiji, but either has an independent appellation or is addressed in the same way as the mother of the husband or wife. In the Banks Islands, in Loh, and in the two systems obtained in the New Hebrides, the father’s sister receives the same designation as the mother, though she may be distinguished in some subsidiary way, as in Mota where she is veve vus rawe in distinction from the simple veve used for the mother.

In the Banks and Northern New Hebrides the father’s sister has very definite functions, so that we have here an exception to the rule that relatives with special functions are denoted by special terms. It is possible, however, to see the reason for this exception. The father’s sister is still the po¬ tential wife of her nephew in the Torres Islands, while in the Banks Islands she certainly was so not long ago, even if this form of marriage be not sometimes practised at the present time. In these islands it is the custom to address or speak of one who is a potential wife by her personal name so that no term of relationship is necessary. It therefore seems probable that not long ago there was either no special term at all for the father’s sister, or only such words as the lalagi of

Pentecost or the mateima of Mota, which are terms for a potential wife. If this were so, it would have become the custom, when the father’s sister was no longer regarded as marriageable, to use a term which indicated the change of status, and, as a non-marriageable relative of the previous generation, the father’s sister would naturally fall into the same category as the mother and would be called by the same name. It is in favour of this hypothesis that, in the island of Hiw in the Torres group where a man still marries his father’s sister, there is even now no term of relationship for this relative but she is addressed by her personal name. This hypothesis provides a natural explanation of the excep¬ tion to the general rule of the association of distinctions of nomenclature with special functions which seemed to be provided by the relationship of father’s sister in southern Melanesia.

The husband of the fathers sister . In Polynesia this relative is classed with the father. The coastal people of Viti Levu generally class the husband of the father’s sister with the mother’s brother, but one, at least, of the tribes of the interior, the Dhawanisa, has a special desig¬ nation. In the simple systems of the Solomons he has the same name as the father, but in Guadalcanar he is probably classed with the mother’s brother and the father-inlaw, though the information on this point was not decisive. In another island of this region, Florida, it appears that the husband of the father’s sister is now often classed with the father, but it is probable that he should properly be tumbu, the term also given to the mother’s brother. In the Lau district of Malaita also the paternal aunt’s husband has the same name as the mother’s brother, while in the Rafurafu district of San Cristoval he is classed with the father-in-law.

In the Banks Islands the husband of the father’s sister is classed in some places with the maternal uncle, but in Rowa he is addressed by his personal name, and in Mota he has a term, usur, peculiar to himself. He has also a special term in Pentecost of the New Hebrides, while in Anaiteum he is classed with both the maternal uncle and the father-in-law. In Loh, in the Torres group, this relative is called wuluk , the term usually applied to the wife’s brother.

The classing of the husband of the father’s sister with the mother’s brother and with the father-in-law will be considered

Husband of Father's Sister 23

presently. I will only refer here to those cases in which the husband of the father’s sister has a term peculiar to himself. In Mota, in the Banks group, it is clear that with the special designation there goes a very special place in the lives of those who use the term. It is the husband of the father’s sister who is the special object of the jokes and jibes which have been fully described in Chapter 11. We have here a clear case of the association between a special term in the classificatory system of relationship and special social position and functions.

As Pentecost was visited before the customs of Mota had been discovered, no inquiry was made into the functions of the husband of the father’s sister, but the fact that there is a special term for this relative in Pentecost, in conjunction with the general similarity between the customs of the two islands in relation to the father’s sister, makes it probable that here also a special term is associated with special social functions.

I can now turn to the consideration of the frequent Melanesian feature whereby the father’s sister and the wife of the mother’s brother receive the same name, while the mother’s brother is classed with the father’s sister’s husband. Th is is the case in all the systems recorded among the coastal peoples of Viti Levu, but is absent among the tribes of the interior ; it is found in Guadalcanar and the Fiu district of Malaita, in Tanna and Anaiteum. The father’s sister and the mother’s brother’s wife are also classed together in Ysabel, Savo, Ulawa, Eddystone Island, Vella Lavella, Vanikolo, Loh, and also in Merlav in the Banks Islands, though in all these cases the term also applies to the mother.

There are three different ways by which it is possible that this feature of relationship may have come into existence. It is the obvious consequence of a marriage regulation whereby brother and sister marry sister and brother, i.e., a custom that, when a man marries a woman, it is at the same time arranged that, then or later, the brother of the woman shall marry the sister of the man. To the children of such a marriage, the sister of the father will also be the wife of the mother’s brother, and the mother’s brother will also be the husband of the father’s sister. In some places outside Melanesia where the community of designation between these relatives is found, there is reason to believe that it is the consequence of such

a marriage regulation1. The second condition which would produce this form of correspondence is the cross-cousin marriage. If a man must marry the daughter of his mothers brother or of his father’s sister, it will come about that men will marry women whose brothers have married the men’s sisters. If this form of marriage be carried out systematically, the father’s sister will be one and the same person as the wife of the mother’s brother, and the mother’s brother one and the same person as the husband of the father’s sister. Thirdly, the feature of relationship may follow directly from the dual organisation and be independent of the cross-cousin marriage2. Where there are only two social divisions, the husband of the father’s sister must be a man having the status of the mother’s brother, and the wife of the mother’s brother a woman having the status of the father’s sister.

In the cases which have been recorded from Melanesia there can be little doubt that it has been the cross-cousin marriage which has been responsible for the community of designation of these relatives. The cross-cousin marriage is in actual existence among the coastal people of Viti Levu, while there is no clear evidence of its existence among the people of the interior where the community of designation is absent. Further, the cross-cousin marriage is practised in Guadalcanar, though I have at present no evidence that it exists in the Fiu district of Malaita. There is thus definite evidence of the existence of the cross-cousin marriage in the regions where the father’s sister and the wife of the mothers brother are named alike.

Further evidence that the community of designation in ques¬ tion is dependent on the cross-cousin marriage is provided by other features of Melanesian systems which may be considered here. One of the consequences of the cross-cousin marriage will be to produce, not only a community of designation for the father’s sister and the wife of the mother’s brother, but the term used for these relatives will also apply to the mother-inlaw ; these three relationships will be combined in one and the same person. Similarly, the mother’s brother and the husband of the father’s sister will be the same person as the father-in-law, and as a matter of fact, in the places already considered, these relatives are included under the same term.

1 S zz. Reports Cambridge Expedition to Torres Straits , V, 135.

2 I-e. independent of the marriage between the children of own brother and sister.

The Cross-cousin Marriage 25

Thus, in Guadalcanar the mother’s brother and the fatherin-law are both nia , and the father’s sister, the wife of the mother’s brother and the mother-in-law are all tarungo ; a similar correspondence is found among the coastal people of Viti Levu who practise the cross-cousin marriage. Further, in the island of Anaiteum the father’s sister and the wife of the mother’s brother are both classed with the mother as resik , and the mother-in-law is also included in the same category, while the mother’s brother, the husband of the fathers sister and the father-in-law are all called matak. In Tanna and Aniwa again similar correspondences are found1.

In some parts of the Solomons the correspondences which suggest the present or former existence of the cross-cousin marriage are less complete. Thus, in the Rafurafu district of San Cristoval, the husband of the father’s sister is called fongo , a term also applied to the father-in-law, while the wife of the mother’s brother is kafongo , applied also to the mother-in-law. In Florida the wife of the mother’s brother is vuno , the term used for both father and mother of the wife. There is a similar indication in the Bugotu district of Ysabel though of a more complicated character. In this system the father-in-law is classed with the father, and (probably) the husband’s mother with the mother, though there is also a special term for the relatives by marriage. The terms for father and mother are also used, however, for the father’s sister’s husband and the mother’s brother’s wife respectively, so that the parents of the consort are thus classed with the mother’s brother’s wife and the father’s sister’s husband. These features are associated with the cross-cousin marriage, for the former existence of which there is clear evidence.

In the island of Hiw in the Torres group the wife of the mother’s brother is sometimes called by name, but may also be called kwiiga , used otherwise for the wife’s mother. Here there is clear evidence that cross-cousins often marry.

There is thus definite evidence that those systems which possess one common designation for the mother’s brother, the father’s sister’s husband and the father-in-law, and another for the father’s sister, the mother’s brother’s wife and the mother-in-law, are places where the cross-cousin marriage is or has been practised, or are places so closely allied to them

1 Gray, Rep. Austral. Ass. 1892, p. 672. See also Ray, Int. Arch. f. Ethnog. 1894, vii, 238.

in general culture that we may safely assume that the cross¬ cousin marriage existed there at one time.

I have left till last the term for the wife of the mothers brother in the system recorded from Santa Cruz, as it has certain peculiar features for which it is not at present possible to assign a satisfactory explanation. In this system the wife of the mother’s brother is called kandongi ; since this term is also used for the wife’s mother, it might be supposed at first sight that the correspondence is directly connected with the cross-cousin marriage. Kandongi is also used, however, by a woman for the elder brother of her husband, and the use of the term for this relative seems to be expressly connected with a prohibition on marriage1. The wife of the mother’s brother also may not be married, nor even seen, by her husband’s nephew. The similarity in function of the two relationships suggests that the use of a common term for the wife’s mother and the wife of the mother’s brother is not connected with the cross-cousin marriage, but con¬ notes a similar avoidance and prohibition of marriage. It would seem probable that it is a term connoting certain pro¬ hibitions, a kind of negative variety of the mateima of Mota or the lalagi of Pentecost. It must be noted, however, that the term kandongi is also applied by a man to his wife’s father and to his younger brother’s wife ; I shall return to these uses later.

Cross-cousins. The conclusions which have been reached from the study of the terms applied to the mother’s brother, the father’s sister and their consorts are supported by the terms for their children. No distinction exists in Polynesia between the different kinds of cousin ; all are classed with brothers and sisters except in Tikopia, where cross-cousins are distinguished as taina fakapariki from cousins of other kinds who are called taina fakatau. In Fiji there are special terms for cross-cousins, and in some systems three different categories of this relationship are recognised, two male cousins calling one another tavale and two female cousins ndauve or raiva , while those of different sex are ndavola. Further, the terms for cross-cousin are also used for brothers- and sistersin-law ; thus, in Mbau the wife’s brother is tavale , for he will naturally stand in this relationship to his sister’s husband independently of marriage, and it is noteworthy that a man

1 See i, 222.

Cross-cousins

continues to call his wife’s brother by this name even if he be married to some woman other than his cousin. Amona; the inland people of Viti Levu both cross-cousins and brothers and sisters of the wife are called tavale , but there are also other terms for the relationships by marriage ; the common use of the term tavale for the relatives grouped together through the cross-cousin marriage is possibly one of the results of the gradual spread of the Mbau dialect through the island.

In the region of the Solomon Islands where there is matrilineal descent, the nomenclature for cross-cousins strongly supports the conclusions drawn from the terms used for their parents. In Guadalcanar, where the cross-cousin marriage exists at the present time, all varieties of brother- and sisterin-law are called iva, the term also used of one another by cross-cousins. In Ysabel, where there is clear evidence of the prevalence of the cross-cousin marriage in the past, there is a special term for cross-cousins, but it is possible that this is a modern innovation which only became necessary as the cross-cousin marriage went out of fashion. In Florida, where there is no direct evidence for the cross-cousin marriage, there is also a special term for cross-cousins which is also possibly an innovation1.

The most striking evidence for the close dependence of terms of relationship on the cross-cousin marriage is fur¬ nished by the system of Anaiteum. In this island the daughter of the mother’s brother or of the father’s sister is called engak , whether she be married to the speaker or not, this being also the term for wife. Here cross-cousins of different sex address and speak of one another as if they were man and wife. The connection between these terms of re¬ lationship and the cross-cousin marriage is equally clear in Tanna and Aniwa2.

Many of the terms of relationship in Buin are just such as would follow from the cross-cousin marriage. Not only is the mother’s brother classed with the father-in-law and the father’s sister with the mother of husband or wife in this dis¬ trict, but the father’s sister’s son is called by the term boboi also used for the wife’s brother, while the daughters of brother and sister address one another by a term mats , used also by

1 See Codrington, M., 41, note.

2 See Gray, loc. cit.

women who stand in the relation to one another of husband’s sister and brother’s wife (w.s.). On the other hand, though there are special terms for the relationship between cross¬ cousins of different sex, these differ from the terms used for husband and wife. Dr Thurnwald does not tell us whether or no the cross-cousin marriage is now practised in Buin, but an analysis of the pedigrees he has recorded1 by Mr W. J. Perry shows that this form of marriage occurs, though only occasionally, in this district.

When we turn to the Banks Islands and to Pentecost in the New Hebrides, we find terms for cross-cousins of a very different kind. They have no relation to the cross-cousin marriage, but receive, nevertheless, a natural explanation through the marriage with the wife of the mother’s brother which I have already considered in this chapter.

In the group which remains, the Torres Islands, the nomenclature is less definite than in the Banks Islands. In these islands, certainly in Hiw, it seems that marriage both with the uncle’s wife and with the cross-cousin are now practised or have been practised in the past, and the terms applied to cross-cousins are somewhat confused. In Hiw, where the cross-cousin marriage certainly occurs, the cross-cousin may have the same name as the brother- or sister-in-law. In Loh, on the other hand, where marriages with near kin are less frequent, cross-cousins are not distin¬ guished from other cousins or from brothers and sisters.

(v) Grandparents and grandchildren.

Throughout Polynesia there is only one term for grand¬ parent and only one for grandchild. In Samoa the grand¬ parents are included with the parents as matua , while in Niue there is a usage intermediate between that of Samoa and other Polynesian communities, for in this island the grandparents are called matua tupuna. In the semi-Polynesian community of Peleni in the Reef Islands, the grandparents are classed with the father’s sister, while conversely the brother’s son of a woman receives the same term as a grandchild.

In Fiji, the coastal people of Viti Levu have one word only for the different kinds of grandparent or make only

1 Forschungen auf d. Salomo-Inseln u. d. Bismarck- A rchipel, Berlin, 1912, Bd. iii.

Grandparents and Grandchildren 29

a distinction for sex, while the general word for grandchild is makumbu. In the inland tribes, on the other hand, we have an extraordinary degree of richness of nomenclature, there being in some cases four quite distinct terms for the four kinds of grandparent, each with its own reciprocal term for the corresponding kind of grandchild, viz. son’s child (m.s.) ; son’s child (w.s.); daughter’s child (m.s.); and daughter’s child (w.s.). We have here an excellent example of the principle of reciprocity and, at the same time, one of the systems most rich in nomenclature which has ever been recorded. There is also a peculiar correspondence in nomen¬ clature between the father’s father and the elder brother, the consideration of which must, however, be deferred to the next chapter.

The island of Eddystone in the Western British Solomons has a feature otherwise only found in Samoa, no distinction being made between parents and grandparents nor between children and grandchildren. The Vella Lavella system has only one term for grandparent and one for grandchild. In the Eastern Solomons there is in general only one reciprocal term to include all kinds of grandparent and grandchild, but in some islands, as in Ysabel and Ulawa, there are different terms for grandfather and grandmother. The special interest of the system obtained by Mr Durrad from Santa Cruz is that descriptive terms are used for the different cate¬ gories of grandparent and grandchild.

In the Torres and Banks groups, the terms for these relatives are simple, there being either one reciprocal term to include all varieties of grandparent and grandchild or two terms distinguishing sex. In the island of Pentecost in the New Hebrides, we again meet with a high degree of com¬ plexity in connection with these relatives, a complexity which has been shown to be connected with a special form of marriage to be more fully considered in the next chapter. In Anaiteum and Tanna there are only comprehensive terms for grandparent and grandchild.

(vi) Relatives by marriage .

Parents of husband or wife . In the simpler Polynesian systems, such as those of the Hawaian Islands and Niue, there are special terms for these relatives, hunoai or vungavai , with

a different reciprocal, hunona or Jingona . The Niue usage seems to show a transitional stage, the parents-in-law having the same name as the parents with the qualification vungavai , this word having apparently much the same meaning as the English “ -in-law.” In Tonga the parents-in-law are classed with the father and mother, while in Tikopia these relatives may also be classed together, though properly the parents by marriage are distinguished by the addition of fongoai to the terms for father and mother.

Among the coastal peoples of Fiji we find the feature, already fully considered, whereby the parents-in-law are classed with the mother’s brother and father’s sister. Among the people of the interior with the exception of the Nambombudho, on the other hand, the terms for these relatives are quite different from those for the mother’s brother and father’s sister.

In the very simple systems of the Western British Solomons there are distinctive reciprocal terms for the relationship be¬ tween persons and the parents of their consorts, viz. roa and ravaja.

In the whole of the Eastern Solomons, with one or two exceptions, there are special reciprocal terms for these relatives. The chief exception is Guadalcanar, where there exists the classing with the mother’s brother and father’s sister already considered. It is also possible that in the Bugotu system of Ysabel the husband’s mother is classed with the mother, the father’s sister, and other relatives of their generation.

In all these cases we know of no very definite rules regulating the conduct of persons towards the parents of their consorts. In Polynesia and the Western British Solomons, there are none of the rules of avoidance which are so often found between these relatives. In the Eastern Solomons, such avoidance is present in very restricted form in Ysabel and Guadalcanar, but in Florida and Savo it seems to be completely absent.

In Santa Cruz, lying between northern and southern Melanesia, there are three terms for parents by marriage ; one used of both father and mother of the wife, while the others serve to distinguish the father from the mother of the husband. Each of these terms is used reciprocally for the appropriate categories of consort of daughter and son. With this richness of nomenclature there is associated definite

Parents - and Children-in-law 31

avoidance between a man and his wife’s mother1, and probably there are similar customs connected with the other relation¬ ships.

This association between richness of nomenclature and rules of avoidance is also found in the more southern islands of Melanesia. In the Banks group we have in general a term with various forms, kwaliga, kwaleg , kwilia , etc., often used for all varieties of the relationship between persons and their parents-in-law, sometimes with the prefix ra or ro when applied to a female. In addition, there are other terms in use, such as the rombu of Merlav for the mother-in-law, the welag of this island for the son-in-law, and the tawarig of Mota and Merlav for the daughter-in-law. It is a question whether the last term is not rather one denoting the status of a daughter-in-law rather than a proper term of relationship, but in any case the difference between the two things is not very great.

In the Torres group, there is in Hiw only one term in use, kwiiga , for the reciprocal relationship. In Loh this term is used for the father-in-law and the son-in-law, while others, tivina or recha, may be used in its place for mothersand daughters-in-law. It is clear that, with the most de¬ finite and elaborate regulations concerning the conduct to one another of this group of relatives, there goes a distinctly more complex mode of nomenclature than is found in northern Melanesia, where such regulations are either absent or only present in a much slighter degree.

In Pentecost of the New Hebrides we find a state of nomenclature still more complicated. For the reciprocal relationship of wife’s father and daughter’s husband there is the same term as in the Banks Islands, but for the other three reciprocal categories there are special terms ; the wife’s mother and daughter’s husband are called by the same terms as the daughter and father respectively ; a man and his son’s wife address one another as if they were brother and sister ; and the husband s mother and son’s wife are sibi and mabi re¬ spectively, terms which are also used for relatives by marriage of the same generation as well as for certain grandparents and grandchildren. Thus, the system is not only especially rich in terms for these relationships, but there is also an extraordinary degree of complexity. Whether this richness

1 Joest in Baessler, op. tit., 382.

of nomenclature is accompanied by especially elaborate and numerous rules concerning conduct my information is not suffi¬ ciently complete to say, but both the richness and complexity are connected with the dependence of the correspondences on forms of marriage which will form the topic of the next chapter.

In the other New Hebrides system which I have recorded, that of Anaiteum, the father-in-law has the same name as the mothers brother, and the mother-in-law as the father’s sister and the mother. The latter correspondence is probably the secondary consequence of the classing together of the father’s sister and the mother ; if so, the classing of the mother-in-law with the mother would be the indirect result of the cross¬ cousin marriage. In Tanna and Aniwa the terms for these relatives depend, as we have seen, on the cross-cousin marriage.

Brothers- and sisters-in-law. There are, as has been already pointed out, eight varieties of these terms of relation¬ ship which fall naturally into three groups ; one reciprocal pair used by men to and of one another ; another reciprocal pair used by women to and of one another ; and two reciprocal pairs used between men and women. In some of the systems which have been recorded, all these varieties are classed to¬ gether under one term ; in other systems there are distinct terms for each of the three groups, while others again occupy an intermediate position.

In the Polynesian systems the distinctions are very definite, there being a larger number of terms than in some Melanesian systems. The Hawaian system may be taken as a typical example of an instructive distinction in the nomenclature for the three groups. In this system there is a term, kaikoeke , used between men and between women, while other terms are applied to one another by those of different sex, these terms being the same as those for husband and wife. The Niue system also has this characteristic feature, except that the term ordinarily used between those of the same sex is sometimes used between those of different sex. Tonga differs in that the term used between brothersin-law is different from that used between sisters-in-law, while in Tikopia the terms used between those of different sex are not the terms used also for husband and wife, but those otherwise used between brothers and sisters. With

Brothers - and Sisters-in-law

this exception, and that of Samoa where no definite classificatory terms for any of these relatives were obtained, the Polynesian systems agree in the feature that a man and his wife’s sister or his brother’s wife address and speak of one another as if they were man and wife.

The Mbau and Rewa systems of Fiji possess the charac¬ teristic that there is one term for two men, another for two women and a third used between men and women. These three terms are identical with those for the corresponding three categories of cross-cousin in Mbau, while the term used on the Rewa river between persons of different sex is that other¬ wise used between husband and wife. Here, as in other features, there is a close relation between the terms of rela¬ tionship and the cross-cousin marriage. In the systems of the interior there are special terms, such as ndaku or vitambui , for the reciprocal relationship of husband’s brother and brother’s wife (m.s.), and there are terms for other categories of the brother- and sister-in-law relationships, but we must wait for further facts to show the meaning of certain complexities (see i, 278) which I failed to unravel.

In the Solomon Islands there is much variety in the mode of classing the different kinds of brother- and sisterin-law. The western islands have terms, iva in Eddystone and mani in Vella Lavella, used between those of the same sex, while for those of different sex there is a new feature. The wife of the elder brother is called by the same name as the mother, while reciprocally the younger brother of the husband is called by the same term as a child. By some of the inhabitants of Eddystone, and generally in Vella Lavella, this usage is extended to the wives of all brothers, whether older or younger, but it seems probable that this is recent (see 1, 253, 254). Whether the wife of the younger brother is classed with the mother or not, it is clear that in Eddystone this relative is also called roa , used otherwise for the relationship of parent- and child-in-law, and this term is also used for the wife’s sister1. In Vella Lavella it would seem that the elder sisters of the wife are called by the same term as the mother, while her younger sisters are named as if they were her children.

In most of the systems of the Eastern Solomons all kinds

1 These features are fully discussed in Chapter XX.

R. M. s. II.

of brother- and sister-in-law are classed together. The only exception among the systems which have been fully recorded is in Savo where there are two terms : mcinggu used for all these relatives except the husband’s brother and the brother’s wife (m.s.), who call one another mbasa .

In all the preceding cases there are, so far as we know, few, if any, special regulations for the conduct of these relatives towards one another. In parts of Polynesia, however, marital relations between those who call one another husband and wife have been permitted till comparatively recent times. In Fiji it is clear that the mode of naming brothers- and sisters-in-law is the direct outcome of the cross-cousin marriage. In Eddystone certainly, and probably in other parts of the Solomons, the absence of distinctions for the different categories of this relationship is associated with absence of any special regulations concerning conduct.

When we turn to southern Melanesia we find the most elaborate rules of avoidance associated with great com¬ plexity of designation. Throughout the Banks group similar terms are in use between those of the same sex, whether men or women, but usually the terms used by men differ somewhat in form from those used by women ; thus, in Mota brothersin-law call one another wulus , while sisters-in-law are walui or in address wuluk and waluk. In the terms used between those of different sex there is the greatest diversity throughout the different islands of the group. In Mota a man addresses his wife’s sister or his brother’s wife as mateima, and a woman addresses her sister’s husband and her husband’s brother as welag. The former term is also used for the wife of the mother’s brother, and it is clear that mateima is a term which denotes a potential wife, while it would seem that welag denotes a potential husband. In Rowa and Merlav these relatives are addressed by their personal names, a fact which usually implies the possibility of sexual, if not of marital, relations. In Merlav it seemed that a wife’s sister or husband’s brother might also be addressed as brother or sister. Lastly, in the Pek system of Vanua Lava a man calls his wife’s sister and brother’s wife by the term he applies to his wife, while these women call him husband, just as is the case in Polynesia. It is evident that all the various modes of addressing or speaking of these relatives have the underlying idea of the possibility either of marriage, or of extra-marital

Relatives by Marriage

sexual relations, between those who use them. Their very variety suggests that they are not barren survivals, but connote actual relations still existing, or existing till quite recently, among those who use them.

In the Torres Islands the conditions are much as in the Banks. Those of the same sex use certain terms, such as wuluk and weyuk, while those of different sex either address each other by name or use terms otherwise used for brother and sister, and with these differences of terminology there are well defined regulations concerning conduct.

Passing on to the New Hebrides, the very special terms of Pentecost Island will be dealt with in the next chapter. In Anaiteum and Tanna the systems are exactly com¬ parable with that of Tonga ,* there is one term for use between brothers-in-law, another between sisters-in-law, and those of different sex address one another as husband and wife. Thus, in these two widely separated places we find

a fundamental agreement in this aspect of the nomenclature of relationship.

Parents and grandparents of husband and wife . Here and there throughout Oceania there are special terms of relationship used between the parents of a married couple or between their grandparents.

In the Hawaian Islands the term puluna is used between the father and mother of a man, on the one hand, and the father and mother of the man’s wife, on the other. I could find no evidence of any corresponding term elsewhere in Polynesia, and more importance can be assigned to this than to most negative evidence because I was especially interested in the relationship and made special inquiries about it in every place I visited.

I failed to find a term for this relationship anywhere in Fiji and did not meet with it again till I reached Mota, where the parents of a husband and wife call one another gasala. This term had been recorded by Dr Codrington who notes that those who call one another gasala may not name one another1. The term is perhaps derived from sala , a path, and Dr Codrington suggests that it may be translated “ fellow -wayfarers2.”

I could not discover any corresponding term in the other Banks Islands, but in Loh in the Torres Islands its place is

1 M., 44. 2 3?>

3—2

taken by two terms tukwutog and retukwu, the former used between the grandfathers and the latter between the grand¬ mothers of a married couple. These terms are only special forms of the general term for grandparent, but those who use them must help one another. I did not learn that any customs of avoidance are practised between them, but these are so generally associated with mutual helpfulness in Melanesia that they probably exist, and the fact that there are terms at all makes it probable that these relatives may not use each others’ personal names.

In Santa Cruz we find another variant. Here there is one term, malaki , for the father of the son’s wife and another, songe , for the mother of the son’s wife. Though we are not told that these terms are used reciprocally, this is probably the case. If so, they will resemble the gasala of Mota in being used of the parents of husband and wife, but with the distinction of sex which is a feature of the Torres nomen¬ clature.

In the Solomons I do not know of any term for parents or grandparents of a married couple except in Saa in Malaita, where the parents are aharo to one another. This term, however, is not limited to them but applied generally to relatives by marriage.

In the Hawaian Islands I could not discover that those who call one another puluna have any special duties or privileges, but both in Mota and the Torres Islands, terms of this category are definitely associated with the duty of mutual helpfulness or with restrictions on the use of the personal name. We have here a clear case of the association of exceptional terms of relationship with special functions.

Personal names and terms of relationship .

The preceding survey has shown many examples in which special terms of relationship are used when the personal name is prohibited, and this association is especially noticeable in the relationships just considered. In one, and probably in two places, exceptional in the presence of a term of relation¬ ship for the parents or grandparents of a married couple, the personal name may not be used. It is probable that the facts are causally related ; that these relationships have special

Personal Names

designations because the use of the personal name is pro¬ hibited.

It is clear that in parts of Melanesia, and especially in the Torres Islands, the use of personal names between certain men and women carries definite implications con¬ cerning the conduct of those who use the names ; thus, a Torres islander who addresses certain female relatives by name is thereby known to have had sexual relations with them. It is clear that whether men and women use between one another their personal names or terms of relationship is a matter of definite social significance.

Further, the use of the personal name is directly associated with marriage. In the Torres Islands a woman calls her husband’s elder brother by his personal name as long as her husband is alive, but directly he is dead, his elder brother, being now eligible as a husband, must be addressed by a term of relationship and his personal name may no longer be used.

I have already given examples of the use of the personal name for relatives who are eligible as husbands or wives, such as the father’s sister and the wife of the mother’s brother, and another case is to be found in Pentecost. In this island the wife of the mother’s brother is called either mabi or lalagi, and the latter term clearly indicates her status as a potential wife. The other member of the reciprocal relationship, however, is not addressed by any term of re¬ lationship, but by his personal name. The status of a potential husband is here definitely connected with the use of the personal name.

These examples are few in number, but it must be remembered they are the outcome merely of a hurried survey of this region of Melanesia. A more elaborate and detailed inquiry would almost certainly bring out a very definite association between the use or prohibition of the personal name and the absence or presence of special terms of relationship.

It is probable that this connection between personal names and terms of relationship gives us the clue to certain features of Melanesian nomenclature for the father’s sister, for the wife of the mother’s brother, and for relatives by marriage.

I have already suggested that the classing of the father’s

sister and the wife of the mother’s brother with the mother in several Melanesian systems has followed the disuse of the personal name. Thus, in Hiw in the Torres Islands, marriage with both these relatives is allowed and, associated with this marriageable status, personal names may be used when addressing them. In this island we can be confident that, if they became ineligible as wives, men who might previously have become their husbands would cease to use their personal names, and would address them and speak of them by some term of relationship. I have suggested that this has led to the classing of the father’s sister and wife of the mother’s brother with the mother in several parts of Melanesia. I assume that when it was necessary to use a term of relationship for these women, formerly but no longer potential wives, it was natural to class them with a group of women whose designation necessarily showed at once that they were not eligible as wives.

I now suggest that precisely the same causes may have produced the classing of the parents of the husband or wife with the father and mother, and of the brothers and sisters of husband or wife with own brothers and sisters and with other relatives so called by the classificatory principle. This mode of nomenclature is frequent in Melanesia, and different islands of the Banks group provide us with a most instructive transition from the case of Vanua Lava, where brothers and sisters of the consort are classed with husband and wife, to that of Merlav where they are classed with the brothers and sisters if a term of relationship is used at all, though they are also addressed by name. Merlav seems to furnish an example where the transition from the use of the personal name to the classing with brother and sister is in progress at the present time.

Just as I have supposed that the father’s sister and the wife of the mother’s brother have been classed with the mother to make their non-marriageable status clear and unambiguous, so do I suppose that this has been the essential motive producing the classification of the brothers and sisters of the consort with brothers and sisters, and of fathers and mothers of the consort with fathers and mothers. The fact that men and women address one another as brothers and sisters, or as parents and children, provides, according to Melanesian ideas, the clearest of all possible indications that

Personal Names

are ineligible as consorts in marriage or as partners in extra-marital sexual relations.

There is evidence, however, that the classing of brothersand sisters-in-law with brothers and sisters may have come about in another way, one which does not necessarily carry with it the prohibition of sexual relations. In some systems the terms used between these relatives are not those applied to one another by brother and sister, but those otherwise used between persons of the same sex. The best example is to be found in the Buin system of Bougainville, where this mode of nomenclature is so systematic as to show that it must have a definite social meaning. In this system terms which are regularly used between those of the same sex, when they apply to a brother or sister, are as regularly used between those of opposite sex when applied to a brother-in-law or sister-in-law (see i, 260). Not only do men call their wives’ sisters or their brothers’ wives by terms, such as mamai and rorokei , which are used by women of their sisters, but women apply to their sisters’ husbands or their husbands’ brothers the terms tditanu and roromoru which are otherwise used between brothers. There is no objection, however, to sexual relations with a woman called rorokei or mamai \ If it be accepted that the extension of connotation has come about through the substitution of these terms for the personal name or in place of a term used for a consort, it will follow that the terms so used were not those men or women would themselves use for their sisters or brothers, but were the terms which would be used by their wives or husbands. It would seem as if men came to apply to their wives’ sisters and their brothers’ wives terms which had become familiar to them in the mouths of their wives, while women addressed their sisters’ husbands and their husbands’ brothers by means of terms which they had constantly heard applied to these persons by their husbands. A feature of nomenclature other¬ wise difficult to understand becomes natural if the terms for brother and sister have gradually taken the place of other modes of addressing brothers- and sisters-in-law.

In addition to the definite cases in which the use or prohibition of the personal name carries definite social impli¬ cations, there are many relatives who are never addressed by their personal names. It is probably a rule in Melanesia

1 Thurnwald, Zeitsch.f. vergleich. Rechtswiss 1910, xxm, 334.

that whenever there is a suitable term of relationship, it is wrong to use the personal name. Certainly this is so in the case of such relatives as father, mother, son, daughter, brother and sister. The use of the personal name in Melanesia has either a definite social meaning, or implies the absence or distant character of any idea of relationship. If this be so, we may have here one of the features which account for the paucity of the nomenclature of relationship in Polynesia where the personal name is freely used even for the nearest relatives. One of my first experiences in Samoa was to hear a little girl address her father by his personal name, a procedure which seemed especially strange to one freshly arrived from a Melanesian island. This free use of personal names shows the absence of a condition so closely related to the specialisation of Melanesian nomenclature that it might seem to go far towards explaining the great difference between the systems of relationship of Polynesia and Melanesia. We can be confident, however, that it is rather an effect of the relative unimportance of relationship in Polynesia due to the absence of those social functions which are so closely associated with relationship in Melanesia.

Descriptive terms of relationship.

In a few places I have recorded descriptive terms of relationship, terms in which relationship is expressed by com¬ binations of certain primary terms. They occur in Samoa, Fiji, Santa Cruz, and occasionally elsewhere.

In Samoa it would seem that the people have two methods of denoting relationship. They may use either the terms of a much simplified classificatory system or descriptive terms, often of quite an elaborate nature. The classificatory system of the Samoans is so poor in terms and so many relationships are classed together under one head that, except in so far as brothers and sisters and parents and children are concerned, it can be of little practical use. If it existed alone, it would be necessary to conclude that relationships, with the exception of those already mentioned, were of little or no social im¬ portance. It is possible that the use of descriptive terms is recent and has only come about through a revival of interest in relationships due to external influence.

Descriptive Terms 41

In Fiji the term ngandinanggu , used in the systems of Mbau, the Nokanoka and the Nambombudho for the mother’s brother, and sometimes for the father of the consort, is evi¬ dently a descriptive term, being a corruption of nganeitinanggu of which the ngandi of the Narambula and the ngwandi of the Tavua are also abbreviations. In most cases alternative terms are also used, but there is reason to believe that the descriptive term is coming more and more into vogue.

Descriptive terms for the father’s sister are even more frequent, and in this case they stand alone, no alternatives having been recorded. The descriptive character is most obvious in the nganeitamanggu of Mbau, the Nokanoka and the Nambombudho, of which the nganei of Mbau and the ngwanita of the Navatusila and Dhawanisa are evidently abbreviations. The ngwandi of the Tavua people is puzzling, for it is a corruption of nganeitina ; its use for the father’s sister and other women is probably an example of generalisa¬ tion (see 11, 42).

A more doubtful term is tukai , the term for the father’s sister in Nandrau. Its possible descriptive nature had escaped me until Mr Hocart pointed out that it may possibly be an abbreviation of tukaitamanggu, the elder sister of the father. This interpretation is open to several objections. Tuka is properly a term for the elder sister and not for the brother of a woman, but it is now often used between men and women and may possibly have been so used in this case. More serious difficulties are that the Nandrau word is tuaka and not tuka , and that the application of the term in Nandrau is not limited to the elder sister of the father, having been used by Avisalomi for Rachel (see Pedigree iv; 1, 274). Never¬ theless, the fact that the term for father’s sister is descriptive in every other recorded Fijian system makes it possible that, in spite of these difficulties, tukai also has a descriptive character.

I can suggest no satisfactory reason why a descriptive term should be used for the mother’s brother. It might be thought that it came into use to distinguish one who is a mother’s brother, and nothing more, from one who is also the father of the consort, but this is put out of court by the use of the term for the father of husband or wife in Mbau. What¬ ever be the explanation, we can be confident, that the use of this descriptive term is relatively late.

The wide distribution of a descriptive term for the father’s sister and the absence of any alternative nomenclature point to this relative having had no term of relationship peculiar to herself till comparatively late times. Conditions which exist elsewhere in Melanesia suggest that, before the descrip¬ tive terms came to be used, the father’s sister was addressed by her personal name. Elsewhere in Melanesia the use of the personal name for the father’s sister is intimately associated with her status as a wife. Though we have no evidence at present that a man ever married his father’s sister in Fiji, the descriptive terms by which she is denoted suggest that she may once have been a potential wife.

A third place where descriptive terms have been recorded is Santa Cruz, where the relatives so denoted are the father’s sister and all those of the grandparent-grandchild categories. The use of a descriptive term for the father’s sister falls into line with the Fijian practice ; it suggests that here also there must have been some social condition which made it customary to address this relative by name. We have so far met with no social condition which provides an obvious motive for the use of descriptive terms for grandparents and grandchildren, but such a motive will be suggested in the next chapter where this feature of the Santa Cruz system will be more fully considered.

Only one term occurs in the Solomons which seems to be descriptive, viz., wasiku kare of the Rafurafu system of San Cristoval. This term denotes the grandson, thus bringing the usage into line with that of Santa Cruz.

Another probable example of a descriptive term is the tuasma or tuatina of Tonga and Tikopia. It is perhaps significant that in the only cases in which we know of a term for the mother’s brother in Polynesia, it should seem to have a descriptive character, for this character would suggest that the term is relatively late.

Generalisation .

I use this term for an extension of connotation which seems to occur occasionally in classificatory systems.

A good example is the wide connotation of the term ngwandi among the Tavua of Fiji (see i, 288). The nature of this term leaves no doubt that it is properly a term

Generalisation

for the mother’s brother, and yet it is applied to a number of women. These women are the father’s sister, the wife of the mother’s brother, and the mother of the consort. These relatives are naturally associated through the cross¬ cousin marriage ; it seems probable that the application to them of a term properly used for the mother’s brother is due, first to the extension of the term from the mother’s brother to his wife, and then from his wife to other women having a similar status through the cross-cousin marriage.

In this case the process has led to a most unusual and, it would seem, unnatural condition in which a term properly denoting men is applied to women. Another case where a process of generalisation seems to have produced a similarly anomalous condition is in the system of Merlav in which cross-cousins call one another natui or child. Natui is the usual term in the Banks Islands for the child of the mother’s brother ; it would seem to have been extended to the child of the father’s sister through a process of generalisation. I have suggested (i, 32) that the motive which led to the use of one term between the two cross-cousins may have been the fact that both are the children of one called moruk.

A very important feature of this process of generalisation may be pointed out. The usage of other islands of the Banks group shows that the Merlav practice is a modification of a mode of nomenclature which has a very definite social mean¬ ing. The process of generalisation, however, has so obscured this meaning that, without the clue provided by other systems of the Banks Islands, it would not have been detected. If the Merlav system had been the only survivor of the many variants now found in the Banks Islands, it would have been impossible to trace out the relation between the nomenclature for cross-cousins and the marriage with the wife of the mother’s brother, a relation which shows so clearly that features of systems of relationship are directly determined by social conditions.

The chief general conclusion to be drawn from the survey of this chapter is that the forms of Oceanic systems of relation¬ ship are directly dependent upon features of social organisation, and especially upon forms of marriage. The evidence is most abundant in the case of the cross-cousin marriage. In all those places in which this form of marriage is still practised,

44 Melci7iesian Society

the correspondences in the systems are such as would be the natural consequence of this marriage. Further, in the region which comprises the islands of Florida, Ysabel, Guadalcanar and Savo we have an instructive transition. In Guadalcanar the cross-cousin marriage still exists together with features of the system of relationship obviously dependent thereon, while in Florida the wife of the mother’s brother is classed with the mother-in-law, a correspondence which would obviously be a result of the cross-cousin marriage. There is no evidence of the cross-cousin marriage in Florida, but since the cultures of this island and Guadalcanar are so closely allied, few can doubt that the Florida correspondence is a survival of that form of marriage. Further, the culture of San Cristoval is so little removed from that of Florida or Guadalcanar that we can be confident that the similar correspondences found in the Rafurafu system are also connected with the cross-cousin marriage.

In the case of another marriage the evidence for depend¬ ence on social conditions is equally definite. In the Banks Islands and the New Hebrides there exist certain remarkable correspondences which would naturally follow from the marriage of a man with the wife of his mother’s brother which is certainly practised in one, if not in both, of these groups. I have suggested the possibility that the marriage with the wife of the mother’s brother may have been a secondary consequence of the classing of the wife of the mother’s brother with other women who would normally be¬ come wives through the Levirate custom (see I, 48). This might explain the custom of marrying the widow of the mother’s brother, but it cannot explain the practice according to which a man gave one of his wives to his sister’s son, of which we have a definite instance in a legend. Though I have suggested this alternative, I think few will doubt that the correspondences in the terms of the systems of relation¬ ship have been the result, and not one of the causes, of the marriage regulations. In these cases the social conditions which have determined the forms of systems of relationship are varieties of marriage, and it is in such cases that it is possible to demonstrate the dependence most definitely. It has been possible, however, to show that other features of Oceanic systems of relationship have arisen out of social con¬ ditions, one example being the classing of the children of the

Nomenclature and Functions

father’s brother with those of the mother’s sister which would be a natural consequence of the dual organisation of society. In other cases it has not been possible to explain peculiar features of systems of relationship by social conditions, but in some of these the failure is only due to lack of evidence which will be furnished as the argument of this volume develops.

Another generalisation reached in this chapter is that there is a connection between distinctions in nomenclature and the presence of functions associated with relationship. Wherever relatives occupy a specialised position with regard to one another, as shown by the existence of duties, privileges or restrictions on conduct, there we find that these relatives are distinguished by special terms which serve to distinguish them from other relatives with whom no such functions are associ¬ ated. The only exception to this generalisation is the case of the father’s sister who is often classed in nomenclature with the mother, although she possesses rights and privileges and is subject to restrictions quite different from those of the mother. In this case I have been able to suggest a special reason for the exception.

The result of this chapter, then, has been to establish two generalisations ; one, that special features of systems of relation¬ ship are the direct result of social conditions, and especially of forms of marriage ; the other, that distinctions in nomencla¬ ture are definitely associated with distinctions in conduct. If these generalisations be accepted, it will follow that the study of systems of relationship is of far more fundamental importance to the student of human society than has hitherto been supposed by the majority of anthropologists. How great this importance may be, however, will appear still more decidedly in the next chapter.

CHAPTER XVII

MELANESIAN GERONTOCRACY

In the comparative study recorded in the last chapter certain bizarre and extraordinary features of Melanesian systems of relationship were put aside for further discussion, viz., those features of the system of Pentecost Island which have been shown to be the result of marriage with the grand¬ daughter of a brother, and certain similar features of the systems of the inland tribes of Viti Levu. In this chapter I propose to deal with these anomalous features, and also with the Buin system of Bougainville which possesses characters evidently related to those of Pentecost and Fiji.

The study of Oceanic systems has so far shown the close dependence of systems of relationship on social institutions. We have seen in the last chapter that the cross-cousin marriage found in widely separated parts of Melanesia is, wherever found, accompanied by features of the systems of relationship which are clearly the direct result of this form of marriage. In some cases, and especially in the Eastern Solomon Islands, these features have been found in the systems of people who do not now practise the cross-cousin marriage and yet are so close to those who still practise it, both in general culture and in geographical position, that the features of systems of relationship must certainly be the survivals of this form of marriage. Next, it has been shown that another anomalous form of marriage, that with the wife of the mother s brother, has left clear indications of its pre¬ sence in the systems of relationship of those who practise it. Still again I hope to have shown that the extraordinary system of the island of Pentecost owes its special features to two forms of marriage which either still exist or have once been practised on the island, viz., marriages with the wife of

Marriage with a Granddaughter 47

the mother’s brother and with the granddaughter of the brother. The principle that the form of a system of relation¬ ship is determined by social conditions has held good so far that there can be no ground for hesitation in proceeding to seek for the explanation of other special features in social conditions, and especially in forms of marriage.

Two of the anomalous forms of marriage to which features of systems of relationship have been referred, viz., the cross¬ cousin marriage and the marriage with the wife of the mother’s brother, are still practised in Melanesia at the pre¬ sent time ; their existence, either in the islands where the features are found or in neighbouring islands, is beyond doubt. The evidence for the existence of marriage with the grand¬ daughter of the brother at the present time is less definite, but there is a clear tradition of its occurrence in the past and it is said still to be practised. In case there may still be some who are incredulous, it may be pointed out that such a marriage regulation is not unique, but is actually in vogue at the present time (or at the time Howitt’s record was made) among the Dieri of Australia1. Not only does a Dieri man sometimes marry the granddaughter of his elder brother, but there are certain modes of speech in use among the people which resemble closely the way in which terms of relationship are used in Pentecost. Among the Dieri, nadada is a term for the reciprocal relationship of mother’s father and the

• /laughter’s child of a man, while noa is the term for a potential

I consort. There is a Dieri saying “ those who are Noa to each other are also Nadada to each other2 3,” and this is % equivalent to saying that the maternal grandfather and his daughter’s daughter are potential consorts. Thus, not only does the marriage in question still take place among the Dieri, but there is a clear recognition that relatives be¬ longing to generations twice removed from one another are naturally husband and wife. Again, though there are distinct terms for the different relationships, Howitt definitely states8 that “the children of a women are considered as being the younger brothers and sisters {Ngatata) of her father,” and

1 Howitt, Native Tribes of South-East Australia , London, 1904, pp. 164, 177. The resemblance between the Australian condition and that of Pentecost is so instructive and illuminating that I make no apology for this transgression of my general rule not to go outside Oceania.

2 Op. cit. p. 163.

3 Op. cit. p. 162.

says further that this carries with it all the consequential relationships.

A further most instructive parallel is that the mother’s mother, who in Pentecost receives the same designation as an elder sister, is sometimes among the Dieri called kanini-kaku1. Kanini is properly the term for mother’s mother and kaku is the term for elder sister, so that the mother’s mother is thus called the grandmother-sister, “apparently,” Howitt says, “be¬ cause her grandchildren are regarded as being in the same level as herself, being her young brothers and sisters.” A further point stated by Howitt is one to which I shall return in another connection, viz., that the brother of the mother’s mother is called the kcinini-neyi or the kanini-e lder brother, the daughter’s children of a woman being regarded as the younger brothers and sisters of her brother.

We have only to assume a simplification of this Dieri custom in which the mother’s mother is sometimes called kamni-kaku , the word kanini being dropped and the occasional usage becoming habitual, and we should have precisely the characteristic feature of the Pentecost system. These close parallels elsewhere show that, unlikely as such a marriage may appear to us, it is one which actually exists in another people who possess the dual organisation with matrilineal descent2.

Henceforward I propose to regard it as established that the anomalous features of the Pentecost system, whereby members of alternate generations are classed together, are connected with an ancient social condition in which it was the normal occurrence for a man to marry the granddaughter of his brother, using the term brother either in the English or the classificatory sense. Whether the terms in question are wholly to be explained in this way, or whether both the nomenclature and the marriage in question are to be referred to some still earlier and more fundamental condition of social organisation, must for the moment be left open.

1 Op. cit. p. 163.

2 It may be interesting to point out that Mr N. W. Thomas ( Kinship Organisa¬ tion and Group Marriage in Australia , Cambridge, 1906, p. 123) has used these Dieri terms to demonstrate by a reductio ad absurdum that terms of relationship express nothing more than duties and status. If among duties be included the duty to marry and under status be included the marriageable status, Mr Thomas may be able to defend this position, but the Pentecost and Dieri terms go far beyond this and show in the clearest manner that terms of relationship may be the survivals, and apparently, as we shall see, in some cases the only survivals of extinct social institutions.

Inland Fijian Systems 49

Before leaving the Pentecost system it must be pointed out that the peculiar features which are thus explained do not exhaust the anomalies of this system. There are also a number of correspondences in which relatives who belong to contiguous generations are classed together. It has been shown (see 1, 196) that this second group of anomalies, also found in the Banks Islands, is the result of another peculiar form of marriage, viz., that with the wife of the mother’s brother. There are several possibilities ; one that the marriage with the wife of the mother’s brother has been introduced into Pentecost, and has largely or altogether replaced the marriage with the granddaughter, but without eliminating the traces of the latter form of marriage from the system of relationship ; another possibility is that the Banks form of marriage is the earlier, and that the granddaughter marriage has been added to it in Pentecost. Still another possibility is that both forms of marriage are the outcome of some ancient form of society out of which both have evolved. I hope to show later that it is this third possi¬ bility which represents the actual course of the history of Melanesian society.

I can now turn to the consideration of the other systems in which persons belonging to generations once removed from one another are classed together, viz., the systems of the mountain tribes of Viti Levu and the system of Buin. The Fijian systems were among the first collected during my journey. The only opinion I could form about them at

the time was that they must have been the result of some state of society in which persons of alternate generations fell into the same social group. Later, on reaching the New Hebrides and discovering the system of Pentecost and its explanation, it became probable that the Fijian systems

also depended on some ancient form of marriage, but for long I was unable to formulate any kind of marriage which would explain the Fijian correspondences. This failure was due to the fact that I was misled by the patrilineal culture of Fiji. Just as the fundamental feature of the Pentecost system is the identification of the mother’s mother and the elder sister, so it seemed that the fundamental feature of the systems of Viti Levu was the identification of the father’s

father with the elder brother. Since in Pentecost descent

is matrilineal and in Fiji patrilineal, it seemed to me that

r. m. s. II.

the explanation of the difference between the two systems was to be sought in the different mode of descent, and probably depended on the change from one mode of descent to the other in Fiji. All attempts, however, to formulate a social mechanism by means of which a change in the mode of descent could convert the Pentecost correspondences into those of Fiji were wholly unsuccessful. It was only on the publication by Dr Thurnwald1 of the Buin system possessing certain features resembling those of Fiji, but yet in use among a people with matrilineal descent, that I recognised I had been on a wrong track, and that the explanation was to be sought, in one case as in the other, in a state of society practising the matrilineal mode of descent. I then renewed my endeavours to trace the origin of the Fijian correspondences in some form of marriage, starting with the assumption that they arose in a society possessing the dual organisation with matrilineal descent. I assumed that the correspondences of Fiji and Buin had arisen out of that form of social organisation which had produced the similar correspondences of Pentecost.

I will begin with an enumeration of the features to be explained. The chief correspondence common to the systems of Fiji and Buin is that the father of the father receives the same designation as the elder brother. In Buin there is a difference according as a man or woman is speaking ; a man calls his father’s father by the same name as is used by a man when addressing his elder brother, and is addressed reciprocally as younger brother, while the term used between a woman and her father’s father is that normally used between brother and sister. It is possible that this latter feature is also present in the Fijian systems, but that I failed to detect it.

A further feature of the Buin system, not shared by those of Fiji, is that the father’s mother is addressed by a term, mdmai, otherwise used by a woman of her elder sister. This term, when applied to a grandparent, is used both by men and women, so that we have the case of a term of relationship normally used between women being applied by a man to a woman.

These are the chief features of the Buin system in which relatives of alternate generations are classed together, but in

1 Zeitsch. f vergleich. Rechtswiss. 1910, Bd. xxiii, 330. An account of the system is given in the first volume, p. 258.

Fiji and Buin

the Viti Levu tribes there are others. Thus, the Nandrau people apply to the sons wife the same term as is used for the mother, a feature which bears a definite resemblance to the use in Pentecost of one term for the wife’s mother and the daughter.

Certain other Fijian correspondences are of less import¬ ance and their existence is not fully estaolished. Among the people of Nandrau and the Navatusila, the wife of the sister s son is classed with the mother, and according to one informant, the son of the sister’s son is, like the son’s son, classed with the younger brother. Amono- the Dhawanisa the husband of the father’s sister, the husband of the sister’s daughter and the wife of the sister’s son are all called by one term, dhawai, these relatives being two generations removed from one another. Since dhawai seems to be primarily the term for the husband of the father’s sister, its use for a woman, the wife of the sister’s son, is not easy to understand ; it is possible that this item of information is incorrect.

In seeking the explanation of the features of the Fijian and Buin systems, it will be well to begin with the corre¬ spondence between the relationship of father’s father and elder brother, on the one hand, and that between the son’s son and younger brother, on the other hand. The first point to be examined is whether this correspondence can be derived from marriage with a granddaughter, using the term in the classificatory sense. One naturally turns first to the possibility of marriage with the son’s daughter, but this is absolutely excluded, for in the dual organisation this relative must always be of the same social group as the grandfather and, it may be mentioned, equally so whether descent be matrilineal or patrilineal. If, therefore, the cor¬ respondence is to be explained as the result of the marriage of a man with a woman two generations below him in a society organised on the dual basis, it must be a marriage of the same kind as in Pentecost and among the Dieri, viz., one with the daughter s daughter. It will be remembered that in speaking of the Dieri I referred to one feature which I should need again. Among the Dieri the brother of the mother s mother is sometimes called kanini-neyi or kanini - elder brother. If we suppose the first part of this de¬ signation to disappear, as I have suggested may have

4—2

happened in the case of the corresponding term for the mother’s mother in Pentecost, we should have the brother of the mothers mother called by the same term as the elder brother. But, in the dual organisation with matrilineal descent, or for that matter with patrilineal descent also, the brother of the mother’s mother is a man of the same moiety as the father’s father, and may even be one and the same person as the latter. The Dieri evidence thus makes it possible that the classing together of the father’s father and the elder brother may be merely an indirect consequence of the marriage with the daughter’s daughter, or rather of the general social condition associated with this marriage, such as is still found among the Dieri. Let us therefore see whether other correspondences can be explained in this way. If it be conceded that your father’s father is at the same time your elder brother, then it will follow as a matter of course that the wife of his son will be your mother. The two correspondences stand together, but it does not seem possible to make the correspondence between son’s wife and mother the direct consequence of marriage with a daughter’s daughter in the same way as was found possible with the correspondences of Pentecost. At the same time, it seems extremely unlikely that the correspondences which are the direct consequence of the granddaughter marriage should have disappeared both in Fiji and Buin, while another correspondence which is only the indirect consequence of such a marriage has survived. Though the possibility of such a survival must be kept in view, it will be more satisfactory if some more simple and direct explanation can be found.

Having thus excluded, at any rate temporarily, the marriage of a man with a woman two generations younger than himself as the cause of the correspondences, it remains to inquire whether the correspondences in question can have arisen as the consequence of the marriage of a man with a woman two generations older than himself, improbable as such a marriage may at first sight seem to be. In matrilineal descent, even with any number of social groups, marriage with the mother’s mother can be absolutely ex¬ cluded, for this woman must always be of the same social group as her grandson. I therefore turn to marriage with the father’s mother, and here we see that the chief

Marriage with Grandfather s IVife 53

correspondences are the natural results of such a marriage. If the eldest son of a family marries the wife of his father’s father, this man will occupy at the same time the positions of father’s father and elder brother to the rest of the family; as husband of the father’s mother, the elder brother would obtain the same status as the father’s father, just as in the Banks Islands we have seen that a man who marries the wife of the mother’s brother obtains the status of father to his uncle’s children. The fundamental correspondence of Fiji and Buin is thus the natural outcome of marriage with the father’s mother, or more correctly with the wife of the fathers father. I he other chief Fijian correspondence also follows naturally, for with such a marriage the mother of the man will be one and the same person as the wife of him who now stands to the man in the relationship of son. These two correspondences thus provide a strong presumption in favour of the view that this form of mar¬ riage has been the origin of the correspondences.

It remains to consider how far the other correspondences of the Fijian and Buin systems would follow from this form of marriage. To begin with those of Fiji : among the Nandrau people, not only does the wife of the son receive the same designation as the mother, but also the wife of the sister’s son ; among the Dhawanisa the husband of the father s sister is called dhawai, a term also given to the husband of the sister’s daughter1. If these relationships are represented on the basis of the dual organisation, it will be at once evident that, whether descent be matrilineal or patrilineal, the wile of the sister’s son must belong to one moiety while the mother belongs to the other, and the same is the case with the husband of the father’s sister and the husband of the sister’s daughter. It is evident that these correspondences, as they exist now, can never have been the result of any form of marriage which would have produced an identity of relationship. If the correspondences are cor¬ rect, they are almost certainly later modifications, the result probably of the change in the mode of descent, though I have not succeeded in formulating how the modifications can have been produced.

1 It was also stated that the wife of the sister’s son is called dhawai, but this application to a woman of a term otherwise used for a man is probably an error ; even if correct, it must almost certainly be the result of some later modification.

Thus, so far as the Fijian tribes are concerned, the chief and indisputable correspondences follow naturally from the marriage of a man with the wife of his father’s father, but there are difficulties in connection with certain other corre¬ spondences. These, however, are less definite and, if correct, are probably due to some later modification.

Dr Thurnwald does not give the term for the son’s wife in the Buin system, but it is unlikely that this relative is classed with the mother as among the Nandrau people of Fiji. The Buin terms for the father- and mother-in-law are determined by a different form of marriage ; the wife’s father, the husband’s father and the mother’s brother are all called papa, and the wife’s mother, the husband’s mother and the father’s sister are all agu, these correspondences being the natural result of the cross-cousin marriage. It is probable that the common nomenclature for mother and son’s wife in Buin has been displaced by another corre¬ spondence dependent on the cross-cousin marriage.

In addition to the common designation for the father’s father and the elder brother, the Buin system contains cer¬ tain other correspondences which were not discovered in Fiji. A woman calls her brother’s son mzpo , but she may also call him mdmo\ the term otherwise used for the father by a man. This classing of the brother’s son (w.s.) with the father would follow naturally from the marriage of a man with the wife of his father’s father. If by this marriage a man attains the status of father to his wife’s children, he will stand in this relation to a woman who has hitherto been only his father’s sister. By this marriage the relationships of father and brother’s son (w.s.) would be combined in one and the same person. The only difficulty in the Buin correspondence is that mdmo is properly a term used for the father by a man.

The Buin system also contains a set of features, not yet found in Fiji, which are clearly referable to the marriage with the wife of the father’s father. This system is remark¬ able for the presence of special terms used between sisters according to their respective ages ; thus, a woman calls her elder sister mamai and her younger sister rdrokei , the terms

1 This feature of terminology is not mentioned in Dr Thurnwald’s article {Zeitsch. f vergleich. Rechtswiss. 1910, xxm, 330), and is one of the additional details which he has so kindly given me.

The Buin System 55

used between two sisters thus differing from those used by two brothers, viz., t&ita and roromoru, though the term for younger sister is evidently merely a variant of the term for younger brother. Further, the term mdmai is applied to the father s mother both by males and females, so that a term of relationship, which would appear to be normally used by one woman when addressing or speaking of another, may, when used of the father’s mother, be applied by a man to a woman. At first sight this appears to be wholly at variance with the hypothesis that the father’s wife is a potential wife of her grandson. It would seem extremely unlikely that a man would use for the grandmother whom he may marry a word used for a sister, even though it is not the term by which he himself would address his sister, but that used by a woman. There are, however, other uses of the terms mamai and rdrokei which put a different com¬ plexion on the matter. In Buin a man calls his wife’s sister mdmai or rorokei, according as she is older or younger than his wife, and conversely, a woman calls her sister’s husband tdzta or rdromoru , according as he is older or younger than her husband. We have here a definite example of the practice whereby men apply to women, and women apply to men, terms which, in what is probably their original sense, should be used between those of the same sex. Further, a woman calls her husband’s brother tdita or roromoru , according as he is older or younger than her husband, and conversely, a man calls his brother’s wife mdmai or rorokei , again examples of the use between those of different sex of terms normally used between persons of the same sex. Now these relationships are just those which in so many Melanesian systems are denoted by the same terms as are used for husband and wife. Dr Thurnwald expressly tells us1 that even at the present time there is no objection to sexual relations between a man and his wife’s sister or his brother’s wives, i.e., between those of different sex who call one another mamai and rorokei. It is thus evident that these terms are actually used for potential wives, for the permission of sexual intercourse certainly has this sig¬ nificance. It thus becomes intelligible why the father’s mother is called mamai ; it is because this word, when used between those of different sex, is a term for a potential

1 Op. cit. p. 334.

consort. In the Buin system three relatives, the wife’s sister, the brother’s wife and the wife of the father’s father are classed together, and since two of them are potential wives, there can be no reasonable doubt that the third member of the group is a potential wife also. It may be noted here how close is the similarity with the systems of Mota and Pentecost in this respect. Just as in Mota the wife’s sister, the brother’s wife and the wife of the mother’s brother are all, as potential wives, included under the term mateinia, and just as in Pentecost these three relatives are called lalagi , so in Buin the wife’s elder sister, the elder brother’s wife and the wife of the father’s father are classed together as mamai. We thus have in the most unexpected way definite confirmation of the hypothesis that the Fijian and Buin correspondences have had their origin in an institution in which a man married the wife of his father’s father, or a woman having the same status as this relative.

Before proceeding farther, it will be well to summarise the conclusions so far reached. In the island of Pentecost there have been found certain correspondences, all of which receive a perfectly natural explanation as the survivals of an ancient institution in which a man married a woman having the same status as his daughter’s daughter. Among the Dieri of Australia this form of marriage is still in existence (or was at the time Howitt’s record was made); here also the children of a woman are considered as being the younger brothers and sisters of the woman’s father, just as in Pentecost, while the mother’s mother is sometimes called by a term including that for elder sister, again just as in Pentecost. In this case we have no doubt about the origin of the correspondences in an ancient form of marriage.

Among the mountain tribes of Viti Levu and in the Buin district of Bougainville there have been found corre¬ spondences which again receive their most natural expla¬ nation in an ancient form of marriage between persons separated by two generations. In this case the marriage which will explain the correspondences is one in which a man marries a woman two generations above his own, viz., the wife of his father’s father or a woman having the same status as this relative.

Marriage with Grandfather s Wife

The marriage of a man with a woman belonging to a generation two generations senior to his own may seem in the highest degree improbable, but this improbability becomes much less when we consider the nature of the classificatory system of relationship. Where this system exists, the difference of age between those who call one another by the same terms as grandparent and grandchild may be very slight. It may even be possible, though it probably rarely happens, that a man may be actually older than a woman two generations above him whom he classes with his own grandmother1.

Further, it may be pointed out that the marriage with the wife of the father’s father does not stand alone. We have in Melanesia the clearest evidence for the existence, not only in the past but even at the present time, of mar¬ riage with the wife of the mothers brother. The definite existence of marriage with one of the immediately preceding generation certainly diminishes the improbability of marriage with a member of a still older generation.

In the case of marriage with the wife of the mother’s brother we have some indication of its history. It seems that in the old days, when it was normal for a man to have many wives, it was the custom to hand over one or more wives to the sister’s son, who probably took over the rest on the death of his uncle. (See story of Ganviviris, Codrington’s Melanesians , p. 383.) We have only to suppose that the same kind of event happened in the case of the fathers father — that it was the 1 practice for him to hand over one or more of his wives to his son’s son — and we have a natural explanation of the peculiar features of the Fijian and Buin systems. In the case of marriage with the wife of the mother’s brother, we have seen that her children would come to be regarded as the children of one who had previously been their cousin. Both in Pentecost and the Banks Islands, this form of marriage has left permanent traces in the designation of the children of the father’s sister and of the mother’s brother. Even if this form of marriage had absolutely disappeared, we should have had its ancient existence clearly mirrored in the systems of rela¬ tionship. It becomes therefore natural that a corresponding marriage with the wife of the father’s father should have

1 See p. 62 of this Chapter.

left similar indications of its former existence in the system of relationship.

The position so far reached is that there is evidence of three different kinds of marriage in Melanesia, all very anomalous and extraordinary from the civilised point of view. It remains to formulate a state of societv which will furnish a suitable soil for these three forms of marriage ; one in which all three have had their origin. If it be possible to formulate a state of society out of which all may have arisen, and if the combination of two or more of these anomalous forms of marriage in one and the same people can be explained, we shall not only strengthen the case for the actual existence of such marriages, but may be able to sug¬ gest explanations of other customs and institutions connected with marriage which have baffled investigators elsewhere.

The conclusion that the people of Fiji and Buin once married the wives of their father’s fathers has been reached by means of the working hypothesis that there once existed in these places the dual organisation with matrilineal descent, and in the further search for a state of society which may bring the different forms of marriage into relation with one another, I continue to use this working hypothesis.

The nature of the dual organisation with matrilineal descent makes it clear1 that if a man is to marry a woman of a generation younger than his own, he will be limited in his choice to two groups of relatives ; viz., women having the status of his daughters and those having the status of his daughter’s daughters, for other women, such as those having the status of his sister’s daughters and his son’s daughters, will be of the same moiety as himself. Marriage with one having the status of a daughter, i.e., marriage with the daughter of the brother, occurs in the Torres Islands and has probably been formerly practised elsewhere (see Chap, xx) but, putting this marriage on one side, an old man who wished to marry a woman of a generation younger than his own would have no alternative but to marry one having the status of daughter’s daughter. Some condi¬ tion has to be found which led men in one state of Melanesian society to take wives, neither from their own generation nor from that of their daughters, but from the generation of their granddaughters. It is obvious that such

1 See the diagram on p. 17 of the first volume.

Dominance of Elders

a marriage regulation can only have come into general existence at the expense of the younger men, who would find the women of their own age already appropriated by their elders. We seem therefore driven to assume a state of society in which these elders had in some way acquired so predominant a position in the community that they were able to monopolise all the young women. It is in such a condition that I believe marriage with a granddaughter, as an organised practice, to have had its origin.

We have no record of any dominance of elders in Melanesia such as seems to exist in Australia, but the most natural way of explaining the granddaughter marriage is by the supposition that at one time such dominance not only existed in Melanesia, but reached a pitch far surpassing anything which has been recorded in Australia, a dominance so great that the elders were able to monopolise all the young women of the community, the young women of each moiety becoming as a matter of course the wives of the elders of the other moiety. My first supposition, then, is that the marriage with the daughter’s daughter is the immediate and natural result of the monopoly by the old men of all the young women of the community.

As I have already mentioned, the obvious consequence of such a condition is that, as young men grow up, they will find the young women who would naturally have been their wives already appropriated by the old men. Their only chance of obtaining wives will be that women may be given to them who have already been the wives of their elders.

Let us suppose that the younger men were supplied with wives in this way, and let us consider the status of those to whom it would be possible for an old man to give a wife or wives. He could not supply his own son or his brother’s son, for they would be of the opposite moiety to his own and of the same moiety as his wife, and therefore unable to marry her. For the same reason, he will be unable to give a wife to his daughter’s son. On the other hand, he will be able to give wives to his son’s sons and to his sister’s sons, for both these classes of men, being of the same moiety as himself, will be able to marry his wives. I suppose then that as a consequence of the dominance of the old men and their monopoly of the younger women, it

6o Melanesian Society

became the custom to supply the needs of the young men by handing over wives to the sister’s son and the son’s son, thus bringing about the two forms of marriage, the existence of which has either been demonstrated or in¬ ferred in Melanesia, viz., marriage with the wife of the mother’s brother and marriage with the wife of the father’s father.

We may suppose that at first wives were given to both sister’s son and son’s son equally, but that in different branches of the Melanesian people development took place in different ways ; in one it came about that a man gave his wife especially to his sister’s son, while in another he supplied his son’s son. We should thus have an explanation of the two forms of marriage ; one found in the Banks and Pentecost, and the other in Fiji and Buin. There must have been some reason why the sister’s son had the prefer¬ ence in one place and the son’s son in the other, but putting this on one side for the moment, we can see that the monopoly of the younger women by the old men and the handing over of superfluous wives furnish a natural explanation of three of the peculiar forms of marriage which exist, or have existed, in Melanesia.

In Pentecost and the Banks Islands, where we find the combination of the marriages with daughter’s daughter and wife of mother’s brother, we must suppose that the old men continued to marry the young women of the other moiety and that, as their sister’s sons grew up, the old men handed over to them one or more of their wives. By the time that the sister’s son was ready to marry, it may often have happened that the older wives would be dead or past childbearing, and that the wives handed on would not have been much older than their new husbands. Thus, not only does the state of society assumed explain the combination of marriage with the granddaughter and with the wife of the mother’s brother, but both become per¬ fectly natural. Given the classificatory system in its main features and the dual organisation with matrilineal descent, the two marriages of Pentecost and the Banks Islands be¬ come the natural and straightforward consequence of the dominance of the old men.

In Buin, on the other hand, we find evidence of a combi¬ nation of the marriage with the grandfather’s wife and the

The Cross-cousin Marriage 61

cross-cousin marriage. Let us see how there could come about the combination of terms referable to marriage with the wife of the fathers father and those depending on the cross-cousin marriage. Let us suppose a people whose old men monopolised the young women, among whom there arose the custom of handing superfluous wives to the sons of the sister or of the son. Let us suppose next that the sister’s son becomes of great importance, i.e. of the importance which he now has in Fiji as the va^u ; let us suppose, for instance, that he can have anything belonging to his mother’s brother for which he asks. For this, or for some other reason, it may come about that a man will give his daughter instead of one of his wives to his sisters son, while to his son’s sons, with whom his tie is less strong, he will continue to give his wives. There would thus come about precisely the conditions which exist in Buin, viz., a combination of terms dependent on mar¬ riage with the wife of the father’s father and those dependent on marriage with the cross-cousin. Further, since the daugh¬ ters of a man are now given to his nephews, they will no longer be available for the old men, and thus marriage with the grand¬ daughter of a brother will disappear.

According to this view, the cross-cousin marriage arose as a modification of the marriage with the wife of the mother’s brother. In this connection it is important that a similar process takes place at the present time in the Torres group, where a man now often marries the daughter of his father’s sister instead of the father’s sister herself.

One feature of the dominance and monopoly of the old men is of great importance. If the old men monopolise the young women, one result will be that many, perhaps most, of the children born into the community will be, nominally at any rate, the children of the old men. Whatever their real parentage, they will be counted for social purposes as the children of the old men. At one stage in the development of the dominance there would thus come about a great dispro¬ portion of age between children of the same father, and this disproportion would be even greater between those who by the classificatory system would be called brothers. This difference of age between those who call one another brother would persist after the dominance of the old men had become an established system, and even after this dominance had largely or wholly disappeared.

The nature of the Pentecost system makes it probable that the marriage with the granddaughter of the brother persisted long after the dominance of the old men had ceased to exist. But owing to the fact that it would be normal for brothers and sisters to differ greatly in age, the daughters daughter of the elder brother of a man need not have been much younger than himself. A state of affairs would thus gradually come about in which the superficial observer would see nothing extraordinary. It would only be necessary for the dominance of the old men to have lasted long enough to produce the organised system of marrying the brother’s grand¬ daughter, and a new state of social equilibrium would arise in which men would continue naturally to marry the grand¬ daughters of their elder brothers, not merely because they were their brothers’ granddaughters, but because these women were of the most suitable age to be their wives ; or more probably this suitability would permit the survival of the custom. The sense in which the terms of relationship are used in a system produced by the dominance of the old men makes a form of marriage which seems to us most extra¬ ordinary and bizarre, a natural and even obvious occurrence.

At the same time, we have a natural explanation of a con¬ dition which has often struck those who have recorded terms of relationship, viz., that an elderly man may address a young boy by the term which we translate father, together with other similar examples of disproportion of age between relatives. The disproportion of age would be of the same order as that which among ourselves occasionally results in a man being younger than his nephew, but it is far more pronounced and frequent in such a region as Melanesia because it is there the result of an organised system of marriage between men and women widely separated in age which once existed.

I have so far confined my attention to the four regions where the specially anomalous forms of marriage are found, viz., Pentecost, the Banks and Torres Islands, the mountain people of Viti Levu, and the people of the Buin district in Bougainville. I have now to inquire how far there is evi¬ dence of similar marriages elsewhere.

The system from Santa Cruz recorded in the first volume is remarkable for the use of descriptive terms for certain relationships. There can be little doubt that when de¬ scriptive terms are used in Melanesia, they are relatively

Santa Cruz and Ysabel

recent innovations, introduced either to replace older terms or to be used where previously there had been no terms of relationship at all, the descriptive terms in the latter case, taking the place of personal names. It is therefore significant that descriptive terms should be used in Santa Cruz for the relationships of grandparent and father’s sister. If the terms for the grandparent had once been used in the complex manner still in vogue -in Pentecost and Buin, it is natural to suppose that they would have been the source of much confusion and inconvenience. New terms might be used in their place, and I suggest that the descriptive terms for the grandparents in Santa Cruz came into being to replace confusing terms of relationship which were the legacy of the forms of marriage between persons separated by two genera¬ tions. There is thus a feature of the system of relationship of Santa Cruz which suggests the former presence of marriage between persons separated by two generations. It is, how¬ ever, impossible to say whether it was the marriage with the daughter’s daughter or the wife of the father’s father which was practised.

In the British Solomon Islands there are some isolated facts which suggest that there may once have existed forms of marriages between persons of alternate generations. In both the systems from Ysabel which I have recorded the term kave is used for a grandmother. This term is used elsewhere in Oceania, as in Tikopia and the Reef Islands, for a person of the same generation, in Tikopia for a sister. We have thus a suggestive resemblance to the system of Buin ; as in that district, a term used for a sister is applied to a grandmother. To make the resemblance more complete, the term kave should only be used in Ysabel for the fathers mother and not for the mother’s mother ; it is therefore noteworthy that, though the term kave is used in Bugotu for both father’s mother and mother’s mother, Mr Bourne only records it as the Nggao term for the father’s mother. It would therefore seem that in the Nggao system we have a feature almost exactly resembling1 that of the Buin system which is definitely based on the marriage with the wife of the father’s father, and it is probable that the more extended

1 It differs in that the term used in Buin for the grandmother by a man is one usually applied by a woman to her elder sister, whereas the Ysabel term is one applied by a man to his sister, at any rate in Tikopia.

connotation of the Bugotu system is due to a later process of generalisation (see n, 42)

I have so far dealt solely with the evidence derived from the forms of systems of relationship. The case in favour of the scheme I have advanced will be strengthened if it can be shown that other features of the social institutions of Melanesia can be referred to the dominance of the old men. Let us consider some customs of the island of Pentecost from this point of view.

Among the features of the regulation and ceremonial of marriage in this island there are two of special interest ; viz., the existence of infant betrothal, and the ceremonial carrying off of the bride to the house of the man’s mother (see 1, 207). Both of these customs become perfectly natural in the light of the dominance of the old men and their monopoly of the young women of the community. A young man wishing to marry, and finding no eligible woman of his own age, or only the cast-off wife of an elder, may naturally be expected to arrange for the transference of a girl of the other moiety to his own house to await the time when she can become his wife. Since this would meet with the opposition of the old men, nothing would be more natural than that the girl should be carried off by force and kept in the house of the mother of the future husband till of a marriageable age. These customs become intelligible as the result of the be¬ ginnings of a stand made by the young men against the dominance of their elders.

If this be correct, the mock conflict and capture of the Pentecost marriage, though from one point of view they may be regarded as survivals of a kind of marriage by capture, have a meaning very different from that assumed by McLennan and others. They are not the survivals of the capture of women from a hostile tribe, but the consequences of the effort to escape from an internal marriage regulation ; from the mono¬ poly of women by the old men.

I have formerly1 suggested that this is what has happened elsewhere, viz., that the mock conflict of the marriage cere¬ monies of Malabar is the result of the prior claim of the cross-cousin to the hand of the woman. The conflict in this case would be a survival of the cross-cousin marriage, just as in Pentecost it would be a survival of the monopoly of women

1 Journ. Roy. Asiat. Soc. 1907, p. 61 1.

A ssociation of Forms of Marriage 65

by the old men. We thus have, in two different parts of the world, evidence that these conflicts are the result of changes in the internal regulation of marriage, and it is probable that this explanation is one which holds good still more widely.

In the preceding pages it has been shown that four forms of marriage, which are either actually present in Melanesia or the presence of which can be inferred from the systems of relationship, are all to be explained as the result of the monopoly of young women by the old men. The beauty of the scheme which has been advanced is that the explanations suggested for the four forms of marriage form a coherent whole. A form of marriage such as that with the wife of the mother’s brother, which taken by itself seems anomalous and difficult to understand, becomes the obvious consequence of another form of marriage which seems still more anomalous, viz., marriage with the daughter’s daughter ; and so with the other marriages.

Further, the scheme I have formulated accounts for the association of certain of these forms of marriage in one and the same people. Any complete theory of Melanesian society has not only to account for the four special forms of marriage, but it has also to explain why marriages with the grand¬ daughter and with the mother’s brother’s wife should be associated together in Pentecost, and why the cross-cousin marriage should accompany marriage with the wife of the father’s father in Buin. As we have seen, both of these asso¬ ciations are perfectly natural on my scheme ; in fact, if they had not been observed, it could have been foretold that they would occur. Similarly, though it has not yet been observed, it would be natural on my scheme to find associated together the three marriages with the brother’s granddaughter, with the wife of the father’s father and with the wife of the mother’s brother. If, on the other hand, future research should discover a system in which marriage with the daughter’s daughter is accompanied by the cross-cousin marriage, the matter would be far more difficult to understand and would suggest the necessity of some fundamental revision of the scheme formulating the relation of these forms of marriage to one another.

Though the view I have advanced in this chapter thus furnishes a rational explanation of the peculiar forms of

r. m. s. 11.

marriage of Melanesia, the social state supposed to have existed is so extraordinary, and so widely removed from any known to exist elsewhere, that before we accept it and pass on to the further study of Melanesian society, it will be well to inquire into the possibility of some alternative explanation.

The scheme I have propounded rests entirely on the fundamental assumption that the dominance of the old men arose in a society possessing the dual organisation with matrilineal descent. I have failed wholly to see my way to a scheme which derives these marriages from any other form of social organisation. I have already mentioned my long attempts and complete failure to bring the Pentecost and Fijian correspondences into harmony with one another on the supposition of an origin of the latter in patrilineal descent. It seems very unlikely that the dual organisation should ever have existed with patrilineal descent. With one exception,

I have been quite unable to conceive any mechanism whereby the marriages in question would have arisen out of a system in which there were more than two social groups. The exception, however, suggests a possible alternative. The only known parallel to the system of Pentecost is to be found in Australia. The marriage with the granddaughter of the brother has been found in one Australian tribe in con¬ junction with the dual organisation and matrilineal descent; this resemblance suggests that if any alternative scheme is to be discovered, it is to Australia that we should look for a clue to its nature.

The most characteristic feature of the social structure of Australian society is its matrimonial classes ; we may inquire whether it is possible to derive the anomalous marriages of Melanesia from social relations brought into existence by a mechanism for the regulation of marriage such as is found in Australia. There are certain features1 of the social organisation of Pentecost which suggest that some such mechanism may exist even now in that island and this provides an additional motive for this inquiry.

As we have seen, the marriage with the granddaughter of the brother actually exists in Australia, but among a people who possess the uncomplicated dual organisation, so that there is no reason to suppose that it has been derived from the matrimonial classes unless, as is possible, the dual

1 These features will be more fully considered in the next chapter.

Matrimonial Classes

organisation of the Dieri has resulted from a simplification of a fourfold system1. Marriage with the wife of the fathers father is compatible both with the fourfold and the eightfold systems. For example, among the Arunta the son’s son of a Panunga man is himself a Panunga, and in consequence both men marry Purula women in the fourfold system of the southern Arunta and Appungerta women in the eightfold system of the others. It is, however, a long step, from the fact that a form of marriage should be possible with a system of matrimonial classes, to the formulation of a mechanism which will account for the marriage having become part of an organised social system.

It is when we turn to the marriage with the wife of the mother’s brother that any attempt at derivation from matri¬ monial classes similar to those of Australia breaks down entirely. In all forms of the Australian matrimonial classes, whether fourfold or eightfold, marriage with the wife of the mother’s brother is quite impossible. The essence of these social systems is that members of contiguous generations belong to different classes ; a man and his sister’s son could never marry women of the same class, and therefore could never marry the same woman. While, then, there are cer¬ tain striking resemblances between the Melanesian conditions and those possible under the system of Australian matrimonial classes, resemblances which suggest some fundamental com¬ munity of nature, it seems impossible to derive the peculiar Melanesian marriages directly from the matrimonial classes of Australia.

Attempts to formulate alternative schemes to explain the Melanesian marriage having thus broken down, I propose to assume that the marriages in question have arisen in the way I have supposed. For the remainder of this book I accept the dominance of the old men as an established foundation on which to base the further study of Melanesian society. If it be possible to erect a stable structure on this foundation, we shall have further reason to believe in the validity of the scheme I have advanced in this chapter.

Two other subjects must be considered before I close this chapter. I have only dealt with the evidence which suggests

1 Since the above passage was written, Mr A. R. Brown has shown reason to suppose that the Dieri may possess matrimonial classes which have escaped obser¬ vation owing to their having no names.

5—2

that at one stage of Melanesian history the old men had sufficient power to enable them to monopolise all the young women of their community. It is evident, however, that a degree of power and influence sufficient for this purpose must have shown itself in many other ways. Power sufficient to allow the monopoly of the most desirable women must have made the old men a ruling class able to control and guide the conduct of the community in all departments of its activity; it therefore seems justifiable to speak of this state of society as a gerontocracy, adopting a word which has been used by Dr Frazer1 to denote the wide powers of the old men among the aborigines of Australia.

It might be thought that a ruling class whose power depended on age could not have been very sharply marked off from the general population. Even among ourselves with our quantitative standards, old age is not a stage with any definite limit, and it might seem that this must have been even more the case among people with no means of expressing age in numerical terms. There is, however, one feature of rude culture which makes possible the existence of a hard and fast line between those regarded as old men and those not so regarded. The widespread distribution of the practice of initiation into manhood suggests the possibility that, in the state of gerontocracy I have assumed, there may have been a rite of initiation into old age. If it were so, we can be confident that the rite of initiation would not be determined merely by age, but that other facts would be taken into account. Those with special physical or mental advantages would be introduced into the chosen circle at an earlier age than others, and through physical infirmity or other disquali¬ fication some might never attain the rank of elder. We can, however, be confident that no young man would ever be allowed to rank as an elder. In the term ‘gerontocracy’ there is implied the essential attribute of the ruling class which I suppose to have directed the course of Melanesian conduct in ancient times.

The second subject must be mentioned in order to remove a misconception which might possibly arise in the minds of some through a superficial resemblance between the condition I formulate and one recently advanced to account for the origin of human society.

1 Lectures on Early History of Kingship , I9°5> P* io7>

Gerontocracy not Primitive 69

It may perhaps be thought that in this chapter I have been assuming a state of society resembling that which has been advanced by Mr Atkinson and Mr Andrew Lang1, and more recently by Dr Strong2, as the earliest stage in the evolution of human society, viz., a simple undivided social group in which all the women are monopolised by the leader of the group. As a matter of fact, the condition I have formulated is absolutely and fundamentally different. The monopoly of women by the old men which I assume must have existed in a community already divided into two exogamous moieties ; it involves the clear recognition of generations and the existence of the classificatory system of relationship. Without these three features, the scheme I have advanced would become hopeless confusion in place of the order I hope to have succeeded in demonstrating. It seems clear that if the scheme of this chapter represents the actual course of history, we have to do, not with a primitive condition of human society, but with one in which social evolution was already far advanced, perhaps not very greatly different from that found among the Dieri of Australia at the present time.

One point alone will make this clear. If we compare the different systems of relationship recorded in this volume, it will be seen at once that those richest in terms of relation¬ ship are the systems of Pentecost, the interior of Viti Levu and Buin, i.e., exactly those regions where we have still remaining the clearest evidence of the ancient social order. This richness is especially shown in the terms for grand¬ parents and grandchildren in the Viti Levu systems, which outnumber those of any other system I have recorded. It would therefore seem, not only that the classificatory system was already in full existence in the social condition which has been assumed as the starting-point of my argument, but that it was already richly endowed with terms of relationship. This richness of the systems of relationship, which would seem to characterise the early condition of Melanesian society, suggests that at the time of the dominance of the old men, the social organisation was in a condition very far removed from one which can be regarded as primitive. It suggests even that the dominance of the old men may have dis¬ organised a society which had already reached a relatively high degree of elaboration.

1 Social Origins , London, 1903.

2 Sociological Review , 1912, v, 309.

CHAPTER XVIII

SOCIAL ORGANISATION

The two preceding chapters have been devoted to a comparison and analysis of systems of relationship, and in the last chapter I have concluded that the past history of Melanesian society has been characterised by a social condition of an extraordinary kind, quite unlike any form of social organisation with which we have hitherto been acquainted. The argument through which that conclusion was reached rests on the assumption that the dual organisation now found in certain parts of Melanesia was once widely distributed in that region. The next step in my inquiry must be to con¬ sider other evidence for the ancient existence of this form of social organisation. At the same time, it will be well to review the other varieties of social structure found in Melanesia.

The social systems are of four kinds : (i) the dual organi¬ sation with matrilineal descent ; (ii) organisation in totemic clans ; (iii) clan-exogamy without evidence of totemism, in one place at least determined by locality ; and (iv) a condition in which there is no clan-organisation at all, but marriage is regulated purely by kinship.

(i) The dual organisation .

In the part of Melanesia with which I am especially concerned, the dual organisation with matrilineal descent is now found only in the Banks Islands and the northern New Hebrides, and possibly in one part of Ysabel in the Solomon Islands, but if there is anything in the argument of the last chapter, it has had a much wider distribution in the past. I have shown that a number of extraordinary

The Dual Organisation 71

and anomalous forms of marriage, which seem at first sight inexplicable and even unnatural, become perfectly intelligible if, in the places where the marriages are found, there once existed the dual organisation with matrilineal descent ac¬ companied by a state of dominance of the old men which allowed them to monopolise all the young women of the community. In some of these places, as in Fiji and the Buin district of Bougainville, the ancient existence of this dual organisation is a pure assumption1, but the fact that it has been possible to give a natural and consistent explanation of marriages, which seemed at first sight so unnatural, is strong evidence that the assumption is well founded. Until grounds to the contrary can be shown, I propose to accept the position that the dual organisation with matrilineal descent was once the dominant form of the social organisation of Fiji and of the southern part of Bougainville.

Between Fiji, Bougainville and the Banks Islands there lie the Torres Islands, the Santa Cruz group and the British Solomon Islands. I now propose to consider how far there is evidence that the dual organisation once existed in these places.

The great similarity between the cultures of the Torres and Banks Islands can leave little doubt that the three social groups of the former have arisen by some modification of the dual organisation still found in the Banks Islands. It is noteworthy that the names of two of the three groups of the Torres Islands, Gameljat and Gameltemata, are much alike, and that these two groups are said to be more closely allied to one another than to the third group, the Temar3.

In the Santa Cruz group the matter is more doubtful, but in the only place from which we have a fully recorded system of relationship, the main island of Santa Cruz, there are certain terms which strongly suggest the former existence of marriage between persons two generations apart. Thus, all kinds of grandparent and grandchild are denoted by descriptive terms, a condition which is so unusual in Melanesia that it is evident there must have been something very special about these relationships. Since they are just those relationships which would be affected by the marriage of a man with his

1 Since this was written Mr A. M. Hocart has shown that there are clear indications in Viti Levu of an old dual organisation underlying the present social system and that a dual grouping still exists in Vanua Levu (see Man , 1914, p. 2).

2 See 1, 1 77-

daughter s daughter or with the wife of his father’s father, it seems probable that these descriptive terms have replaced others which had lost their meaning on the disappearance of these forms of marriage. It is noteworthy that a descriptive term is also used for the father’s sister, another relative whose status has altered greatly in other parts of Melanesia. This argument is not conclusive, but in the absence of further evidence, it is probable that the system of Santa Cruz once possessed anomalies resembling those of Pentecost Island. If this be so, there would thus be evidence for the existence of the dual organisation with matrilineal descent in the past history of this island.

The systems of relationship of the British Solomon Islands afford only the scantiest evidence of the existence of the more anomalous marriages found elsewhere in Melanesia, although the cross-cousin marriage suggests that they may once have existed there. In one part of the Solomons, however, there is evidence of a different kind for the former existence of the dual organisation1. Dr Codrington has pointed out that the six social groups of the island of Florida have probably been derived from the dual organisation. I give his argument in his own words :

“ But these six kema no doubt represent a much simpler original division ; for two of them have local names, of Nggaombata in Guadalcanar, and Himbo, the Simbo some¬ what indefinitely placed among the islands to the west, from whence these two kema are known to have come. The Nggaombata and the Himbo, perhaps only as strangers, go together; and the Lahi, a small division, are said to be so closely connected with Himbo that the members cannot intermarry. Whether Honggokama and Manukama are names of one kema , or of two divisions into which the one is separating, is a question. The Honggo-kama and the Honggo-kiki, the great and the little, are plainly parts of one original. It is not the case in Florida that an originally double division has simply split and split again ; but the settlement of foreigners has so complicated the arrangement that few natives profess to be able to follow it2.”

1 The Rev. C. E. Fox has recently found a dual system with matrilineal descent still present in San Cristoval ; see Southern Cross Log (Sydney edition), 1912, xvm, 27.

M., 30.

The Dual Organisation 73

The fact that there are still only three groups in Ysabel is definitely in agreement with Dr Codrington’s argument; it is even possible that, in the two groups which Dr Welch¬ man has reported from one part of Ysabel1, we may have a survival of the ancient dual organisation.

Thus, we have evidence that, in a wide area of Melanesia from the Solomon Islands to the northern New Hebrides and extending eastward to Fiji, there once existed the dual organisation which is still found in certain parts of it. There remain to the south of this region the southern New Hebrides, the Loyalty group and New Caledonia, about which we have too little evidence to enable the expression of any positive opinion. From New Caledonia and the Loyalties no systems of relationship have yet been recorded, while in the southern New Flebrides, those which we possess are based on the cross-cousin marriage. If, however, the cross-cousin marriage has arisen in these islands in the manner I suppose to have been in action elsewhere, we should have indirect evidence of the ancient existence of the dual organisation in these islands'2.

There is one feature of Melanesian systems of relation¬ ship in general which would follow naturally from the dual organisation. In dealing with the relationships of father’s brother and mother’s sister in Chapter xvi, I have already considered the community of designation for the children of these relatives. This mode of nomenclature would be a natural result of the dual organisation. If a people have only two exogamous social groups, two sisters must always marry men of the same group and their children must also of necessity belong to the same group, and this must be so whether descent be through the father or the mother. The community of designation lor the children of father’s brother and mother s sister is the natural outcome of the social structure if the dual organisation now found in many parts of Melanesia were once a universal feature of Melanesian society.

Before passing to the next form of Melanesian social organisation, I must say a few words about certain subsidiary groupings which exist within the moieties of the dual organi¬ sation and other social groups allied to them. In the Banks

1 See 1, 245.

2 There may be noted also the existence in Tanna of two geographical divisions of the people (Gray, Austral . Ass. 1892, p. 648).

Islands there are divisions of the moieties which appear to take no part in the regulation of marriage. Some of them correspond, however, with districts of the island ; this sug¬ gests that they may be part of a local organisation whic exists or has existed side by side with the organisation in moieties. Certain features of the Tamate societies suggest that each district of the island is more or less independent. Thus not only has each district of Mota its own Tamate hwoa (see i 104), but apparently also any other society of one district is largely independent of the corresponding societies of other districts (see 1, 125). Similar subgroups are present in the Torres Islands, but I have no information about thenhistory or about the part they take in the regulation of social

life at the present time. . ,

It is much to be regretted that the information I was

able to obtain in Pentecost was so scanty and untrustworthy, for the little I was told suggests the existence of some most important complications of the dual organisation, and since Pentecost is probably the most archaic of the cultures whic come within my survey, it is probable that these complications are part of the ancient social organisation of Melanesia.

It is clear that, within the two moieties of Pentecost, there are groups called vevana which are of distinct social importance, especially in connection with property, for it is said that certain objects, such as canoes, were once the common possession of these verana. The most suggestive piece of information, however, is one which indicates the. existence of subdivisions of the moieties which have a definite part in the regulation of marriage (see 1, 190). This information came from John Pantutun who was not a native of the island, and it was evident that he had failed to understand the condition he had observed, but his account must have had some basis in fact. It is important that he came from a place which possesses the dual organisation,, so that he would be ready to note any modifications of this form of social organisation. His account was that there was a definite system whereby a member of one moiety might not marry any member of the other, but was limited in his choice to the members of one only of its subdivisions. It was said that each moiety had three subdivisions1, and while a man

1 It was uncertain how far these subgroups correspond with the verana described by other informants.

Totemism

of one group which we may call A had to marry a woman of a group of the other moiety we may call D, a man of D did not marry a woman of A, who would become the wife of a man of another division of the first moiety.

I shall return to this subject again. I can now only suggest that the information was based on a misunderstanding of a mechanism for the regulation of marriage within the moieties which may even resemble in some measure the matrimonial classes of Australia. At any rate the resemblance with these classes is sufficiently close to make it extremely unlikely that John Pantutun could have invented or imagined such a system.

(ii) Organisation in totemic clans.

The next form of social organisation to be considered is that in which the community is divided into exogamous totemic clans, a condition found in a typical form in certain parts of Melanesia and in an atypical form in others.

In the first part of this book I have carefully avoided the use of the word totem or any reference to totemism. I have merely described the connection of certain animals, plants or other objects with social groupings, and have left on one side the consideration of the nature of this connection. The first point which has to be dealt with is whether the connection between certain objects and social groups, which has been found in Melanesia, is to be regarded as totemism. By totemism I understand a form of social organisation which has three main characters: (i) the connection of a species of animal or plant, or of an inanimate object or class of in¬ animate objects, with a definite social group of the community, and typically with an exogamous group or clan ; (2) a belief in a relationship between the members of the social group and the animal, plant or object, a belief in descent from the animal, plant or object being a frequent form which this relationship takes; (3) respect shown to the animal, plant, or object, the typical way of showing this respect being that the animal or plant may not be eaten, while an inanimate object may not be used at all or only with certain restrictions1.

The part of Melanesia in which we have the clearest evidence of genuine totemism is the Santa Cruz group.

1 Sojourn. Roy. Anth. Inst. 1909, xxxix, 156.

We know so little of the culture of this region that the matter may be not so simple as it seems, but on the avail¬ able evidence this group possesses the institution of totemism of the most typical kind, in the form of exogamous clans, the members of each of which are bound together by the possession of a common totem, usually an animal. When the totem is an animal, it may not be killed or eaten by the members of the clan ; when it is a plant, it may not be eaten or even touched ; and when, as in Vanikolo, the totem is an object of an unusual kind, there are definite restrictions on its use. Members of the grass clan may not walk on grass and those of the bowl clan may not eat food cooked in a bowl. Further, there is a definite belief in descent either from the totem or from some one connected with the totem ; thus, members of the bowl clan trace their descent from a woman who floated to the island in a bowl.

In Vanikolo, we seem to have a condition unusual in Melanesia in that each clan possesses only one totem, but it may be that only the names of the chief totems were given to me, and that there are here, as elsewhere, other and subsidiary totems. In the main island of Santa Cruz and in the Reef Islands, on the other hand, each exogamous clan has associated with it several animals which may not be eaten, and in most cases there is no evidence that one of these is more important than the rest.

The matrilineal part of the Solomon Islands, comprising the islands of Florida, Guadalcanar, Ysabel and Savo, is another region where we find definite exogamous clans associated with objects which are regarded as sacred. When these objects are animals they may not be eaten, and there is a belief in descent from these animals or from human beings more or less closely identified with them. The conditions here fulfil the three main requirements of my definition of totemism, and yet it is clear that the institution is widely different from such pure totemism as appears to exist in Vanikolo. The name used for the forbidden animals is some form of the word tindalo , which is also used for other objects and persons, including mythical human beings, the ghosts of the dead in general, and the masks of the Matambala or ancient secret societies of Florida. Further, in one district, that of Kia at the north-west end of Ysabel, each of the three primary clans is divided into a number of

Totemism

groups, each of which has associated with it an object which, when an animal or plant, may probably not be eaten.

The general resemblance with the typical institution in this matrilineal region of the Solomons is so close that there can be little doubt we have to do with totemism, but in a state of modification. Dr Codrington has pointed out that prohibitions on articles of food in this region may have an origin quite unconnected with totemism, and that the members of the Manukama kema of Florida are at liberty to eat the bird from which they take their name1; but these and other facts he brings forward are only such as are to be expected in any institution which is undergoing modification.

In one region of the Solomons, that comprising Ruviana, Eddystone and Vella Lavella, totemism is certainly absent, and there is little which can be regarded even as its survival. At the eastern end of the Solomons, and especially in San Cristoval, however, totemism exists in certain districts2, though it would seem as if the institution were absent in some parts.

In other regions of the Solomons which I did not visit, the totemism is of a different kind and has a more definite character. In the Shortland Islands3 there are exogamous matrilineal clans ( latu ), with each of which two totems called respectively tua and tete are associated, the former meaning grandfather or male ancestor, and the latter grand¬ mother or female ancestor. Only some of these animals are forbidden as food and those so forbidden are called tabu or tabutabu , the former being used with the possessive suffix ( tabugu ) and the latter with the possessive noun (sagu tabatabu). It may be noted that there was general agreement about the totems called tua , only one being assigned to each clan, while the accounts of the tete were more uncertain, one animal being given at one time or by one informant, and another or others on other occasions.

In the Buin district of Bougainville4, the exogamous clans are associated with birds which the members of the clan may not kill or eat. Since there is matrilineal descent, a man has the same totem as his mother, but he also respects that of his father.

1 J/., 32, and Rep. Austral. Assoc. 1890, p. 61 1.

2 See I, 234 and C. E. Fox, op. cit. p. 28.

3 G. C. Wheeler, Archiv. f. Religionswiss. 1912, XV, 24.

4 Thurnwald, Zeitsch. f. vergleich. Rechtswiss. 1910, XXIII, 327.

In Fiji, and especially among the inland people of Viti Levu, there are certain animals or plants which may not be used, these being associated with the tribe as a whole or with certain divisions of the tribe called matanggali ", but in neither case does there seem to be any definite association with exogamy1. There is, however, a belief in descent from the animals which are not eaten by the members of the tribe or matanggali . The prohibition as food and the belief in descent point to a form of totemism in spite of the absence of clan-exogamy. It is clear that the animals or plants are definitely associated with social groups within the tribe as well as with the tribe as a whole. It must be remembered that if people tor any reason give up exogamy, it is impro¬ bable that they will give up their totems at the same time; if these persist, they would probably continue to be associated with a social grouping of some kind and thus produce such a condition as is found in Fiji2.

In the New Hebrides, we have definite evidence of totemism only in Sandwich Island or Efate where, according to the Rev. Dr Mackenzie, there are exogamous groups called naftak associated with plants or animals, no less than eight out of ten groups taking their names from plants3.

Elsewhere in the New Hebrides and in the Banks and Torres Islands, we have no definite evidence of totemism. There is some evidence that the exogamous moieties of Pentecost and Mota are named either seriously or in sport after animals, such as the bush-turkey ( malau ), or the giant clam ( talai ). Certain of the subdivisions of the moieties of Mota are connected with objects which are regarded as sacred4, and these subdivisions have a suggestive resem¬ blance to the totemic subdivisions of the clans of Kia.

Further, Dr Codrington has recorded5 the connection of a ‘ family ’ in Aurora with the octopus, the members of the ‘ family ’ being believed to possess power over the octopus so that through their influence plenty may be caught for food.

1 Since this was written Mr A. M. Hocart has found that in certain parts of Viti Levu the matanggali are exogamous.

2 For other facts pointing to totemism in Fiji, in addition to those recorded by myself, see de Marzan, Anthropos, 1907, 11, 400.

3 Journ. Roy. Anthrop. Inst. 1909, xxxix, 172. See also Macdonald (Rep. Austral. Ass. 1892, p. 723) according to whom the exogamous groups are called nakai nanga and follow matrilineal descent.

4 See I, 23.

6 M., 26 and Rep. Austral. Ass. 1892, p. 613.

Local Exogamy 79

The members of this ‘ family ’ may, however, eat the animal. If this association of animals or plants with social groups1 2 in Aurora and Mota is connected with totemism, it is evident that the connection is not very close.

The result of this survey of Melanesia has been to show the existence of genuine totemism in the Santa Cruz groups, in the Buin and Shortlands region of the Solomons, and probably in Sandwich Island in the New Hebrides, the latter place differing from the others in the plant-nature of its totems. Further, the institution is present, though in a modified form, in the matrilineal district of the Solomons, and in a still less typical form in Fiji. The regions from which it seems to be most clearly absent are the New Hebrides (except Sandwich Island), the Banks and Torres Islands, and certain regions of the Solomons or, at any rate, certain parts of these regions. It seems probable that its absence in these parts of the Solomons is only due to a greater progress of the changes which have given the institution the aberrant character it possesses in the matri¬ lineal region of this group.

(iii) Local groupings.

I know of only two places in Melanesia where non-totemic exogamy is definitely present, though wider knowledge would probably show a more extensive distribution.

One of these places is Merlav in the Banks Islands where there are ten or eleven exogamous clans, apparently wholly unconnected with any objects which can be regarded as totems. It is possible that each of the clans occupies a given district of the island; if this should turn out to be the case, we should have an example of local exogamy, such as is known elsewhere'.

The only other example of non-totemic clan-exogamy found in the course of my survey has this local character definitely. It occurs in the Lau district of Malaita where it was said that a man is not allowed to marry a woman of his own village, a statement confirmed by the only pedigrees it was possible to collect during a hasty visit. We know little

1 I defer for the present the consideration of the association of animals or plants with individual persons in the Banks Islands.

2 For a good example see Rep. Canib. Exp. to Torres Straits , VI, 121.

of the social organisation of Malaita, and if my observation be right, there can be little doubt that local exogamy is not limited to Lau, but exists elsewhere in that island and in other parts of that region of the Solomons.

The existence of definite local exogamy in the Solomons and the possibility of its presence in one part of the Banks Islands raise the question whether there is any evidence of local groupings associated with exogamy elsewhere in Melanesia. I have already pointed out that there is a local grouping existing side by side with the dual organisation in Mota (see n, 74). Unfortunately I paid but little attention to this subject, and my chief information about this grouping is derived from incidental references to it during my inquiries into the Sukwe and Tamate societies. If the different districts of Mota have their own Tamate societies and their own Sukwe organisations, they must be independent in many other ways. It becomes probable that their inhabitants form local groups with definite social functions. If, as seems to be the case (see 1, 24), there is a close correspondence between some of these districts and the subdivisions of the moieties, the question is raised whether the connection of possible totems with the subdivisions does not point to the former existence of a localised totemic grouping coexisting with the dual organi¬ sation.

Further, if the exogamous clans of Merlav are localised, there is a very suggestive resemblance between them and the localised subdivisions of the moiety in Mota. Since the groups of Merlav are clearly exogamous, the question is raised whether the local groups of Mota may not also at one time have had some function connected with marriage. We need far more exact knowledge to enable us to understand the relations between the dual and the local groupings in the Banks Islands, but the view which is suggested by the available facts is that there formerly coexisted two forms of social grouping, the dual system and a local grouping possibly having, in some measure, a totemic character. In Mota, the local grouping seems to have lost any social functions it may once have possessed, at any rate in so far as marriage is con¬ cerned, and only preserves faint indications of its totemic character. In Merlav, on the other hand, it is the dual system which is absent, while the totemic character of the local grouping is even less definite than in Mota. Tradition points

Local Groups 81

to Merlav having been populated by small bands of people from other islands, and this tradition suggests that in the course of these movements, the dual organisation and the totemic character of the local grouping have disappeared.

It seems more natural that the exogamy of Merlav should be the survival of an exogamous mechanism, which was once universal in the Banks Islands, than that the practice of exogamy was shifted from the dual system to one which had previously played no part in the regulation of marriage. The view which is suggested by the conditions in the Banks Islands is that the different forms of social grouping now found in those islands once existed in combination in this part of Melanesia.

I have no information whatever to show how far the metaviv , or subdivisions of the main social groups of the Torres Islands, have a local character. I can only suggest, on analogy with the similar groups of Mota, that this will be found to be the case.

Similarly, it is possible that one or both of the subsidiary groups within the Pentecost moieties are localised ; it is especially probable that this is true of the verana , for it is a prominent feature of the group so called that its members have certain kinds of property, such as the canoe, in common. Such common ownership is more likely to work smoothly if the joint owners live together in one place.

It has been seen that some of the local groups and sub¬ divisions of the moiety of the Banks Islands practise customs which suggest a survival of totemism. If these subdivisions are really local groups, the question arises whether the definitely totemic groups of other parts of Melanesia may also have a local character. Unfortunately we have little definite evidence on this point. I did not inquire into the matter either in Vanikolo or Santa Cruz, but Joest1 states definitely that the nau or totemic groups of Santa Cruz live separated and scattered, and Graebner2 states that in Joest’s original diary the denial of a local character is even more explicit. This is confirmed by my own observation that one village in Temotu has several mandwai or club-houses, a condition which would be extremely unlikely if there were a local segregation of the totemic clans. It seemed probable,

1 See Baessler, Neue Siidsee-Bilder , p. 386.

2 Ethnologica 1, 1909, p. 140.

R. M. s. II.

however, that originally each clan had its own mandwai , and it is possible that at this time the clans were localised. Further, it is possible that the condition in the region especially described by Joest may not exist throughout Santa Cruz, for there are four or five districts in this island which differ from one another in certain elements of culture1.

We have no evidence to show how far the main totemic groups of the Eastern Solomons or the totemic subgroups of Kia are localised, nor have we any such information about the clans of Buin, but Mr Wheeler2 tells us expressly that the totemic latu of the Shortlands have no local character, each village having inhabitants belonging to many clans. The available evidence thus lends little support to the ascription of a local character to the totemic clans of Melanesia, but this evidence is far from complete, and the possibility of such localisation cannot be excluded.

(iv) Organisation without exogamous clans.

The last main variety of social organisation is one in which there is no definite mechanism of exogamous clans, but marriage is regulated solely by kinship, meaning by this term, relationship which can be traced genealogically. This variety is found in the Western British Solomons, including the islands or island groups of Eddystone, Ruviana and Vella Lavella, and probably at the other end of the Solomons in Ulawa and in parts of San Cristoval and Malaita.

It is possible that there may be a similar condition in the southern New Hebrides, but at present the evidence con¬ cerning this region is not sufficient to enable any positive statement on this point to be made.

In the island of Eddystone, the only place where I have been myself able to investigate fully this variety of social organisation, those connected by genealogical relationship, with whom marriage is prohibited, form a group of people which receives a definite name, the group being spoken of as the taviti of a person. Though this group has a superficial resemblance to an exogamous clan, it is in reality of a wholly different kind, for it comprises relatives both on the father’s and the mother’s sides, so that it does not form a group

1 I am indebted to Mr J. W. Blencowe for this information.

2 Op. cit. p. 26.

A ntiquity of Dual System 83

in connection with which there can be any regular rule of descent. It includes all relatives on both sides with whom any genealogical connection can be traced, and thus differs widely from the moieties or clans of other parts of Melanesia1.

Having described the distribution of the different forms of social organisation found in Melanesia, I have now to consider the relation of these forms to one another. In the preceding chapters there has been sketched a scheme of development of certain features of Melanesian society, and we have to inquire whether this scheme can be used as a guide to the relative order in time of the different forms of social organisation.

If the argument of Chapter xvii be accepted, there can be no doubt that the dual organisation with matrilineal descent is the earliest of the forms of social structure found in Melanesia. It has been possible to construct a consistent scheme whereby a number of features of Melanesian social structure have been derived from this form of social organisation. It has been shown that this form of social organisation was probably once spread over Melanesia from the Solomons to the New Hebrides and Fiji, and that many features of Melanesian society have been directly or indirectly derived from it. If my argument be accepted, it is clear that the dual organisation with matrilineal descent was the essential element of the social structure at the earliest period to which the evidence leads us.

In all those places where the evidence for the existence of the anomalous forms of marriage is definite, the dual organi¬ sation with matrilineal descent must have been so vitally important that it is not easy to see how there can have been room for any other social mechanism. The whole scheme of development I have traced would only be possible if the dual organisation forced men and women into these forms of mar¬ riage. Among the Dieri of Australia at the present time the dual organisation and a totemic system exist side by side, and the possibility cannot be excluded that such a condition may also have been present at that stage of the history of Melanesian society to which the study of systems of relation¬ ship has led us. But it is clear that if such a totemic system were combined with the dual organisation, it played no essential part in the regulation of marriage.

1 A full description of this mode of social organisation will appear in the work by Mr Hocart and myself on the Western Solomon Islands.

6 — 2

In all those places, then, where we have evidence of the existence of marriage with the daughter’s daughter and with the wives of the father’s father and mother’s brother, we may conclude that the dual organisation with matrilineal descent was the older form of social organisation and that other forms are later.

In one region of our survey, however, the evidence for the existence of the anomalous forms of marriage is so weak, and another form of social organisation so well developed, that there is room for doubt. In the Santa Cruz group the present social organisation is a pure form of totemism, and the evidence for the ancient existence of the anomalous forms of marriage is wholly derived from the use of descriptive terms for those relationships which would be affected by the disap¬ pearance of these forms of marriage. In the very imperfect state of our knowledge of the social structure of these islands, it is necessary to hesitate before classing them with other parts of Melanesia. It is possible that we have here a survival of a social system of a different kind independent of, and therefore even possibly older than, the dual organisation. If, how¬ ever, Melanesian totemism elsewhere, as in Bougainville and Florida, has been later than the dual organisation, it is probable that it has been later also in the Santa Cruz group. This probability will be greatly strengthened if it should be shown that there is a definite resemblance between the totemism of the Santa Cruz Islands and that of other places in which there is definite evidence of the former existence of the dual organisation. I will now mention only one piece of evi¬ dence pointing to such resemblance. Both in Santa Cruz1 and Buin2 it is believed that the members of different totemic clans can be distinguished by the nature of the folds on the palms of the hand. I have recorded (i, 251) a similar belief in the matrilineal region of the Solomons where the dual organisation has certainly existed in the past, if it be not still present in one island.

Although the social condition of the Santa Cruz group raises doubts, I conclude that, throughout the region of Mela¬ nesia with which I deal, the organisation in totemic clans is more recent than the dual organisation.

Few will hesitate in regarding the form of social organisation

1 Joest in Baessler, Neue Siidsee-Bilder , 1900, p. 386.

2 Thurnwald, op. cit ., p. 328.

Tune-order of Social Forms 85

in which exogamy is absent as later than either the dual or the totemic organisations. This form of social organisation is found in Melanesia in two chief forms, one with, and the other without, the cross-cousin marriage, and in several of those places where the cross-cousin marriage is absent there are traces of its former presence in the systems of relationship.

In my scheme of the history of Melanesian society, the cross-cousin marriage must have been later than the other three special forms of marriage. We may safely place the society with absence of clans, but practising the cross-cousin marriage, as relatively late in the history of Melanesia. If this be so, there can be little doubt that the organisation having neither clans nor cross-cousin marriage is also late, probably later than that form in which the cross-cousin marriage is present.

If, then, my scheme of the history of Melanesian marriage be accepted, it will follow that the earliest of the different forms of social structure found in Melanesia is the dual organisation with matrilineal descent, and the latest is that in which a clan-organisation is absent, while the totemic system occupies an intermediate position. Of the other form of organisation which has been described, non-totemic clanexogamy, so little is known that it would be hazardous to assign it a definite place in order of time. It may be noted, however, that the only example of definite local exogamy has been found in Malaita where in general the clan-organisation appears to be absent, and here therefore it is probably late, possibly an intermediate stage in the process of disappearance of the totemic system.

The different forms of social organisation have thus been arranged in order of time entirely on grounds derived from the scheme of the development of the institution of marriage in Melanesia, which in its turn has been based on the study of systems of relationship. It now remains to see whether the order so reached is in accordance with facts of other kinds. If, for instance, we take such an institution as chieftainship, which may be regarded as a good index of social advance1, we find an order closely corresponding with that reached through

1 1 use the argument of this and the following paragraphs with much hesitation, rhe superiority or inferiority of culture ascribed to different parts of Melanesia is in relation to a standard derived from European civilisation. It implies that the direction in which culture has changed in Melanesia has been always towards, and not away from, this standard.

the study of systems of relationship. Thus, in the New Hebrides and Banks Islands, where the dual organisation still flourishes, it is even a question whether the institution of chief¬ tainship exists at all, while in the Solomons and Fiji it is certain that there is definite hereditary chieftainship.

In general material culture again there can be no doubt as to the superiority of the Solomons and Fiji. In these islands many of the arts have been very highly developed, while in the New Hebrides the whole material culture is still at a very low level. Further, there can be little doubt as to the general superiority of the natives of the Solomons in physical and mental development, a fact well recognised wherever the two peoples are brought in contact with one another as at the school of the Melanesian Mission on Norfolk Island. This superiority of the people of the Solomons over those of southern Melanesia must only be taken broadly ; there are certain islands in the south where the people fall in no way short of the Solomon islanders in intelligence.

Within the different regions of Melanesia there can be little doubt that the same general relation holds good. Thus, according to my scheme, the Banks Islands are more advanced than the northern New Hebrides, for while such an island as Pentecost still possesses obvious traces of the marriage with the granddaughter, these have completely disappeared in the Banks Islands ; in this case there can be little doubt that the culture of the Banks islanders is the more advanced. Again, in the Solomons, the inferiority of the region possessing matrilineal clans is shown by the fact that Ysabel has been decimated by the expeditions of the islanders of Ruviana and Eddystone who do not possess the clan-organisation. In Fiji again there can be no doubt about the general superiority of the coastal people, with a system founded on the cross-cousin marriage, over those of the interior who still preserve in their systems evident traces of one of the more ancient forms of marriage.

The general culture of different parts of Melanesia is thus in accordance with the order of development which has been derived from the study of systems of relationship. If the order be as I have indicated, a very striking generalisation at once presents itself. It has been noted that the systems of relationship of Oceania differ greatly in complexity and in the richness of their nomenclature. It will now be observed

Simplification of Relationship 87

that there is a general correspondence between the degree of such complexity and richness and the order of development which has been assigned to the regions in which they occur.

Of all the systems which I have recorded, the most com¬ plex and the richest in terms is undoubtedly that of Pentecost, which the previous argument has led me to regard as having the most archaic culture included in my survey. At the other end of the scale come the extremely simple systems of Ulawa, Saa and Eddystone, and in all these places there is a patri¬ lineal system without the clan-organisation which, according to my scheme, represents the most advanced stage of Melanesian society. Next to Pentecost in order of richness and complexity come the systems of the mountain people of Fiji, Buin, the Banks and Torres Islands, all places where the dual organisa¬ tion still exists, or where there are obvious signs of the anomalous forms of marriage which have been shown to be associated with that form of social structure.

Lastly, we have the very simple systems of Polynesia belonging to peoples who are certainly far advanced beyond the general level of Melanesia in general culture and in forms of social organisation. It would seem as if, pan passu with the advance in culture and with development of social organisation, there has taken place a progressive simpli¬ fication of systems of relationship, the process of simplification having been accompanied by a reduction in the number of terms of relationship, so that on the whole the simple systems have few terms while the complex systems have many. A progressive change would appear to have taken place whereby relationships denoted by different terms in the nomenclature of the more primitive peoples are no longer distinguished from one another. As already indicated in Chapter xvi, it is plain that this simplification has been accompanied by a disappear¬ ance of those functions associated with ties of relationship which are found in the more archaic communities.

The conclusion to which the survey of Melanesian social organisation has thus led us is that there has been a pro¬ gressive change from an early condition of society organised on the dual basis with matrilineal descent towards one in which the clan-organisation has disappeared and marriage is regulated solely by relationships which can be traced genealogically. At each end of this series we have no evidence of the existence of totemism as a social system,

though it is definitely present in those places which seem to occupy an intermediate position in the chain of development. So far we have met with nothing by means of which this appearance and disappearance of totemism can be explained, so that we are presented with a problem the solution of which must be sought in some other way.

It may be noted that in some parts of Melanesia there is evidence that the process of simplification of systems of relationship is even now in progress. Thus in Florida, there is a term for cross-cousins and yet these relatives are now often classed with other cousins as well as with brothers and sisters. Again, in Eddystone, it was clear that there is a special term for the sister’s son, though this relative is now usually classed with the son. It is certain that the people of this island are not bringing a new word into use for the sister’s son. We can be confident that there is now going on under our eyes a process of the same kind as that which has led to the disappearance of special terms for grand¬ parents, grandchildren, mother’s brother, father’s sister and cross-cousin in this island.

I am now in a position to suggest an explanation of the association of richness and complexity of nomenclature which I left in Chapter xvi as a fact still in need of elucidation (see ii, 12). It has now been found that the systems which show this association of complexity and richness mirror con¬ ditions which belong to the earliest stage of Melanesian history. The richest and most complex system which I have recorded belongs to a people who still practise, or have prac¬ tised till quite recently, two of the forms of marriage which I believe to come earliest in the history of this institution in Melanesia. It is probable that in a still earlier stage than that of Pentecost, Melanesian systems were even richer in terms but less complex, and it may be that at one time they were as rich and at the same time as simple as the systems of Australia (see 11, n). Then came the monopoly of the young women by the old men, bringing in its train various forms of marriage, with the result that persons who were formerly related in different ways came to stand in one relationship. Thus, as the result of marriage with the daughter’s daughter of the brother, the two relationships of daughter’s husband and wife’s father would be combined in one double relationship. In consequence, one term would be

Complexity of Relationship 89

used for both relatives, thus diminishing the number of the terms of the system, but at the same time introducing an element of complexity. In the Pentecost system this process of reduction accompanied by increased complexity has reached a stage in which the complexities have become as great as human beings are likely to be able to endure. From this point onwards, further reduction was only possible if accom¬ panied by simplification; all the evidence goes to show that these combined processes of reduction and simplification have gone on side by side in the further history of Melanesian society. The association of richness and complexity of nomenclature, characteristic of the systems of Melanesia, is due to the fact that the most archaic system so far recorded is one in which the complexity had reached its maximum. According to my scheme, this stage was preceded by one in which reduction in the number of terms went hand in hand with increasing complexity. It is possible that in Ambrym or Malikolo or some other part of Melanesia, there may yet be found systems of relationship which represent stages earlier than that of Pentecost, in which the correspond¬ ences due to the marriage with the granddaughter of the brother have not been complicated by the addition of those due to the marriages with the wife of the mother’s brother or of the father s father, unions which according to my scheme were the secondary consequences of the marriage with the granddaughter of the brother. If I am right, the fact that the most complex of the recorded systems of Melanesia is at the same time the richest in terms is not necessary, but is due to the accident that the earliest system so far dis¬ covered represents a stage in which increasing complexity has about reached the breaking-point. It is possible that a more complete survey of Melanesia will show the existence of systems dependent on a stage of social development anterior to that mirrored in the system of Pentecost, and that these will be simpler than this system though richer in terms.

CHAPTER XIX

DESCENT, INHERITANCE AND SUCCESSION

In beginning this chapter, it will be well to remind my readers of the special sense in which I use the three terms which form its title. It is customary to use descent to include the transmission of property or rank, but since in Melanesia, and probably in many other parts of the world, the mode of transmitting property or rank does, not necessarily follow the same laws as regulate membership of the social group, it is necessary to distinguish the three processes in terminology. In this book, therefore, descent applies only to the mode of determining membership of a social group ; inheritance refers solely to the transmission of property,; and succession denotes the mode of determining who shall succeed to rank or office of any kind, and especially to chieftainship.

The only equivocal expression in these definitions is “social group.” By this I mean a social group within a tribe or other similar community, so that descent w'ould not be used to indicate that a man belongs to the same tribe as his father. Further, in Melanesia at any rate, the mode of descent is chiefly significant in those communities which practise exogamy. Thus, in most parts of Fiji1 a man belongs to the matanggali or itokatoka of his father, and since these are social groups within the tribe, it would be correct to speak of patrilineal descent. Since, however, father and mother often, if not usually, belong to the same matanggali or itokatoka ', the matter of descent has far less social significance than in exogamous communities, in which father and mother must of necessity belong to different social groups, and a child must belong to one or

1 In those parts of Viti Levu where the matanggali are exogamous the patri¬ lineal mode would be of the same order as in other parts of Melanesia.

Descent

9i

other of them. In this chapter, therefore, I shall only con¬ sider the subject of descent in places where exogamy is present.

Descent.

In the area of Melanesia included in my survey, matrilineal descent is almost universal wherever definite exogamy is practised by means of a social mechanism of clans or moieties. The dual organisation is invariably matrilineal, and the scheme of the preceding chapters rests entirely on the assumption that, when this form of organisation existed in the past, it was also matrilineal. Again, wherever there are definite totemic clans in Melanesia, these are matrilineal so far as we know, except in Santa Cruz, and even here the patri¬ lineal mode of descent may be limited to one part only of the island. The only other known example of patrilineal descent in conjunction with exogamy is in the Lau district of Malaita, where a man belongs to the village or local group of his father. If we extend the use of the term “descent” to nonexogamous groups, Fiji will furnish another example of patri¬ lineal descent, for here a man belongs to the matanggali or itokatoka of his father.

So far as structural form is concerned, it is clear that in the region of Melanesia with which I deal, descent is almost universally matrilineal wherever it is proper to speak of descent at all. It is a far more difficult matter to decide what is the exact social significance of this structural form, and to determine the social functions which are associated with it. It is probable that the social relations determined by membership of the social group are now changing, and have for long been undergoing change, in Melanesia. Among such social relations none are more important than those connected with kinship ; perhaps the best way to bring out the problems involved will be to discuss how far it is correct to speak of kinship in Melanesia as determined by member¬ ship of the social group.

It is often said that a man is not the kin of his own father in the Banks Islands and other parts of Melanesia where matrilineal descent is practised ; it has even been said that a man is not related to his own father. If you converse with a Melanesian in English, he will be very likely to tell

you that he is not related to his father, but when he makes such a statement, he is supposing that the English word “related” is the exact equivalent of the sogoi of the Banks Islands or the corresponding words in other Melanesian lan¬ guages. The sogoi of a Banks islander are those of his own veve or moiety ; the Melanesian has learnt, quite wrongly, that the English equivalent of sogoi is “related,” and as his father is not his sogoi , he believes that he is justified in saying that he and his father are not related to one another. When such a statement is made in a scientific publication, the writer is making the same kind of mistake as the Melanesian, a mistake due to an assumption which is at the present moment a most serious hindrance to progress in anthropology. This assumption is that European languages possess terms which are the exact equivalents of the terms of Melanesian or other families of language belonging to rude forms of cul¬ ture. The word sogoi can only be translated by “ kin ” or “relative,” if these words are used in senses very different from those they ordinarily possess in the English language.

It is quite possible that at one time the relations between father and child in Melanesia were of such a kind that it would have been correct to say that father and child were not kin in the usual English sense. The regulation that a man and his father may not eat together, the belief that father and son necessarily have different mental dispositions, and the fact that, if a man injure his own child, he is held to be responsible to its maternal uncle, suggest that, at one time, the father was so much a stranger to his offspring that it would perhaps have been correct to say that kinship with the father was not recognised.

In the present condition of Melanesia, however, the relations between father and child are of such a kind that the superficial observer of Melanesian life would probably fail to notice anything which would differentiate the relationship from that of a civilised family. He would find that the group consisting of parents and children live in the same house, and behave towards one another in a way which would seem to him indistinguishable from that of the European family. He might even find existing between father and child a degree of affection and mutual interest beside which the intimate life of many an English family would show in but a poor light.

If our observer pushed his researches more deeply, he would

Kinship and Descent 93

find much which it would be very difficult to reconcile with the idea that father and child are not akin to one another. He would find that the person in the community whom a Melanesian may honour most highly is his father s sister ; it is difficult to understand how a relationship through the father should receive this high degree of honour, if the father himself, through whom the relationship exists, is not even regarded as a kinsman. It would rather seem as if the relationship between father and child must be particularly close and important.

If our observer were then to turn his attention to the system of relationship with its associated functions, he would find many features still more difficult to understand on the supposition that father and child are not akin.

In all Melanesian systems the child of the father’s brother is classed in nomenclature with the child of the mothers sister. The two kinds of cousin belong to the same social category and no distinction is made between them. The same holds good of more distant relatives; cousins whom we should call second or third, or perhaps hardly recognise as relatives at all, are included in exactly the same category, whether they be related through the father or the mother. Further, this is no mere matter of nomenclature. Cousins through father and mother stand in precisely the same position where regula¬ tion of marriage is concerned. The marriage of a man with the daughter of his father’s brother is just as unlawful in a matrilineal community as marriage with the daughter of the mother s sister. When there are only two social groups there is an obvious reason for this1, but in such matrilineal com¬ munities as those of the Eastern Solomons, there is no imme¬ diate reason for the similarity of relationship through the father and the mother, and yet no distinction is made between them ; both are denoted by the same terms and have the same status and functions. If the terms of the classificatory system connote kinship at all, relatives through the father have exactly the same right to be regarded as kin as those of the same matrilineal group. Whether a Melanesian is or is not regarded as akin to his father depends on the meaning given to the word. The important point is that at the

1 I.e. two brothers would necessarily marry women of the other moiety; their children would belong to this moiety and marriage between them would be excluded by the ordinary rule of exogamy (see also II, 16).

present time, whatever may have been the case in the past, the social relations existing in Melanesia between a man and his father’s relatives differ very little from those which exist be¬ tween him and the relatives of his mother or other members of his social group. The line of descent does not carry with it any very obvious social differentiation, so far as relationship

is concerned.

It may be held that the closeness of relationship which exists at the present time between the Melanesian father and child is merely the result of recent European influence. Most of the information recorded in this book has been derived from the Banks Islands which have been under European influence for fifty years, a time quite long enough to effect oreat changes in social behaviour. To such an objection there is an obvious answer. The system of relationship has certainly not changed in the past fifty years, and yet it affords the most conclusive evidence of the closeness of relation between a man and his father’s relatives. The classing together of the children of the father’s brother and of the mother’s sister is no modern feature, but is universal in Melanesian systems, pointing to its origin at some very

remote period.

Still another indication that the recognition of relationship with the father is not recent is furnished by the pedigrees which are preserved by Melanesians nearly, if not quite, as fully as by any other people of rude culture. These pedigrees go back for several generations to a period antecedent to any European influence whatever, and yet they show clearly that the line of the father has been of sufficient social significance to have been preserved in the memories of the people. I have had less experience in collecting pedigrees in matrilineal than in patrilineal communities, but so far as this experience has taken me, I have found but little difference between the two. I have the impression that among the matrilineal peoples the line through the mother has been somewhat the better known, but the difference has not been great. We may be confident that pedigrees would not have been preserved unless they were of social importance ; it will therefore follow that relationship with the father must have been im¬ portant to matrilineal peoples for at least as long a period as pedigrees have been preserved. Here again we can be confident that the preservation of pedigrees is no recent

Importance of Descent 95

matter, but a custom which has its origin in the remote past.

There is thus a considerable mass of evidence which shows that there exist in the matrilineal communities of Mela¬ nesia social relations with the father and with the father’s relatives which differ in no obvious respect from those existing between related persons of the same social group, and there is evidence that this condition is not recent, but goes back far into the past. At the same time, it is probable that the relations with the father and the father’s moiety were once different from those which now exist. I have already mentioned several conditions which suggest that the relation between father and child was once much less close than at present, and there is other evidence which points in the same direction, such as the tradition of definite hostility between the two moieties of the Banks Islands, which even now is not wholly extinct. It is even said that at one time a man who left his own part of the house, and went to that occupied by the other veve, was in danger of being killed. This tradition points to a social condition in which intimate social intercourse must have been to a large extent limited to members of the same moiety, and since father and child necessarily belonged to different moieties, the relations be¬ tween the two must have been very restricted. At this time the line of descent must have been far more important in the determination of social relations than at present.

The available evidence, then, points to a great change having taken place in the freedom and intimacy of the social relations between members of different social groups. With this increased freedom there seems to have gone on a progressive increase in the degree of recognition of the relationship of a person with his father and his father’s relatives, until the present condition has been reached in which the superficial observer would see nothing exceptional from the civilised point of view, in which it is necessary to look below the surface, to consult tradition and study social relations in detail, in order to find indications of widely different functions of the social grouping.

While it would thus appear that the line of descent does not now possess the social significance it may at one time have carried, one of its functions still remains of vital import¬ ance. Marriage is still regulated largely, if not predominantly,

by the social grouping, and so long as this continues, so long must the line of descent remain a matter of the utmost social significance. Even here, however, there are indications that the social grouping has less importance than it probably at one time possessed. Nowhere in Melanesia at the present time is marriage regulated solely by the grouping in exogamous moieties or clans ; there are certain persons of the opposite moiety, or of different clans, with whom marriage is just as strictly forbidden as with members of the same group. In some parts of Melanesia, marriage is regulated solely by kinship, and there is some reason to believe that even where clan-exogamy exists, there is a tendency for kinship to play an increasing part in the regulation of marriage. Even in the regulation of marriage, the mode of descent is not now an absolutely essential function of the social grouping.

The result of this inquiry into the nature of descent in Melanesia is to show that, in the matrilineal communities of this area, a change has taken place in the social importance of the line of descent which shows itself especially clearly in the altered status of the father. It now remains to consider the subjects of inheritance and succession, and to inquire whether these also bear evidence of an altered status of this relative.

Inheritance .

Here we find a more complicated state of affairs than in the case of descent, with many intermediate conditions between the matrilineal and patrilineal modes. In Pentecost, which according to the argument of the preceding chapters is the most archaic part of Melanesia included in my survey, it is clear that inheritance should properly be matrilineal, the land and personal possessions of a man passing at his death, not to his own children, but to members of his own moiety, and especially to the children of his sister. At the present time it is becoming the custom to transmit property, or, at any rate, property of certain kinds, to the children ; but this is quite recent and has perhaps only come about as the result of European influence, not necessarily as the direct result of European teaching, but as the result of the increased intercourse between different parts of Melanesia which has followed the arrival of Europeans. I was told that inheritance

Inheritance

by the children is quite modern, and this information receives strong support from the account of Dr Codrington1. At the time when it was written, only about thirty years ago, the son received nothing except what his father gave him during his life. It may be noted that John Pantutun of Mota, who was a good observer of social conditions both in his own and other communities, was very emphatic that, even now, matrilineal inheritance is much more strict in Pentecost than in his own home.

Dr Codrington notes that Lepers’ Island is an exception to the general rule of matrilineal inheritance in this part of Melanesia. The house and land pass to the children ; the sister’s children only receive personal possessions, and even here they share with the members of the moiety or waivung of the dead man.

In the Banks Islands there exists a condition of inherit¬ ance which is clearly intermediate between the matrilineal and patrilineal modes. At the present time property often passes at death to a man’s children, but it stands beyond all doubt that matrilineal inheritance was formerly the rule. Certain forms of property still pass to the sister’s children; even now when the children inherit personal property, the sister’s son may take anything he chooses, and if this right is not conceded, he takes everything.

A clear indication of the priority of matrilineal inheritance is to be found in the case of land. Dr Codrington2 has pointed out the definite distinction between the modes of inheritance of ancient cultivated ground and land newly reclaimed from the bush. The former passes to the sister’s children, while the latter is taken by the children of the man who cleared it3.

The example of inheritance of land recorded on p. 56 of the first volume affords an instructive example of the complexities which have arisen in these islands as the result of modification of ancient custom. This account deals with land which had been cleared in recent times, and the history of the plot was known in minute detail from the first clearing down to the present day. The original reclaimer of the land gave much of it to his children during his lifetime, and this was passed on to their children, but at this second transmission, the rights

1 M., 67.

2 M., 64.

3 It may be noted that Dr Codrington found that, even when a man makes a garden for himself in Pentecost, it goes to the sister’s son.

of others were recognised ; it is clear that those who suc¬ ceeded to the land of their father had to make certain payments to their fathers brothers, and if such payments were not made, some of the land could be taken by those to whom the payments were due. The point of special im¬ portance, however, is that, if all the brothers of the father were dead, this payment would still have to be made, but to the sister’s son of the father. Thus, even in the second generation after a plot of land has been cleared, the rights of the sister’s son begin to reassert themselves.

A very remarkable case of inheritance arises in connection with the ownership ol trees on the land of others, which is a frequent occurrence in the Banks Islands. In this case, the son of the owner of the tree inherits it, but he has to pay money at the time to the owner of the land. This inheritance ol trees by the son does not appear to be a recent modification ; it is probable that, even when inheritance was in general matrilineal, trees on the land of others were an exception to the rule.

I have no notes about the mode of inheritance in the Torres and the Santa Cruz Islands, but according to Dr Codrington, the sister’s children usually inherit in Santa Cruz, though there are occasional exceptions.

In the Eastern Solomons I was not able to inquire into the mode of inheritance, but according to Dr Codrington, it lollows the same laws as in the south, except at Saa in Malaita. In Florida, the garden-ground is called matanga , and a man who reclaims a piece of land from the bush, and makes it part of the matanga , transmits this to his children without question, but if the history of the plot should be forgotten, the sisters children of his sons will claim it. The conditions appear to resemble closely those I have recorded from Mota, and there is the further similarity that trees planted on the land pass to the children, even when the land goes to the sister’s children.

The only part of the Eastern Solomons which is an excep¬ tion to the rule of modified matrilineal inheritance is Saa in Malaita, where property passes exclusively in the male line. In the Western Solomons, there is a somewhat complicated condition ol inheritance ol land which arises out of communal ownership (see Chapter xxi), but personal possessions pass altogether to the children.

Chieftainship

The foregoing account makes it clear that there is a wide difference between the modes of descent and inheritance in Melanesia. While descent is almost always matrilineal where it is proper to speak of descent at all, inheritance is largely patrilineal at the present time, even in the islands which possess the most archaic forms of social structure. The island in which matrilineal inheritance is most strict is Pentecost which we have been led to regard as the most archaic region included in my survey, and there is evidence that not long ago, the matrilineal mode of inheritance existed in this island in a pure form. In other islands the avail¬ able evidence points to a process whereby the matrilineal is gradually passing over into the patrilineal mode, and it is clear that this is no recent innovation, but one which goes back to a time long before the advent of European influence.

Succession .

The study of the mode of succession in Melanesia is com¬ plicated by the existence of much uncertainty about the exact nature of chieftainship. My own information on the subject is very scanty, at any rate so far as southern Melanesia is concerned, and in the following account I depend chiefly on Dr Codrington1.

In Pentecost, there are men who are regarded as chiefs by Europeans, but their power appears to depend largely on their reputation for mana, and especially the mana connected with magic2. The succession to such a “chief” largely depends on the transmission of the knowledge upon which his reputation depends, and it is a striking fact that the person he chooses as his successor is usually, not his sister’s child, but his own, thus giving rise to the appearance of patrilineal suc¬ cession. It seems probable, however, that the transference of rank is not a matter of definite social regulation, but that we have to do with an undeveloped stage of succession proper. Nevertheless, it seems clear that in so far as it is correct to speak ot succession at all in this island, it is patrilineal.

In Lepers’ Island the condition is as in Pentecost, though, as has been seen, the two islands differ definitely in the matter of inheritance.

1 M., 46 — 58.

2 Rank in the organisation corresponding to the Sukwe is also one of the attributes which give rise to the appearance of chieftainship.

7—2

ioo Melanesian Society

In the Banks Islands also there is uncertainty about the exact status of a chief, but here it would appear that rank in the Sukwe is the preeminent factor in determining the social position which has been regarded by Europeans as chieftain¬ ship. It seems clear that all those who are called chiefs or “ great men” are high in the Sukwe , and Dr Codrington was unable to decide whether this position in the Sukwe is the reason why men are regarded as chiefs, or whether it is their chieftainship which has made it easy to rise to so high a place in this organisation. In Motlav the “chiefs” are called etvusmel or tavusmel ’ and here again the derivation of the word, viz. “he who kills for the cycas,” indicates a definite connection with the Sukwe.

While there is thus much uncertainty as to the exact basis of the dignity of “chiefs,” there seems to be no doubt that the position is transmitted to the son of the holder, and not to the son of his sister, but here again, it would seem that the transmission is not a matter of definite social regulation. It is the high position of an etvusmel in the Sukwe and his con¬ sequent wealth which enable his son to rise to a similar position. If the son of a chief had not risen to high rank in the Sukwe , it seems probable that he would have no chance of succeeding to the position of his father.

In the Eastern Solomons there is true hereditary chieftainship at Saa in Malaita, and here the succession is definitely patrilineal. Elsewhere in these islands, the position of chief seems to have depended on the belief in his posses¬ sion of mana derived from communication with the tindalo or ghosts. Such a man either nominated his successor or was succeeded by one chosen by the people ; as an instance of the non-hereditary nature of the position, it may be mentioned that one of the most prominent “chiefs” of Florida was not a native of the island at all, but a man of Malaita who had taken a prominent part in a successful battle.

In Eddystone in the Western British Solomons, where there is definite hereditary chieftainship, succession is usually patrilineal. A good many cases were recorded in which a chief had been succeeded by his sisters son, but only owing to failure of more direct heirs.

In Vella Lavella, on the other hand, succession largely depends on the nomination of the chief. There have been many cases in this island where a chief has been succeeded

Succession

IOI

by a captive taken during a head-hunting expedition, and it is a question whether this is not the orthodox mode of succession.

It thus appears that in so far as hereditary chieftainship exists in Melanesia, succession is always in the male line. There is not a single instance in which a chief is naturally succeeded by his sisters son. Whenever rank is definitely hereditary, succession is patrilineal ; even in Pentecost and the Banks Islands it is patrilineal in so far as it is correct to speak of succession at all.

It is thus clear that it is only correct to speak of the greater part of Melanesia as matrilineal if the application of that term be limited to descent. In the matter of succession, the part of Melanesia with which I deal is patrilineal throughout. Inheritance occupies an intermediate position, and here the evidence is clear that, in that part of Melanesia which the general argument of this book has shown to possess the most archaic institutions, inheritance is, or was till quite lately, altogether matrilineal. In the most advanced communities, on the other hand, it is mainly patrilineal, while various islands which occupy intermediate positions in order of development also occupy intermediate positions in the matter of inheritance, showing various stages of progression from the maternal to the paternal line. It is beyond all doubt that the direction of change in Melanesia has been from the matrilineal to the patrilineal mode. It has already been argued that matrilineal descent was once far more widely distributed in Melanesia than at present, and the study of inheritance has now given decisive support to this conclusion. The mode of succession points indirectly in the same direction. Definite hereditary chieftainship is found only in places, such as Saa and Eddystone, which seem from the nature of their systems of relationship to be among the most advanced parts of Melanesia. In the more archaic communities of Pentecost and the Banks Islands, succession depends mainly on the will of the “chief,” and there is definite evidence that the chief in many of the Eastern Solomons nominates his suc¬ cessor. We have only to suppose that it became habitual for a chief to prefer his own child, and we are provided with a straightforward mechanism for the coming into being of patri¬ lineal succession.

I may point out that if patrilineal inheritance and succession

have arisen through a gradual increase in the recognition of the relation of a father to his child, it is easy to see why descent should have lagged so much behind, and still remains so widely matrilineal throughout Melanesia. If a father comes to feel that his own children are nearer to him than those of his sister, it is natural that he should wish to transmit to them his rank or wealth, but no such obvious motive is present in the case of descent. If, as seems to be the case, the social grouping in clans or moieties has the regulation of marriage as its chief social function and has little or no influence in the determination of rank or wealth, it is perfectly natural that men should be moved to bring about the transmission of their property or honours to their children, while they still allow them to belong to the social group of the mother. There would not have been the motives for changing the mode of descent which seem to have had so great an influence on inheritance and succession. If increasing recognition of father¬ hood has thus been the essential factor in determining the change towards patrilineal institutions, it also becomes natural that succession should have advanced farther in this direction than inheritance. Those who are especially interested in succession are men of influence in the community who might be expected to have more power to change the nature of a social institution than would be possible in such a matter as the transmission of property which intimately affects other persons. Further, the vested interests interfered with by a change in the mode of inheritance would probably affect a wider circle of persons than would be involved in the transmission of rank.

The inquiry conducted in this chapter has led to the conclusion that matrilineal descent is a feature of Melanesian society which now possesses far less social significance than in the past. In some places it is perhaps only the last relic of a condition of mother-right which once governed the whole social life of the people ; which regulated marriage, directed the transmission of property, and, where chieftainship existed at all, determined its mode of succession, while many other aspects of social life were altogether governed by the ideas of relationship arising out of this condition. The definite recog¬ nition of the relationship between father and child seems to have greatly affected these social functions. It would seem that a gradual process has been in action whereby the

Melanesian Mother-right 103

matrilineal organisations of Melanesia have been robbed of much of their social importance, until in some cases they have become little more than empty forms. They still take a part in the important function of the regulation of marriage, but even here they are not essential, for in their absence genea¬ logical relationship or kinship would have much the same effect, and is actually in the minds of the people when marriages are projected and arranged. Even where matrilineal descent still exists, its social importance has been so undermined that perhaps no great stimulus would be necessary to put an end to it, converting the social organisation into one of a kind now found in certain parts of Melanesia in which inheritance and succession are patrilineal, while marriage is regulated solely by genealogical relationship.

CHAPTER XX

MARRIAGE

The preceding chapters have been largely concerned with the institution of marriage. One of the chief topics dealt with in Chapter xvi was the part which forms of marriage have taken in determining the special features of systems of relationship, while the following chapter was largely devoted to the demonstration of certain peculiar and anomalous forms of marriage which had arisen in an early stage of the history of Melanesian society. In the last two chapters dealing with the forms of social organisation which exist or have existed in Melanesia, the reference to marriage has been less explicit, but the regulation of marriage, espe¬ cially in the form of exogamy, has necessarily received much attention. In this chapter I propose to summarise our know¬ ledge of the nature of marriage in different parts of Melanesia, and to consider certain aspects of the institution more fully than has hitherto been possible.

Pentecost Island.

I will begin with the island of Pentecost which the pre¬ ceding survey has shown to approach most nearly to the archaic condition of Melanesian society. I regard it as established that in this island there have existed in the recent past, if they are not still practised, two of the peculiar forms of Melanesian marriage, that with the granddaughter of the brother and that with the wife of the mothers brother. The exogamous social mechanism is complicated, or has till recently been complicated, by the existence of two regulations which make it the orthodox practice to limit the choice of a wife to certain persons of the opposite moiety.

Marriage in Pentecost 105

Further, there exists in this island a form of infant marriage or betrothal, and the ceremonial which accompanies it is characterised by a number of features which are often regarded as survivals of marriage by the capture of a woman from a hostile tribe. I propose now to consider this supposed capture more closely.

I have suggested in Chapter xvn that both the marriage of a girl while still an infant and the simulated capture came into existence as the result of the social condition which I have called a gerontocracy ; that they were the results of attempts to escape from the dominance of the old men and from their monopoly of the younger women of the com¬ munity. While there is much that is suggestive of an actual elopement or capture, it is clear that these features are at the present time purely ceremonial, the marriage being definitely arranged beforehand with the parents and relatives of the girl. The husband gives pigs, but he receives in return property from the relatives of his wife. It is, however, doubtful whether this gift of pigs from the man is to be regarded as purchase ; it is more probable that it is one of those incidents which has formed the starting-point of marriage by purchase rather than actual purchase itself. It is very questionable whether the contribution of the man in this island is any greater in value than that of the woman, but this is a matter which can only be ascertained by a far more concrete and detailed investigation than it was possible for me to undertake. With this imperfection of knowledge, a sketch of the course of events must be largely conjectural, but I venture to suggest the following as the possible history of marriage in this island.

In the early stages of the breaking down of the domi¬ nance of the elders, the younger men could only obtain wives by the gift of their maternal uncles during the lives of the latter or by marrying the widows of their uncles. This being insufficient to satisfy their needs, the younger men were driven either to elope with, or carry off by force, the young girls of the other moiety, either marrying them at once or putting them in the charge of their mothers till the girls were old enough to marry. If we consider such a state of affairs closely, we shall see that in the dual organisation with matrilineal descent, a girl would be taken by a man from the opposite moiety and put in the charge of his mother, a woman

who would be the sister of one of the elder men of his own moiety. By such a proceeding it would seem that the wouldbe husband might incur, not only the wrath of the members of the other moiety, but also that of the senior men of his own who would thus be deprived of a potential wife. If there were such opposition from members of both moieties of the community, it would seem extremely unlikely at first sight that the proceeding would have any chance of success, but further consideration will show the existence of certain features which put a different complexion on the matter. It is possible to see how these difficulties might have been over¬ come.

At the present time we have in Pentecost a condition of matrilineal descent with the clearest and most undoubted recognition of the relation of a father to his child. In the last chapter I have given reason to suppose that there has been a progressive increase in the degree of recognition of the relation of a father to his child in Melanesia, and I now assume that this relation was definitely recognised, though less strongly than at present, at the time that the capture of girls of the other moiety was becoming an organised system. The interest and sympathies of the father would be in a state of conflict. As a member of the moiety from which his son was taking his wife, he would be among those whose duty it would be to condemn the capture or elopement, but as a father he would sympathise with it. What more natural than to suppose that he would endeavour to arrange a compromise and to compensate, or help his son to compensate, the members of his own moiety for the loss of the girl ? Thus I suppose that it was through the influence of the father that the opposition of the moiety of the girl was overcome.

The opposition of the senior members of the husband’s own moiety would be a more serious matter, and this oppo¬ sition is perhaps the motive for keeping up the simulation of the form of capture which has survived to the present day. Even after the opposition of the relatives of the bride had been overcome through the offices of the father, the form of capture would be kept up in order to deceive the old men of the husband’s own moiety. It is an obvious objection that this process of deception cannot have lasted long, that it could not have lasted long enough to allow the form of capture to become the organised system we find lingering

Ceremonial Capture 107

on to the present day. It may be pointed out that the old men of the girl’s moiety must after a time have become aware of the deception, and would have been on the alert when one of the junior members of their own moiety tried to repeat the process. To this objection the reply can be made that the man of rude culture seems to have a special faculty for blindness to proceedings on the part of others with which he is familiar in his own actions. The whole history of magic seems to show that men may believe thoroughly and whole-heartedly in the efficacy of proceedings which reason, as we understand it, would show to be shams. The behaviour of those of rude culture in such matters must depend on some special mental attitude which we perhaps can only imperfectly understand. This is not the place to consider this matter fully ; all I wish now to point out is that this blindness to the nature of actions in others, with which people might be expected to be familiar, should make us hesitate before we attach any great importance to the view that the process of deception of the old men must have been of short duration. I suggest that the Pentecost islanders carried out for a long series of years the process of simulated capture, at first actually deceiving the men of the moiety of the husband, and then later in the belief or hope that they were deceiving them, and that thus the practice became so habitual as to lead to its permanent survival as a ceremonial feature of marriage. An alternative view is that the repre¬ sentation of the capture satisfies some social need ; that the capture persisted as a kind of dramatic representation long after the marriage had come to be recognised as orthodox, the persistence depending on some belief in the value of such representation.

Thus I suppose there came about the condition we find in Pentecost at the present time. The only feature not explained is the giving of certain property to the girl to be taken to the new home ; but if the relatives of the girl have once accepted the marriage, there are many reasons which may have led to this gift, which looks like the germ of a dowry. It is sufficient to mention the idea of exchange, of a gift for a gift, which seems to be so deeply seated in the Melanesian mind.

In this hypothetical sketch the most important assump¬ tion is in the part I have assigned to the father, and at the

same time it is one of the greatest theoretical interest. If I am right, we have in such an action on the part of the father a good example of the fundamental conflict of early society which has led to the growth of the family out of the clan or other early social grouping ; the conflict between the duties of a man towards his social group and the sense of obligation which he came gradually to recognise as in¬ volved in his relation to his children. In this hypothetical sketch I have traced a ceremonial conflict accompanying marriage to a real capture in the past ; not a capture from a hostile people, but one from the old men who asserted and for long successfully maintained an exclusive right to all the young women of the community.

To the older view of McLennan and others that such a custom as that of Pentecost is a survival of capture from a hostile tribe, the fact that the capture is so obviously a sham, so evidently carried out with the connivance of the relatives of the captured woman, has long been a difficulty, to many an insuperable difficulty. This connivance, which seems so difficult to understand as a survival of capture from a hostile tribe, becomes perfectly natural if the so-called capture was merely intended to keep the women from the clutches of the old men of their own community. The sham nature of the whole proceeding is clearly intelligible if the belief in the magical powers of the old men, which I have taken to be the original source of their dominance, still per¬ sisted sufficiently to make it desirable to disguise from the old men the understanding which existed between the rela¬ tives of captive and capturer. If I am right, just as the ceremonial capture is the survival of a real capture, so is the ceremonial connivance the survival of a real connivance.

The Banks Islands .

Owing to my inability to study the matter fully by the genealogical method in the Banks Islands, I am unable to give a full account of the forms of marriage which take place at the present time and have taken place in the recent past. Three facts seem fairly certain ; firstly, it is still the orthodox custom to marry the widow of the mother’s brother ; secondly, it is the custom to give pigs and money for a wife, but probably only for a wife other than the widow

Marriage with Fathers Sister 109

of the mother’s brother ; and thirdly, the decision as to whom a man shall marry rests, it seems absolutely, with his father’s sister.

If I am right in supposing that a man only gives pigs and money for his wife when the woman he marries is other than his uncle’s widow, the most natural explanation is that these payments correspond to the gift of the Pentecost bride¬ groom, but have developed into an organised system of pay¬ ment for a bride. It is possible that the loss of power of the old men was more rapid and complete in the Banks than in Pentecost, and took place much more under some external influence, so that actual capture or elopement never became necessary. It is also possible, however, that the Banks have been through much the same stage as that now present in Pentecost, and that the element of purchase in the Pentecost marriage has become the dominant feature of the institution in these islands. The most striking and exceptional feature of marriage in the Banks Islands is the important part taken by the father’s sister, but this feature can be more suitably con¬ sidered at a later stage of the inquiry.

The Torres I stands.

On turning to the Torres Islands we are met by some new and difficult problems. In these islands, and especially in Hiw, it seems clear that there take place normally certain marriages between relatives which are either exceptional elsewhere in Melanesia or have not been recorded at all.

I begin with the marriage with the father’s sister which appears to be an established custom in Hiw. It occurs occa¬ sionally in the Banks Islands, and I was told of it especially in the island of Merlav which is in so many ways exceptional, but I consider this form of marriage here because it is so much more frequent and established an institution in the Torres Islands. The first fact to be pointed out is that in the simple dual organisation, the father’s sister and the mother’s brother’s wife will be one and the same person, i.e., women having the status of father’s sister will be also the wives of the men who have the status of mother’s brothers. The possibility is therefore suggested that the marriage with the father’s sister is merely a consequence of the marriage with the wife of the mother’s brother ; that as, in the course

no Melanesian Society

of development, the fathers sister came to be distinguished from the wife of the mother’s brother, the marriage with the former continued in some places and not in others. That this is the true explanation seems to be indicated by the fact that the marriage has disappeared in Mota and Motlav, where we have such clear evidence of the great importance of the father’s sister ; it is noteworthy that the marriage with the father’s sister has persisted in Merlav and the Torres Islands where the dual organisation no longer exists. The explanation I have suggested seems to be the most probable ; it would seem as if the social conditions in certain islands have led to the disappearance of marriage with the father’s sister as this relative came to be distinguished from the wife of the mother’s brother, and as she came to acquire other special relations to¬ wards her nephew.

I have spoken above of the process of distinguishing the father’s sister from the wife of the mother’s brother ; I need hardly point out that the growth of this distinction must have been closely connected with the increasing recognition of the relationship of a father with his child.

Another anomalous marriage of Hiw is that with the brother’s daughter. I met with an example of this marriage in the first pedigree I collected in the Torres Islands, and later inquiry confirmed its correctness and made it probable that it was not an isolated case, though it must be left for further exact investigation to show how frequently it occurs.'

There is no indication that this marriage has ever been sufficiently habitual in Hiw to affect the system of relationship. In Loh, on the other hand, though the marriage does not now occur, there is one correspondence which is almost certainly connected with it. A woman calls the elder brother of her husband kwiliga , though only after her husband is dead. Since kwiliga is otherwise the term for the husband’s father, its use for the husband’s elder brother suggests that for some reason the elder brother had the status of a father, though the two relatives were distinguished in nomenclature. This would be a natural consequence of marriage with the brother’s daughter, if, as we should expect, a man married the daughter of his elder brother.

Further, if such a marriage were once practised in Loh, we can readily understand why a widow may not marry the elder brother of her deceased husband, for this brother might

Marriage with Brother s Daughter 1 1 1

be also her father. The marriage of a woman with any of the younger brothers of the husband, on the other hand, would be allowed, because such a marriage would only mean

a repetition of the practice which brought about her first marriage.

The only feature difficult to understand on this hypothesis is why the woman should call her husband’s elder brother kwiliga only after she becomes a widow. In accordance with the custom of Loh (see i, 183), we might expect that this term would act as a sign of ineligibility for marriage and foi sexual relations ; it might be supposed that such a sign would only become necessary when the woman again became eligible for marriage. One would have thought that the relationship of father and child should be sufficient for this purpose. If the explanation be on the lines I suggest, we are driven to suppose that the term kwiliga is a more efficient indication of the impropriety of marriage and of sexual relations than the terms for father and child.

Though this feature thus raises a difficulty, the nature of the nomenclature and the associated prohibition make it highly probable, not only that the marriage with the daughter of the elder brother was once practised in Loh, but that the marriage was so much a part of the established order as to have left its imprint on the system of relationship.

We have in such a marriage another important indication of the antiquity of matnlineal descent. Such a marriage would be out of the question if father and daughter belonged to the same social group. It was probably one of the later consequences of the dominance of the old men. I have sup¬ posed that the cross-cousin marriage came about through men giving their daughters in place of their wives to their sister’s sons. On similar lines, the marriage I am now considering suggests that they gave them to their younger brothers, and with such frequency in Loh that the marriage became part of the established social order.

The Torres Islands are also the seat of the cross-cousin marriage. It is clear that this form of marriage was fre¬ quently practised in H iw, but was exceptional in Loh. Further, in Hiw it was subject to certain restrictions, a man being only allowed to marry his cross-cousin when she had two elder sisters. It is from these islands that I obtained definite evi¬ dence of the practice of giving a daughter instead of a wife

which I have made so important a feature of my scheme of the evolution of the cross-cousin marriage (see n, 61). The case is not quite straightforward, for on my hypothesis it is the mother’s brother who should give his daughter in place of his wife, while the actual case of which I was told in the Torres Islands was that a man married the daughter of the father’s sister instead of the father’s sister herself ; but in face of the close connection between the father’s sister and the wife of the mother’s brother, it is not very rash to conclude that the practice I have assumed also occurs. In these islands, then, it is probable that we have in actual existence one of the processes by which I have supposed the cross-cousin marriage to follow as a late consequence of the dominance of the old men. It is very tempting to seek for an ex¬ planation of another special feature of the cross-cousin marriage in Hiw in this same dominance. In this island a man may only marry his cross-cousin if she has two elder sisters already married (i, 185). It is not unnatural to suppose that when a man began to give his daughter to his sister’s son in the place of his wife, he could do this more readily if he had several daughters and had already supplied the old men with their fair share. There would thus come into being the regulation that a man could only marry his cross-cousin when two had already been taken by the old men. A regulation which at first sight seems most difficult to understand, which in fact long seemed to me quite inex¬ plicable, is seen to be a natural consequence if the cross-cousin marriage has arisen as a further stage of development of the practice of handing over wives to the sisters’ sons.

If, at the time when the dominance of the old men was passing away, men gave their daughters, sometimes to their sisters’ sons and sometimes to their brothers, we can see how there has arisen the difference between the two islands of Loh and Hiw in regard to their prevailing forms of marriage. The marriage with the brother’s daughter still occurs in Hiw, but is only a feature of the past history of Loh, while the cross-cousin marriage occurs in both islands, but more fre¬ quently in Hiw, and it is only in this island that it has influenced the form of the system of relationship. These conditions suggest that in each island men once gave their daughters both to their brothers and their sisters’ sons, and that later there came about a divergence of practice, the

Marriage in Torres Islands 113

brothers being more frequently favoured in one island and the sisters’ sons in the other. In Loh, the practice of giving a daughter to the brother became established, while the sister’s son only occasionally received a wife in this way. In Hiw, on the other hand, daughters were given so frequently to the sisters sons that the cross-cousin marriage became sufficiently habitual to affect the system of relationship, the marriage with the brother’s daughter remaining a sporadic occurrence. The later disappearance of the marriage with the brother’s daughter in Loh may safely be ascribed to the development of ideas connected with the marriage of near relatives, which have not had so pronounced an effect in Hiw. The cross-cousin marriage, on the other hand, did not conflict with such ideas, and has therefore been allowed to persist. We have here an indication that the culture of Loh has reached a higher degree of development than that of Hiw.

Still another interesting feature of marriage in the Torres Islands may be pointed out. In my theoretical discussion of marriage in the Banks Islands, I have regarded it as probable that payments for a bride are only made when a man marries a woman other than the wife of his mother’s brother. I have supposed that these payments are connected with departure from one or other of the orthodox forms of marriage which have been the secondary consequence of the dominance of the old men. In the Torres Islands, this connection between payment and marriage with unrelated women is clear. A man who marries the daughter of his mother’s brother does not have to pay anything for her; Mr Durrad was told that a man especially desires to have his sister’s son as a son-in-law and will not look for payment.

The Santa Cruz Islands.

As I have already pointed out, the system of relationship obtained from Santa Cruz presents certain features which may indicate the former existence of marriage between persons of alternate generations. The use of descriptive terms for grandparents and grandchildren suggests that some condition was present which led to a need for new terms for these rela¬ tionships. Such a need would have been produced by the ambiguity of the older terms when there disappeared the

R. M. S. II. O

forms of marriage which have so strangely affected systems of relationship in other parts of Melanesia.

Similarly, the use of a descriptive term for the father’s sister suggests the former presence of marriage with this relative. If, as I suppose, marriage with the father’s sister stands in a definite relation to marriage with the wife of the mother’s brother, there is reason to suspect the former exist¬ ence of this kind of marriage in Santa Cruz.

There is no evidence at present for the cross-cousin marriage, but there is one feature of the system which points to marriage with the daughter of the elder brother. A woman addresses the elder brother of her husband as kandongi , a term which is also used for a father-in-law, and with this name there is associated a restriction on marriage of the same kind as in Loh. A widow may not marry the elder brother of her husband, though she may marry any of his younger brothers. As in Loh, these features would be the natural result of marriage with the daughter of the elder brother ; it would seem, therefore, that we have in them another survival of the former dominance of the old men.

Here, as in Loh, there is one feature which is not quite straightforward on this hypothesis. The term kandongi , used by a woman for the elder brother of her husband, is not, as we should expect, the term for the husband’s father, but is that applied by a man to his wife’s parents and to the wife of his mother’s brother. I have already suggested (n, 26) that kandongi is a term especially connoting avoid¬ ance and prohibition of marriage, and this suggestion receives support from its use for the husband’s elder brother ; a woman is not only prohibited from marrying this relative ; she may also neither see nor speak to him. It is probable, therefore, that kandongi is used for the elder brother of the husband in place of the imbungi which would be natural on my hypothesis, because the use of kandongi carries with it ideas and practices which are not connoted by the other term.

I may point out that these features of the Santa Cruz system, which bring it into relation to the system of Loh, have only been recorded in one district of the island. It is probable that there are variants in other parts of Santa Cruz and in other islands of the group.

There is one indication that none of the forms of marriage

Marriage in the Solomons 115

which I ascribe to the dominance of the old men are still practised in the Santa Cruz Islands. Payment for a wife is well established in Vanikolo. A native of the Banks Islands who had settled both in this island and in the Torres Islands had noted a great contrast in this respect, and had been especially struck by the buying of wives in Vanikolo and its absence in the Torres Islands. Similarly, the evidence of Joest and O Ferrall points clearly to the custom of payingfor a wife in Santa Cruz. It is possible that the practice may not be the same in different districts j but if I am right in supposing that payment for a wife indicates the cessation of marriage with relatives, we can conclude that these marriages do not now take place in many parts of Santa Cruz. It is only in the systems of relationship that we may expect to find evidence of their former existence.

The Solomon Islands.

The special interest of the eastern islands of this group is the undoubted existence of the cross-cousin marriage in one island, while its traces are to be found in the systems of rela¬ tionship of other islands where this form of marriage is not, so far as we know, practised at present. There can be little doubt that the cross-cousin marriage was once general among the coastal people of these islands, but has now probably dis¬ appeared everywhere except in Guadalcanar, marriage being otherwise regulated in the matrilineal region by clan-exogamy, and elsewhere probably by kinship, though in one part of Malaita there is evidence of local exogamy.

Corresponding to this disappearance of the cross-cousin marriage, there seems to be everywhere present the practice of purchase of wives. If the view I have advocated in the preceding pages be correct, it might be expected that nothing would be paid for the bride in the cases of cross-cousin marriage which still take place in Guadalcanar, but this is a point on which at present we have no information.

In the Western British Solomons marriage in general is regulated entirely by kinship, a man not being allowed to marry a woman with whom descent from a common ancestor can be traced, and this mode of regulating marriage is accom¬ panied by definite payment for a wife.

1 See Baessler, Neue Siidsee-Bilder , Berlin, 1900, p. 381.

2 Jo urn. Anthrop. Inst. 1904, xxxiv, 223.

8—2

ii6 Melanesian Society

Such marriages as those with the daughter s daughter and the brother’s daughter would be wholly excluded by the regulation that a man may not marry any woman with whom he can trace genealogical relationship, but the possibility of other peculiar forms of marriage, such as with the wife of the mothers brother or of the father’s father, would still remain possible. We have no direct evidence for the existence of these forms of marriage either in the present or the past, but there are certain features of the systems of relationship which suggest the former presence of a kind of marriage with which we have not met before.

In Eddystone the wife of the elder brother is called tina which is also the word for mother. According to some of my informants, the wife of the younger brother is also called tina, but according to others this woman should properly be called roa, which is otherwise a reciprocal term denoting parents- and children-in-law, and also the reciprocal relation¬ ship of wife’s sister and sister’s husband (w.s.).

The fact that the wife of the elder brother is classed with the mother suggests that for some reason the elder brother had the status of a father. In Loh and Santa Cruz, such status seems to have been the result of a form of marriage in which a man gives his daughter to be the wife of his younger brother. It is evident, however, that this cannot be the explanation of the Eddystone correspondence, for in this case the wife of the elder brother should be classed with the wife’s mother and not with the mother. Further, this form of marriage provides no explanation of the nomenclature lor the wife of the younger brother, whether this relative be called tina or roa ; in fact, the latter term would rather sug¬ gest that, if this kind of marriage had been in action, it was the elder brother who married the daughter of the younger. It is evident that we have to look elsewhere for the expla¬ nation of the Eddystone correspondences.

One of these correspondences would be the natural con¬ sequence of a practice in which a man married the wife of his father’s brother. In Eddystone at the present time a man calls his father’s brother’s wife tina , and since such a mode of nomenclature is universal in Melanesia, we can safely conclude that he called her by this term in the past. If a woman were married by her husband’s brother’s son, she would be, not only the tina of her husband, but also the tina of his brothers ;

Marriage in V dla Lavella 1 1 7

it therefore becomes perfectly natural that they should call her by this name. The uncertain point, whether it is only the wives of elder brothers or of all brothers who are called tina, would depend on whether it was only the elder sons of a family who married the wives of their father’s brothers or whether the practice extended to all the sons.

In the system of Vella Lavella there are a number of features which are evidently closely related to those of Eddystone and must have a similar origin. Here again, there is a doubt about the exact extension of the terms, but it is almost certain that the wives of both elder and younger brothers are classed with the mother, and that reciprocally, women class the brothers of their husbands with their children whether they be older or younger. Similarly, there is little doubt that a man calls all the sisters of his wife niania, thus classing them with his mother, while reciprocally women call the husbands of both elder and younger sisters menggora , the word otherwise used for a son or daughter. As we have seen, the classing of the brother’s wife with the mother would be the natural consequence of the marriage with the wife of the father’s brother ; if I am right in supposing that the wives of both elder and younger brothers are classed with the mother, it will follow that the condition was one in which this form of marriage was not limited to the elder brother. It is possible that the doubt as to the exact connotation of the term has arisen, both in this island and in Eddystone, through a limitation of the custom to the elder members of a family or its extension to all the members. At one time, earlier or later, it would seem that only the elder brothers received wives from their father’s brothers and that the younger brothers contracted some other form of marriage.

The classing of the wife’s sister with the mother would also follow from this form of marriage. If a man marries the wife of his father’s brother, whom previously to marriage he would have called niania , all her sisters would also be his niania, and it is natural that he should continue to call them by this name. On this assumption, there is no reason why there should be any distinction between the elder and younger sisters of the wife. It would not explain why the younger sister of the wife was sometimes called menggora , but this may either have been a mistake or the result of some later process of generalisation.

The terminology for relationship in Eddystone Island and Vella Lavella thus presents certain features which would follow from marriage with the wife of the father’s brother. We have, however, no direct evidence for this form of marriage, and the process by which it has been deduced from the terms of relationship is not so obvious as in the case of other marriages considered in this volume.

The system of the Shortland Islands recorded by Mr Wheeler1 has a correspondence which can be brought into relation with a form of marriage found elsewhere in Melanesia. In these islands a woman calls her husband’s father tua , this term being also used for the father’s father and the mother’s father. Similarly, the husband’s mother is called tete, the term used for the grandmother. If it be assumed that tua is primarily a term for the father’s father which has been extended later to the mother’s father, this correspondence would follow naturally from the marriage with the brother’s daughter. When a woman marries her father’s brother, her husband’s father will be one and the same person as her father’s father. The term for the husband’s mother would be explained in the same way, and these corre¬ spondences thus suggest the former existence of marriage with the brother’s daughter which is still the occasional practice of the Torres islanders.

The Buin system recorded by Dr Thurnwald2 presents a very interesting combination of certain features which would seem to be the obvious result of the cross-cousin marriage with other features which I believe to have been the result of marriage with the wife of the father’s father. An analysis by Mr W. J. Perry of the pedigrees recorded by Dr Thurnwald3 shows that the cross-cousin marriage is still practised in Buin, though only occasionally in a pure form. There is no evidence for the persistence of marriage with the wife of the father’s father, but this is only to be expected if the cross-cousin marriage has arisen here in the way I suppose it to have come into being elsewhere in Melanesia. If it be a secondary consequence of marriage with the wife of the mother’s brother, its presence implies so late a stage in the history of the dominance of the old men that it is hardly to

1 Arch, f Religionswiss. 1912, XV, 24.

2 Zeitsch. f vergl. Rechtswiss. 1910, xxili, 330.

3 Forschungen anf d. Salomo-Inseln u. d. Bismarck- Archipel, 1912, Bd. ill.

Marriage with Brothers Daughter 119

be expected that marriage with the wife of the father’s father would still be practised.

In the preceding pages I have not only reviewed the distribution of the various forms of marriage recorded in previous chapters, but have also discovered possible traces of a new form of marriage, viz. with the wife of the father’s brother. The further study of systems of relationship has also pointed to a wider distribution of the marriage with the brother’s daughter than has hitherto appeared.

I have already considered fully the marriages with the daughter’s daughter, the wife of the father’s father and the wife of the mother’s brother, and have shown that they have arisen out of a social system characterised by dominance of the old men. I have now to consider how far the other forms of marriage mentioned in this chapter can be brought into relation with this social condition. I shall also take this opportunity to consider the cross-cousin marriage more fully than I have hitherto done.

Marriage with the brother s daughter.

At first sight it would appear possible that this form of marriage might have arisen as part of the process whereby the monopoly of the younger women by the old men was originally established. When an old man wished to take a young woman as his exclusive possession, it would seem that it might have been especially easy for him to obtain the daughter of his brother. This, however, would imply that there was already in existence the recognition of the relation between father and child. I have supposed, however, that this recognition was relatively late in Melanesia, and the definitely matrilineal nature of early Melanesian society makes this mode of origin improbable.

The marriage would rather seem to fall into line with the cross-cousin marriage as a relatively late occurrence in the development of Melanesian society. In the case of the cross¬ cousin marriage, a definite motive was found in the desire to escape from the practice of giving a wife to the sister’s son, a daughter being given in her place. There is no reason to suppose that a similar motive can have led to the marriage with the brother’s daughter, for we have no evidence that it was ever an established custom for a man to give a wife to

a younger brother. Nevertheless, it is probable that the marriage was a feature of the decay of the dominance of the old men ; that as the practice of individual marriage spread from the old men throughout the community, one of the easiest ways in which a younger man could acquire a wife was through the readiness of his elder brother to give him his daughter.

I conclude, then, that in some parts of Melanesia it became an established custom for a man to give his daughter to his younger brother, either in the place of his sister’s son or in conjunction with her bestowal on this relative. The conditions in the Torres Islands suggest that men gave their daughters to both relatives, sometimes to one and sometimes to the other, and that one custom became more especially orthodox in Loh and the other in Hiw. It is possible also that both forms of marriage existed in the Shortlands, but that, as in Loh, it was the bestowal on the younger brother which became the more frequent practice, and that it was only this form of marriage which was sufficiently well estab¬ lished to imprint itself on the system of relationship.

Marriage with the wife of the fathers brother.

It has been shown in this chapter that the systems of Eddystone Island and Vella Lavella are characterised by certain correspondences which would follow from a form of marriage for which there is no evidence in any other part of Melanesia, viz., a marriage with the wife of the father’s brother. The first point to consider is how far it is possible to connect this form of marriage with the condition of geron¬ tocracy which I suppose to have been present in other parts of Melanesia. In order that this marriage should fall into line with the others ascribed to the dominance of the old men, it is necessary to suppose that, instead of giving wives to the sisters’ sons or to the sons’ sons, it became the estab¬ lished custom to give them to the brothers’ sons. Such a practice differs from all those hitherto considered in that it would be impossible in the dual system with matrilineal descent. In this form of social organisation a man and the wife of his father’s brother would necessarily be of the same moiety, and the marriage would be out of the question. Such a form of marriage, therefore, can only have arisen in a

Marriage with IVife of Fathers Brother 121

system with clan-exogamy if the descent in the dual system were patrilineal, or if there were more than two social groups, the marriage in the latter case being compatible with either line of descent. This raises the question whether this marriage, if it ever existed, belongs to the general scheme of development of Melanesian society which has been formulated in the preceding chapters. If it is to fit in with this scheme, we have to suppose that it is relatively late and only came into existence after the dual system had become modified by an increase in the number of social groups or by a change in the line of descent, or by a combination of both processes. The alternative view is that the marriage has been the result of some quite different line of social development. The culture of the western islands of the British Solomons is peculiar in many respects. It is the only part of Melanesia with which I am acquainted where the mother’s brother has no special functions in relation to his nephew, and it is probable that the course of social develop¬ ment has been widely different from that of other parts of Melanesia. I do not propose, however, to consider the matter minutely here. This can be done more profitably after Mr Hocart and I have published our full record of the culture of this region.

The cross-cousin marriage.

Most of the anomalous forms of marriage which have been described m this book have been recorded for the first time and are unknown, or not yet discovered, in other parts of the world, and in consequence there are no previous theories of their nature and origin to be discussed. One of these forms of marriage, however, is already well known, both in Melanesia and elsewhere, but the conclusions which have been reached in this volume concerning its mode of orio-in differ widely from those hitherto held.

The most generally accepted explanation of the cross¬ cousin marriage makes it the direct consequence of the dual organisation of society. If, in this form of social organisation, two persons of the same generation marry, they must before marriage stand to one another in the classificatory relation of cross-cousin ; it has been held that the whole matter is explained by supposing that these persons

122 Alelanesian Society

continued to marry after the dual organisation had disap¬ peared. The broad connection of this form of marriage with the dual organisation probably holds good, but in a far more complex and roundabout way than has been hitherto sup¬ posed.

I will begin by pointing out one difficulty in the way of the hitherto current explanation. In most places where we find the cross-cousin marriage, it would seem that the mar¬ riage usually takes place, not between cross-cousins in the classificatory sense, but with the daughter of the own brother of the mother or of the own sister of the father. If so, it is necessary to explain how the mere group-relationship, which is all that is implied in the marriage of a man of one moiety with a woman of the other in the dual organisation, deve¬ loped into the relationship of first cousin in our own narrow sense which seems to characterise this form of marriage, and no one hitherto has suggested any kind of social machinery by which this development can have taken place. I confess that, when dealing with the subject1 some years ago, the need did not even occur to me. One result of the discussion in this and preceding chapters has been to provide such a machinery. According to the scheme I have worked out, the cross-cousin marriage has not been a direct and immediate consequence of the dual organisation, but has been the ultimate effect of a series of events which have resulted, not from the dual organisation itself, but from a condition of dominance of the old men within such a dual organisation. According to rny scheme, the old men first gave their wives to their sisters’ sons, and then later gave their daughters instead of their wives, thus producing the cross-cousin marriage. If we suppose that an evolution in the relationship of a father to his child was taking place at the same time (and this is implied in the whole of my scheme), it becomes perfectly natural that the cross-cousin marriage should be one with a cousin in our narrow sense, i.e., with the own daughter of the own brother of the mother. It would have been to the son of his own sister that a man would most often give his daughter.

The distribution of the cross-cousin marriage in Melanesia is strongly in favour of its being a relatively late development. If it were a direct and immediate consequence of the dual organisation, we should expect to find it among those people

1 See Journ. Roy. Asiat. Soc. 190 7, 61 1.

Cross-cousin Marriage 1 23

who stand nearest to this form of society. On studying' its actual distribution we find the marriage in Fiji, and far more habitual among the advanced coastal peoples than among those of the interior, if it exist at all among the latter. It is found in Tanna and Aniwa1 in the New Hebrides, while the system of Anaiteum is clearly founded upon it, and these islands almost certainly possess the most advanced cultures of this group. Further, the cross-cousin marriage occurs in the Solomon Islands at present and has been still more prevalent in the past. On the other hand, the marriage is not found either in Pentecost or the Banks Islands which still possess the dual organisation, and though it is found in the Torres Islands, it is clear that it is to be explained on the lines of my scheme, and is not a simple and direct con¬ sequence of the dual organisation. It may perhaps be of interest to mention that I had worked out this distribution long before I had the smallest idea of the explanation I now adopt, for at this time the information given to me in Hiw was isolated and disregarded. It was the presence of the cross-cousin marriage among the people who seemed to be relatively advanced in culture which first disturbed my satisfaction with the older explanation, and it was only later that I was led to the explanation I now hold ; it was still later that, on reading through my Torres Islands material, I noticed the evidence in favour of my scheme which had until then failed to attract my attention.

Before leaving the subject of the cross-cousin marriage, I must remind my readers that, here as elsewhere in this book,

I am only dealing with the institutions of Oceania. I wish to leave entirely open what may have been the explanation of the cross-cousin marriage elsewhere. It is possible that, in India and other parts of the world, this form of marriage may have had a different origin ; if derived from the dual organisation, this may have been brought about in some more simple fashion than seems to have been the case in Melanesia.

One form of marriage found elsewhere may, however, be mentioned here, for its absence or rarity in Melanesia helps us to understand its nature. I refer to the practice of exchange whereby, when a man marries a woman, the brother of the woman marries the sister of the man, either at the

1 Gray, loc. cit.

same time or later. This custom occurs in Torres Straits1, but does not appear to be an established institution anywhere in the region of Melanesia dealt with in this book. Here and there, as in Vanua Lava, I have records of individual cases of such marriages, but so far as I know merely as sporadic occurrences, and Thurnwald has recorded its occur¬ rence in Buin2. This practice might well be the direct consequence of the cross-cousin marriage, for if people normally marry their first cousins according to this system, it must follow inevitably that brother and sister marry sister and brother. If, therefore, the practice of exchange has arisen out of the cross-cousin marriage, we should expect it to be frequent in Melanesia where there is so much evidence of the cross-cousin marriage having existed in the past, even when it is now absent. If my evidence is right in showing that exchange is not a regular institution of that part of Melanesia with which I deal, this mode of origin is unlikely, leaving as the alternative and probable explanation that such exchange is a means of escaping from the burden of the bride-price. A man avoids payment for his bride by giving or promising his sister to the brother of his proposed wife.

Payment for a wife.

The preceding review of the distribution of the different forms of Melanesian marriage suggests that this institution has undergone a progressive change from a condition in which it was orthodox and habitual to marry certain relatives to one in which marriage with relatives was wholly pro¬ hibited. At the same time, there seems to have come into being the custom of purchasing a wife which has gradually become more definite and habitual.

It is possible to formulate a scheme of the history of marriage in Melanesia which will bring these two processes into connection with one another. In the form of social organi¬ sation which I suppose to have accompanied the dominance of the old men, I have assumed that exogamy was already in existence. Whether this dual exogamous mechanism wholly regulated marriage, or whether there coexisted with it regula¬ tions prohibiting marriage with those very closely related, is

1 Rep. Camb. Exp. to Torres Str. V, 125.

2 Forschungcn..., Ill, 18.

Payment for a IVife

doubtful, but the absence of any evidence in Melanesia of marriage with the daughter, and the fact that a man seems to have married the granddaughter of his brother rather than his own granddaughter, make it probable that different degrees of kinship were recognised within the social group. Even at this stage, it is probable that marriage was not regulated solely by the exogamous mechanism, but that unions with certain near kin were prohibited or looked upon with disfavour. I have supposed that it became the custom in this early Melanesian society for a man to marry the daughters daughter of his brother, and that as a secondary consequence of this form of marriage, there came into existence the marriages with the wife of the father’s father and with the wife of the mother’s brother. I have supposed that the marriages with the daughter of the elder brother and with the cross-cousin came into existence still later, the latter as a modification of the marriage with the wife of the mother’s brother. When the two relationships of father’s sister and mother’s brother’s wife came to be differentiated, a differentiation due to the increasing recognition of fatherhood, it remained the custom in some places, according to my scheme, to marry the father’s sister.

Up to this point a wife would be chosen exclusively out of certain groups of persons belonging to the other moiety. So long as the normal and orthodox wife of a man was his daughter’s daughter, his grandfather’s wife, his maternal uncle’s wife, his elder brother’s daughter or his cross-cousin, it is probable that there was nothing which could properly be called payment for a wife. As soon, however, as the circle from which a wife could be chosen became wider, it is evident that complications would arise. If every woman is the potential wife of one of a definite group of men, it is clear that, when she marries some other man, there will be inter¬ ference with vested interests. It is natural to suppose that the man who would normally have been her husband, or the group of men from whom the husband would have been chosen, would suffer injury in the loss of a potential wife. The hypothesis naturally suggests itself that the bride-price was given as compensation for this injury. In one case, I was told definitely that payment for a bride is not expected if a man marries one who should normally be his wife, so that there is at least one piece of definite evidence in favour of the

hypothesis. There is, however, a great, if not insuperable difficulty in the way of its acceptance, viz., that the brideprice goes to the immediate relatives of the bride and to members of her own social group, and not to those who have been deprived of a potential wife. It is clear that if the bride-price were a recompense for the loss of a prospective bride, there must have been later developments which have obscured the original nature of the transaction. The balance of evidence is against the bride-price having had this origin, in spite of the fact that in one case at least the price is not paid when the old marriage custom is followed.

Place of residence.

One aspect of marriage, not hitherto mentioned, must be considered. Marriage is often spoken of as patrilocal or matrilocal, according as the married couple live at the home of the husband’s or the wife’s people, so that the children live at the place of their father’s or mother’s relatives respectively. We have already seen that the available evidence about the influence of locality on the social structure of Melanesia is far from complete, but there is little doubt it is usual throughout Melanesia for a married couple to live with the husband’s people. This is so in Pentecost where, as we have seen (1, 207), a bride is taken to her husband’s village, some¬ times even while she is still a child.

There is thus evidence that even in the part of Melanesia which has social institutions of the most archaic kind, there is no association of matrilocal marriage with matrilineal descent.

CHAPTER XXI

COMMUNISM

I have so far avoided the very thorny topic of group or communal marriage, and in the discussion of communistic sexual relations which follows, I propose to continue to avoid the use of the term “ group-marriage.” I shall deal first with sexual communism, meaning by this a social con¬ dition in which it is recognised as legitimate that sexual relations shall take place between a group of men and a group of women. Sexual communism may b.e of two kinds ; in one, sexual relations may take place between any man and any woman of the tribe ; in the other, they are limited by social groupings within the tribe. It has already been seen that, in the earliest condition of Melanesian society to which we have been led, there was definite exogamy, and all that we know of early culture suggests that such exogamic restrictions would have been associated with a corresponding limitation of sexual relations. It will therefore follow that at this time there could have been no question of general promiscuity. The problem for consideration is whether, at this or any later time, there existed a form of communism in which sexual rela¬ tions were allowed between certain groups of men and certain groups of women within the tribe.

When I have considered the subject of sexual communism, I shall turn to that of communism in property. Here again it is obvious that the communism can be of two kinds, in one of which property is common to the whole tribe, while in the other the common ownership is limited to social groups within the tribe.

Sexual communism in Melanesia .

In dealing with this subject I shall first consider any evidence for communism which may seem to be derived from the terms of relationship, and then pass on to the evidence for

the existence of actual communistic relations in Melanesia at the present time or in the recent past. Only after I have established the existence of such communism in the history of Melanesian society, shall I consider how far it can be regarded as a social institution to which the term “groupmarriage ” can properly be applied.

Certain features of the classificatory system of relationship have been often regarded as evidence in favour of sexual communism. In the systems of many parts of the world the wife’s sisters and the brothers’ wives (m.s.) are classed in nomenclature with the wife, and reciprocally, the sisters’ husbands (w.s.) and husband’s brothers are classed with the husband ; it has been supposed that this nomenclature is a survival of a time when the persons so classed with the wife and husband respectively were actually treated as such.

The classing of the wife’s sister and brother’s wife with the wife occurs in the Pek district of Vanua Lava and in one or two of the coastal systems of Fiji. It is also found in the svstems of Anaiteum and other of the southern New Hebrides, but not in Pentecost. Vanua Lava is probably one of the less advanced of the Banks Islands, but the fact that this feature is found in the relatively advanced systems of coastal Fiji and the southern New Hebrides, but not in Pentecost, suggests that it is not ancient.

It may also be noted that two of the regions possessing these correspondences are characterised by the existence of the cross-cousin marriage. One of the special features of this institution is that, even before marriage, the sisters of the woman who is later to be a wife will be potential wives. The wife is merely one of a class of women all of whom are specially qualified to become wives ; it is possible that the classing of these women with the wife may be merely the result of their innate qualification for marriage.

It is clear too that even at the present time the wife’s sister and the brother’s wife are potential wives in many parts of Melanesia, and the classing of the wife’s sister with the wife in Vanua Lava may also be nothing more than an indication of her status as a potential wife. At present this relative is only married after the death of the wife, but when polygyny was practised, there is reason to believe that she would have been the natural woman to marry as a second wife (1, 49).

Evidence from Nomenclature 129

The distribution in Melanesia of the correspondences in question thus lends no support to the hypothesis that they are survivals of sexual communism. They are more naturally explained as the result of the status of certain men and women as potential husbands and wives.

These correspondences, however, do not stand alone in Melanesia, but there are other features of its systems which may possibly have arisen in a communistic condition. In several parts of Melanesia the wife’s sisters and the brother’s wives are classed with the sisters. Though at first sight this practice may seem wholly remote from any imputation of communistic relations, another complexion is put on the matter if it be accepted that this mode of nomenclature has come about as a substitute for the practice of addressing these relatives by their personal names (see 11, 38). In the Banks Islands there are definite examples of transition from the use of the personal name to the classing with the sister. Thus, while in Rowa both wife’s sister and brother’s wife are addressed by name, they may in Merlav be addressed either by name or as sisters. Further, there is evidence that in the Torres Islands certainly, and perhaps in some of the Banks Islands, the use of the personal name implies the occurrence of sexual relations ; it therefore becomes probable that the practice of classing the wife’s sister with the sister and other similar correspondences furnish indirect evidence that sexual relations with certain women in addition to the wife or wives are recognised as legitimate.

Other features which suggest a communistic origin are to be found in the systems of the Banks Islands and Pentecost. In several of these islands there are terms used for a number of women who are potential wives. Thus, in Mota there are certain classes of relative who stand to one another in the relationships of mateima and welag. Those called mateima by a man are his brother’s wife, his wife’s sister, the wife of his mother’s brother and the wife of his sister’s son. Recipro¬ cally, those called welag by a woman are her husband’s brother, her sister’s husband and the sister’s son of her husband, while we may be confident that she would also apply this term to the mother’s brother of her husband, though I did not find out definitely that this is so. Since it is clear that the brother’s wife, the wife’s sister and the wife of the mother’s brother are all potential wives (see 1, 48),

r. m. s. II.

we may conclude with some assurance that the wife of the sister’s son was also a potential wife, and the mother’s brother of the husband was a potential husband. Again, the term lalagi is used in Pentecost in the same sense as the mateima of Mota, suggesting that in this island also the wife of the sister’s son was a potential, if not an actual, wife.

It has already been shown that it was once the custom for a man to give one or more of his wives to his sister’s son. If the terms, mateima and lalagi , denote a potential wife, it will follow that a man could also marry the wife of his sister’s son. Since it is certain that the sister’s son could marry his uncle’s wife, there would thus seem to be a reci¬ procal relation between the two relatives which suggests that they may once have had their wives in common, just as they still to a large extent have their other possessions in common. The nomenclature for these persons suggests that the mother’s brother shared his wife or wives with, rather than gave them to, his sisters’ sons. The case in favour of an origin of the reciprocal privilege in communism is perhaps strengthened by the fact that several of the women classed together as mateima in Mota are just those who in other of the Banks Islands are classed with the wife or sister or addressed by their personal names.

It cannot be said that any one of the features of nomen¬ clature I have been considering, standing alone, points in¬ dubitably to communism. One correspondence may perhaps seem to have been a more natural result of the cross-cousin marriage and another of the Levirate. It is only when they are taken as a whole that the probable interpretation seems to lie in their origin in a communistic condition, not one of general communism, but one in which groups of women were shared by certain groups of men.

This cumulative evidence is strongly reinforced by a feature of the system of Rowa. In this island I was told that the wife of the mother’s brother is called wunu mumdal, which was translated, “the wife of all of us.” This is an isolated statement ; until it has been confirmed, it would be dangerous to attach too much importance to it, but if it should turn out to be correct, it is difficult to see what it can mean if it does not point to sexual communism.

The Pentecost system contributes little evidence of the kind which I have supposed to point to communism in the

Evidence from Nomenclature 131

Banks Islands. The only term of interest from this point of view is lalagi which corresponds closely in its connotation to the mateima of Mota, being used for the wife of the sister’s son as well as for the wife of the mother’s brother. The fact that features suggestive of communism should seem to be less frequent in an island which we have been led to regard as especially archaic might be held to point to the relative lateness of these features, but in this connection it must be remembered that in the Banks I am able to compare a number of different systems, and that it is on such comparison that most of my conclusions have been based. To make the two regions really comparable, it would be necessary to have a number of systems from the northern New Hebrides, in¬ cluding perhaps variants of the system I recorded in Pentecost which may yet be found in that island. At present, all that can be done is to point out that the close resemblance in the connotation of lalagi and mateima suggests that any inference drawn from the use of the Banksian word will probably hold good also of Pentecost.

I may also mention here the forms of certain terms of relationship to which importance has been attached by Dr Codrington1 as evidence of communism. In the Mota language the terms for mother and for husband and wife are used in the plural form ; veve is the term for the moiety, ra is a plural prefix, and the mother is raveve. Similarly, soai is a word meaning a member or part of an organic whole, and rasoai is the term for the husband or wife. I was told that the prefix in the case of the mother and certain other relatives was a sign of respect and of especial nearness of relationship, but Dr Codrington is careful to point out that ra is evidently something more than a prefix of dignity and that its expression of plurality was definitely recognised by the people themselves. Similarly, the plural form of rasoai does not mean simply that the man and wife make up a composite body, a very natural interpretation since rasoai is a reciprocal term, but Dr Codrington states that the ascription of plurality was based on the fact that husband and wife are part of a composite body of married persons, this meaning being recognised by the people and acknowledged by them “with a Melanesian blush,’’ although they protested that the word did not represent a fact. In Pentecost also the word

1 M., 28.

9—2

for mother, ratahi , with the same plural prefix, means the sisters, and Dr Codrington supposes that the term originally meant the “sister members” of the moiety who are the mothers of the children.

In the foregoing account I have dealt only with inferences which may be drawn from the “ correspondences ” and certain other features of the nomenclature of Melanesian systems of relationship. One of these features, the use of the expression wunu mumdal in Rowa, points very strongly to a communistic condition, but the most that can be said for the rest is that they suggest the probability of an origin in an ancient condi¬ tion of sexual communism. In dealing with them I referred incidentally to the functional side of one feature, viz., the use of the personal name for the wife’s sister and the brother’s wife, and I now turn to the general consideration of this functional side of features which I have so far considered only as elements of the structure of systems of relationship. It is when we turn to the duties and restrictions associated with Melanesian terms of relationship that we meet with definite evidence for the existence of sexual communism, not merely in the past, but even at the present time.

The most conclusive evidence of this kind comes from the Torres Islands. In these islands a man must not address any of his wife’s relatives by name, and when speaking to them he must not use a word cha or ja which he uses when addressing his wife, and these are only special instances of a general regulation that he must not talk to these relatives familiarly. If a man is heard to address his wife’s sister by name or to say cha to her, it is at once concluded that sexual relations have taken place between the pair. Further, if there have been such relations, the man may no longer use the proper term of relationship for the woman with whom the relations have occurred. Thus, if a man has had sexual relations with his wife’s mother, whom in Loh he normally calls kwiliga , he must no longer use this term, but to the day of his death must address her and speak of her by her personal name. So far as I am aware, the connection between the avoidance of personal names and the potentiality of sexual relations has until now been mainly the hypothesis of the anthropologist ; I believe that this is the first occasion on which we learn definitely that it is not only an idea well known to the people who avoid the terms, but is a feature of

Avoidance

practical importance in their lives. It is evident that the possibility of sexual relations between a group of men and a group of women of considerable size is constantly present in the minds of the Torres Islanders, for the restrictions do not apply merely to the wife’s mother and sister and to the daughter’s and sister’s husband in our limited sense, but in that of the classificatory system. These practices with their associated beliefs furnish the strongest evidence in favour of the existence of a condition of communism which even now has not wholly disappeared.

In the Banks Islands the customs of avoidance are of the same kind as in the Torres group ; in some of the islands a man may not say the name of his wife’s mother nor may he speak to her and, if he has to pass, must not go near her. To the sisters of his wife he may speak, but must do so respect¬ fully, and he must not use certain expressions which he uses in addressing his wife. I could not discover that the avoid¬ ances of these islands are associated with a distinct idea of the possibility of sexual relations as in the Torres Islands, but this idea is definitely present in connection with the poroporo custom. The conversation related on pp. 45 — 6 of the first volume seems to owe its point to the general recognition by all who were taking part that the wife of a man’s brother is also the wife of the man. The joke would seem to be an example of “sailing near the wind” and double entendre. Nothing was openly said about the possibility of sexual relations between Charles and the wife of Nicholas, but it was the fact that everyone present was alive to this possibility which to the native mind made the humour of the situation. There can be little doubt that the joking and horseplay had a very deep-seated meaning to those who were indulging in it ; it is probable that every Banks Islander is well aware of the tradition attaching to the relationship between a man and certain women whom in one part of the group he still addresses as if they were his wives.

Since it is clear that the application of the personal name to a female relative of the wife in the Torres group signifies the actual occurrence of sexual relations, it is very significant that in these islands, especially in Hiw, and in Rowa in the Banks group, the wife’s sister is still addressed by her personal name. In Hiw this is almost certainly habitual, and we may therefore conclude that in this island sexual relations are

habitual also ; in other words, that sexual communism is still in existence in this island. Though the wife’s sister may also be addressed by name in Loh, she is more generally called chiochiok , the term otherwise applied by a man to his sister ; as I have suggested (n, 38), this is probably a means of emphasising the cessation of sexual relations by classing the wife’s sister with one whose relationship positively prevents, not only the possibility of sexual intercourse, but also its ascription by others.

A striking feature of the conditions in the Torres Islands is the close connection which seems to exist in the minds of the people between speech and sexual intercourse, and it is noteworthy that a similar idea is shown in one of the features of the marriage procedure of Pentecost. So long as a wife does not speak to her husband in this island, sexual inter¬ course does not take place. It only becomes possible when the wife has spoken, and this may be delayed for years (1, 209).

I can now consider in more detail the feature of systems of relationship whereby relatives by marriage are addressed as brothers or sisters. In Loh in the Torres, and in Merlav in the Banks Islands, the wife’s sister may be addressed by the same term as a sister, i.e., chiochiok or tatak , and a hus¬ band’s brother by the same term as a brother, tigik or tatak. It is of course possible that this is merely an example of laxity such as makes a Melanesian use for his sister a term which should properly be used between those of the same sex. If we consider, however, under what conditions the wife’s sister is classed with the sister in Melanesia, it becomes probable that it is not the result of laxity, but has a very definite social meaning.

In Hiw, the less advanced of the Torres Islands, it has in the past been normal for a man to have marital relations with his wife’s sister and, as we have seen, there is little doubt that this is still the case at the present time ; in con¬ sequence he addresses this relative by name. In another island of the same group, Loh, a man either addresses the wife’s sister by name or by the word chiochiok, which he also applies to his sister. Further, if a man addresses his wife’s sister familiarly, he falls under the suspicion of having sexual relations with her. I have suggested that if a man wishes to make it absolutely certain to all that such relations have not

A voidance

taken place, there is no way in which he can do so more surely than by calling this relative his sister. It is very significant that the Torres Islands should be the seat of this direct transition from a condition in which the wife’s sister is addressed by her personal name to one in which she is classed with the sister. The fact that in these islands a usage signi¬ fying the occurrence of sexual relations has passed directly, when these relations are forbidden, into a classification with the sister can hardly be explained in any way but that which I have suggested.

Before leaving the subject of avoidance, one word of caution may be said. In pointing out the association of certain customs of avoidance with the possibility of sexual relations, it must not for an instant be supposed that all customs of avoidance have this significance or have had their origin in sexual communism. Such a proposition is nega¬ tived at once by the fact that customs of avoidance closely resembling those between a man and his wife’s female relatives also occur between persons of the same sex. Customs of avoidance between various relatives in general probably had an origin depending on some fundamental feature of social structure in which both sexes were involved. All that I wish to point out now is that, whatever may have been the original starting point of these customs, there is the clearest evidence of an association between them and the potentiality of sexual relations, and as the avoidance concerns definite groups of men and women, there is implied the possibility of sexual relations between these groups. The more fundamental character of these customs must be considered elsewhere, but I may point out here their probable connection, in the Banks Islands at any rate, with the condition of hostility between the members of the two moieties of the community (see 1, 22).

Thus far we have seen that the community of designation for certain men and women which has so often been considered a survival of sexual communism is actually accompanied in the Torres and Banks Islands by certain customs which point clearly to such communism in the recent past, and in some cases to the existence of the condition at the present time. Sexual communism has been demonstrated for these islands, but it remains uncertain whether this communism is a mere occasional occurrence, perhaps even a late development,

or whether it was an ancient and organised system. If only a recent development, there is no reason to suppose that it would be accompanied by community of children. If, on the other hand, the sexual communism has been an orga¬ nised system, we should expect that there would also have been community of children. Such community has been often inferred from the general features of the classificatory system and, as I have pointed out elsewhere1, this corollary of community of children has formed one of the greatest diffi¬ culties in the acceptance of an organised system of sexual communism as a feature of the history of human society.

It seems possible that in the widespread adoption of the Banks Islands (see 1, 50) we have such a relic of community of children. In the article to which I have just referred,

I suggested that the widespread and apparently motiveless practice of adoption found in the islands of Torres Straits may possibly have been such a survival, and in the Banks Islands we have a condition which differs very little from actual community itself. In these islands it would seem as if parents have little, if any, more right to their children than any other persons. The father has the advantage of being on the spot to make the necessary payment, or plant the bough of cycas, or arrange for the giving of the first food, but if for any reason he is unable to avail himself of this advantage, any other person may take his child. The fact that he can recover his child by means of certain payments, and the payments made to him at various times, show that the rights of the real parents are recognised, but though the rights of recovery are recognised theoretically, they are so hedged about with conditions that they can rarely be realized. Every advantage seems to be put on the side of the adopting parents.

It is a fact that certain definite motives are now assigned for the practice of adoption in the Banks Islands, but it is very doubtful whether these are not recent inventions to ex¬ plain an established institution. The wish to keep property in the family is almost certainly such a recent invention, for there is much evidence in these islands of communism in property. Moreover, the mere absence of honour pertaining to a childless couple could never account for so widespread and deep-seated a custom ; it may explain why at the present

1 Anthropological Essays presented to E. B. Tylor , 1907, p. 317.

i37

Community of Children

time a childless couple wish to adopt a child, but it cannot explain their success. This only seems possible if, at the time the customs arose, there were in existence a very lax bond between people and their children, a relation between them fundamentally different from that of higher cultures where the family and all that it implies have been fully developed. If, on the other hand, we suppose that community of children once existed, we should have the basis for the ex¬ planation of the state of things now present in the Banks Islands. The customs which have been recorded would indicate the mechanism by means of which the social bond between parents and children was set up.

About one thing at the present time there can be little doubt. Although there is matrilineal descent in the Banks Islands, it is clear that the special relation set up between parents and children is, in two of the islands at any rate, Mota and Merlav, due to the act of the father. This sug¬ gests that the whole set of customs may have arisen as part of the gradual recognition of the relation of father and child ; that the customs are the result of a commencing change in the mode of descent rather than a survival of communism, but this would ignore the fact that in adoption the mother loses her child just as much as the father. The especial role of the father suggests that the emergence from communism was connected with the recognition of the relation of a father to his child, but the latter factor alone cannot explain the whole institution.

It is perhaps significant that in Motlav, where the special act of adoption is performed by the would-be mother, the real mother is deprived of her child at once and is on no account allowed to suckle it. Here it seems that women are chiefly concerned, and the respective fathers play a small part in the institution. It seems probable that while the recogni¬ tion of the relationship of father and child has been one factor in the development of the institution, it has not been the only or indeed the chief factor.

Before accepting the view that the Banks custom of adop¬ tion is a relic of community of children, it is necessary to seek for possible alternative explanations, and one custom has been recorded in the Torres Islands which may be suggested as affording such an alternative. In these islands it is said that if a woman gives birth to a child of a sex other than she has

desired, she will strangle the child unless someone should intervene and say “Do not do that!” in which case the speaker becomes the adoptive parent of the child and must provide it with food till it grows up. This custom suggests that adoption may have arisen as a secondary consequence of infanticide, but the infanticide recorded in this example is not habitual, and it is most unlikely that an occasional whim of the mother should lead to such a deep-seated practice as that of the Banks Islands. Even if there were evidence that infanticide had been habitual, it is far from easy to see how the general features of the institution should have arisen ; if a person adopts a child to save it from death, it is too much to expect that he should also make extensive payments to those who had wished to kill it.

The institution as a whole with its payments at various ages is complex, and the survival of community of children cannot afford a complete explanation. All that I wish to point out is that it shows the existence of ideas concerning the relation of parent and child very different from those customary among ourselves, and from those which have been supposed by Darwin1 and others to be fundamental in human nature.

The Banks Islands, even with their relatively advanced culture, seem to show a fundamental state of acting, if not of feeling, towards offspring which, however complicated by other factors which have influenced the history of the institu¬ tion, is difficult to understand on any other basis than one of early community of children. We have seen (1, 53) that what we call the ‘ natural ’ affection of parent for child is by no means lacking at the present time, but here, as so often, the force of social custom is far stronger than individual feelings. A custom so persistent is most naturally to be ex¬ plained if this force of social custom is founded, and still has its roots, in a past state of society in which the individual relationship of parent and child was not socially recognised ; one in which at birth or weaning the child left its mother and became no more to her than to any other woman of her moiety of the community.

Before leaving the subject of adoption, attention must be called to one difficulty in the way of the view which has just been advanced. It is remarkable that this high degree of

1 Descent of Man, 1871, vol. 11, p. 359.

Birth-customs and Communism 139

laxity in the relation of parents and children should be found in so advanced a people as those of the Banks Islands, and especially of its more advanced islands such as Mota. At present we have no knowledge of such customs among the less advanced people of the northern New Hebrides, but this may be due only to lack of information. If further research should show that this laxity does not exist in the New Hebrides, it will be necessary to reconsider the position advanced in the preceding pages. There is no doubt that there has been relatively recent Polynesian influence in the Banks Islands, and adoption is well known to be a prevalent and widespread Polynesian custom. The possi¬ bility would have to be considered whether the laxity of the Banks Islands may not have been in some way due to Poly¬ nesian influence, though I confess I am quite unable to suggest how such an influence can have had this result. Even, however, were this the case, my argument, though weakened, would not be very gravely affected, for it would be inconceivable that an external influence could produce such a state of things as that found in the Banks Islands if the bond between parents and children had been very close. The fact that an external influence could have produced such a result points to an absence or weakness of that close tie which has usually been supposed to be so fundamental in human nature.

There are other customs following birth in one at least of the Banks Islands which may possibly be connected with an ancient condition of community of children.

In the island of Motlav, and similar customs probably exist elsewhere in the group, all the women of the island assemble in the house where a woman has been delivered of her first-born child. At the end of twenty days a ceremony is performed in which the women sit in a circle and the child is handed round to them, each woman holding the child for a time, after which it is returned to the mother (see 1, 148). Taken alone this custom might seem to be no more than a general recognition of the addition of a new member to the community, but when considered in the light of the evidence afforded by the practice of adoption, it suggests a survival of a condition in which all the women of the community had the right to assist in the care and nurture of the child, a right which is now satisfied ceremonially by each woman being

allowed to hold the child for a time. As we shall see later, a similar handing round occurs when a canoe is used for the first time, and there is reason to believe that this custom may be a survival of community of property.

I have so far dealt with the evidence for sexual com¬ munism in the Torres and Banks Islands and in Pentecost. In the Solomons such evidence is entirely absent. There are no examples of nomenclature suggesting community of wives, and in most parts of the Solomons there is even a singular dearth of the customs of avoidance between rela¬ tives by marriage which in southern Melanesia so definitely suggest communistic relations. In the part of the Solomons which I know best, Eddystone Island, sexual relations before marriage are very general and are the subject of social regu¬ lations which show that they are recognised as legitimate and even orthodox. After marriage, however, relations with any but the consort are strictly prohibited, and customs of avoid¬ ance between relatives by marriage which might indicate the possibility of wider relations are completely absent. Indi¬ vidual marriage in these islands seems to have reached an exceptionally high degree of development.

In an earlier chapter it has been shown that the anomalous marriages of Melanesia, either actually present or shown by the systems of relationship to have existed in the past, are the result of a dominance of the elders. It has now been shown that there is abundant evidence from one part of Melanesia of community of women, and possibly of children also. In trying to bring these two conclusions into relation with one another, there seem to be two chief possibilities ; one, that the sexual communism of which we have definite evidence in Melanesia is merely a secondary result of the dominance of the old men ; the other, that the communism is even more ancient than this dominance, and that the dominance was perhaps a factor in the transition from communism to individual marriage. Let us take each of these possibilities in turn.

It is possible that the communistic sexual relations of Melanesia may have been merely the result of dominance of the old men and of their monopoly of the young women. If relatively few women were handed over by the old men to their sisters’ sons and their sons’ sons, the younger men may

Communism and Gerontocracy 141

have been driven to share their women with one another, thus bringing the communism into existence. Since men would naturally share their wives with members of their own moiety and of their own status, i.e., with those they call brothers, it becomes natural that the term for brother’s wife should be one of those which shows such evident traces of communistic relations. It is not, however, so natural that a wife’s sister should be classed with the wife, and the almost universal feature of Melanesian systems whereby, when the brother’s wife (m.s.) is classed with the wife, the wife’s sister is also classed with her is one of the difficulties for this hypothesis.

It is, however, when we pass from the evidence for com¬ munistic sexual relations to that for community of children that this hypothesis seems to break down. If the old men took the young women as wives, the majority of children born into the community must have been nominally, if not really, the children of the old men. Since, according to the hypothesis now under consideration, the old men had no motive for indulgence in communistic relations, there is no reason why community of children should ever have become an organised system. It must be noted that the evidence for community of children in Melanesia is far less strong than that for sexual communism, but in so far as further evidence supports the ancient existence of community of children in Melanesia, by so much will the hypothesis that the communism has been a consequence of the dominance of the old men be weakened. As the evidence stands at present, there are grave difficulties in the way of the view that the sexual communism of Melanesia has been the secondary consequence of the monopoly of women by the old men. I therefore turn to the second possibility that the communism is more ancient than the dominance of the old men. This is obviously not a matter capable of direct demonstration, but if it is possible to show that the dominance of the old men furnishes a mechanism through which an ancient condition of communism became transformed into one characterised by individual marriage, a probability will have been created in favour of the view in question.

In considering this problem let us again take as our starting point a society organised on the dual basis with matrilineal descent, with the classificatory system already developed in its main features, and with the recognition of

generations and of the different status of the members of these different generations, and yet without the institution of individual marriage. We shall, thus, be assuming a condition far removed from that which has often been assumed in dis¬ cussions on the early stages of human society, viz., one in which the only differentiation is into two groups, in which the men of one group have sexual relations indiscriminately with the women of the other group.

In such a community let us suppose the beginnings of an impulse towards individual sexual relations which on the emotional side will take the form of sexual jealousy. Let us suppose further that this first becomes effective in the case of the old men ; that owing to some cause, probably the general belief in their magical powers, they are able to keep certain women for themselves. There can be little doubt that, in such a case, it would be the younger women whom they would select. At this stage, the women of the com¬ munity would fall into two categories : those still living in a state of communism, and those who are the individual wives of the old men. Such a movement once begun would un¬ doubtedly progress. The desire for individual wives would be present among the younger men also, but owing to the dominance of the old men and their monopoly of the women, it would not be possible to satisfy it. When the death of an old man released his wife or wives, there would be so many younger men unmated that the communistic relations would have to continue.

When it became the custom for the older men to hand over one or more of their wives to their sisters’ sons or to their sons’ sons in the way already fully considered, the need for wives would still be so great at first that com¬ munistic relations would continue, but they would now be limited to those of the man’s own generation and status, so that at this stage of development the communistic relations would be confined to those who would be equivalent to the brother’s wives or wife’s sisters.

We have in this scheme a natural and probable mechanism for the transition from communistic to individual relations between men and women. The movement would begun with the more powerful old men and gradually spread through the community. The communistic relations which would continue longest would be those between members of

1 43

Communism later than the Family

the same generation — between a man and his brother s wives and his wife’s sisters — and, as we have seen, it is in these relationships that we have the clearest evidence of the recent existence of communistic relations in Melanesia.

In this hypothetical sketch of the evolution of individual marriage in Melanesia I have assumed the recognition of generations and of difference of status among the members of these different generations. How these are to be ex¬ plained is a much more difficult matter into which I cannot enter here. Further, I have assumed a dual division and how this dual division arose is again a most difficult matter into which I do not now propose to enter. I have confined my discussion to features of social structure for the existence of which I have either definite evidence, or which furnish the most satisfactory explanation of the facts recorded in this book. On one of the problems just raised I should, how¬ ever, like to make a few remarks. It seems to me most probable that the definite recognition of generations and of the simple and more direct consanguineous relationships is the result of an antecedent stage of society which was founded on the family. According to this view, the communism which has been assumed to exist in Melanesia is a later growth. Any endeavours to develop the recognition of generations and of the chief features of the classificatory system from the promiscuous horde meet with such difficulties that I am inclined to think that these must have had their origin in a state of society based on the family. This, however, is a matter going so far back into the beginnings of human society, so far certainly as to be anterior to anything indi¬ cated by the Melanesian evidence, that I do not feel it is my duty to enter on a full consideration of the subject here.

1 need only mention one feature of my scheme which be¬ comes easier to understand if group-relations and communism have been a later development of an original state of society founded on the family. One difficulty of the scheme I have proposed is in seeing why the impulse towards individual marriage should ever have arisen. If man had always been promiscuous, why should such a condition as sexual jealousy have come into existence ? Why should men, young or old, ever have begun to wish to have women to themselves ? It may be answered that, as other kinds of individual property developed, the idea that women might be private property

also arose and grew. But this is only putting the difficulty farther back, for why should the desire for individual pro¬ perty have arisen ? It is a question whether the develop¬ ment of the idea of individual property in general is earlier or later than that of the private possession of women, at any rate in Melanesia.

On the hypothesis of original promiscuity, we seem driven to the supposition that there arose in man at a certain stage some unexplained mutation whereby sexual jealousy came into existence. If, however, we suppose that there was in the background all the time, even when communism in women was most pronounced, the desire for individual relations which had been present when man lived in small family groups, the difficulty disappears. This latent desire had no means of coming to the surface, but was suppressed by stronger emo¬ tions and sentiments till there came about for some reason a definite dominance of one section of the community. It may seem to some unnatural that this desire for the exclusive possession of women should have come to the surface first in the old men. It might be supposed that, as sexual desire is stronger in the young, jealousy might be expected to show itself first in them. What I suppose, however, is not that the desire for individual relations first arose in the old men, but that it was the old men who first acquired the power necessary for the satisfaction of the desire. Here again it may be objected that it is unnatural that the power necessary for the satisfaction of such a desire should first be acquired by the old rather than by those in the full vigour of their strength. This objection, is only possible on the part of those who ignore the enormous power of magic and the vast part which it plays in Melanesian society. If the scheme I have advanced represents the actual course of events, there can be little doubt that it has been the belief in the magical power of the elders which played the chief part in the pro¬ duction of their dominance. If I am right, we have here a good example of the part that magic can play directly or indirectly in social development. By giving power to the old men, magic may have formed a most important factor in the process whereby among the Melanesians individual marriage developed out of sexual communism.

So far I have written of sexual communism and of the transition from this condition to one in which sexual relations

“ Group-marriage ”

are limited to individual men and women, a transition to the condition we find in Melanesia at the present time, where there is undoubtedly present that special bond between a single man and a single woman which may be regarded as individual marriage. In passing to consider how far this condition of sexual communism may be called group-marriage, it will be well to consider what is meant by marriage.

The institution of marriage has two great functions ; it is the means of regulating sexual relations, and it is the means of regulating descent, inheritance and succession. In civilised communities the former function is so predominant in the minds of most, and especially in the minds of the non-legal, that it is perhaps rarely recognised that at lower levels of culture the latter function is at least equally, and probably more, important. When the history of marriage has been fully traced out, it will almost certainly be found that its function as a regulator of descent, inheritance and succession has played the chief part, and that its function in the regulation of sexual relations remained indefinite long after the institu¬ tion had reached a high degree of definiteness as a regulator of other social relations. In other words, the primary and fundamental function of marriage is the determination of the place which each newly born individual is to take in the social structure of the community into which he or she is born.

If, taking this as our guide, we consider how far it is proper to speak of marriage in a community in which all the men of one social group have sexual relations with all the women of another social group, and in which the children born of the women of a group are held to be, for social pur¬ poses, the children of all, there can be no question of either inheritance or succession, while descent or membership of the social group would be necessarily quite independent of real paternity. In such a community, membership of the social group would depend entirely on the status of the mother ; it would have just the same degree of definiteness if it were believed that the birth of children was wholly independent of sexual relations.

If, therefore, we are to regard the determination of social status as the essential function of marriage, it seems clear that the group-relations I have assumed can hardly be regarded as marriage. I prefer, therefore, not to use the term “groupmarriage,” but to speak only of sexual communism.

IO

Communism of property in Melanesia.

I have now to consider how far there is evidence of com¬ munity of property in Melanesia, either at present or in the past. Here, we have not merely customs which may indicate communism in the past and its possible persistence in an attenuated form at present, but it is clear that definite communism of property still flourishes in one form or another throughout Melanesia.

In Pentecost it was definitely stated that, not long ago, all property was owned by the verana , or social group within the moiety, and that this communistic ownership still persists in the case of canoes. While there is thus definite evidence of communistic ownership, its exact nature remains doubtful. I was able to discover very little about the verana , which seems to be an important feature in the regulation of owner¬ ship ; until we understand the nature of this social grouping, the nature of the communism associated with it must remain obscure.

In the Banks Islands, it is clear that individual property in land and goods exists at present, but there is much to sug¬ gest that formerly land at least was largely held in common. One of the most striking features of the history of the plot of land which I have given in Chapter II is that the part of the plot which remained common to the whole family was never the subject of quarrels, while the plots allotted to indi¬ viduals were a continual cause of strife. This state of affairs only becomes natural if the ideas and habits of the people are adjusted to communal rather than to individual owner¬ ship. My own investigations touched merely the fringe of the subject, but I have little doubt that a full inquiry into the land-tenure of these islands would reveal that even now it rests largely on a communistic basis.

At the present time, other forms of property in the Banks Islands seem to be owned chiefly by individuals and to be inherited by the children or the sisters’ children, and I have no direct evidence of communistic ownership. There are, however, certain features of ceremonial which may be sur¬ vivals of communism. I have supposed that the ceremony called rave epa is connected with the former inheritance by the sister’s son, but it is possible that some of its features may have arisen in a wider ownership. A ceremony very

1 47

Communism in Property

suggestive of communistic ownership is that in which a canoe is passed round to each man of a group. The ceremony resembles that in which a baby is handed round to each of a group of women ; just as I have supposed this to be a relic of community of children, so does it seem that the passing round of the canoe may be a survival of its former common ownership, a form of ownership still found in the neighbouring Pentecost the culture of which is so closely allied to that of the Banks Islands.

I have no information about property from either the Torres or the Santa Cruz Islands, and my only satisfactory evidence from the Solomons comes from the island of Eddystone with its relatively advanced culture. Here it is a striking fact that, side by side with the existence of individual marriage in a most definite form, there still exists a large degree of community in the ownership of land. No piece of garden-ground on the island can be said to be the property of an individual, but land is free for the use of any of the group of persons who call one another taviti . On superficial inquiry a man will tell you that a given piece of land is his and that it has come to him from his lather or his mother, but on going into, the matter more deeply, it will be found that his rights to it are shared with all the taviti of his father or mother respectively, any of whom have the right to use it as a garden without asking the permission of the rest. Communal ownership in land may thus be said still to exist on this island, though the land is not common to a social group which can be regarded as a clan, but belongs to a group of persons brought into relationship with one another by kinship, i.e., by being able to trace genealogical relationship with one another. Other kinds of property in this island are largely owned by

individuals, though even here there are indications of a wider ownership.

There thus appears to be a striking contrast between northern and southern Melanesia in the degree of development of individual relations connected with marriage and property. There is no question that Eddystone Island approaches more nearly to individual marriage, there being few customs which can be regarded even as relics of sexual communism, while in respect of property, and especially landed property, it is still largely communistic. In southern Melanesia, on the other hand, individual property in land is clearly

I

recognised, though complicated by many practices which bear witness to communistic ideas. And yet marriage among the more southern people of the Banks and I orres Islands still shows clear traces of sexual communism, even if such com¬ munism does not still exist. If there has been a progres¬ sive movement from communism towards individualism, the Solomon Islanders appear to have made by far the greater advance towards individual marriage, while the Banks Is¬ landers have made more progress towards the realisation of

individual ownership of property.

In the first part of this chapter I have suggested a motive for the origin and development of the change from commu¬ nistic sexual relations to individual marriage. I have sup¬ posed that it was the dominance of the old men which enabled them to be the first to set up relations with individual women, and that it was only later that such individual relations spread through the whole population. By an extension of this hypo¬ thesis, it may be suggested that it was also the old men who were first able to reserve land or goods for their own use and thus create the institution of individual ownership. Further, as individual marriage brought in its train the recog¬ nition of the relation between father and child, a natural result would be the transmission of this individual property from the old men to their children.

There is, however, an insuperable objection to this process having been in action, at any rate in this simple way. On this hypothesis there should have been a direct transition from communal ownership to inheritance by the children ; there is no room for inheritance by the sisters’ children. If individual ownership of property in Melanesia has developed out of an earlier condition of communism, it is clear .that this must have taken place by means of some process in which inheritance by the sisters children formed an intermediate link in the chain of development. The individual marriage of the old men alone is inadequate as a motive for such a process. If the development of individual ownership has been a product of Melanesian gerontocracy, we seem driven to suppose that the old men were able to keep property for their own use long before their monopoly of the women began, and that it was during the interval between the origins of the two forms of individual possession that the custom of transmitting such individual property to the sisters’

Communism and social groupings

children came into being. It may be noted that at this time the sisters’ children of a man would be all the members of his social group of the generation following his own ; if at this time the moiety were the only kind of social group, the sisters’ children would be all the members of the moiety of this generation. It is possible that the Pentecost verana and the divisions of the veve of the Banks Islands furnish a mechanism by means of which in¬ heritance by all the members of the moiety of a certain generation became limited to those standing in certain nearer relationships. In other words, it is possible that the verana and similar groupings within the moiety have come into existence as the means of setting a limit to communistic ownership, and are a product of the process whereby individual ownership developed out of communism.

CHAPTER XXII

FUNCTIONS OF RELATIVES

Before I leave the survey of systems of relationship as elements in the social structure and pass to the linguistic comparison of the terms of which they are made up, it may be useful to consider the various privileges, duties and restric¬ tions associated with relationship.

Some of these have already been considered from certain points of view. The comparative survey of Chapter XVI has shown that there is a definite connection between these functions of relatives and the degree of complexity and richness in terminology of Melanesian and Polynesian sys¬ tems : the more rich and complex systems are those in which functions connected with relatives abound, while the systems whose nomenclature is poorest are found in places where special functions connected with ties of kinship are either completely absent, or few and unimportant. Further, it has been shown that where certain complexities are found in an otherwise simple system, these can be connected with definite functions. It has been shown that the more simple systems are found in the more advanced communities, and it has been inferred that the loss in complexity and richness which is found to accompany advance of culture has been directly connected with the disappearance of functions of kin which had at one time existed. It has also been shown that certain functions associated with relatives by marriage are to be con¬ nected with sexual communism.

It remains to consider certain other aspects of these functions, aspects which bring them into relation with features of social structure, either in the present or the past. Before proceeding farther, however, it will be well to point out that the number of the functions which I have recorded from different parts of Oceania is partly dependent on the nature

Functions of Parents 1 5 1

of my work. Examples of such functions are usually dis¬ covered while investigating the various activities to which they belong, so that a full record can only be reached by a complete and intensive investigation in which the whole field of activity of a people is covered. Most of the facts recorded in this book were collected during a rapid survey, and certainly form a far from complete record. Thus, it is probable that the great number of functions of relatives recorded in the Banks Islands as compared with Pentecost Island or the Torres group is due to the fact that my work covered a wider field in the first named society. On com¬ paring southern Melanesia with the Solomons, Fiji and Polynesia, however, it is clear that the whole difference is not to be thus explained. For example, the intensive work of Mr Hocart and myself in one region of the Solomons showed that these functions hardly exist.

The functions of various relatives will now be considered in the same order as in Chapter XVI.

Parents and children .

One of the chief interests of the facts which have been considered in this volume has been the clear demonstration of the importance of the father in the various matrilineal com¬ munities whose terms and functions of relationship have been recorded. It is clear that at the present time, and probably for long past, kinship with the father has been fully and clearly recognised. When, as in the Banks Islands, we have evidence of an attitude towards the relationship of parent and child very different from our own, this usually concerns the mother as much as the father. If any argument concerning the social relations of parents and children is to be drawn from the customs of adoption of the Banks Islands, it is as much in favour of lack of recognition of physical motherhood as of physical fatherhood. There are, however, here and there customs which indicate that the close relation with the father did not at one time exist. Thus, the Mota custom which forbids a man and his father to eat together, and the clear evidence that a father who injures his own child thus incurs a serious responsibility towards his brother-in-law, the mother’s brother of the child, point to a relation between father and child very different from that associated with the individual family.

JS2

Melanesian Society

Brothers and sisters.

In most of the places considered in this volume nothing was discovered of special importance concerning this relation¬ ship. Only in three places1, Lepers’ Island or Omba in the northern New Hebrides, Guadalcanar in the Solomons, and Fiji, do we know of a definite custom of avoidance between brother and sister. In the Banks Islands, however, there are certain limitations in the custom of poroporo when practised between brother and sister which are possibly to be regarded as survivals of such avoidance. In Lepers’ Island a brother and sister do not see one another after puberty, and the avoidance is so emphatic that it persists even after death (see i, 213). In Guadalcanar a man may not be in the same house as his sister, nor may he take anything directly from her. The Fijian avoidance has been often described and was not especially investigated by me. At the present time it has largely disappeared, but I gained the impression that it had never been so pronounced a custom among the inland tribes of Viti Levu as many records show it must have been among the people of the coast.

The resemblance with the avoidances practised between relatives by marriage is obvious. Since we have the clearest evidence that the avoidance of relatives by marriage in Melanesia is connected with the possibility of sexual relations, it would seem to follow naturally that the avoidance between brother and sister carries with it similar ideas, and many anthropologists have held it to imply the existence in the past of sexual relations between brothers and sisters. It is interesting to note that this is the interpretation which occurs to the naive anthropological insight of their neighbours (see the opinion of John Pantutun, loc. cit.).

Moreover, this interpretation of the custom of avoidance between brother and sister has been carried a step further by Morgan and his followers, who have regarded it as a survival of general promiscuity within the primitive social group.

In the present state of our knowledge it would seem probable that the avoidance in question does actually point to the potentiality of sexual relations between brother and sister,

1 See note on the next page.

Avoidance between Brother and Sister 153

though it must be remembered that we know very little about the people among whom the avoidance exists, and that further investigation in Lepers’ Island and Guadalcanar may put a different complexion on the matter. Nevertheless, even if we grant the origin of the avoidance in sexual relations, we shall find that the Melanesian facts give no support whatever to Morgan’s hypothesis.

The avoidance is only found definitely in three places within the region of our survey1. In one of these, the island of Viti Levu, there is some reason to believe that it is especially pronounced among the people of the coast, i.e., among the inhabitants of the island who have advanced most in culture and have been most exposed to Polynesian in¬ fluence. In Guadalcanar similar external influence is also probable, for Bellona and Rennell Islands, inhabited by people speaking a Polynesian language, lie but a short distance from its shores. Further, little as we know about Lepers’ Island, it is clear that its people are noted for their light colour ; it seems even that the name of the island may have been due to this characteristic, and it is very tempting to ascribe this lightness of colour to Polynesian or other external mixture. There is evidence of greater sexual laxity here than in the neighbouring islands. It seems probable that this laxity has been the result of external influence, and at one time reached such a pitch that the fundamental, or as it has been called, the primal law of Melanesian society was habitually broken. I suggest that the idea of avoidance as a means of preventing sexual relations was well known to the people of Lepers’ Island, as to all other Melanesians, and that it came into action in a very strict form in order to remedy a state of affairs which had come about through the evil influence of strangers. It is, I believe, thoroughly in con¬ sonance with Melanesian nature that a custom of avoidance which came into being in order to avoid the heinous offence of incest should be practised with the rigour which seems to be now present in Lepers’ Island. The same hypothesis would apply to the coast of Viti Levu or to Guadalcanar ; here also the avoidance would have been the result of laxity set up by Polynesian or other external influence

1 It seems clear that it also exists in New Caledonia, and Speiser has recently recorded the custom in the southern part of Pentecost ( Siidsee , Urwald, Kannibaleii , Leipzig, 1913, p. 217).

which has affected those islands. It may be noted that it is not necessary to suppose that the Polynesians or any other external people introduced or advocated incest or practised it themselves. It is only necessary to suppose that the external influence produced a lowering of moral standards similar to that which so often follows the advent of Euro¬ pean influence at the present time. If I am right, these Melanesian examples of brother and sister avoidance lend not the slightest support to Morgan’s hypothesis of a primitive promiscuity, but are the result of a relatively late development. They have arisen from the putting into practice, or the coming into force, of a deeply-seated mode of acting towards illicit sexual relations in order to remedy a state of affairs due to a relaxation of the normal morality. If I am right, however, while these customs lend no support to the hypo¬ thesis of general promiscuity, they confirm the conclusion reached in the last chapter that customs of avoidance are closely connected in the Melanesian mind with the possibility of sexual relations, and in so far as this is the case, the argu¬ ment in favour of sexual communism in a more limited sense is strengthened. As I have already pointed out, customs of avoidance cannot be wholly explained on these lines, but whenever they are practised between those of opposite sex, the possibility of sexual relations between those who avoid one another is implied, though in many cases this is only one of a number of implications. So far as sexual relations are concerned, customs of avoidance seem to be due to a social effort to limit, and later to abolish, practices which were at one time habitual.

Brothers.

Little has been recorded in this book of special duties, privileges or restrictions existing between brothers. The only example is the practice of Lepers’ Island, according to which a man who is laughing with a crowd will cease to laugh on the arrival of his brother. This custom seems to indicate an attitude of respect towards a brother which approaches in nature the definite avoidance which is practised towards the sister. I only heard of the custom from a native of another island, and we must learn far more about it before we can expect to understand it thoroughly. The only explanation I can suggest is that it is a survival of sexual communism ;

Behaviour of Brothers 1 55

that when it became no longer the custom for brothers to have wives in common, there was set up a feeling of restraint between those who had previously shared marital rights, and it became the custom for this restraint to take the form of special respect, in order that all possible occasions for quarrel¬ ling should be avoided. It may be noted that the 'special instance I obtained was that a man must not laugh in the presence of his brother. If at one time brothers had a wife or wives in common, there must have been a long period of transition to the present condition during which an uncomfort¬ able element was introduced into the relationship of brothers. We have seen that communistic relations still form the subject of jokes at the expense of brothers (see 1, 45). It does not seem improbable that when relations were in the strained condition I have suggested, men took especial care to disso¬ ciate themselves from all suspicion of participation in such jokes, and that it came to be a custom to avoid all possible cause for the suspicion that a man was sharing in merriment at his brother’s expense. It is thus suggested that the respectful behaviour towards one another of two brothers in Lepers’ Island is either the survival of such a restraint, or that there is still behind the practice the possibility of their common rights to a wife.

Mother s brother.

The great interest of this relationship arises from the fact that its special functions in patrilineal communities have so often been regarded as survivals of mother-right. The records of this book allow us to compare the position of this relative in communities practising matrilineal descent with that which he occupies where descent follows the father.

In the New Hebrides, Banks and Torres Islands, it seems clear that there is a very close relation between a man and his mother’s brother. This relation seems to be most clearly defined in the Banks Islands where the mother’s brother is treated with far more respect than the father and possesses many privileges which the latter does not share. The closer relationship with the mother’s brother is shown most clearly by the fact that if a man be killed or injured through the instrumentality of his father, the latter would have to compensate his son’s uncle, i.e., his wife’s brother. I did

j56 Melanesian Society

not learn of any very special position of the mother’s brother among the matrilineal people of the Solomon Islands, but Dr Codrington1 speaks of the maternal uncle as the guardian of his nephew and of the particularly close relation between the two relatives. In the patrilineal region of the Eastern Solomons Dr Codrington notes that this relation maintains itself, but in the Western British Solomons there is little or no trace of it.

The history of the term for the mother’s brother in Savo in the Eastern Solomons perhaps reveals the high estimation in which this relative was held in the past. The term is kulaga , and Woodford has pointed out2 that in the mouth of a native of Lord Howe Island or Ongtong Java, the Fijian turanga becomes kulaga ; it therefore becomes highly probable that the Savo term for the mother’s brother is similarly allied to the Fijian word for chief or elder3.

When we turn to the patrilineal people of Fiji, we find the mother’s brother still occupying a most important place. The rights of the sister’s son or vasu in Fiji are so well known that it is unnecessary to enter on the subject here ; it need only be noted that the right of the vasu which stands out preeminently is that he may take any of his uncle’s property, and we have seen that in the matrilineal Banks Islands also the sister’s son may take any, even the most valued, possessions of his uncle.

The Melanesian evidence is in accord with the widely held opinion that when the special relation between a man and his mother’s brother is found in a patrilineal community, it is a sur¬ vival of mother-right, but there are one or two facts which show that the matter is not as simple as is often thought. One of these facts is the contrast between the two patrilineal communities of Viti Levu and the Western British Solomons. In one, the relation between uncle and nephew has reached a pitch of development far exceeding anything recorded in any other part of the world ; in the other, the special relation is hardly, if at all, present. Such a difference in two cases where one might have expected a similar state of affairs must make one pause ; the generalisation can only be regarded as satisfactorily established when we are able to give a reason

1 M 50, note 2.

2 A Naturalist among the Head-hunters, 1890, p. 232.

3 See Hocart, Man, 1913, p. 140.

The Mother s Brother 1 57

for the great development of the relation in one place and its absence in the other.

It may be noted that there is nothing unnatural, in the greater definiteness of the relation when it occurs in con¬ junction with father-right. Among a people with mother-right the position of the mother’s brother as an elder of a person s own social division is clearly established ; it is so much a commonplace and familiar matter that special regulations concerning the relationship need not exist. It is only as the rights of the father increase that those of the mother’s brother gradually become more obvious. In every community in which the rights of the father are gradually growing in strength and importance there must be occasions of conflict between the mother’s brother and the father, and it will only be slowly that the respective positions of the two will become defined. It is significant that in Southern Melanesia I record the clearest and most definite functions of the mother’s brother in the Banks Islands, and the change in the direction of recognition of the rights of the father has probably made greater progress here than anywhere else in that region.

If I am right, we have here an excellent example of the way in which social functions acquire their definite and specific characters. Let us assume that at one time the mother s brother was the sole guardian of his nephew, and that the father had no rights towards his son. Under such conditions there is no social need for any definition of functions. It is only when the rights of the father begin to be asserted that it becomes necessary to define these rights, and since the rights of the father are an encroachment on those of the uncle, a definition of the latter also becomes necessary. By definition, I mean here that degree of making social regulations definite which is necessary in order that they shall be taught to the young and so transmitted from generation to generation. If this be so, it is easy to see that as the rights of the father continue to increase, the need for definition becomes greater and greater until we reach such a state as that found in the Banks Islands at the present time. Though these islands still follow matrilineal descent, the place of the father has become clearly recognised and has been definitely formulated, and I suppose that this formulation has grown gradually more precise until the respective rights of father

and mother’s brother are clearly defined and recognised by all.

I take as an example the special case of the compensation given to the mother’s brother by a father who injures his own child. We can have little doubt that at one time this com¬ pensation had to be given to the mother’s brother by any man who injured a child, and that there was no thought of distinguishing the father from other men. At this stage no one would think of formulating a regulation concerning the case in which it was the father who had injured his child. As the rights of the father grew, there would sooner or later come a time when it would happen that a father caused the injury or death of his child. He might put forward the claim of exemption from the penalty, or more probably, this claim would not be definitely made, but the matter would be talked about, and thus a vague formulation of the special condition would arise. As succeeding cases occurred, this formulation would gradually grow more definite until there was reached such a regulation as that of which I was told in Mota. In fact, we have here simply a special instance of the growth of Law ; in the different degrees of definiteness of the formulation of the functions of the mother’s brother in Melanesia, we have a simple example of the way in which this growth takes place.

While the greater definiteness of the functions of the mother’s brother in the more patrilineal regions thus becomes intelligible, there still remains the difficulty that in Fiji we have not to do merely with a greater definiteness of function, but with its exaggeration. We have to account for this excessive development of the functions connected with the relationship between a man and his mother’s brother. If we compare the functions of the vasu in Fiji with those of the sister’s son in other parts of Melanesia, the chief difference is in the extension of the privileges of the vasu so that they apply, not merely to his own relatives, but to all the subjects of his uncle, when the uncle is a chief. It is probable, there¬ fore, that the chief cause of the excessive development is the especial importance of chieftainship in Fiji, where chiefs have more power than in any other part of Melanesia. Further, as Mr Hocart has shown1, Fijian society shows a special tendency for the growth of the social etiquette connected

1 See Journ. Roy. A7ith. Inst., 1913, xliii. 101 and 109.

Reciprocal Terms and Functions 159

with relationship ; the importance of the functions of the vasu forms only one aspect of this tendency to exalt social etiquette in general.

So far I have considered the relation of mother’s brother and sister’s son with regard to matters which have for long been familiar to anthropologists. I have now to consider this relation from the new standpoint suggested by the scheme of the history of Melanesian society developed in the preceding chapters. It has been shown that, in the con¬ dition of dominance of the old men and monopoly of the young women accompanying the dual organisation of society, one of the men to whom it was possible for an elder to give a wife was his sister’s son. It is not necessary to assume that the tie between a man and his sister’s son was as close at this stage as it became later in Fiji and other places. It may be that the sister’s son received a wife because in the dual organisation he belonged to one of the few groups of men to whom the transference was possible, and it may be that this necessary relation was one of the factors which helped to bring about the intimate connection between these relatives which is now found in several parts of Melanesia. Further, it has been seen in the last chapter that there is reason to believe that men not only gave their wives to their sister’s sons in Pentecost and the Banks Islands, but that they shared their wives with them. It is even possible that, if the sister’s son by any stroke of good fortune obtained a wife other than by gift of his uncle, he shared her with this relative. If so, we have a case of reciprocity between uncle and nephew. This opens up a new way of looking at the functions of these relatives which must now be considered.

It is a striking fact that in many peoples among whom the close relation between a man and his sister’s son exists, there is only one reciprocal term to denote the two men. This is so in both the Banks and Torres Islands, though strangely enough the two relatives are distinguished from one another in Pentecost. Reciprocal terms are also in use in several of the Solomon Islands. The application of a reciprocal term to two persons who would seem to be of obviously different status is a fact which needs explanation ;

I am inclined to see in it an indication of reciprocity of function, and there is reason to believe that such reciprocity actually exists. When making inquiries into the functions of

the mothers brother, I have on several occasions met with apparent contradictions on the part of my informants. Thus, to go back to my earliest work in Torres Straits1, I noted that there seemed to be much confusion in the minds of the natives as to whether certain functions were reciprocal. In giving an account of the privilege by which a man could take any of the property of his mother’s brother, it seemed quite clear that the case was usually described, and thought of, in the form that a man took the property of his mother s brother, and yet special inquiry revealed much uncertainty whether a man might not take the property of his nephew. In this case also there is only one reciprocal term, wadwam, for the two relatives, and 1 was inclined to regard this confusion as the result of the common nomencla¬ ture. I should now be much more inclined to believe that the confusion was due to the right of taking property having once been thoroughly reciprocal ; that a man and his sister s son once held their property in common. There is reason to believe that communism in property and communism in women go together, and the facts I have cited would seem to indicate that a reciprocal term of relationship for a man and his sister s son may at one time have been accompanied by an actual reciprocity of function in these two respects.

The fathers sister.

A fact, wholly new, brought out by my work in Oceania is the existence of special functions associated with the relation¬ ship between a woman and her brother’s son. I met with these functions first in Tonga where a man honours his father’s sister more than any other relative, and was punished with death if he disobeyed her in ancient days. A woman still arranges the marriage of her brother’s son, and can veto one arranged by the man or his parents. The father’s sister can take anything belonging to her nephew, while the latter can only take the possessions of his aunt with her permission, thus reversing the usual mode of conduct of a man towards his mother’s brother. In the one case, it is the senior who has a right to property; in the other, it is the junior who nowexercises the right, even if at one time the right was reci¬ procal. There are also certain avoidances between a woman

1 Reports Cambridge Expedition to Torres Straits , Vol. v., p. 146, 1904.

The Father s Sister

1 6 1

and her brother’s children and certain duties in connection with ceremonial. Since social institutions in Tonga are largely patrilineal, my first impression on hearing of these customs was that they were a variant of the frequent relation with the mother’s brother, associated in some way with the change to father-right.

The idea that the customs in question were especially connected with patrilineal descent was dispelled on reaching Pentecost Island, where I found a similar condition asso¬ ciated with matrilineal descent. The account I obtained was very superficial, and doubtless incomplete, but it was clear that in that island a woman chose a wife for her brother’s son and that a man had to obey his father’s sister in other respects. The element of avoidance is, however, less decided than in 1 onga, lor the aunt and nephew may eat together, and a man may even in certain circumstances address his father’s sister by her personal name.

A much more complete account was obtained in the Banks Islands, where the high honour in which the father’s sister is held was evident. In these islands she has the decisive voice in the choice of a wife for her nephew, while a woman who desires illicit sexual intercourse with a man must first obtain the consent of the sister of the man’s father. Com¬ munity of goods exists between the pair, but with certain limitations. The element of avoidance is distinctly present ; the father’s sister must never be addressed or spoken of by her personal name, and a man will never poroporo, i.e., joke with or chaff, his aunt.

A woman performs a number of functions during ceremonies connected with her brother’s child. Especially important is the part she plays in the proceedings which determine the parentage of the child, and consequently settle whether she herself will occupy the position of father’s sister towards the child. The separated umbilical cord is first offered to the own sister of the father of the child, and after her customary refusal it is given to a woman who stands in the relation of father’s sister in the classificatory sense ; the father’s sister may keep the nail-parings of the child in the same way. These articles are kept on the neck and their possession entails the giving of feasts to the women. In various rites which follow the birth of a first-born child, the father s sister has an important share, while she takes the leading part in

1 1

the rite of initiation into the Avtagataga rank of the Sukwe , which is the only occasion on which women participate in the ritual of this institution.

In the Torres Islands the functions of the father’s sister seem to be less elaborate and important than in the Banks. In Hiw the prominent fact is that a man could marry, and often does marry, his father’s sister, while in Loh all that was learnt was that she has the power of forbidding his marriage if she chooses. It may be that this very scanty account is due to imperfection of the record, but I have little doubt that the functions of the father’s sister are less developed than in the Banks Islands.

In Vanikolo a man respects and obeys his father’s sister, and there is also to a certain extent community of goods. Here, however, a woman has no voice in deciding whom her brother’s son shall marry, though, the decision once made, it is her duty to help her nephew to pay for his wife. This brings out very clearly the gulf which exists between Vani¬ kolo and the southern islands with regard to the mode of obtaining a wife (see 11, 1 1 5). In Santa Cruz the father’s sister takes a newly-born child from its mother on the third day after birth, thus suggesting customs related to the “adop¬ tion ” of the Banks Islands. She chooses a wife for her nephew and makes contributions on various occasions in his life.

In turning to the theoretical discussion of these various customs, the first point to note is that the functions of the father’s sister show the highest degree of development in the Banks Islands, which are probably more advanced in culture than either the Torres Islands or Pentecost where similar customs are also found. This suggests that the special position of the father’s sister is one of relatively late growth, and this conclusion is supported by a feature already mentioned in another connection. The whole study recorded in this book has led us to expect that a relationship which has specific functions connected with it will be denoted by a special term. As we have seen (11, 21), the nomenclature for the father’s sister is an exception to a general rule, and it has been argued that the absence of a special name for the relationship of father’s sister is due to the fact that this relative was once a potential wife, and that as a potential wife she would be addressed by her personal name. Some of the functions must have arisen since the time when this

The Father s Sister

relative was a potential wife. It is unlikely that, when the father’s sister was the potential wife of her nephew, she at the same time chose his wife or vetoed the choice of another, though these functions become perfectly natural as the survival of her right to be his wife.

Especially striking in this respect is the fact that another woman has to ask the consent of this relative to non-marital sexual relations, for it suggests that at one time it was the custom for this request to be proffered to the wife, and that when a man no longer married his father’s sister, the right involved in the matter remained in the hands of this relative. That the right of choice or veto on the part of the father’s sister is a survival of her former position as potential wife is strongly supported by the customs of the Torres Islands. Here we find that in the less advanced island of Hiw the father’s sister is actually married, while in the more advanced Loh she has the power of choice or veto which is found in the Banks. There is thus a consensus of evidence pointing first to the functions of the father’s sister being of relatively recent development, and secondly to their close connection with her former position as a potential wife.

There would still have to be explained, however, why the right of veto should rest with the father’s sister and not with other potential wives, and there are other functions of the father’s sister which her position as potential wife does not explain. There can be little doubt that another most im¬ portant factor is the growing recognition of the relation of a father to his child. It is probable that this recognition greatly assisted, if it did not even act as the chief factor in, the differentiation between the two relationships of father’s sister and mother’s brother s wife. When this differentiation became definite, the father’s sister would have an exceptional position as a member of the opposite and more or less hostile moiety, while at the same time a near relative. As the father acquired more and more power in connection with his child, it is to be expected that he would put into the hands of his sister those functions which should be performed by a woman. We have evidence that it is the duty of the members of one moiety to help those of the other, especially at such epochs as birth, initiation and death. We have only to sup¬ pose that any such functions which fall to the lot of women of the opposite moiety were, as the father acquired increased

1 64 M elanesian Society

power, placed by him in the hands of his sister, and we have the explanation of her many functions in connection with ceremonial. I have suggested elsewhere1 that the special custom that the father’s sister should keep the separated umbilical cord and the nail-parings of her nephew is due to her position as a member of the opposite and more or less hostile moiety. I have suggested that if it were known that these objects were in the custody of one of their own members, there would be less risk that these or similar objects might be used as the basis of magical rites designed to injure the child. I now attach more importance to the purely social factors which have given the father’s sister her special posi¬ tion, and am inclined to believe that such objects as the cord and nail-parings are put into the possession of the father s sister because her tie to her brother’s child is so close. In other words, the choice of the father’s sister as custodian of these objects is the result of her exceptional position, and not one of the causes by which it has been produced. At the same time, the idea which was at the root of my earlier suggestion2, viz., that of the importance of the father’s sister as a woman of the opposite and more or less hostile moiety of the community, I still believe to be an important element in the complex chain of causation through which the exceptional position of this relative has been produced.

Another factor which might explain certain features of the relation between a woman and her brother’s child is the practice of avoidance between brother and sister. When a child becomes aware of the fact that his father scrupulously avoids his sister, this might well lead to an emotion of awe on the part of the child in connection with its father s sister, which would account for the especial respect paid to this relative. In other words, the relation between a woman and her brother’s child would be a secondary consequence of the avoidance between brother and sister, and if so, there would be evidence that this avoidance has had a wider dis¬ tribution in past Melanesian society than it has at present. This, however, would only explain the respect paid to the father’s sister, and would not account for the many other functions of this relative. It does not seem likely that tne brother and sister avoidance has played any essential part in

1 Folklore , 1910, Vol. xxi., p. 56.

2 Op. cit ., p. 55.

The Father's Sister 165

the genesis of these functions, though it may in some cases have contributed to enhance the respect already due to the

father’s sister for other reasons.

In the preceding account it has been shown to be probable that the special functions of the father’s sister in Melanesia are of relatively recent growth. Further support is given to this view by the fact that a clear distinction is made in the Banks Islands between the father’s sister in the limited and in the classificatory sense. The power of choosing, or vetoing the choice of, a wife does not rest with the group of fathers sisters, but with one woman in particular, and in one island a man will never marry his father’s own sister though he may marry this relative in the classificatory sense. Again, the father’s sister in the limited sense will avoid the obligation of demanding a feast from her nephew by handing over his nail-parings to one who occupies the corresponding relation¬ ship in the classificatory sense. It is possible, of course, that the connection of these duties and privileges with the more limited relationship has been due to the later development of a more collective custom, but taken in conjunction with other facts already mentioned, this character of the functions of the father’s sister suggests that they came into being after individual had been clearly distinguished from classificatory relationship.

Father s sister s husband.

There are special terms for this relative in two places, Pentecost Island and Mota, and in the latter island this special nomenclature is associated with an extraordinary series of customs which may be summed up in the statement that a man is on all sorts of occasions allowed, or even expected, to jeer at and insult the husband of his father s sister. The explanation of the custom given by my native informant, John Pantutun, was that it is a secondary result of the high position of the father’s sister ; that when a man proposes to marry a woman, her brother’s children will throw all sorts of insult at the man to indicate their opinion of his unworthiness to marry their aunt. One is tempted to supplement this explanation by taking into account the fact that the brother’s son was formerly himself the prospective or actual husband, but this meets with certain difficulties.

Taking only the position of the father’s sister as potential wife, the suggestion naturally arises that when a woman was no longer married by her brother’s son, it was in cases where she was old, and that a man who then married her would become the object of ridicule, but it seems impossible to reconcile this with the high honour in which the father’s sister is held, and therefore the explanation given by John Pantutun is probably correct. What is needed in order to settle the question is an account of any corresponding customs in other islands where the father’s sister is or has recently been a potential wife. At present my only informa¬ tion comes from the relatively advanced island of Mota.

About one point, however, we can be fairly confident ; these customs must be of relatively recent growth. I have already discussed how the differentiation between the relation¬ ships of father’s sister and mother’s brother’s wife came about, and in the same way the corresponding distinction of the husband of the father’s sister from the mother’s brother has to be explained, for in the early form of the dual organisation these two relatives must have had the same status. It is incredible that the mother’s brother can ever have been treated as a Mota man treats the husband of his father’s sister, and we are driven to the conclusion that the custom of insulting this relative must have arisen after the distinc¬ tion from the mother’s brother had become definite ; this differentiation must have been associated with the distinction of the father’s sister from the wife of the mother’s brother. If, as seems probable, the customs are found by later research to be limited to the more advanced islands of the Banks group, we shall have still another reason for believing that the customs are much more recent than most of those dealt with in this chapter.

Cross-Cousin.

This relationship has already been very fully considered in so far as concerns the special form of marriage regulation which makes such cousins actual or potential man and wife. The only exceptional customs connected with this relationship are those found by Mr Durrad in Tikopia, where cross-cousins must be especially careful not to speak evil of or injure one another ; if they do so, troubles result which may lead to

Functions of Grandparents 167

quarrels between their parents and to the illness or death of the offender. In this island cross-cousins do not marry, but the relations existing between them seem to show a kind of avoidance, and are therefore an indication that this form of marriage was once practised.

Grandparents and grandchildren .

The history of the development of Melanesian marriage which has been formulated in an earlier chapter would perhaps lead us to expect that we should find a number of functions associated with the relationship between grandparent and grandchild. As a matter of fact, if my information is correct, there is very little of the kind. The most striking fact comes from Vanikolo where it was said that a man moulds his life on that of his mother’s parents, following their example in all things. It may be noted that this example occurs in a group from which we have at present no conclusive evidence of marriage between persons two generations apart, and as this belief does not appear to exist in other parts of Melanesia, it is possible that it has no connection with a form of marriage, but is connected with the inatrilineal descent of Vanikolo. The only definite pieces of information about the grandparents which I obtained in the Banks Islands was that in Rowa they take a share of the property on the death of their grandson, and that in a Motlav ceremony (see 1, 148) the father’s father should distribute food and money.

In the Torres Islands the only fact recorded is the extraordinary and, so far as I am aware, unique relationship between the grandparents of a married couple together with its associated function whereby these respective grandparents have to be mutually helpful.

In the island of Eromanga, Robertson1 tells us that a child is spoken of as the grandchild ( ohopon ) of its mother’s father, so that when a man has a number of wives, his children are distinguished by the names of their different maternal grand¬ parents. It is perhaps noteworthy that the term for grandchild in this case is certainly a variant of the frequent Polynesian word mokopuna.

I am unable to offer any definite explanation of these customs. While the Vanikolo practice may be connected with

1 Erromanga , London, 1902, p. 394.

mother-right, that of Eromanga would seem to be associated with polygyny, while the nature of the term for grandchild suggests that the custom may be recent.

Relatives by marriage.

Special regulations concerning the conduct towards one another of relatives by marriage fall into two main categories : rules of avoidance and those of mutual helpfulness. The largest collection of such regulations recorded in this book comes from the Banks Islands, but it is possible that this is merely because my work there had a far more intensive character than in the Torres and Santa Cruz groups or in Pentecost. In the Solomons, and certainly in the western islands, we may be confident that regulations concerning the conduct of relatives by marriage are far less pronounced, if indeed they are not altogether absent in some places. Rules of avoidance are present to some extent in Fiji, and here again they may be far more numerous than my record indi¬ cates. In Polynesia, however, special rules for the conduct of relatives by marriage appear to be absent or unimportant, except in Tikopia.

The rules of avoidance include prohibitions on the use of the personal name, on conversation, and on passing one another. Especially striking in the Banks Islands is the large part taken by the idea of the head ; nothing must be taken from above the head, and reference to the head of a relative by marriage in a more or less fictitious manner carries with it a very far reaching significance.

I have already dealt fully with one aspect of these avoid¬ ances. It has been seen that there is the clearest evidence that when these rules apply to relatives by marriage of different sex, they carry with them definite implications of potential sexual intercourse. In the Torres, and to a less extent in the Banks Islands, there can be no doubt that the connection between avoidance and the potentiality of sexual relations is a very real factor in social relations and morality.

Similar avoidances also exist between those of the same sex, and these must now be more fully considered. In Pente¬ cost there is a rule of avoidance between brothers-in-law which forms a remarkable exception to the general rule that such restrictions are mutual. In this island a man may not

Avoidance between Relatives by Marriage 169

touch the head, or go behind the back, of his sister’s husband, but his own head and back are not similarly protected from the touch or gaze of his wife’s brother. Further, this example provides a striking example of the close connection between terminology and function, for the absence of reciprocity in function is associated with a most unusual absence of reci¬ procity of nomenclature; the sister’s husband (m.s.) is sibi , while the wife’s brother is bulena.

In the Banks Islands a man must not address his wife’s father familiarly, and must not take anything from above his head or pass him when he is sitting. The reciprocal rela¬ tionship of walui , i.e., brother’s wife and sister’s husband, has similar rules, but less strict than in the case of the parentin-law. In the Torres Islands there are similar rules; a man will not approach his daughter’s husband when he is sitting down, and this reserve is reciprocated by the latter. Neither of these relatives will take a load directly from the shoulder of the other.

All these regulations seem to have underlying them a common principle ; they all seem to indicate that relatives by marriage must not approach or touch one another when at a disadvantage, as when sitting down or carrying a load. There seem to be implied in these rules the idea of hostility and the possibility that one relative may injure the other, and this appears to be especially strong in the attitude of a man to¬ wards his wife’s father. This implied hostility is evidently to be connected with the condition of hostility between the two moieties of the community. In the Banks Islands there is a tradition of a definite attitude, which can only be called one of hostility, which existed between the two veve or moieties (see 1, 22). I was only told of this in Mota, but the widespread existence in this part of Melanesia of the rule, of which we now have evidence, that a man must not approach a relative by marriage when at a disadvantage, may be taken to indicate that this hostility between the members of the two social divisions was at one time widespread in southern Melanesia and an important feature of the social organisa¬ tion.

Further, it has been seen that the head occupies a very peculiar position in these customs of avoidance. Both in the Banks and Torres Islands, it is only necessary for a man to say that an object is the head of a relative by marriage and

that object becomes taboo (see 1, 44). If two men are quarrelling, it is only necessary for a man to say, “If you go on, it is the head of your walui (or kwiliga ),” and the fighting will come at once to an end on pain of the payments of fines by the combatants or the destruction of their property by the rest of the community. The probable explanation of this curious custom is that the people have always in their minds the possibility that the fighting may spread and the old hostility between the two social divisions be aroused, and to avoid this, it is only sufficient to refer to the relationship between a man and his relatives by marriage to bring this possibility to the minds of the combatants and bystanders. It is tempting to see in the special reference to the head in this and other examples a survival of a time when these general fights ended in the loss of the heads of some of the participants, a survival in fact of the act of taking the heads of enemies which has been so prominent elsewhere in Mela¬ nesia.

The conclusion so far reached is that rules of avoidance between relatives by marriage are connected with two ancient social conditions: sexual communism and a condition of hos¬ tility between the members of the two moieties of the com¬ munity. The matter is, however, still further complicated by the existence of the other group of regulations affecting the conduct of relatives by marriage, viz., those which enjoin mutual helpfulness between them. The most striking example of this helpfulness of which I learnt was in the relationship of walui in the island of Merlav (1, 43). The partners in this reciprocal relationship of wife’s brother and sister’s husband should always help and, in case of danger, defend one another. Here the element of avoidance seems to have largely disappeared, for these men may utter each other’s names, while they have their possessions largely in common. Another example of helpfulness on the part of a relative by marriage is in the relationship of tawarig (1, 43), there being a large group of relatives to whom the tawarig should render help. Another and more distantly related example is the duty of giving mutual help which is the duty of those who in the Torres Islands call one another tukwutog and retukwu , the respective grandfathers and grandmothers of husband and wife.

This combination of the obligation of mutual helpfulness

Simplification and Loss of Function 1 7 1

with a condition which can only be called one of hostility raises a very difficult problem. It is possible that the obli¬ gation to helpfulness on the part ot relatives by marriage has been a late development which has come about with the development of individual marriage. It is possible that it is especially a function of the marriage relationship, while the hostility is rather a function of the social grouping. According to this view, the rendering of help to relatives by marriage is a factor which has assisted in the subsidence of the hostility. The development of individual marriage and the consequent setting up of intimate relations between persons necessarily belonging to different social groups would have lessened the hostility which once existed between these groups.

I am now in a position to consider more fully the generali¬ sation already outlined, that the simplification of systems of relationship is connected with the disappearance of functions connected with ties of relationship. This connection comes out most clearly in the case of the mother’s brother ; wherever he has a special status and functions, there he has also a special term. It is only in Polynesia (excluding Tonga and Tikopia) and in certain parts of the Solomon Islands that this relative is not distinguished from the father by a special term ;* in every case in which he has no special term, there is no evidence that he holds any special position in the social structure. It seems quite clear that the disappearance of a special term is definitely connected with the disappearance of function. We can have little doubt that it is the disappearance of function which has been the cause and the disappearance of name the consequence.

Another striking example of simplification is in the nomen¬ clature for relatives by marriage, and here the process seems to have become more pronounced in certain Melanesian com¬ munities than in Polynesia. The distinction between different kinds of brother- and sister-in-law is still generally present in Polynesia, but has disappeared in some parts of the Solomon Islands. It is probable that some difference of status still lingers in Polynesia, while in at least one part of the Solomon Islands, the island of Eddystone, all special restrictions seem to have disappeared, and the behaviour towards the wife’s sister or the brother’s wife is much the same as towards any other woman.

ij2 Melanesian Society

Another set of terms, those for grandparents and grand¬ children, probably owe their striking reduction in number to a somewhat different process. Here the greatest richness in nomenclature is found in those places which most nearly approach the archaic condition accompanying the dominance of the elders, and the later simplification is to be connected with the disappearance of the forms of marriage in which special categories of grandparent and grandchild were con¬ cerned. As these marriages went out of vogue, the distinc¬ tions of status which formerly differentiated these relatives from one another would also disappear, and with the disap¬ pearance of these differences of status, there would be no need for special designations. The simplification of termi¬ nology would have been directly due to changes in social organisation and it is, of course, to such changes that the whole process of simplification is ultimately due. The dis¬ appearance of the special functions which have formed the topic of this chapter is the immediate antecedent of the process of simplification of nomenclature, but in all cases this really depends on changes in social organisation, and especially in forms of marriage.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE LINGUISTIC COMPARISON

In the prolonged discussion of the last seven chapters I have dealt only with the structure and functions of Oceanic systems of relationship; with the ways in which the terms of relationship are used and not with the terms themselves. I have endeavoured to trace out the evolution of Melanesian systems of relationship, and of the social states out of which their varied forms have arisen. I have spoken here and there of external influences which have affected and perhaps played a large part in determining the details of this evolution, but I have abstained from considering of what kind these in¬ fluences may have been. It now becomes necessary to undertake a survey of a different kind, and to consider the linguistic relation to one another of the terms used to denote relationship. In the following pages I consider the terms used throughout Oceania in much the same order as in the morphological survey1.

Father .

The most widely distributed word for this relative is tama. It is found in one form or another in Pentecost, Mota of the Banks Islands, the Florida-Guadalcanar-Ysabel group, the Western Solomons and Fiji among Melanesians ; and in Tonga, Samoa and Tikopia among Polynesians. Not only is tama the coastal word in Viti Levu, but the term of the Nandrau people, ikam , is probably an example of the frequent interchange of k and t. The etma of Anaiteum is only a modification of tama. Another widely distributed term for this relative is ma , mama or mam found in Merlav and other of the Banks Islands, in the Torres Islands, in Malaita and

1 See Comparative Table at the end of the first volume for full lists of terms.

Vella Lavella in the Solomon Islands, and also in Rafurafu in San Cristoval where it has the male prefix wa. In the Nggao system of Ysabel, ma is used with the possessive suffix which suggests that it is only an abbreviation of tama , and there is an unusual vocative form, mage. There is a somewhat similar condition in Ulawa, the term used in address being mamau while that otherwise used is ama} the initial letter of tama having disappeared. In Guadalcanar and in the Bugotu system of Ysabel both forms also occur, mama in addressing, and tama in speaking of, the father. In Savo the word is mau , in Santa Cruz dercle , and in Vanikolo aia.

Ta is the general Oceanic root for man, seen in such a word as ta?nate or dead man, and ma may therefore be taken to be the general root for father. In Polynesia, the word matua or makua is used for parent in the Hawaian Islands, Samoa and Niue. In Tikopia the father is addressed as pae and in the Reef Islands as opa (cf. fa = male in Rotuma). The vava used by the commoners of the Dhawanisa in Fiji is probably related to this term.

Mother .

The most widely distributed word for the mother is tina. It is found in Samoa, among the coastal people of Fiji, and in both Eastern and Western Solomons. The next most fre¬ quent term is nau which is found in Tikopia and among both inland and coastal people of Viti Levu, while in Santa Cruz nau is the term for the social divisions or clans. A third word is tei or tea which is found in the Reef Islands and in Malaita and Ulawa (in the latter reduplicated as a term of address). Other words are fae (Tonga), nene (Fiji), niania (Vella Lavella), ido and do (Ysabel), nike (Ulawa and Saa), iainga and ida (Santa Cru z), papa or p wap w a (Vanikolo), tata and reme (Torres Islands), veve and imu (Banks Islands), and ratahi and resik (New Hebrides). It is evident that there is far greater variety in the terms for mother than in those for father. It is possible that there are certain relationships between some of these terms, between the fae of Tonga and the veve of the Banks Islands, for instance, between the tei or tea of Malaita and the itei of the Reef Islands, and between the ido of Bugotu and the ida of Santa Cruz, but even then a far larger number of diverse terms remain than ■are used for the father.

i75

Child \ Brother and Sister

Child.

There is as great a diversity in the terms for child as for mother. Even in Polynesia many different terms are used, kaiki , atalu, tama , fanau and foha for sons or children, and afafine or ofejine for daughters. In Fiji, on the other hand, the term luve is used throughout the island of Viti Levu. In the Solomons at least seven different terms are used : tu , menggora, niumba or zumba , mela, dale , gave, kare and kale , the last four being, however, variants of one word. The Santa Cruz term, malangi, is possibly related to the me la of Malaita. In the Torres and Banks there are four terms, megoia or mag o la, natm , nenik and chingmeruk. One of the Banks words occurs in the New Hebrides in the forms nitu, netin , tint and netuk in Pentecost and Tanna, while there is a different term, i.e. inhal or ngalo, in Anaiteum.

There is thus much diversity in the nomenclature for the child, the most widely distributed terms being forms of natu ; it may be noted that this word occurs in Fiji among the Nokanoka people, though it is here used of a sister’s son.

Brothers and sisters.

Here the most characteristic feature is that the terms used between those of the same sex show a close resem¬ blance throughout Oceania, while those used between persons of different sex are much more diverse.

In Polynesia, the different words used for an elder brother are kaikuaana , taukesi or taukete , and toga (Peleni), while the uso of Samoa and the tokoua of Tonga are used irrespec¬ tive of age. In Fiji, the term tuaka is widely used for an elder brother throughout Viti Levu, although the proper inland word is tutna. In the western part of the Solomons and in the matrilineal region of this group the term is tuga , toga or tiga , with the possible variant hoga in Florida, except in the two exceptional languages of Vella Lavella and Savo where there are quite different words, kaka and toni, but kaka occurs also as a term of address in Bugotu. Boga with loss of the initial letter is also found in San Cristoval. In Malaita we find ai and auwa, while other words, ula and doora , are used in Ulawa and San Cristoval irrespective of age. Santa Cruz has the term kalengi. In the Banks and Pentecost we

meet again with the Fijian and Solomon word in the forms tugak , ogak and tuaga . In the Torres Islands the word used irrespective of age is tigi or teii.

A term for the younger brother of a man and younger sister of a woman is even more widely diffused than the word for elder brother or sister. In the Polynesian systems it occurs as seihina or tehina , a different term being the kakaina of the Hawaian Islands. The word tadhi is universal in Fiji. In the western and in the matrilineal islands of the British Solomons this word occurs in the forms tahi or tasi, except in Vella Lavella and Savo. It is noteworthy that the collec¬ tive term used in the Western Solomons for a group of brothers or cousins is tamatasi. In other parts of the Eastern Solomons the word is sasi or asi, an exception being Fiu where, in addition to sasi, aimburi is found which looks like the word ai used for the elder brother with a qualifying suffix.

On passing to the Banks, we again meet tasi, tisi or chisi and in Pentecost tiki, evidently all variants of the Fijian and Solomon term, while the tigi or teii of the Torres, also used for the elder brother or sister, is almost certainly another variant.

In the words for the brother-sister relationship there is more variety. In Polynesia, with the exception of Niue, the terms do not differ greatly from those used between persons of the same sex, the kaikunane and kaikuliine of the Hawaian Islands being evidently variants of the words used between brothers, and the same is probably true of Samoa and Tonga. In Tikopia the term is kave, which occurs elsewhere with a different meaning. Whenever a special term is used in Viti Levu for the brother-sister relationship, the word is ngane. In the Solomons, we have lulu, sanggi , vavine , karudu , totoa or toka , maima or maina, asi and inia, at least eight quite distinct words. In Santa Cruz there are again special terms inwengi and malwengi. In the Banks and Torres groups we find tutua , chiochio and tata , evidently only variants of one term, and also ehwe. In Pentecost there is a different term again, hogosi , although this bears some resemblance to the koga sometimes used of an elder brother in Florida.

It is evident that the terms used between those of the same sex with distinction of age are very widely distributed throughout Melanesia and occur also in Polynesia, the term

The Mother's Brother

for younger brother (m.s.) or younger sister (w.s.) being even more frequent than that for the elder brother or sister. The only places in Melanesia where there are aberrant terms for the elder brother are the interior of Viti Levu, Savo, Vella Lavella, Malaita and Vanua Lava in the Banks Islands, i.e., just those places where older languages persist, or where relics of older languages might be expected to persist.

The terms used between brother and sister present a great contrast. In place of the uniformity in the terms used between those of the same sex, there is a diversity as great as in the nomenclature for mother and child.

The mother s brother.

There is great diversity in the terms for this relative throughout Oceania. In Polynesia, the mothers brother is classed with the father, except in Tonga and Tikopia where he is tuasina or tuatina, and in the Reef Islands where he is ingoa \ In different parts of Fiji he is called ngandi, momo and koko, while he is sometimes called vuno or vungo, the term otherwise used for the father-in-law. There is no doubt that ngandi is a corruption of nganeitina or mothers brother and thus is a descriptive and modern term. Momo is used by the coastal as well as by some of the inland people and is probably an old coastal term for this relative. In the western islands of the British Solomons the mother’s brother is not distinguished from the father in Eddystone and Ruviana, but in Vella Lavella he has a special term, papa. In the matrilineal region of the Eastern Solomons we find the terms tumble, mmbu , nia and kulaga1 2, of which the first was not originally a term for this relative (see 11,

1 81). In the other parts of the Eastern Solomons we find several terms, uweh , mae , maua and mamau in addition to ko which is also used for the grandfather. The mother’s brother is kambungi in Santa Cruz and nggea in Vanikolo. The Torres and Banks Islands have a common term in the forms marau , maru or moru. In Pentecost and Anaiteum there are quite different words, tarabe and mata.

There is thus the most striking diversity of nomenclature

1 Mr Ray tells me that this word means “name,” and is probably therefore a mistake.

2 For the linguistic affinities of this word, see 11, 156.

R. M. s. 11.

for this relative, a diversity even greater than for the mother, child, and the brother-sister relationship.

The sister s son.

In some parts of Melanesia the term for mother’s brother is used reciprocally and is applied also to the sister’s son, but more often this relative has a term peculiar to himself. This is so in Tonga, Tikopia and the Reef Islands, where he is ilamutu or iramutu. Several terms for this relative are found in Fiji, ngonia , vasu, vatuvu and va, in addition to the vungo which is probably only the result of the nephew s position as potential son-in-law.

In Eddystone Island and Vella Lavella we find special words for the sister’s child, gamburu and pakora, but in the rest of the Solomons, and in the Banks and Torres groups, the word used for the sister’s child is the same as that for the mother’s brother. In Pentecost, however, there is a special term aloa.

It will be noticed that there is no resemblance between the words found in different parts of Polynesia and Mela¬ nesia.

The fat her s sister.

Very often, both in Melanesia and Polynesia, this relative has no special designation, but is classed with the mother. Sometimes, however, she is denoted by a special term, as in Tonga and Tikopia, where she is known by some variant of the word mehikitanga, another variant of this word being used for the sister in Niue. The Nandrau people of Viti Levu call the father’s sister tukai, but elsewhere in this island nganeitama or some variant of this descriptive term is used. The only island in the Solomons where a special term is known is Malaita, where she is aiya in Lau and at a in Fiu, the latter being the Lau term with the y represented by a break. In Mota the father’s sister is only distinguished from the mother by the addition of certain words to the name for the latter, but elsewhere in the Banks and Torres islands there is no special term. In Pentecost bilan barai 1 is some¬ times used, a term quite unlike the customary Melanesian terms of relationship (1, 192).

1 Ml- Ray tells me that these words probably mean “ his property (or chattel) woman.”

Linguistic Comparison

Grandparent and grandchild.

The terms for grandparent and grandchild are particularly instructive from the point of view of the relationship of the different Polynesian and Melanesian systems and languages.

The general Polynesian word for grandparent is tupuna or kupuna , there being here the well recognised interchange ol k and t , and the general word for grandchild is some form ol the word mokopuna. In Tonga the grandparent is kui, probably an abbreviation of the more widely distributed word. In the island of Peleni in the Reef group the grand¬ parent is tupu , pu or apu ; and tupu and pit 1 are used for grandparent in Tikopia. That pu is merely the second syllable of the usual Polynesian word is rendered almost certain by the fact that the term for grandchild in these islands is still makupu. It becomes highly probable that the essential root of the general Polynesian word for grand¬ parent is pu.

This conclusion is supported by what is found in Fiji. Among the coastal people of Viti Levu the customary word for grandfather is tumbu , for grandmother mbu, and for grandchild makumbu. Here we have merely variations of the three Polynesian words tupu , pu and mokopu or makupu. These words are also found among some of the inland tribes of Viti Levu, but only as designations for certain kinds of grandparent or grandchild.

In the Eastern Solomons we find a frequent reciprocal term for grandparent and grandchild, kukua , which has become kite in YsabeP and ko in Malaita, there being an obvious transition to the latter in the koo of the Fiu dis¬ trict. This change can leave little doubt that the kui of Tonga has been due to a similar process of abbreviation.

In other parts of the Eastern Solomons, Ulawa, Saa and San Cristoval, there are apparently quite different words for grandparent of which the essential parts are probably uwa and pwa, the wauwa of Ulawa probably including the male prefix wa. In Rafurafu the grandmother is kaka ; ka is the female prefix and it is a question whether the second ka is not merely a variant of the pwa of the other district of this

1 In the forms ftutangata and pufine.

• I must note here, without attempting an explanation, the peculiar use of kue for the husband of the mother’s sister in the Nggao system of this island.

x 80 Melanesian Society

region, an example of the frequent Melanesian interchange of p and k.

On passing to the Banks Islands we find remarkable con¬ firmation of the general relationship between the Melanesian and Polynesian terms. In Mota the grandparent is tupu or pupua ; in Merlav he is tumbu ; while in one dialect of Vanua Lava he is popo , i.e., we have in this small group of islands examples of nearly all the terms found in both Melanesia and Polynesia. The word imbua, used in Merlav for certain classes of grandchild (see i, 33), would seem to be another variant, and it is probable also that rombu , the term for the mother of husband or wife, is formed by the frequent term for grandparent with the prefix ro.

In the Torres Islands we have further confirmation in the terms pupil , tukwu and repu , the last formed by the addition of the feminine prefix re, also found in the term for mother in those islands. In Pentecost of the New Hebrides, owing to the very peculiar marriage regulations, the terms for Grandparent correspond with those for other relatives. The widely distributed Oceanic term does not occur in any of its forms, but we meet it again in Anaiteum where the term for grandparent is etpo , et being found also in the term for father. The word for grandchild is still nearer

the Polynesian form, being mapo.

We thus find that, both in Polynesia and Melanesia, certain closely related terms for the grandparent-grandchild relation¬ ship are widely distributed. The most frequent forms are tupu and tumbu , and there are others, such as pupua , which would appear to be the reduplicated second syllable of the usual word. It is noteworthy that in the Banks Islands this reduplicated form is used especially in address.

One puzzling feature of certain Solomon systems may be considered here. Tumbu , which is used in Florida and in the Bugotu district of Ysabel for the mother’s brother, is evidently the word used elsewhere in Oceania for the grand¬ parents. Other systems of the Solomons supply an inter¬ mediate link between the uses, for in Bugotu tumbu is applied to the mother’s brother of the father; Dr Codrington1 has recorded the same feature in Florida, though it appears to be now obsolete. The mother’s brother of the father would generally in Melanesia be classed with the grandfather,

Tumbu and the cross-cousin Marriage 1 8 1

so that in those islands where tumbu is the word for mother’s brother, it is also used for certain relatives of the generation of the grandfather, while in Polynesia and some of the Banks Islands it is the regular term for the grandparents. If the Solomon terms had alone been known, one would have been inclined to suppose that the use of the term tumbu for the mother’s brother is primary, and its use for persons of the older generation a later extension of connotation due to the process of generalisation. A wider comparative study, however, shows that, in the Solomons also, the original meaning must have been grandparent, and that its use for the mother’s brother is secondary. It is possible to see a motive for this extension of meaning. Florida and Bugotu are places where the cross-cousin marriage was once present but is no longer practised, while in Guadalcanar, where this form of marriage still persists, there is a different term for the mother’s brother, also used for the father-in-law. This suggests that the use of tumbu for the mother’s brother may be connected with the disappearance of the cross-cousin marriage ; that when this marriage was no longer practised, and the common nomenclature for the mother’s brother and father-in-law became meaningless, new terms were used for these relatives, the new term for the mother’s brother being one which elsewhere in Melanesia applies to a grandparent. It remains to inquire why it should be the term for grand¬ parent which was adopted. I can only suggest that when a new word was needed for the mother’s brother, there was present such a grouping of relatives of different generations as would be produced by marriage with the wife of the mother’s brother, such a grouping as now exists in the Banks Islands as the result of this marriage1. If the cross¬ cousin marriage came into existence in the Solomons through the mechanism formulated in Chapter XX, it will follow that marriage with the wife of the mother’s brother must once have been practised in these islands, and produced a grouping of terms of relationship which made it possible, or even natural, to apply to the mother’s brother a term pri¬ marily used for a grandparent. According to this scheme, the use of the word tumbu for the mother’s brother in Florida and the Bugotu district of Ysabel would be an in¬ direct and remote consequence of one of the anomalous

1 See I, 33 and Codrington, 41.

forms of Melanesian marriage of which there is no direct evidence in the Solomons.

Relatives by marriage.

Most of the terms denoting the reciprocal relationship of the parents of husband or wife and the husband or wife of a child are closely related throughout Polynesia and Melanesia. In the Hawaian Islands the parent-in-law is hunoai and the reciprocal term is hunona ; in N iue the corre¬ sponding terms are vungavai and fingona, and in the Reef Islands and Tikopia fungo , fungovai or fungoai. Whenever the parents-in-law in Fiji have not the same names as the maternal uncle and paternal aunt, they are vuno or vungo. Only in Tavua was a different word obtained, viz., ngguva , but it is probable that this is properly a term for the sister’s son. In Eddystone and Vella Lavella there are special words, roa and ravaja, which may possibly be related to one another, and a similar word, loa , occurs in the Shortland Islands, but elsewhere in the Solomons the terms for the reciprocal relationship are forms of the word found in Poly¬ nesia and Fiji, viz., vuno , vungano , vungai , hunga , fungo and fongo , the only exception being Guadalcanar, an exception due to the dependence of this system on the cross-cousin marriage.

The terms thus widely present in Polynesia, Fiji and the Solomons do not occur in the more southern islands included in my survey, though they are found again in Tanna and Aniwa. In Santa Cruz there are several terms kandongi , imbungi and lambungi. In the Torres and Banks groups and in Pentecost we find a group of words, kwiiga , kwiliga , kwaliga , kwelge , kwaleg, kwilia and bwaliga , all closely related to one another, and in addition, there are others used for female relatives of this category. With the exception of the western part of the British Solomons, Santa Cruz and one tribe of Viti Levu, there are thus in all the recorded systems of Polynesia and Melanesia only two terms for the parents of a consort ; one occurring in Polynesia, Tanna, Aniwa, Fiji, and the Solomons; the other in the Torres and Banks Islands and Pentecost.

There is far less constancy in the designations for brothersand sisters-in-law. Excluding those cases in which these relatives are classed with the husband or wife, we find in

Relatives by Marriage 183

Polynesia the terms kaikoeke , matapuli and maa or ma. In Fiji the terms of the coastal people are determined by the cross-cousin marriage, viz., tavale, ndavola and ndauve , but among the mountain people there are a number of other terms, including ndaku , vitambui , veidhakavi , veilavi and vikila , though the tavale of the coastal people is also fre¬ quently used.

Throughout the Solomons there is a widely diffused term which takes the forms of iva, iha or if a (Shortland Islands). Here and there, other words occur such as the mani of Vella Lavella, the notifaie of the Nggao district of Ysabel, the ma and mbasa of Savo, the luma , sai and mbara of Malaita and the foro of San Cristoval. There is much reason to believe that the iva of the Solomons is derived from the root common to the tavale , ndavola and ndauve of Fiji, for in Viti Levu the word iva is used for the wives of two brothers, together with such variants and intermediate forms as raiva (ra-iva), reiva and avale.

In the Torres and Banks groups we find a set of terms, woiu, weyUy wulu , wulus and walui , evidently related to one another, together with welag which is probably allied to the term for parents-in-law. The Pentecost system has the terms bulena and habwe in addition to the sibi and mabi which are used for these and so many other relationships.

There is, thus, much agreement with the distribution of the terms for the parents of a consort and the consort of a child, viz., one term widely represented in southern Melanesia and another probably common to Fiji and the Solomons, but not in this case shared by Polynesia.

We thus ascertain the presence of certain terms widely diffused throughout Polynesia, Fiji and the Solomon Islands, but not found in southern Melanesia, in which region there are other widely distributed words, quite different from those of the Solomons and Polynesia. There is thus a striking contrast with the mode of distribution of the words for father and elder and younger brother which were found to be common to southern Melanesia, the Solomons, Fiji and Polynesia.

The results of the linguistic comparison of the terms denoting relationship in Polynesia and Melanesia may be summed up as follows : —

There is far greater uniformity throughout Oceania in the nomenclature for the father than for the mother. For the former relative there are only variants of two or three terms throughout the greater part of the region, while the terms for mother are very numerous. Though there is much diversity in the nomenclature for the mother, there is one term, tina, which has a wide distribution, being common to Fiji, the Solomon Islands and certain parts of Polynesia. The terms for “child” present about as great a degree of diversity as those for the mother. In the case of the brothers and sisters, the terms used by those of the same sex and connoting difference of age are very uniform throughout Oceania, while those used between persons of different sex show far greater diversity.

The relative for whom the greatest diversity of nomen¬ clature is found is the mother’s brother. Whenever there are special terms for the father’s sister and the sister’s son, these also show little resemblance to one another.

Certain terms for grandparents and grandchildren are very widely diffused throughout Oceania, and it is even possible that nearly all may be variants of one term.

Lastly, certain terms denoting relatives by marriage are very widely diffused throughout Polynesia and Melanesia, one group occurring in Polynesia, the southern New Hebrides, Fiji and the Solomon Islands, while the terms of the Torres and Banks Islands and the northern New Hebrides are of a different nature.

It will be convenient to discuss first the results of the comparison in Melanesia, including Fiji. The morpholo¬ gical comparison of Chapter XVI has shown the close rela¬ tion to one another of the systems of Melanesia, and it will be convenient at first to leave Polynesia on one side.

The first question is whether the greater diversity or the greater uniformity is to be regarded as original, and there can be little doubt about the answer. Throughout Melanesia we find a family of languages generally known as Melanesian, with here and there, as in Vella Lavella, Savo, Santa Cruz and Ambrym, languages either of a quite different family or differing very considerably from the ordinary Melanesian type. This suggests that at one time the scattered islands of Melanesia possessed a great variety of languages belonging to a family or families differing greatly, and in some cases

Diversity and Mother-right 185

quite distinct, from that now known as Melanesian, and that there has swept through the whole area some agency which has imposed the form of language now so widely distributed throughout the archipelago. The nature of the terms of relationship is thoroughly in harmony with the idea that, in the linguistic history of Melanesia, there has been an imposi¬ tion of an external language on peoples having originally a great diversity of tongues. It may be noted in passing that the very small degree of resemblance between the languages which remain suggests that the degree of diversity which had at one time been reached was very great

When therefore we find diversity in the nomenclature of relationship, we may safely assume that many of the terms belong to an earlier stratum1 ; and that when we find uni¬ formity, we have to do with words belonging to the later and introduced language. I intend henceforward to adopt this as a working hypothesis. The terms of relationship which show diversity are those used for the mother, the mothers brother, the child, and the brother-sister relationship ; while the relationships of father, grandparent, brothers, sisters and relatives by marriage show a great degree of uniformity.

The first conclusion, then, to be drawn from the data is that the most ancient terms of relationship now found in Melanesia are those for the mother, child, mother’s brother and the terms for the brother-sister relationship, i.e., those relationships which have the most important place in a con¬ dition of mother-right. We should perhaps have expected the terms used between brothers and between sisters to have been equally ancient, but they show a very high degree of uni¬ formity. The explanation of this exception is forthcoming, but its consideration must be deferred for the present. If the assumption that diversity indicates antiquity is correct, it is clear that the most ancient social condition ot which the systems of relationship bear evidence was one of mother-right. Those who wish to show that the patrilineal descent of Melanesia is the older form will have to show that the diversity in the terms for mother and mother’s brother have been the result of a later development.

The first general result of the linguistic survey is thus to confirm the conclusions to which we were led by the morpho¬ logical survey and by the study of other features of social

1 Certain possible exceptions will be considered in Chap. XXIX.

i 86 Melanesian Society

organisation. The examination of certain anomalous modes of expressing relationship pointed to the dual organisation with matrilineal descent as an ancient condition widely diffused throughout Melanesia. The study of descent, inheritance and succession gave the strongest support to this suggestion, and the linguistic comparison of Melanesian terms now leads to the same conclusion. The ancient terms of Melanesia are just those wThich would have been prominent in that condition which the morphological survey has led us to regard as its most ancient form of social organisation.

In proceeding to the further study of the words used for relationship in Melanesia, it will be well first to consider one or two general principles. If the ancient condition of Melanesia was one in which there was a great diversity of languages, and if the present uniformity is a later develop¬ ment, it is necessary to consider under what conditions changes in terms of relationship would have come about. It may be stated confidently that the method of denoting relationship is one of the most fundamental elements in human society. The terms which a man applies to those with whom he stands in the closest social relations will not be changed by whim or caprice, but only under the stress of some decided social need. If originally there were the diversity I have supposed, it is evident that the nomenclature of relationship has suffered great change ; it is therefore necessary to seek for the social need or needs which can have produced the change. Those who have followed and accepted, even if only in its main outlines, the course of social develop¬ ment traced in the preceding chapters, will not have far to seek for these social needs. It is evident that such changes as have been traced in the forms of marriage, — changes from sexual communism to individual marriage, and from marriage with persons having the status of grandparents or grandchildren, through marriage with members of the preceding generation, to the cross-cousin marriage, on the one hand, or to the total prohibition of marriage with kin, on the other — such funda¬ mental changes in social order and social structure would have produced needs amply sufficient to account for the intro¬ duction of new terms. Indeed, it is inconceivable that a system of nomenclature, which owes its origin and every detail of its structure to such a state of society as that indi¬ cated by the system of Pentecost, could persist unchanged

Simplification and Immigrant Influence 187

after this state of society had been replaced by one based on such an institution as the cross-cousin marriage. It does not need much insight to see that, if the marriage with the grand¬ daughter of the brother was replaced, whether suddenly or gradually, by marriage with the daughter of the mother’s brother, there would arise such confusion as to render the introduction of new terms absolutely imperative. A system such as that of Pentecost, the features of which depend on two distinct forms of marriage, has even now a degree of complexity which must bring it near the limit of utility, even to those who have been born into it and lived their whole lives in its midst. Suppose the process carried a step further so that the mother’s brother begins to hand over his daughter, in the place of his wife, to his sister’s son. The mother’s brother’s wife who has hitherto been classed with the wife’s sister, the brother’s wife, various grandparents and the son’s wife (w.s.) will now come to be classed with the wife’s mother, and thus also with the daughter. The sister of the wife, hitherto classed with the daughter and the wife’s mother, will now come into the same category as the many relatives who are called mabi. It seems evident that the confusion would reach such a pitch as to become too much even for a native of Pentecost Island, and some modification of the system of relationship would become inevitable.

So far I have considered merely the internal needs of the people. Let us now suppose the incursion of an alien people, perhaps superior in culture, coming from a place with a very different social structure. Is there the slightest chance that they would understand such a system as that of Pentecost ? Further, if they could by an effort understand it, would they, if a superior people, take the trouble to do so ? By a lucky accident I am able to give a case which supplies an answer to the first of these questions. When I was in Pentecost, a man from the Torres Islands had recently settled there. The moiety to which he would belong was known, so that he had been able to take his place in the social structure of the island, and yet I was told that he was quite unable to understand the system of relationship which served to regu¬ late his actions towards his neighbours in his new home.

We are now in a position to consider an aspect of the social evolution of Melanesian society which was left on one side in the earlier discussion. In tracing out this evolution

little reference was made to any conditions which might have produced, or formed the starting-point of, the changes from one form of marriage to another. The growing recognition of the rights of the father was suggested as a proximate cause, but the causes which could have produced this recog¬ nition remained unknown. I did not consider the matter in that place because it is only the consideration of the terms of relationship which has provided facts on which to proceed. At that time I could only have suggested the general pro¬ bability that the impetus to such changes might have come from without.

The linguistic survey of Melanesian systems now makes it possible to reconsider the whole matter. It has been seen that there is evidence in Melanesia of some influence which has effected great changes in the language used to denote ties of relationship, certain terms of relationship having per¬ sisted from early times, while others have changed. We have now to see whether there may not have been some principle at work which explains how and why these changes came about. The terms of relationship which show the greatest degree of uniformity throughout Melanesia are those for the grandparents and for relatives by marriage, i.e., for just those relationships which would have been most affected by the social development I have traced. If, wherever this development has taken place, the relationships involved are denoted by terms widely diffused through Melanesia, a strong case will have been made out for the view that the develop¬ ment was due, at any rate in part, to the external influence responsible for the introduction of the widely diffused terms. The facts must now be considered from this point of view ; in doing so, I will first deal with the terms for grandparents, grandchildren and relatives by marriage.

We may safely take the system of Pentecost as the most archaic of the recorded systems of Melanesia, i.e., the system which preserves most nearly the characters dependent on the dual organisation with matrilineal descent and with the dominance of the old men. In this system none of the grandparents, grandchildren or relatives by marriage are denoted by the terms widely current throughout Melanesia.

In the Banks Islands, on the other hand, grandparents and grandchildren are denoted by different forms of the widely distributed terms tupu or tumbu ; in fact, as we have

Disappearance of Granddaughter Marriage 189

seen (11, 180), all the chief linguistic forms of these words occur in the Banks Islands. Relatives by marriage, on the other hand, are denoted by terms which on our hypothesis belong to an older stratum, i.e., they are found only in these islands, in the Torres group and in Pentecost, and not, so far as we know, elsewhere in Melanesia.

The essential difference between the Banks system and that of Pentecost is that all trace of the granddaughter mar¬ riage has disappeared in the former. The features of the Pentecost system depend both on the granddaughter marriage and on that with the wife of the mother’s brother, while the Banks system owes its special features to the latter form of marriage only. The new, and by the hypothesis, introduced terms of the Banks Islands are thus applied to just those relatives whose status w~ould have been affected by the dis¬ appearance of the marriage with the granddaughter of the brother. The comparison of the Pentecost and Banks systems suggests that the addition of the marriage with the uncle’s wile to the marriage with the granddaughter had already taken place before the advent of the foreign influence, and that the change which occurred in the Banks under this influence was the disappearance of the older form of marriage. The com¬ parison of the two systems suggests that the old men were already handing over wives to their sisters sons, and that this practice had become an organised system, independent of any external influence ; the comparison suggests that the events especially due to this influence were the total disap¬ pearance of the granddaughter marriage, the introduction of a new comprehensive term for the grandparents, and the consequent simplification of nomenclature lor these relatives. One consideration may be pointed out which supports the view that the disappearance of the granddaughter marriage was directly due to the foreign influence. It has been seen (see 11, 61) that, if the old men began to give their daughters to their sisters’ sons instead of their wives, the marriage with the granddaughters of the brothers would necessarily disappear, because these women would have already been given in marriage. In the Banks Islands, however, there is no reason to believe that this took place, for we have no evi dence of the presence of the cross-cousin marriage, either at present or in the past, except in Merlav the social organisa¬ tion of which departs widely from that of other islands ot the

group. In these islands, we have definite evidence against the existence of the cross-cousin marriage, for the method of denoting cross-cousins is wholly incompatible with such a form of marriage. Some other motive for the disappearance of the marriage with the granddaughter of the brother must be sought, and it is a natural supposition that the disappear¬ ance was due, directly or indirectly, to foreign influence ; perhaps even largely, if not altogether, to the scorn of strangers to whom such a marriage would appear ridiculous or even immoral.

In the Torres Islands the conditions are very similar to those of the Banks. Grandparents are denoted by terms, pupu , repn and tukwu, evidently related to those found through¬ out Melanesia, while relatives by marriage are denoted by terms which, though closely related to those of the Banks Islands, are not found elsewhere in Melanesia.

In the Eastern Solomons, where marriages with kin have either wholly disappeared or exist only in the form of the cross-cousin marriage, both grandparents and relatives by marriage are denoted widely, though not universally, by the terms supposed to have been introduced. Even Savo, the island which in general has preserved its ancient language, has one of the widely diffused terms in the form vungau for the relationship of parents- and children-in-law, while grand¬ parents and grandchildren are called kukua , a term found elsewhere in the Solomons, which may be distantly related to the widely distributed term for these relatives.

In the Western Solomons the system of Eddystone pro¬ vides little evidence owing to its extreme simplification, but in the system of Vella Lavella there seem to be no traces of the widely distributed terms. In Buin also they appear to be completely absent.

In the mountain systems of Viti Levu which still pre¬ serve such evident traces of marriage between persons of alternate generations, there are special terms for certain grandparents quite different from those supposed to have been introduced, though they bear a suggestive resemblance to the terms for grandparents found in Vella Lavella and Buin. Further, the relationship of father’s father provides an instructive example ol a change in progress at the present time ; the word tutua , which appears to be the ancient term lor the combined relationship of father’s father and elder

Introduced Terms and Social Development 19 1

brother, is now frequently replaced by the term tuaka belong¬ ing to the group supposed to have been introduced into Melanesia by the external people. Further, it is suggestive that a term belonging to the introduced group, viz., mbu , should be used for the mother’s mother. I have assumed that marriage with the daughter’s daughter of the brother was once current among these people, with the result that the mother’s mother would have been classed in nomenclature with a sister. This form of marriage, which according to my scheme once existed in Viti Levu, must have disappeared, and it is therefore perfectly natural that a new term for the relationship involved should have come into use. It would seem also that the reciprocal relationship has undergone a change, for in the Nandrau system the daughter’s son is called by a woman either tangi or makumbunggu , the former being properly used by the mother’s father, while makum¬ bunggu belongs to the introduced group. The mountain terms for grandparent and grandchildren thus show in actual progress the changes which I suppose to have come about in other parts of Melanesia. In these mountain systems the terms for the parents of the consort and the consorts of the children, which must have been affected by the alteration of the marriage regulations, are also denoted by terms which, according to my scheme, have been introduced.

Thus, it seems clear that the terms assumed to have been introduced into Melanesia by some external agency denote just those relationships which would have been affected by the course of development sketched in the preceding chapters. In the Banks and Torres Islands and in Fiji the introduced terms only denote relationships which would have been funda¬ mentally affected, while in the Solomons the introduced terms are applied to all relatives by marriage and all relationships two generations removed from one another. The inter¬ mediate condition of such systems as those of Malaita and San Cristoval must be left till we know far more fully than at present the exact nature of the social organisation of those islands.

The results of the linguistic survey show that, at the time certain changes in the regulation of marriage were in progress, alien people were present whose language was at hand to furnish terms for those relationships vitally affected by the changes. It remains to consider how far these changes may

be directly ascribed to such an external influence, and how far they may have been merely the result of the state of unrest which an external influence would set up.

There can be little question that a people who do not practice marriage with persons classed as granddaughters or grandmothers would find such marriages ridiculous. I had a good example of this in the attitude of the native of the Banks Islands who first put me on the right track in the discovery of the Pentecost marriage. To him it was the subject of merriment and scorn, and I do not think that this was in any way due to his European en¬ vironment. His behaviour was thoroughly consistent with all we know of the attitude of peoples to one another, whether savage or civilised. To the average human being customs widely different from his own always excite amuse¬ ment or disgust, and I see no reason to believe that the people whom I suppose to have settled in Melanesia would have been exceptional in this respect. I assume, therefore, that the presence of strangers with a superior culture would have a decided influence in breaking down such marriage regulations. If an external people settled in the Banks Islands, there is nothing improbable or unnatural in their having had a large share in the disappearance of the marriage with the granddaughter of the brother, and in their having incidentally provided the new terms to supply the need so created. This would assume that the external influence reached the island at the time when the original dominance of the old men had largely passed away, but had left as one of its relics the marriage in question. It is possible, how¬ ever, that the influence was even more extensive and played a part in the modification of the dominance itself.

I am now in a position to return to the difficulty that the terms used between brothers and between sisters belong to the group widely distributed throughout Melanesia. One would expect these relationships to be so fundamental that the terms which denote them should belong to the older stratum and be diverse instead of uniform. If it is correct that terms widely distributed throughout Melanesia are rela¬ tively modern and have been introduced, we have to inquire how it is that such fundamental relationships as those of brother and sister have come to be denoted by the new

Introduced terms for Brother and Sister 193

terms. The clue to the puzzle is given by the close con¬ nection between the distribution of the uniform terms for the grandparents and of those for the elder and younger brother or sister. The three terms tupu , tuga and tasi, in one or other of their varying forms, agree very closely in distribution, the only exception being the Western Solomons, an exception easily explained by the classing of the grandparent with the parent in these islands. On examining those systems which still show the influence of marriage between persons two generations apart, we find a definite reason why the terms for brother and for sister should suffer change at the same time as those for grand¬ parent. If grandparents are classed with elder brothers or sisters, and grandchildren with younger brothers or sisters, any change which renders necessary new terms for grand¬ parents and grandchildren can hardly leave the terms for brothers and sisters unaffected. If a new term be intro¬ duced for the grandparents, while the old terms still continue to be used for the brothers and sisters, the people would be uncertain whether these old terms were being used in their new restricted sense or in their old sense. The use of the old terms for brothers and sisters would be a source of confusion and therefore liable to change. It is perfectly natural that the conditions which rendered necessary new terms for the grandparent-grandchild relationship should also produce a need for new terms for elder and younger brothers and for elder and younger sisters ; the fact that the distri¬ bution of the terms tuga and tasi shows so close a corre¬ spondence with the distribution of tupu , tumbu , etc. becomes intelligible.

Let us now look at the subject from another point of view, still assuming that the widely diffused terms have been introduced into Melanesia. Let us inquire how far these in¬ troduced terms have affected different parts of Melanesia.

In the Solomons all the introduced terms are present, and at the same time the evolution of marriage has here reached its highest degree. In the southern New Hebrides many of the introduced terms also accompany an advance as far as the stage characterised by the cross-cousin marriage.

In the Torres and Banks Islands the widely distributed terms for the relationships of grandparent and brothers and sisters are found, but not those for relatives by marriage, a

R. m. s. II.

jg4 Melanesian Society

condition which is in harmony with the disappearance of marriage between persons two generations apart and the preservation of another ancient form of marriage, viz., that with the wife of the mothers brother. The systems of these islands are in an intermediate linguistic condition, just as they are in an intermediate condition so far as the forms of mar¬ riage are concerned.

Lastly, in Pentecost the only terms belonging to the introduced group are those for elder and younger brothers (m.s.) and sisters (w.s.). It must be acknowledged that this is not what might have been expected according to the hypothesis. This island differs from the Banks and Torres Islands in that, though the granddaughter marriage has disappeared or greatly diminished in frequency, its effects still remain in the system of relationship. Nevertheless, certain relationships affected by this form of marriage are denoted by the widely diffused terms. Here the new nomen¬ clature for the brother and sister would appear to have pre¬ ceded that for the grandparents. It would be fruitless to speculate on the matter. It must be confessed that the con¬ dition in Pentecost is not straightforward . on my hypothesis, but we must wait for further information from this and neighbouring islands before we shall be in a position to say what has taken place. It is clear that the external influence has been present, but that the evolution of marriage due to it elsewhere has made no great progress, and that, in association with this condition, the introduced terms are few in number.

In Pentecost the term for the brother-sister relationship is not, so far as we know, used for a grandparent, while in Buin it is so used. This term may have suffered change in some places and not in others; thus would be explained the diversity of the terms by which the relationship is

denoted.

I have left till last the discussion of the nomenclature for parents and children. These relationships are so important that one would hardly at first sight expect any of them to have been denoted by introduced terms; it is clear that they cannot have been affected by the changes in the institution of £o which the use of other borrowed terms has been ascribed. It is therefore natural that the terms for mother and child should show great diversity, and should thus belong,

Introduced terms for Father and Child 195

according to my hypothesis, to an older stratum. The fact which has to be explained is that the terms for father show as great a uniformity throughout Melanesia as those for any relative. There can be no doubt that the status of the father has changed greatly throughout Melanesia, and in some places is still in a transitional condition. I have assumed, as one of the factors which has influenced the development of Melane¬ sian society, a gradually increasing recognition of the relation between father and child, a relation which would have been of relatively little importance in the communism which I sup¬ pose to have been the early condition of Melanesian society. The view that there has been such a change is supported by a study of the status of the father in Melanesia at the present time. In Pentecost, and to a less extent in the Banks Islands, there is the clearest evidence that the relation of the father to his child is becoming closer, and that of the maternal uncle less close. Further, there is evidence that in Fiji the nomen¬ clature for the father is even now in a state of transition1. It would seem, therefore, that the uniformity now found in Melanesia in the terminology for the father is due to the fact that the status of this relative has altered greatly under the influence of an external people, from whose language the new term for the father has been taken.

Though the terms for child present great diversity through¬ out Melanesia, there is one term which has a wide distribution. Some form of the word natu or netu is found in the New Hebrides as far apart as Pentecost and Tanna, as well as in the Banks and Torres Islands, and it is found in other parts of Melanesia. It must therefore be added to the words which, on my hypothesis, are to be ascribed to external influence. I have now to consider whether the scheme of development of Melanesian society which I have formulated suggests the presence of any need which would have led to the use of a new term for a child. In the systems of Tonga and Samoa the father uses one term for his child while the mother uses another, and this feature has been found elsewhere, as among the Arunta of Australia. If, during the time that an external people were exerting influence on systems of relationship, it was a frequent occurrence that the father was of one stock and the mother of another, we have a possible motive for the different terms used by the

1 See 1, pp. 280, 282.

13—2

parents. It is possible that the double nomenclature for the child once existed in Melanesia, and that the single term which has survived in many places is that which was used by the father.

The relationship of mother and child is so fundamental, and so unlikely to have suffered any great change in status, that on my hypothesis the term for mother should in general belong to the earlier stratum ; it should have persisted un¬ changed, thus producing a great degree of diversity in nomen¬ clature. As a matter of fact such diversity exists, but there is one term, tina , which has a wide distribution. It is found in the western, and in two of the matrilineal, islands of the Solomons and among the coastal people of Fiji.

On my hypothesis tina should be an introduced term, and its wide distribution elsewhere puts beyond all doubt the fact of its introduction from without. This use of an intro¬ duced term in one part of Melanesia for a relationship so fundamental as that of the mother raises a difficulty in the way of the scheme I am now putting forward. In order to deal with this difficulty adequately it would be necessary to anticipate much of the argument which follows in later chapters, and this topic will be considered at a later stage of the inquiry1.

In the preceding discussion I have confined my attention to the distribution of terms of relationship as elements of the vocabularies of the different peoples. I have left .on one side any consideration of differences in the grammatical forms in which these terms are used. This part of the subject may be considered under three heads, dealing with (i) the possessive forms, (ii) certain collective forms, and (iii) the terms used in address which may be regarded as vocative forms.

Possessive Forms.

It will have been noticed that Melanesian terms of rela¬ tionship are habitually used with a possessive, usually in the form of a suffixed pronoun, the exceptions being Savo, Vella Lavella and certain terms of both the coastal and mountain peoples of Viti Levu. I need not stay to consider the pre¬ fixed pronouns of Savo and Vella Lavella, for the languages

1 See Chapter xxix.

Possessive Forms

of these islands depart widely from the Melanesian type and belong to a wholly different family or families. The forms found in Fiji are of more importance for my present purpose and possess features which afford striking confirma¬ tion of the conclusions already reached in this chapter. The great majority of the terms of the coastal systems of Viti Levu take the suffixed pronoun, but two terms, vasu (or vaturii) and ndaku , are preceded by the possessive noun. Both these terms also occur in the mountain systems with the possessive noun, but in these systems they only form part of a large group with which the possessive noun is used while, on the other hand, the mountain systems employ a number of terms which suffix their pronouns.

It is remarkable that the terms which take the suffixed pronouns are just those terms which are found widely dis¬ tributed throughout Melanesia, viz., tama , tina , tuakay tadhi , tumbu, mbu, vungo or vuno, and iva in the form ra-ivay together with others of which we do not know elsewhere in Melanesia. With these exceptions, the terms which suffix their pronouns are exactly those terms which are widely diffused and have therefore, according to my hypothesis, been introduced into Melanesia, while the terms with which the possessive noun is used are special to Fiji or, if they occur elsewhere, have only a limited distribution.

It thus appears that the terms of relationship which are diffused widely throughout Melanesia are used in one gram¬ matical form in Fiji, while terms more special to this region are used in a different form. It is a very striking fact that a classification of terms of relationship based on the criterion of diversity of vocabulary throughout Melanesia should fall so exactly into line with one based on the grammatical form in which the terms are used. The agreement can leave no doubt that we have to do with a fundamental distinction, with just such a distinction as might be expected to exist if the two classes of term belong to two different peoples.

Fiji is the chief place1 where I have found two widely different forms of possessive, but in another region there occur two different kinds of suffixed pronoun. In Ulawa and at Saa in Malaita, all the terms of relationship take the pronouns widely distributed throughout Melanesia. In the Lau and Fiu systems of Malaita, on the other hand, the great

1 The possessive noun also occurs in Malaita and the Shortland Islands.

majority oi the terms are followed by pronouns of a quite different kind, of which nau stands for the first person singular. In both systems, however, certain terms take the usual form in -kn (first pers. sing.), and some of the terms thus used with -ku are also found in the systems of Saa and Ulawa. There can be little doubt that such a term as sasiku , which only occurs as an alternative term in Lau and Fiu, belongs to the same culture as that of Ulawa and Saa, so that these islands provide another example of two classes of terms of relationship used in different possessive forms.

The parallel with Fiji is even closer. I have shown that the mountain people of Viti Levu, who use the possessive nouns predominantly, possess the less advanced systems of relationship, while the systems of the coast are far more advanced and belong to a people whose culture is encroaching on that of the interior. In Fiji it is the people who use the form in -nggu (first pers. sing.) who seem to represent the later comers, and the condition appears to be the same in Malaita and Ulawa. On the principles advanced in this volume, Ulawa and Saa certainly have the more advanced, and Fiu and Lau the less advanced, systems of relationship, and all that we know of the culture of this region points in the same direction. Here the culture of a more advanced people is encroaching on a less advanced culture, and there can be little doubt that it is the more advanced peoples who are the later comers. Fiji and Malaita thus agree in showing the progressive advance of a people who used certain terms of relationship in a special grammatical form. The study of the possessive forms reveals the progressive influence of this people on others whose systems of relationship and general culture show them to be less advanced and to ap¬ proach more nearly that condition of linguistic diversity which, on my scheme, was characteristic of the early state of Mela¬ nesia.

Collective Forms.

I can now turn to the second grammatical feature which in certain regions characterises the terms supposed to have been introduced. In Fiji the widely diffused terms are habitually used in a collective form ; words such as ngane or vungo are used in the forms veinganeni and veivungoni to denote the relationship between two persons or two groups

Collective Forms

of persons. These collective forms are used both by coastal and inland peoples, and I am indebted to Mr Hocart for the information that the collective forms are used in the mountains even for those relationships ordinarily denoted by the terms of the older linguistic stratum. Thus, Mr Hocart tells me that a mountaineer who addresses his maternal grandfather as tai} will say, when speaking of him, “ I am veitumbuni with him.” It seems quite clear that it is only the widely diffused terms which are used in this collective or reciprocal way, and in consequence it follows that the terms veidhakavi and veilavi (see 1, 278) which puzzled me so much in the mountain systems belong to the introduced group.

The only other part of Melanesia where I know of these

collective terms is the Solomons. In Eddvstone Island there

✓

are a number of terms in which tama takes the place of the vei of Fiji ; tamatasiy tamaluluna and tamaivana being used for brothers, brothers and sisters, and brothers- and sisters-in-law respectively. In Ulawa there is an even closer resemblance to Fiji. In this island the collective prefix is rohaiy mother and child being rohainikeina and two brothers-in-law rohaiihana . The meaning of ro is two, and the had is certainly related to the vei of Fiji.

It is probable that a more complete inquiry would show that these collective forms have a still wider distribution in the Solomons. Most of the terms used in this manner belong to the group widely distributed throughout Melanesia. It would seem that this group is not only distinguished by taking a possessive different from that of the earlier stratum, but also by having a special collective form which is not used with the older terms. It may be noted that the term for the collective relationship of brothers and cousins is based on the word for the younger brother and not on that for the elder.

These collective forms help us to understand how an alien people succeeded in imposing their terms of relationship upon those among whom they settled. There is reason to believe that the earlier languages of Melanesia possessed no such collective forms, but that terms of relationship were used only in address or as the means of denoting this or that indi¬ vidual. If the collective terms used by the new settlers were adopted by the earlier inhabitants, there would come about a condition in which they would use their own terms in address

or when speaking of individuals, while they would use the collective terms when speaking of a group of relatives of a given category or of the reciprocal relationship between two persons; such a condition, in fact, as Mr Hocart records in Fiji at the present time. The people would thus become familiar with the introduced terms and, when social needs for new terms of relationship arose as the result of the altered regulation of marriage, it would be natural that terms which came into use to meet these needs should be those with which the people had already become familiar in their collective sense.

These collective forms may also explain the reciprocal nature of so many Melanesian terms of relationship. Thus, it is very general in Melanesia for a man to use for his grand¬ child the word which the grandchild applies to himself. Such a usage, so strange to ourselves, would be perfectly natural if such a term as tumbu came into use originally as a collective term expressing the relationship between two or more persons, and only came to be used secondarily as a term of address or as a means of denoting individuals.

If this were the mode of origin of the reciprocal terms of Melanesia, we should expect to find them used for such rela¬ tives as grandparents and grandchildren and parents- and children-in-law while, according to my scheme, they should be less liable to be used for the relationship of mothers brother and sister’s son. As a matter of fact, the usage in question is very general for the former groups of relatives. It also occurs, however, in the case of the mother’s brother and sister’s son, as in the Torres Islands and Eastern Solomons, though elsewhere, as in the Banks and New Hebrides, there is one term for the mother’s brother and a different .term for the sister’s son. We have to suppose that the reciprocal usage was adopted in the Torres Islands and Eastern Solomons although the people continued to use the old terms of relationship. The use of a reciprocal term for the brother-sister relationship, however, cannot be explained in this way. The facts are thus conflicting, and it must remain an open question whether the use of a common reciprocal term for relatives of different sex or generation is wholly, or only in part, an introduced practice.

Terms used in Address

Vocative Forms .

Throughout Melanesia many terms of relationship, and especially those used within the family, occur in two forms : one, when a relative is spoken of, and the other in address. The latter, which may be regarded as vocative forms, are of several kinds. In some cases, they are merely shortened words, perhaps only the term of relationship with the omission of the possessive pronoun ; in other cases, they are formed by reduplication, while in other cases again, the two terms are widely different. The first two kinds are of no special interest and need not be considered further, but that in which the terms are widely different merits more attention.

The first point to be noted is that, when the term used in address differs widely from that in general use, it often has evident affinities with a term for the same relative used among some neighbouring people. Thus, in Ulawa in the Solomons the mother, usually spoken of as nikeku, is ad¬ dressed as teitei, which is evidently a reduplication of the tei of the Lau system of Malaita and closely related to the tea of Fiu in the same island. Similarly, the elder brother and sister in the Bugotu district of Ysabel are addressed as kaka, the term used for these relatives in Vella Lavella, while in general conversation the Bugotu people use the term toga, evidently a form of the widely distributed term for these rela¬ tives. It has been seen that the systems of Ulawa and Bugotu are relatively advanced, while those of Lau and Fiu are relatively backward, and it follows that the terms used in address in Ulawa and Bugotu are ancient terms and belong to an older linguistic stratum. The use of a common term in Ysabel and Vella Lavella suggests that the ancient language of Ysabel may have been a member of the family to which the language of Vella Lavella still belongs.

In Fiji we find the same kind of condition. The word nati which is used in address in the Mbau system of Viti Levu is the habitual term for the mother in Nandrau. Again, the term momo which is used only in address in the Mbau system is one of the best established terms among the mountain tribes.

The evidence from the Solomons and Fiji thus suggests that when two widely different terms are used for a relative,

one in address and the other in ordinary conversation, the former belongs to an older linguistic stratum. This con¬ clusion derived from the Melanesian facts might have been foreseen. It is perfectly natural that terms used intimately between relatives, and especially between parents and children or between brothers and sisters, should persist long after they have been replaced by other terms in the conversation of ordinary life in which all, relatives or no, participate.

Further, this persistence in address of terms derived from the earlier linguistic stratum is thoroughly in harmony with the view I have suggested that the introduced terms were originally used in a collective sense. In dealing with these collective terms, I assumed that the earlier inhabitants used terms of relationship especially in address. It is there¬ fore perfectly natural that they should continue to use their own terms in address, while the collective terms of the settlers were adopted for the purposes of general conver¬ sation.

Thus far I have only discussed the distribution of terms of relationship in Melanesia. It now becomes necessary to see how far there is community of nomenclature between Melanesia and Polynesia. The preceding discussion has shown that certain terms of relationship are found widely diffused throughout Melanesia, including Fiji. It has been concluded that these terms have been introduced, their intro¬ duction having been facilitated, if not rendered absolutely necessary, by certain changes which have come about in Melanesian society, especially in the regulation of marriage and in the recognition of fatherhood. Excluding the terms found only in Fiji, these common terms are: tama\ tina> tupu or tumbu ; vungo or vuno ; iva ; tuka or tuga ; tasi, tahi or tadhi. With one exception, all these words are found in Polynesia, where they are used in the same sense as in Melanesia. Tupu is found in one form or another in the Hawaian Islands, Niue and Tikopia, while mokopuna is the usual Polynesian term for grandchild ; vungo is met with in such forms as vungavai, vungoai and hunoai as the usual term for parent-in-law ; the Melanesian term for elder brother is represented by the taukesi of N iue, and perhaps by the tokoua of Tonga; corresponding words for younger brother are the seihina of Niue, the tehina of Tonga, and probably

Melanesia and Polynesia 203

the tama of Tikopia. Tama is found in Samoa, Tonga and Tikopia; tinci in Samoa and probably in Tikopia (1, 341). The only exception is that the term for relatives by marriage of the same generation, zva, is not, so far as we know, found in Polynesia. It may be noted also that of the Fijian terms which suffix the pronoun and yet are not widely dis¬ tributed throughout Melanesia, that denoting the brothersister relation, ngane , is also found in Polynesia.

It thus appears that nearly every term which I suppose to have been introduced into Melanesia by an external people is also found in Polynesia. It remains to consider how this common possession of terms of relationship has come about. There seem to be three chief possibilities. It may be that the external people who have supplied to the Melanesians their terms for the father, for the grandparents and for relatives by marriage were Polynesians. The exist¬ ence of widespread Polynesian influence in Melanesia stands beyond question, and the Melanesian use of the terms in question may be due to this influence.

A second possibility is that the Polynesians have acquired the terms from Melanesia. It is sometimes held that the ancestors of the Polynesians passed through Melanesia, and spent perhaps a long time in that region while on the way from their ancient home to the islands they now inhabit. If so, it is possible that the community of nomenclature in the systems of relationship of the two peoples came into existence during this sojourn in Melanesia.

Still another possibility is that the elements common to the nomenclature of Polynesians and Melanesians have been derived from some third people who have come into both regions. It may be that this people produced certain changes in the social conditions of those among whom they settled, and that terms from their language came to denote relation¬ ships the status of which had been affected by their in¬ fluence.

For the present, I must be content to put forward these three alternatives, and must pass on to consider other aspects of Melanesian culture concerning which I have been able to provide new evidence in this book. I shall assume that the present condition of Melanesian society is the result of the interaction of two peoples, one of which, broken up into small groups, speaking widely diverse languages and having

little communication with one another, possessed the dual organisation with matrilineal descent. I shall assume that there came into this variegated linguistic region people from without through whose influence great changes in the social structure were produced, these changes leading to certain linguistic needs which were supplied by the language of the immigrant people.

In the next chapter I shall speak of these two elements of the population of Melanesia as aborigines and immigrants respectively, and shall leave their ethnical characters on one side. It will be my task later to attempt to discover whether these two elements are sufficient to explain the present com¬ plexity and variety of Melanesian culture. If they do not seem to be so, an attempt will be made to carry the process of analysis still further. I shall attempt to ascertain how far the present features of Melanesian society can be referred to the cultures the existence of which is demonstrated by the process of analysis, always remembering that features of Melanesian culture may not belong directly to any one of its component elements, but may have arisen through the special conditions under which the different elements have come into contact and reacted on one another.

CHAPTER XXIV

SECRET SOCIETIES

The position now reached in this volume is that there is evidence in Melanesia of an ancient stratum of the popu¬ lation whose social institutions have been greatly modified by contact with people from without. This conclusion has been reached entirely by the study of systems of relationship ; by the combined study of their forms and of the linguistic nature of the terms by which these forms are expressed. It will now be profitable to turn to the consideration of other facts recorded in this book, and I begin with the secret societies about which I have been able to provide much new material.

It was only possible for me to gather information in any detail in one island, Mota of the Banks Islands, but enough concerning similar institutions in other parts of Melanesia has been recorded by Dr Codrington and others to enable us to study the distribution of secret societies in the area with which we are concerned. Secret societies are found in the Torres and Banks Islands and in the northern New Hebrides. In the southern New Hebrides a man’s sleeping house resembling the gamal of the more northern islands exists, but there is no evidence of any institutions cor¬ responding to the Tamate societies of the Banks Islands. In New Caledonia there are faint indications that such societies exist. On passing from the Torres Islands north¬ wards we find no sign of any secret organisations in the Santa Cruz group, unless masks from that region are to be taken as evidence of their existence in the past1. The only place in the British Solomon Islands in which there

1 Since this was written I have heard from Mr J. W. Blencowe that there is an organisation having some resemblance to the Banks Sukwe in Utupua.

is any definite evidence of secret societies is the island of Florida, in the matrilineal region of the eastern part of the group. In Fiji, secret societies were only known in one district of the interior of Viti Levu, and on passing beyond the special region of my survey, definite secret societies are found in northern Bougainville and the Bismarck Archipelago.

I will now consider more closely the distribution within the area covered by my work. The first point to be noted is an association with matrilineal descent ; in all the places in Melanesia where these societies are present, with the exception of Fiji, descent follows the mother, while the regions in which they have reached their highest develop¬ ment possess the dual organisation of society. The secret societies are especially well developed in that region of southern Melanesia which stands nearest to the ancient form of social organisation, and has been least affected by the external influence to which the change in social order has been ascribed. In the Solomons, on the other hand, where this external influence has been most pronounced, the secret organisation existed in one island only, and its hold on the people was so slight that it rapidly disappeared as the result of European influence. The comparison of northern with southern Melanesia suggests that secret societies are associated with the less advanced communities, those least affected by the external influence which helped to break down the dominance of the old men and had so great an effect on the systems of relationship. Within the region of southern Melanesia where the organisations exist, however, we find a condition which seems to contradict this conclusion. In the region comprising the Torres, Banks and northern New Hebrides, the societies have reached their highest development in the Banks Islands, which seem to have the most advanced culture of this region. It may be that, if we knew as much about the Torres and New Hebrides as we now know about the Banks Islands, this conclusion might be found no longer to hold good, but, from all that I could learn, there can be little doubt that the greater development of the societies in the Banks Islands is a real fact. Certainly in external manifestations such as houses, masks and other obvious features connected with the societies, both Pentecost and the Torres stand behind the Banks Islands. Within

Relation between Sukwe and Tamate 207

the Banks Islands, the societies seem to have reached the highest pitch of development in the two islands of Mota and Ureparapara. Little is known about the latter place, but Mota certainly stands high in the scale of culture within this group, so that here again we find the association of high development of the societies with general advance in culture.

The first result, then, of the survey is to show that secret societies are found in those regions of Melanesia which are relatively backward in culture and possess the most archaic form of social organisation, while within the region where they flourish there is a certain degree of correlation between the degree of development of the societies and general advance of culture.

If, passing from this general survey, attention be concen¬ trated on the institution where we now know it best, viz., in Mota, certain features may be pointed out which seem especially in need of explanation. First and foremost is the association of the Sukwe with the Tamate societies, of the organisation of the village with the organisation of the bush. In many ways these two institutions seem to be largely inde¬ pendent, but yet there is evidently a definite relation between the two. The most important of the Tamate societies can only be entered by those who have not merely become members of the Sukwe, but have reached its higher ranks, and there seems to be no doubt that certain ranks of the Sukwe are associated with certain Tamate societies.

A second fact to be explained is the different degree of publicity of the Sukwe and Tamate societies. Both are entered by a process of initiation, but it is only the Tamate which really deserve the title of secret societies. We have, then, two associated institutions, one connected with the village in which the element of secrecy is not very great, while the other in which secrecy is an essential and funda¬ mental feature has its lodges hidden away in the bush. Women are excluded from both, though the less secret character of the Sukwe is shown by the fact that on certain occasions women are allowed to enter the gamal , and they habitually see some of the proceedings which take place in its immediate neighbourhood.

The resemblance of the gamal to the men’s sleepinghouse or club-house, found in other parts of Melanesia and

elsewhere, is obvious. The special features which need ex¬ planation in the Banks Islands are the existence of differences of rank among those who use the house and the rites of initiation. The gamal is not merely a men’s club where all males above a certain age eat and sleep ; it is only open to those who have gone through certain ceremonies and have paid for the privilege of entrance. A satisfactory scheme of the origin and development of the Sukzve must furnish an explanation of the different ranks which exist within the organisation.

On passing to the Tamate societies, the first point to be noted is the existence of different kinds of society : some which may be entered even by those who have not been initiated into the Sukwe ; others especially connected with the higher ranks of this institution ; and others again inter¬ mediate between them. Some of the factors which have produced the multiplication of these societies have already been considered (see i, 128), but there still remains a need for an explanation of their original multiplicity, for it is extremely unlikely that at any time each island had only one Tamate society. We have then to account for the large number and the variations in importance of the societies.

In the internal constitution of the Tamate societies the following may be noted as points requiring attention. Cer¬ tain features such as the sounds belonging to some of the societies are clearly connected with the motive of secrecy, but it may be noted that it is the most important of all the societies which possesses the loudest, most complicated and most important of these sounds. Secondly, there is the great importance of the ceremonies of initiation ; these are the most definite ceremonies of which, we have knowledge, but it must always be remembered that there may be other rites, equally elaborate and important, which still remain unknown. Thirdly, there is the clear connection not only of the ceremonial, but even of the name, of the societies with the idea of death ; there is reason to believe that the most characteristic of the initiation ceremonies is but a pro¬ longed representation of death as a rite preliminary to full entrance into the society; that in becoming a member of the society, the initiate is becoming a tamate or ghost. Fourthly, there is the close connection of the societies with

Secrecy of Societies 209

the protection of property ; it is as a member of a Tamate society that an individual is able to protect his property from other persons of the community. It has been shown to be probable that communism in goods once reigned in this part of Melanesia, and it is noteworthy that this taboo, which must be associated with the idea of individual property, should be a function of the “ ghost ” societies1.

In the search for the origin of the secret societies of Melanesia, it is not unfitting to take as the starting-point their secrecy. In such an inquiry, many are satisfied by phrases such as “the love of mankind for the mysterious,” etc., but to those who believe that social institutions only arise in response to definite social needs, such phrases give little satisfaction. I do not propose to consider such needs as may arise in a homogeneous community. It has been shown that the population of Melanesia is not homogeneous ; that at some time there has come into these islands an external influence which has greatly affected the languages of the people and, directly or indirectly, produced great modification of their social institutions. I propose, therefore, to devote this chapter to formulating a scheme of the process whereby the Sukwe and Tamate societies can have come into being as the result of the interaction between an aboriginal population and a people from without.

There is much in the ritual and organisation of secret societies which suggests that they are derived from ancient cults , that they have had their origin in the performance of rites which for some reason or other it became necessary to carry out in secret. Where we find evidence of two elements in the population, it seems natural to suppose that the organisation has arisen through the secret performance of the rites of one of these two elements, and the first idea which suggests itself is that the ceremonial of the secret societies represents the rites of the aboriginal element of the population persisting in this form after they had been superseded in the more public life by the superior cult of the new-comers. However this may be in other parts of the world, the great popularity of the Melanesian societies and the diffusion of membership throughout the whole male population make it difficult to believe that they represent

3 It must be noted, however, that property may also be protected by taboos of other kinds, see Codrington, 216.

R. M. s. 11.

2 1 o Melanesian Society

the inferior cult of the earlier inhabitants. The alternative is that the secret ceremonial is derived from rites brought by the immigrant element of the population, and I now proceed to take this as my working hypothesis.

I will at first limit my discussion to the institution as we find it in the Banks Islands. If it can be shown that all the chief features which stand in need of explanation follow naturally from an origin in the secret performance of their rites by the immigrants, a strong presumption will be created in favour of such an origin.

I intend first to endeavour to show that all the main features of the Sukwe and Tamate societies may have arisen in this way ; then it can be considered whether there has been such a complete de novo growth in the Banks Islands or whether some of the features may not have been brought by the new-comers or borrowed from the aboriginal population.

I propose for my present purpose to make three assump¬ tions : one, that the strangers were relatively few in number ; the second, that their reception was peaceful, that they were received by the aboriginal population in a friendly manner ; the third, that they were solely of the male sex, or were accompanied by very few women of their own race.

If a body of strange men were to arrive among a timid and perhaps suspicious people, it is not unnatural to suppose that they would live in a separate house, and that, owing to differences of rank or of original habitation among the visitors, they might form small groups, each of which kept more or less to itself and occupied a given portion of the house. We should thus have in this house the origin of the gamal and of its subdivisions, or at least of the principle of rank and subdivision within it.

Next, let us suppose that the strangers had certain religious needs which they were accustomed to satisfy by ceremonies and that, wishing to keep these to themselves, they betook themselves to lonely places in the bush, where they practised their rites in secret. We should then have, not only a motive for the origin of the Tamate societies in general, but also an explanation of the general connection of the Tamate societies with the gamal. Let us next suppose that different portions of the immigrant population possessed cults which, though they had the same general character, differed

A dmission of Aborigines 2 1 1

in nature to such an extent that each section of the gamal performed its ceremonies apart; we should then have in the first place, a motive for the primary multiplicity of the T amate societies, and secondly, an explanation of the con¬ nection between certain of the Tamate societies and certain divisions of the Sukwe.

Let us next suppose that the aborigines discovered the existence of these rites, and some means would become neces¬ sary to preserve their secrecy. The natural awe of rites which they would perhaps suppose to be magical would go far to prevent prying and interruption, but if strange noises were to be heard coming from the meetings, this dread would be so accentuated as to ensure privacy.

Matters might go on in this way for some time, but, as the strangers married the women of the island and their children grew up, the dividing line between the aboriginal and immigrant populations would become less pronounced, and members of the aboriginal population would seek admission to the secret rites. There can be little doubt that such admission would be granted unwillingly, and it is natural to suppose that only those men would be admitted with whom the members of the secret societies had become intimate. I suggest that, as a means of testing the character of those seeking admission, it became the custom to admit candidates to the semi-public fellowship of the gamal as a preliminary to admission to the secret rites. If we look at the matter from the aboriginal point of view, it has a similar aspect ; it would only be those who had become familiar with the strangers, and sharers of their everyday life, who would dare to seek admission to the secret and mysterious rites carried on in the bush. Thus, there are on both sides reasons why admission to the membership of the gamal should be a necessary antecedent of admission to the Tamate societies, and if this be so, the motive for a process of initiation into the Sukwe and its gamal is at once provided.

Moreover, this admission of the aborigines to the gamal , as a preliminary to their admission to the secret societies, gives us a further motive for the divisions and differences of rank in the Sukwe. I have suggested that some of these divisions may have been the result of differences of rank, class, or original habitat among the immigrants. This may well have introduced the general principle of division

14 — 2

and rank, but it is out of the question that it could have led to the large number of ranks which now exist. Let us suppose, however, that the aborigines came into the Sukwe in batches ; that, as is probable, the process by which they joined was gradual, so that at first only a few bold spirits sought admission, and that it was only when these were found to suffer no harm that others came forward. It is natural to suppose that those who first joined would be assigned a special place in the gamal below that occupied by the strangers of the lowest rank. When the next batch joined, those who were already members would regard them¬ selves as superior, while perhaps as an additional motive, the members might fear that those who had already entered the Tamate societies would reveal the nature of the secret rites if the new-comers were at once admitted to equal partner¬ ship. The new-comers would be kept apart from the rest as far as possible by making a new division of the Sukwe on their behalf. We have thus a mechanism for the increase in number of the ranks of the Sukwe , and I suggest that the dividing line which exists between the Tamatsina and Tavatsukwe ranks may represent the ancient distinction between the original immigrant members and the aborigines who joined the institution later.

The Tavatsukwe rank has several special features ; it can¬ not be entered except by those who have already become members of Tamate liwoa ; it was only those who had been initiated into Tavatsukwe who, in the old days, might drink kava, and it is still only they who should properly make it. Again, it is only those below the rank of Tavat¬ sukwe who may be beaten before an initiation into Tamate liwoa (see i, 99). The freedom of the Tavatsukwe rank from being beaten is intelligible if the members of this and higher ranks were the originators of the custom, while those below it were aborigines still only making their way toward full participation in the mysteries.

If the aboriginal seekers for admission to the secret rites were not at once admitted to full participation, we have a motive for the further multiplication of the Tamate societies and for the different degrees of importance which exist among these societies. Thus the different classes of Tamate society become natural ; and if admission to full participation in the secret rites was only granted after long and intimate

Immigrant Character of Ritual 2 1 3

acquaintance, we have an ample motive for the rule that admission into the greatest of all the societies, the Tamate liwoa , was only open to those who had passed through many stages of the village organisation. Such an origin would explain the great importance of the introducer in initiation into both Sukwe and Tamate societies. He would be one whose special duty it would have been to acquaint himself thoroughly with the character of the new candidate so that he could vouch for his fidelity.

I have now given a brief sketch of a possible mode of evolu¬ tion of the secret organisations of the Banks Islands ; its main features — the two separate institutions of the ga?nal and the Tamate societies, and the connection between them — are such as would have been the natural result of the advent of an immigrant people with a need for the secret performance of magico-religious or purely religious rites which they had brought with them.

If this has been the mode of origin of the Melanesian organisations, the study of the ritual of the societies should show us the nature of the rites which the immigrants were led to practise in secret. It is, of course, possible that as the aborigines were admitted to membership of the societies, features derived from the aboriginal culture crept into the secret rites, and it might be expected that later innovations, whether due to external influence or to ideas independent of such influence, would have affected the ritual. I propose, however, to assume that the ritual of the secret organisations as practised at the present time has been derived from the immigrants supposed to have been responsible for the foundation of the societies, and I shall only depart from this where I am driven to do so by the evidence. I propose to take as a working assumption through¬ out the rest of this volume that the features of the ritual of the secret organisations are of immigrant origin, and that the nature of this ritual furnishes us with a guide whereby we may distinguish between the immigrant and aboriginal elements of Melanesian culture.

One possibility, however, which will continually arise, may be considered here. When two cultures come into contact, it must always be possible that institutions and customs may come into being which do not belong to either of the com¬ ponent cultures, but are the result of the interaction between

the two. I take as an example, by means of which to illustrate this subject, the representation of death which seems to be one of the leading, if not the leading, motive of the ritual of the Tamate societies.

I have assumed that the immigrant people whom I sup¬ pose to have founded the secret organisations of Melanesia were received peacefully, this assumption seeming to be a necessary condition if my scheme of the origin of the Sukwe and Tamate societies is to hold good. The peaceful reception of strangers is so contrary to the existing practice of many parts of Melanesia that it seemed to me at one time necessary to find some motive for it, and I was inclined to believe that it might have been the result of a belief that the strangers were the dead come back to earth. This belief would also help to explain the name of the secret societies and the belief that their members are ghosts, as well as the prominent part taken by the idea of death in the ritual of the societies. We have evidence1 from the neighbourhood of Melanesia, especially from Australia and New Guinea, that strangers are taken for the dead. If a similar belief had been entertained by the aborigines of Melanesia, it would become natural that the societies founded by the strangers should be called Tamate or ‘‘ghost,” and that their members should receive the same name. Further, if the societies were believed to be associations of the dead, it becomes natural that the ritual of the process of admission to the societies should be representative of death.

If this were so, it would follow that the close connection of the idea of death with the societies need not have been a feature of the immigrant culture, but may have been the outcome of aboriginal ideas concerning the nature of the people to whom the foundation of the societies was due. The close connection of the societies with the idea of death would have been a result of the interaction between aboriginal ideas and immigrant practices.

There are several features of the Tamate societies which become intelligible if the immigrants were taken for the dead. Such an idea would probably have acted as a powerful means of promoting the emotion of awe, and would thus have as¬ sisted greatly in bringing about the mastery of the societies

1 See, for example, Howitt , Native Tribes of South-east Australia , p. 442, and Chalmers, Pioneering in New Guinea , p. 43.

The Societies and Death

2I5

in so many departments of life. It would account for the respect paid to the taboo-marks of the immigrants, for the disappearance of all uninitiated persons when the tamate are abroad, and for the powers of extortion and terrorisation possessed by the societies. It would also help to explain, from the aboriginal point of view, why admission to the society of the gamal should be a necessary preliminary to participation in the rites of the Tamate societies ; it would only be those who had mixed very intimately in the general social life of the strangers who would care to take part in their secret rites in the bush. Indeed, the case might seem to go almost too far and make it difficult to understand how the aboriginal population should ever have sought admission to the company of those whom they believed to have returned from the world of the dead.

There is thus much in the nature of the secret organisa¬ tions of Melanesia which seems more easy to understand if the prominent part taken by the idea of death were the result of an aboriginal belief that the strangers were, not merely figuratively, but actually the dead. There are, however, difficulties. In the first place, we have no right to assume that the aborigines would have experienced those feelings of awe and mystery from association with the dead which seem so natural to ourselves. There is evidence that to Melanesians, as to other peoples of rude culture, intercourse with the dead seems a far more ordinary occurrence than to ourselves1 ; a belief that the strangers were the dead may have been rather an incentive to, than a deterrent from, participation in the secret rites. We shall see later, how¬ ever, that there is definite evidence of fear of the dead in Melanesia, and it will be one of our tasks to inquire how far this fear is likely to have been present among the aboriginal population.

Another difficulty is presented by the prominence of the representation of death in the secret ritual. It might be supposed that the representation of death, which seems to have been the leading motive of the ceremony of initiation, was intended to strengthen the belief of the initiate that he was entering the society of the dead, but this representation of death seems far too fundamental a feature of the ritual to owe its explanation to the desire of the immigrants to

1 See Hibbert Journal , 1912, X, 393.

confirm a delusion of the aborigines ; and, since the mouth of the candidate would be shut to the uninitiated, the ceremony could have no direct effect in strengthening the general belief in the ghostly character of the secret rites. We have here a feature of the ritual of the Tamate societies which cannot be explained as having arisen de novo through the interaction between aboriginal ideas and immigrant practices, but one which must have been based on beliefs brought with them by the immigrants.

Though the belief of the aborigines that the immigrants were ghosts is thus not necessary, it may yet have taken a share in giving its prominence to the idea of death in the societies, and especially in giving to them the name by which they are generally known. The idea that strangers are the dead may, however, have been late, the consequence rather than the cause of the ghostly character of the practices which became part of the secret rituals of Melanesia. Though there are facts which suggest that the prominence of the idea of death in connection with the societies may have arisen in part through the interaction between aborigines and immigrants, there can be little doubt that it must have been chiefly derived from the immigrant culture, and I propose to assume that this was also the case with other features of the ritual.

It is now necessary to return to a topic briefly considered in the early part of this chapter, viz., the distribution of secret societies within the area of our survey. It was seen that secret societies are strongest in those regions which have been shown by their systems of relationship and their mar¬ riage institutions to be nearest to the archaic condition of Melanesian society. In the Solomon Islands, where the general advance in the type of social structure has been greatest, the secret societies were found to be few in number when the islands were first visited during the last century1, and had a very faint hold on the population in comparison with that of the more southern islands.

The fact which has to be explained is the presence and strength of the societies in the less advanced regions, and their absence or weakness in the more advanced. The nature of the terms of relationship shows clearly that the general

1 The records of the Spanish visitors two centuries earlier do not mention these societies, a fact easily explained by their very superficial intercourse with the people.

Distribution of Societies 2 1 7

advance in culture is to be associated with a greater influence of the immigrants ; so that my scheme leads to the para¬ doxical position that secret societies whose origin is ascribed to the advent of the immigrant population have reached their highest development where the influence of the strangers was weak, while the societies are absent or of small account where the influence of the strangers was strongest. The contra¬ diction is, however, only apparent. My scheme of the origin of secret societies in the Banks Islands has been deduced from the relative weakness of the immigrant people ; the origin has been referred to the desire of the strangers to practise their rites away from the aboriginal population by which they were surrounded. If, however, the immigrant population were in the ascendant, either in power or in numbers, this need for secrecy would not be present and their cult would be practised openly.

The hypothesis suggested by these considerations is that the religious cult of the immigrants was practised openly in the Solomons and secretly in the Banks Islands ; if this was so, we should expect to find an agreement between the secret cult of the Banks Islands and the public cult of the people of the coastal districts of the Solomons. My chief knowledge of the religious cult of the Solomon Islands is derived from the western part of the region, the full con¬ sideration of which must be left till it has been recorded by Mr Hocart and myself, but the work of Codrington1, Woodford2, Penny3 and others has given us sufficient mate¬ rial to enable the main features of the magico- religious culture of the Eastern Solomon Islands to be stated. I he first point which is clear is that the chief feature of the religion of the Solomons is the cult of the dead ; the tindalo> whose actions bulk so largely in the religious beliefs and practices of the Solomons, are chiefly ghosts. The ghosts, who, in the Banks, are associated with the secret societies, form in the Solomons the basis of the religious beliefs and

rites held and practised by all.

In his account of Melanesian religion, Dr Codrington has laid great stress on a contrast between the Solomons, on the one hand, and the Banks Islands and New Hebrides, on

1 Op. cit.

2 A Naturalist among the Head-hunters ^ London, 1 890.

3 Ten Years in Melanesia , London, 1887.

the other hand. While in the former the religious cult centres round ghosts who have once been men, the ordi¬ nary cult of the Banks and New Hebrides is that of spirits who, according to the native belief, have never been men1. This broad contrast becomes intelligible if the religious cult of the Solomons is essentially that of an immigrant people who elsewhere were driven to practise their religious rites in secret, and thus produced comparatively little effect on the religion of the people among whom they settled2.

My first conclusion, then, is that the definite connection of the ritual of the secret societies with the idea of death is due to the fact that this ritual is that of an immigrant people whose religious rites were essentially those of a cult of the dead. The open cult of the Solomons has become the secret cult of the Banks Islands. It remains to inquire whether other essential features of the social and religious culture of the Solomons are also to be found in the secret societies. Three features of this culture stand out at once as subjects for this inquiry : taboo, totemism, and chieftainship, and I now proceed to consider these three institutions.

In the Solomons there are few customs of more funda¬ mental importance than that of protecting property by signs indicating a taboo. This practice has a very definitely religious sanction, for the infraction of a taboo brings about a number of consequences directly due to the action of the tindalo or other ghostly agencies. In the Banks it appears that taboos exist independently of the Tamate societies3, but it is certain that the practice of taboo forms a most important element of the functions of these societies at the present time. It is the institution of taboo which is largely responsible for the maintenance of interest in the societies, and for their importance in the social life of the people. Here again, then, the open cult of the Solomons is defi¬ nitely represented in the secret cult of the Banks Islands. If this position be accepted, very interesting consequences follow. In both the Solomons and the Banks Islands, the custom of taboo is used especially to protect individual property. If, therefore, the taboo on individual property is

1 I have adopted Dr Codrington’s nomenclature in this book, using “ghost” for the former and “ spirit ” for the latter class of being.

2 This subject will be more fully considered in Chapter xxxill.

3 See Codrington, M., 216.

Taboo

an immigrant institution, it follows that the immigrants were not communistic, but possessed the institution of private property, and used their taboo-marks to protect their property from the aborigines, the awe connected with the secret socie¬ ties of the immigrants keeping their property from disturbance by the far more numerous aborigines. It is even possible that this effect of their secret meetings may have helped in the maintenance of the societies. It is possible that societies, which came into existence in order to satisfy certain religious needs, were helped to survive when the immigrants discovered that they had in their hands a potent means for preserving their property from the communistic people among whom they had settled. As the aborigines joined the societies, one of the first things they would learn would be the means by which they in their turn could keep objects, such as coconuts or garden-produce, for their own use, and thus the Tamate societies may have played a large part in the development of the individual ownership of property which seems to be still in progress in Melanesia.

If, then, the soloi of the Tamate societies represents the taboo of the Solomons, it follows that the immigrants brought with them the concept of individual property, which they were able to realise through this taboo, not only in those regions where they obtained the upper hand, but also in such places as the Banks Islands, where, according to my hypothesis, they arrived only in small numbers. The secret organisation put into the hands of a few the power whereby they were able to impose their ideas on the abo¬ riginal majority. Further, it seems possible that they may have been even more successful in the Banks than in the Solomons in thus bringing about the general acceptance of the idea of individual property. A condition far from easy to understand was pointed out in Chapter xxi. It was shown that, while sexual communism seems to be almost wholly absent in the Solomons and is certainly very slight in com¬ parison with the Banks or Torres Islands, the conditions are apparently reversed in the case of property. There is reason to believe that the idea of individual property, especi¬ ally in the case of land, has become more definite in the southern islands. It is now possible to see the reason for this. The dread inspired by the secret organisation may have put into the hands of the immigrants a means of

enforcing- their individualistic principles in regard to property which was more potent than their influence in those places where the societies did not exist. Sexual communism, on the other hand, was not affected in southern Melanesia owing to the fact that women were wholly outside the scope of action of the secret societies. If these societies have had the origin and function I suppose, we have a natural explanation of a condition which otherwise seems very difficult to understand.

I conclude, then, that a study of the institution of taboo in the different regions of Melanesia confirms the view that the secret organisations of the Banks Islands embody a hidden cult which is part of the open and public cult of other parts of Melanesia.

I can now turn to a second fundamental institution of the Solomons, viz., totemism, in order to see how far this may also be represented in the secret cults of the Banks Islands. First, however, I may point out that totemism is definitely absent in those parts of Melanesia where secret societies exist. It is just in the Torres and Banks Islands, and in the northern New Hebrides, where we have the clearest evidence of the absence of totemism1 as a social institution, that we find secret societies. The possibility is thus suggested that the ritual of these secret societies may embody some form of totemism, just as we have seen it embodies a cult of the dead and the institution of taboo ; that just as the cult of the dead practised openly in other parts of Melanesia has in the Banks Islands become enshrined in the Tamate societies, so the social institution of totemism may not have entered into the ordinary life of the people, but may have become incorporated in the secret organisation.

On searching the customs and ritual of the secret organi¬ sations of the Banks Islands for traces of totemism, one must at once be struck by the animal nature of the masks from which so many of the Tamate societies derive their names. Especially significant in this respect are the Kwat and its subsidiary societies. The turtle, the shark, the seasnake, the eel and several kinds of fish, after which the various sub-societies are named, are totems elsewhere in

1 Another region where totemism is certainly absent is that comprising Eddystone, Ruviana and Vella Lavella, but here secret societies are also absent.

Totemism

Melanesia, while the only division of this society which takes its name from an object other than a marine animal is called wumeto or bowl, an object which is actually a totem in Vanikolo. The nature of the Kwat society suggests an origin in a social body containing a number of totemic clans. It must be remembered that the Kzvat is probably not indigenous to the Banks Islands, and that possibly it is hardly to be regarded as a Tamate society, but its resem¬ blance to these societies is so close that, if it has had a totemic origin, many of the others must also have arisen in this way.

One society has certain customs connected with the animal from which it takes its name strongly suggestive of totemic restrictions, though of an anomalous kind. If the pet>e fish is caught when members of the Tamate pepe are present, those who are not members will feel embarrassed and will give it to those to whom it belongs. The resem¬ blance with totemism consists in the recognition of the connection of an animal with a group of persons, the feature which differentiates it from totemism proper being that the animal so connected may be eaten by the members of the group.

This custom connected with the pepe fish is only one example of the attitude towards the objects from which Tamate societies take their names. Every fish, bird or other object especially connected with a Tamate society is more or less avoided by those who are not members. The name of the tamate will not be uttered, except under the breath, either by women or by uninitiated men, and even after initiation, when there is less reserve, a man will not utter the real name of his tamate. Thus, a man belonging to the Seglama society will speak of this bird as manu talo lama , ‘‘the bird of the sea.”

While the animal nature of the masks or other tamate objects are thus suggestive of totemism, the badges appear to have had quite another origin. They are almost always plants, and probably represent the taboo-signs of other parts of Melanesia.

There is thus evidence that there are certain restrictions on the use of the tamate of a Tamate society similar to those associated with totemism. There is, however, the fundamental difference between the two that, while the use

of the totem is forbidden to the members of a totemic group, the use of a tamate is allowed to the members of a Tatnate society and forbidden to all other persons. Nevertheless, the presence of restrictions on the use of animals and plants in connection with the Tamate societies cannot but support the evidence derived from the correspondence of the tamate of the Kwat society with the totems of other parts of Melanesia. The probability becomes great that the Tamate societies have either had their origin in totemic clans, or that both totemism and the Tamate societies have had a common origin. If the Tamate societies of the Banks Islands have had their origin in totemic clans, we shall have an ample explanation of their original multiplicity. It has been seen that the large number of societies which now exist is partly to be explained by the introduction of societies from elsewhere and by recent foundations in imita¬ tion of older societies, while it has been suggested that the gradual admission of the aborigines may have formed an additional factor. If we suppose that the immigrants into Melanesia belonged to a number of totemic clans, and that these remained more or less distinct in their new home and had rites which they wished to perform independently, we have an amply sufficient motive for the original multiplicity to which the other causes of increase have been added.

I may point out here that the origin of secret societies in totemic clans is no new idea. Professor Hutton Webster1 has endeavoured to show that secret societies in Melanesia and elsewhere have arisen in this way. The material of this book not only brings additional evidence in favour of his view, but it shows how the evolution may have taken place. The societies may have developed from the totemic groups of immigrants who settled in relatively small numbers among an aboriginal population. The addition I make to Professor Hutton Webster’s hypothesis is one which explains the funda¬ mental feature of the societies, viz. their secrecy. This secrecy is due to the need felt by the immigrants for the practice of their totemic rites away from the alien population among which they found themselves.

I acknowledge fully how large a gap separates the animal masks of the Tamate societies, and the prohibitions on the

1 Primitive Secret Societies , New York, 1908, and Journ. Roy. Anth. Inst 1911, XLI, 482.

Chieftainship 223

use of animals and plants, from the institution of totemism in its full bloom. It need hardly be pointed out that such a change as would have taken place on my hypothesis is quite natural if an institution which had come into existence to satisfy the social needs of a whole population became the business, perhaps even to a large extent the plaything, of a secret organisation, an organisation which, after a generation or two, would consist of a people different in character from those to whom the institution originally belonged.

As an example of the kind of change which is taking place now, and probably has been taking place for genera¬ tions, I may cite the following. One of the sub-societies of the Kwat of Mota takes its name from the wumeto or bowl which is still a totem in Vanikolo. A few years ago the tamate object of this division of the Kwat was a bowl of the kind called wiimeto, but recently this has been replaced by the model of a boat. In another fifty years the older practice would probably be forgotten, and possibly even the name would have disappeared ; what is at present a most significant feature would have been replaced by one in which no one could see the faintest indication of totemism. It is evident that, if the Tamate societies have originated in totemic clans, they have undergone a growth which has largely obscured this origin ; but this makes all the more significant such relics as survive in the Kwat society.

I now come to the third of the institutions to be con¬ sidered, viz., chieftainship. We have to inquire whether there is any evidence that this institution is represented in the Sukwe or the Tamate societies of the Banks Islands. I have already (see ir, 100) considered the evidence which shows that chieftainship in the Banks Islands is very far from having the definite characters which it possesses in the Solomons ; it is even doubtful whether there are chiefs at all in southern Melanesia apart from men of high rank in the Sukwe and similar organisations. The difficulty is that chiefs like those of the Solomons, if there are such in the Banks Islands, would certainly be in the higher ranks of the Sukwe , so that we should have no means of telling whether their prominent position is due to their chieftainship or to their high Sukwe rank. In Motlav the succession of the chief or etvusmel was said to be from

father to son, but Dr Codrington shows1 that this may only have been due to the fact that such a man would have the power of securing a high place in the Sukwe for his son, so that he would in course of time succeed to his father’s place. It may be noted that the term for a chief, tavusmel or etvusmel, the man who kills for the mele , is clearly related to the Sukwe ceremonial. It is evident that the exact meaning of the chieftainship of southern Melanesia can only be settled by a concrete inquiry. Until this has been undertaken, the conclusion suggested by the available evidence is that chieftainship in the Banks Islands is so intimately associated with the Sukwe that it must be re¬ garded as an immigrant institution. If, as I suppose, the immigrant institutions which have been embodied in the secret organisations of southern Melanesia form part of the general culture of the Solomons, it will follow that the chieftainship of the Solomons is an immigrant institution, the chiefs of these islands being the representatives and descendants of the immigrants.

In the scheme of the origin and development of the Sukwe and Tamate societies which I have just formulated, I have ignored the factor of time. I have supposed that the immigrants founded these institutions, and only gradually admitted the aborigines to participation ; I have made no explicit assumptions concerning the time during which this influence must have been exerted if small bands of immigrants were to succeed in founding such institutions as the Sukwe and Tamate societies of the Banks Islands. We can be confident that, if the influence of the immigrants had been limited to the lives of those who first visited the islands, there would have been little likelihood of so permanent an effect. There must have been some condition which made possible such continuity of action as enabled the plant brought by the visitors to thrust its roots so deeply into the aboriginal soil and produce the growth which still overshadows the whole lives of the people.

One possibility is that the immigrants did not arrive in one body, but that their influx was spread over a long period of time, band after band of the wanderers reaching the island, some to settle permanently, others to pass on after a time to settle elsewhere. It is probable that there

1 M., 55.

Nature of Immigrant Settlement 225

were such successive arrivals, and the present complexity of the organisations may be partly the result of this repeated influence. It is more probable, however, that this was not the essential factor producing the continuity of immigrant influence.

It is part of my scheme that the immigrant men were accompanied by few or none of their women and conse¬ quently married, chiefly or exclusively, aboriginal women. I now suggest that the children of these marriages remained distinct from the rest of the population and formed a body of people imbued with immigrant ideas, although by blood they were as much aboriginal as immigrant. It is probable that, at first, membership of the secret organisations was largely limited to these descendants of the strangers, and that it was only later that the pure aborigines were admitted in any number. It may be that, among the many groupings of the Sukwe and Tamate societies, there are some which perpetuate the original distinction between the children of the immigrants and persons of purely aboriginal stock. It was probably only after many generations that there came into full being the numerous ranks of the Sukwe and the complex grouping of the Tamate societies.

In the preceding pages I have sketched a scheme for a course of action following the advent of an immigrant people which seems capable of explaining the origin and growth of the Sukwe and Tamate societies of the Banks Islands and of their connection with one another. I have shown the possibility that the institutions of the club-house or gamal , and of the various ranks within it, the connection between certain ranks of the Sukwe and certain Tamate societies, as well as the Tamate societies themselves, may all have arisen as the result of the interaction between an aboriginal and an immigrant population. I have formulated a scheme into which the chief known features of the Banks or¬ ganisations can be fitted. The fact, however, that it is possible to formulate a scheme of the origin of an institution does not prove that the institution arose in this way. It now becomes necessary to retrace my steps and see how far it is probable that the scheme I have advanced holds good in detail.

Certain features of the Sukwe and Ta7nate societies have been definitely ascribed to the culture of the immigrants. It

!5

has been supposed that the cult of the dead and the insti¬ tutions of taboo, totemism and chieftainship were brought by the immigrants, having perhaps been but little developed, if not wholly unrepresented, in the culture of the aborigines. It is possible that other features of the secret organisations, for which I have suggested an origin de novo in Melanesia, may also have been brought with them by the immi¬ grants.

I have suggested that the institution of the gamal arose through the immigrants having lived in a separate house, thus making the first step towards the formation of the Sukwe. The distribution of the men’s club-house is, however, far wider than that of such secret organisations as those of Melanesia. It exists in many places, both within and without Melanesia, where we have no evidence of the existence of secret societies. It is therefore probable that, though the independent origin of the men’s house in Melanesia is possible, it did not arise in the way I have suggested, but that the idea was brought with them by the immigrants. The strangers did not merely live in a separate house on account of the dread or jealousy of the aborigines, but they introduced the club-house because it was an institution to which they were already accustomed in their former home. The special features of the men’s house in the Banks and Torres Islands and the New Hebrides are the existence of ranks among its members and the connection of these ranks with secret societies, and it is these features which my scheme serves to explain rather than the institution of the men s house itself.

Next, my scheme furnishes a motive which seems amply sufficient to explain the secrecy of the Tamate societies. I have suggested that it was the natural desire for secrecy on the part of immigrants who found themselves among an alien people. This, however, in no way excludes the possi¬ bility that, in their former home, these rites had also been practised in secret. Here again it is possible that it is not so much the fact of the existence of secret societies which my scheme explains, but rather the special nature of these societies as part of a more extensive organisation. Whether the secrecy of the Tamate societies is due to the special conditions which arose when one people settled among another, or whether it was already a feature of the immigrant

Torres Islands and New Hebrides 227

culture, is a problem which can only be solved on the basis of a far more extended inquiry than that of this book.

While, then, the scheme I have advanced may be capable of accounting for the origin of the men’s house and the secrecy of the cults in the Banks Islands, it is probable that these features formed part of the immigrant culture, and that it is rather certain special features of the organisation of the Banks Islands which my scheme is adapted to explain. So far as we know at present, some of these features are unique ; if further investigation should fail to discover parallels, it will become probable that they have arisen owing to a special mode of interaction of aborigines and immigrants which has not occurred elsewhere. It is more probable, however, that they are not unique, but that closely similar conditions have arisen elsewhere in Melanesia through the interaction of aboriginal and immigrant populations.

I have thus far dealt solely with the organisations of the Banks Islands, and especially of Mota, because it is only about them that I was able to procure any satisfactory information.

So far as I could find, the organisations of the Torres Islands have the same general character as those of the Banks, but probably they are less elaborate. I do not know of any buildings corresponding to the salagoro of the Tamate societies, and it is possible that there is not the clear differentiation between the men’s club and the secret societies proper which is so definite in the Banks Islands.

The loll of Pentecost, the Sukwe of Aurora and the Hukwe 1 of Lepers’ Island are evidently much like the Sukwe of the Banks, though the number of ranks appears to be smaller than in Mota. The general character of the organisation appears to be of the same kind, though probably it has not so high a degree of complexity and elaboration, and the processes of initiation and of raising in rank resemble those carried out in the Banks.

In the New Hebrides there are also societies, called Bweta , Bwatu or Welu, which bear a general resemblance to the Tamate of the Banks, but it would appear from Dr Codrington’s account that they are less numerous and their ritual

1 These words should properly be written Sukmbwe and Hukmbwe , or Hunggmbwe , according to the values of q given by Dr Codrington (M.L., 409 and 420-1), but, as in the case of the Mota word (1, 18), I have adopted a simpler spelling.

15—2

less elaborate than in Mota. In Pentecost every male becomes a member, initiations taking- place at intervals of six to ten years, when large numbers enter the societies together and remain secluded for several months, either at the place of initiation or in small houses near the gardens.

The connection with death appears to be less obvious in Pentecost than in the Banks Islands. Dr Codrington even states1 that there is no thought of intercourse with ghosts or spirits. The names of the societies, also, do not appear to connote any ideas directly connected with death, but in Aurora the public manifestations of the members are believed to be the work of ghosts, and the nature of the seclusion suggests that in all these islands, including Pente¬ cost, it forms part of a representation of death which has persisted in ritual, though its meaning may no longer be recognised. The ordeals connected with initiation are even more formidable than those of Mota. As in the Banks, the masks may represent animals, but we have no knowledge of any taboo associated with the societies resembling the soloi of Mota.

Ambrym possesses an organisation resembling the Sukwe of the Banks Islands in many respects2. There are ten ranks, of which the highest is called mal \ this word being also used to denote men regarded as chiefs. The members of each rank cook and eat at the same fire, and those belonging to the lower grades live before marriage in “ bachelor’s halls.” It is not clear whether each rank has its own house or whether there is one house common to all3. Some ranks have plants and flowers peculiar to themselves which are used as taboo-signs ; the cycas4 is prominent, and the giving of pigs is an essential part of the ceremonies of initiation or of raising in rank. Ceremonies also take place in which masked dancers, called rom, are believed to be ghosts. Thus, many of the chief features of the Stikwe and Tamate societies are represented in this island and, as in Pentecost, the women of Ambrym have ranks similar to those of

the men.

In Malikolo and adjacent islands5, men are divided into

1 M ., 94. 2 R- Lamb, Saints and Savages , 1905, P- 12 1, etc.

3 Taking Mr Lamb’s words strictly, each rank should have its own house.

4 Called by Mr Lamb the tabu-palm.

6 Cf. Somerville, Journ. Anth. Inst., 1894, XXIII, 6 and Watt Leggatt, Rep . Austral. Ass. 1892, iv, 699 and 705; also Science of Man , Sydney, March 1906.

The Matambala of Florida 229

ranks which evidently correspond to the grades of the Sukwe. In some cases the members of these ranks eat in a house in common ; in others, each rank eats quite apart from the rest. Associated with the ranks there are beings and objects called demit , temes or natemate , which certainly represent the tamate of the Banks, and on the island of Uripiv, south of Malikolo, a conventional diamond¬ shaped design, also called demit , seems to be the exact equivalent of the face of the Banks tamate (see 1, 89 and 91). A man receives a new name on each rise in rank ; each of these occasions is accompanied by the killing of pigs and is followed by a period of seclusion, during which the secluded person, called suli , may neither wash nor see the face of a woman.

In the Maskelyne Islands, adjacent to Malikolo, where there are ten ranks, it is noteworthy that the highest rank is called amat , suggesting that the full ghostly dignity is only attained after a lonor series of initiations.

o

These accounts from the islands of the northern New Hebrides are far too fragmentary to allow any exact com¬ parison with the Banks Islands, but the available evidence shows conclusively that they possess institutions closely allied to the Sukwe and Tamate societies of the Banks, though it is probable that the two branches of the organisation are not so clearly differentiated from one another.

The general description of the Matambala societies of Florida, given by Dr Codrington1, shows that they must have been very similar to the Tamate societies of the Banks. The tindalo figures were evidently equivalent to the tamate hats or masks, and the preparation of pigments appears to have been similar, the resemblance in the case of the red pigment being especially close.

One resemblance in the ritual of initiation is especially striking. It will be remembered that, just before the cul¬ minating point of initiation into the mystery of the Ta7nate liwoa , the candidate clasps six stakes in succession. In initiation into the Matambala the candidate clasps a tree, and is branded in six places, the shoulders, loins and but¬ tocks. The clasping of the tree or stake and the number six, occurring in both ceremonies, point to the common nature of the two rites. They suggest that the branding

1 A 94. See also Ray, Zeit.f. afrikan. u. ozeatt. Sprachen , 1897, in, 214.

is an original feature which should accompany the clasping of the six stakes in Mota, but has fallen into desuetude.

Images of the tindalo were made in connection with the Matambala societies, and were kept in the vunudha , or sacred houses. These images were of birds and fishes, the shark and crocodile, the sun and moon ; and they were also made in human form. These are precisely the objects especially connected with the kema or social groups, which form the mechanism for the regulation of marriage. There can be no doubt that the association of animals and social groups in the Solomons forms a variety of totemism, so that the existence of these images in the vunudha indicates a much closer and more obvious connection between the secret societies and totemism than exists in the Banks Islands. We have not in Florida to do with mere traces of totemism, but with a condition which indicates a still living association between the secret societies and the general social organisation.

There is no evidence of anything in Florida corre¬ sponding to the Sukwe. In the Solomons the houses where the canoes are kept, in Florida called kiala, are used as special meeting places for the men. Women are generally excluded from them and young men sleep in them, but there is nothing corresponding to the elaborate institution of the Sukwe of the more southern islands. It is evident that the institution of the Solomons must have been far less complicated and less fully organised, and its rapid disappearance at almost the first touch of European influence is an indication of its unstable character.

In this connection it may be noted that there was a feature of the Matambala which may have materially con¬ tributed to hasten its downfall. It has been seen that in the Banks Islands the payments at initiation are consider¬ able, and the whole organisation is so intimately bound up with the distribution of wealth that vested interests have formed a most important motive for its preservation. In the Matambala of Florida, on the other hand, no payments were made at initiation, and there can be little doubt that the absence of the vested interests set up by such payments made the abolition of the societies a far easier matter than elsewhere in Melanesia. The efforts of the early missionaries to destroy the organisation, together with the effect produced

The Nanga of Fiji

by the discovery that there was no real secret, succeeded the more easily because there were not the extensive and complicated monetary interests which accompany the insti¬ tution in the Banks Islands.

There is a definite tradition that the Matambala was introduced from Ysabel, its introduction being ascribed to a chief named Siko, who left Ysabel owing to a quarrel with his brother. According to the tradition, he must have brought many men with him, for they were divided among twelve villages1. We know of no secret societies in Ysabel, and it is possible that in this tradition we have a surviving record of the advent of the immigrant population to whom I have ascribed the origin of the secret cult. The supposed introduction from Ysabel would, on this hypothesis, merely indicate that the immigrants had spent some time on the southern end of Ysabel before settling in Florida. Another possibility is that Siko introduced into Florida a secret cult which had already reached a considerable degree of develop¬ ment in Ysabel, and possibly in other Melanesian islands.

There is also a clear tradition of the introduction of the Nanga of Fiji from elsewhere2. The tradition runs that the introducers were two little old men, of dark colour, from the west or north-west, who brought the cult with them. These two men founded two separate institutions, and the descendants of one remained ignorant of the nature of the mysteries practised by the descendants of the other. This tradition suggests that the Nanga cult is one which had come into being and developed elsewhere, and was then introduced into Fiji. It is, however, possible that the tradition has reference to a history similar to that I suppose to have produced the secret societies elsewhere. It may be that the native tradition supports the theory of origin put forward in this chapter, and there is one feature of the distribution of secret societies in Fiji which points in this direction. The Nanga of Fiji is only found in one part of Viti Levu ; its distribution seems to correspond, in part at any rate, with that of the systems of relationship which reveal the ancient existence of a form of social organisation closely similar to that of southern Melanesia.

1 M., 95, note.

2 Fison, Journ . A nth. {Inst 1885, xiv, 14; Joske, Internat. Arch. f. Ethnog ., 1889, 11, 254; B. Thomson, The Fijians, 1908, p. 149.

The limitation of the Nanga cult to one region of Viti Levu suggests that the mode of interaction between immi¬ grants and aborigines in this region may have been of the same kind as in the Banks and New Hebrides, the visitors being so much in the minority in numbers and influence that they were driven to the secret practice of their rites. In other parts of Viti Levu, on the other hand, we may suppose that the immigrants attained a position which made the secret practice of their rites unnecessary. On this sup¬ position the different regions of Viti Levu would represent within one island two different social conditions, arising out of different modes of the blending of immigrant and aboriginal peoples, which elsewhere in Melanesia have to be sought in widely separated regions.

The essential character of the Nanga cult seems to have been similar to that of secret societies elsewhere in Melanesia, members being brought at initiation into com¬ munion with the dead, but the cult appears to differ in many respects from those of the Banks and the Solomons. Two points must, however, be borne in mind. The Nanga cult had at least two varieties, and at present we have records of one only. Further, it is possible that accounts have been obtained in Fiji of rites which may have their analogues elsewhere, though they have not yet been recorded. In the study of secret rites, even more than in other depart¬ ments of anthropology, it is most dangerous to rely on negative evidence; the Nanga rites may be far less exceptional than would appear from our present record.

I will conclude with a brief account of the nomenclature for the club-house in different parts of southern Melanesia. The linguistic comparison of terms of relationship was the special instrument which led us to the complexity of Melanesian culture ; if the principle established through that comparison is of general application, we should expect that institutions introduced into different places by the immi¬ grants would show a similarity of nomenclature. I will now examine the evidence from this point of view.

In the Banks and Torres Islands the words for the club-house are gamal and gemel. In Lepers’ Island, and at St Philip’s and St James’ Bay in Santo (Espiritu Santo), the term is gamalix, and in Epi and at Ogugu in Santo,

1 I am indebted for this and many of the following words to Mr Ray.

Terms for Club-house

komal , komali or komel. In Malikolo the club-house is amil at Port Sandwich, named or namel at South-West Bay and Aulua, and hemir at Pangkumu. Only on Uripiv, close to Malikolo, is there a wholly different word, viz. laut, but it is noteworthy that, according to Somerville1 2, the generally diffused word in the form of emil is used for the dancing ground. On the island of Malo, adjoining Malikolo, the term is robo.

On passing farther south to Tanna and Anaiteum we meet with quite different terms, viz. imeium and mtiptang ; but on Eromanga the word is siman-lo~ , and the man of this word probably represents the mal or mel common to so many of the other terms.

In the Loyalty Islands we again find words closely related to gamal. In Mare or Nengone the club-house is hnamenenge , and in Lifu hnemelom , and the men and mel of these words probably represent the root so often found elsewhere.

The comparison of the terms thus shows a wide similarity of nomenclature which is to be expected on the supposition that the club-house is an introduced institution.

1 op. tit., p. 12

2 H. A. Robertson, Erroman%a , London, 1902, p. 375.

CHAPTER XXV

TIKOPIA

I propose now to consider, from the theoretical point of view, the material concerning the island of Tikopia which has been recorded in the first volume of this book, and to make it my starting-point for a consideration of the relation between the cultures of Polynesia and Melanesia. I need not dwell on the essentially Polynesian character of Tikopian culture. The general nature of the social organisation, the regulation of marriage by kinship, the sacred character of the chiefs, the institution of tapu , the ancestral and the animal atua , the existence of groups of men following special occupations the drinking of kava, the practices of tattooing and incision, the mode of punishment by sending out to sea in a canoe, the wearing of the hair of the dead, and many other customs, bear the closest resemblance to the general culture of Polynesia. It seems, however, possible not merely to say that Tikopian culture is essentially Polynesian ; there can be little doubt that it is definitely Tongan.

To those who accept the fundamental character of kinship, little more is needed to demonstrate the close affinity of Tikopian and Tongan culture than the comparison of their systems of relationship. The two are almost exactly alike, both in structure and in the linguistic character of the terms by which this structure is expressed. This resemblance is the more striking since Tonga possesses an exceptional Polynesian system. In social organisation there is probably much re¬ semblance, though we have no sufficiently exact knowledge of Tongan society to enable a satisfactory comparison to be made. The connection between animals and social groups which is found in both places evidently stands in a definite relation to totemism, though the fact that the social groups in

Tikopia and Tonga 235

question are not exogamous removes the condition in each place from this category in its typical form.

A comparison of social ranks in the two places is very instructive1. The chiefs of Tikopia would appear to resemble the sacred chiefs ( tuitonga or veachi) of Tonga more closely than the war-chief or hau , and there can be little doubt that th z. pure matua of Tikopia represent the matapule of Tonga, pure and pule being evidently different forms of the same word. The tufunga of Tikopia are the equivalents of the tufunga of Tonga, though the occupations they follow are few in number compared with those in the larger islands.

The ancestral atua of Tikopia evidently represent one of the classes of sacred being described by Mariner in Tonga2. In both places incision and tattooing are practised, the bone of a bird being used in the latter operation in each case3. In both places offenders are punished by being sent to sea in canoes4, and the turtle is prohibited as food, or only eaten after some has been offered to the gods5. The material cultures of the two places seem to possess the same general characters. The resemblance of the simple club of Tikopia to those of Tonga (see Plate XIX) is evident in spite of the more highly decorated character of the latter. At the present time the bow and arrow is a weapon in Tikopia, and there is evidence that it has been so in the past in Tonga6.

The first point to be considered is whether these re¬ semblances can be explained by such an invasion from Tonga as that of which the tradition is still preserved (see 1, 355). It is possible that such a foray might account for the presence of a weapon resembling that of the invaders, but to anyone who has accepted the fundamental importance of systems of relationship which is the guiding principle of this book, the idea that the resemblance of Tongan and Tikopian culture is

1 In this comparison the facts concerning Tonga have been taken from the record of Mariner {An Account of the Natives of the To?iga Islands , London, 1817). There is one feature of this record which must be taken into account. Mariner lived with the chiefs, and his account deals especially with their customs and actions. He seems to have imbibed very thoroughly the contempt of the chiefs for the common people, and it is probable that he knew very little of the customs or mode of life of the latter, except as seen through the eyes of the chiefs. If we possessed a record written from the point of view of the commoners, it is probable that the resemblance between Tikopia and Tonga would be even closer than appears from Mariner’s record.

2 Mariner’s Tonga , II, 104-10. 3 Ibid., II, 265.

4 Ibid., 1, 289. 6 Ibid., 11, 133 and 233.

6 Ibid., 1, 283.

to be explained in this way will be put aside at once. The resemblances with Tonga are too fundamental to be explained by such invasions as that which occurred in the latter part of the eighteenth century.

On comparing the general character of the cultures of Tikopia and Tonga, the striking feature is the much greater simplicity of the former ; and the next question to be con¬ sidered is whether the simplicity of Tikopia is original or merely the result of the isolation of the people on their tiny and remote island. It would be a conclusion of the utmost importance if it could be shown that we have, in the culture of this island, a little offshoot of an early stage of Polynesian culture which in its remote habitation has remained simple, while the larger life elsewhere has led to the advanced and complex institutions of the rest of Polynesia. It is probable, however, that the culture of a people like the Tikopians with their very uniform and limited environment would tend to become less complex.

There is little doubt that the relations with animals resemble typical totemism more closely in Tikopia than in Tonga, and if this be so, we have a fact strongly in favour of the early character of Tikopian culture. It seems unlikely that a process of simplification through isolation should have had the effect of converting an ill defined condition, such as that apparently present in Tonga, into the organised institution of Tikopia. It is far more likely that the two conditions represent different stages of departure from the typical condition, in which Tonga represents the later and more aberrant form.

In chieftainship again there is reason to suppose that Tikopia represents an early stage of the Tongan condition. The evidence of Mariner makes it clear that the dominant war-chieftainship of Tonga is a relatively late institution. He states1 that the Tongans were formerly a peaceable people, and it is probable that he saw the final stage in a struggle for ascendancy between two classes of chief. There is an indication that this condition of rivalry between two kinds of chief, of which Mariner saw the end in Tonga, is only just beginning in Tikopia. Mr Durrad records that at the present time a man who is not a chief has come to be regarded as the most important man in the island through his prowess

1 11, 141, 143.

Tikopia and Melanesia 237

in having slain strangers who came to the island. It is note¬ worthy that this man, who is now able to veto the decisions of the chiefs, belongs to a family which has recently received foreign blood on the occasion of an invasion from outside, just as there is reason to suppose that the dominance of the secular chief of Tonga was due to Fijian influence. So far as chieftainship is concerned, it seems as if Tikopia represents a stage of Tongan society anterior to the regular intercourse with Fiji which has evidently done so much to alter the character of the Tongan people.

Certain features, then, of Tikopian culture are strongly in favour of its having a relatively archaic character, and I intend for the present to adopt as a working hypothesis the view that Tikopia gives us a picture of early Tongan society.

Having now compared the culture of Tikopia with that of Polynesia, and especially with that of Tonga, I turn to compare it with the cultures of Melanesia. It will be at once obvious that the chief features of Tikopian society resemble closely those which I have ascribed to the immigrants into Melanesia. Both are characterised by the possession of taboo, indicating incidentally the presence of the idea of individual property; both have a totemic character ; both possess a cult of dead ancestors. Further, even the incomplete accounts of Tikopian culture and of the ritual of the Melanesian secret societies which I have been able to give in this book show striking similarities in detail. The cycas which plays so important a part in the ritual of the secret societies is used in Tikopia as part of the sign by which the presence of a tapu is made known. Hanging or strangling is one of the two modes by which Tikopians inflict the punishment of death or by which they commit suicide, and hanging is also the mode of inflicting the death punishment in the scilagoro of the Tamate societies1 (1, 98 and 107). It may be noted that these resemblances are in those points of detail which are often more important as signs of community of origin than features of a more general character.

The resemblances of Tikopian culture to that assigned to the immigrants into Melanesia suggest that we have in Tikopia an isolated remnant of the immigrant invaders

1 It may be noted that strangling is also a mode of inflicting death in Fiji (see 1, 291).

of Melanesia whose culture has been preserved more or less unmixed and untouched by the accident of isolation ; they suggest that this isolation has preserved the main features of the culture which the immigrants possessed when they first reached their new homes. Since, however, the culture of Tikopia is definitely Polynesian, and perhaps represents an early stage of Polynesian culture in general, it follows that Polynesians and the immigrants into Melanesia have had one and the same source ; that the immigrants into Melanesia, whose rites formed the starting-point of the secret societies, are of the same stock and the same culture as the ancestors of the Polynesians.

The conclusion, then, which is suggested by the comparison of the customs of Tikopia, first with those of Polynesia, and then with those which have been ascribed to the immigrants into Melanesia, is that they form part of one and the same culture. At this point two alternative views present them¬ selves. It may be that those I have called the immigrants into Melanesia were offshoots of the population of Polynesia, which left that region at a time when its culture was in many respects different from that of the present day. According to this view, the early Tikopians and the immigrants into Melanesia would be bodies of one people who left Polynesia and found their way to new homes. According to the other alternative, the early Polynesians and the immigrants into Melanesia repre¬ sent two diverging streams of a body of people, one of which found its way to Polynesia and became the ancestors of the Polynesians, while the other stream reached the islands of Melanesia where it blended with an aboriginal population in varying numbers and with varying results.

In the present state of the argument, it is not a matter of great importance which of these two alternatives represents the actual course of events. The important point is that the Polynesians and the immigrants into Melanesia seem to have been one and the same people ; I can leave till later the discussion whether the immigrants reached Melanesia directly from the former home of the Polynesian people, or whether they separated from the general body after it had already settled in Polynesia. It is not at present a matter of great importance whether the Tikopians are derived from a divergent stream of the ancestors of the Polynesians when these were on their way to their new home, or whether they are an

Polynesia and Melanesia 239

offshoot of the d origan population after this had already been settled for some time in those islands.

I may take this opportunity to point out how the view here advanced differs from that generally current. It is widely, if not universally, accepted that Polynesian influence has been active in Melanesia. There is definite evidence of the arrival of parties of Polynesians in various regions of Melanesia either as castaways or as bands of adventurers. Not only have various physical and cultural features of Melanesia been ascribed to their influence, but the bodies of people speaking Polynesian languages found in or about Melanesia have been regarded as the descendants of these Polynesian settlers with more or less aboriginal intermixture. This influence has, however, been regarded as scattered and relatively late ; the view I now advance differs fundamentally, in that it supposes this relation to Polynesian culture to be a far earlier and more deeply seated element in the history of Melanesian society. I suppose, not only that an influence common to Melanesia and Polynesia has been the essential factor in the production of the secret organisations which have generally been regarded as typically Melanesian in¬ stitutions, but I also suppose that certain fundamental features of Melanesian culture, such as the cult of the dead, taboo, totemism and chieftainship, are to be ascribed to this external influence.

I must now return to certain features of the culture of Tikopia and Tonga which I have so far passed over without notice. In Tikopia, and probably also in Tonga, a person belongs to the social group of his father ; so far as we know property passes from father to child, and succession is certainly patrilineal. Both Tikopia and Tonga thus possess the institution of father-right in a definite form ; and if their culture represents that of the immigrants into Melanesia, it will follow that these immigrants also possessed patrilineal institutions. There are, however, certain customs in these islands which have usually been regarded as survivals of mother-right. Thus, both in Tikopia and Tonga a man has several important functions in the life of his sister’s son, though these are less extensive than in many parts of Melanesia. Another and perhaps still more important indication of an ancient condition of mother-right in Tikopia is that, ten days after a woman has borne a child, she is taken to her father’s

house where she stops for ten days. It is very unlikely that these functions of relationship have been due to external influence, to the influence of Fijians in Tonga and to that of visitors from the Santa Cruz group in Tikopia ; we have therefore to suppose that the people of both Tonga and Tikopia once followed matrilineal descent, and in Tikopia practised matrilocal marriage. It does not, however, follow necessarily that these features belonged to the culture of the immigrants.

The indications of mother-right may have come about in two ways. It is possible that when the immigrants reached Tonga and Tikopia, they found in those islands an aboriginal population with which they fused. The other possibility is that the immigrants did not pass directly to these islands from their former home, but that their journey lasted for many generations, during which they mingled with aboriginal peoples of Melanesia and elsewhere, and adopted many of their customs.

There are certain features of Tongan and Tikopian culture which point to the former alternative. The systems of relationship of Tonga and Tikopia differ widely from the usual Polynesian type. The systems of Polynesia in general are characterised by the classing together of all relatives of the generation of the father and mother, but this is not so in Tonga and Tikopia. According to the evidence at present available, Tonga and Tikopia are the only two Polynesian communities which possess distinctive terms for the mother’s brother and the father’s sister. We can be confident that these features of relationship do not depend on mere occasional contact with aboriginal peoples, but are due to some deeply-seated character of culture.

Further, the existence of two districts in Tikopia, the people of which were habitually in a condition of enmity with one another, suggests a resemblance with the hostile moieties of the Banks Islands. It must be remembered, however, that two successive bodies of people who settled in different parts of the island might produce just such a state of affairs as seems to exist ; too much importance must not be ascribed to this suggestion of a dual organisation. The special character of the systems of relationship is, however, of great importance ; their approach to those of Melanesia suggests that Tonga and Tikopia were the seat of a process of blending between an

Polynesian Secret Societies

aboriginal people and the immigrants, though owing to special conditions, the aboriginal element has left few obvious traces of its presence.

If the indications of mother-right which seem to exist in Tikopia and Tonga are the remains of an aboriginal culture, there will be no reason to modify the conclusion, tentatively reached, that the immigrants into Melanesia possessed the institution of father-right. If, however, it should appear that the ancestors of the Tongans and Tikopians found these islands uninhabited, it would follow, either that they practised matrilineal descent and matrilocal marriage, or that they brought with them the survivals of these institutions. On the whole, it seems most probable that the traces of motherright are the survivals of an aboriginal culture which once existed in Tonga and Tikopia. It may be pointed out that Tonga is so near Fiji that the presence of an aboriginal population similar to that of Melanesia is far from improbable. That the isolated island of Tikopia should have had an aboriginal population seems less probable, but if the people of Tikopia came from Tonga, it is not necessary that there should have been an aboriginal population in Tikopia. An aboriginal population in Tonga would explain the traces of mother-right both in that island and in Tikopia.

The comparison of the culture of Tikopia with certain features of Melanesian culture, which I suppose to be of immigrant origin, has led us to the position that these features belong to different streams of one and the same people. It is an essential part of the argument that the secret societies of Melanesia were founded by the immigrants ; it therefore becomes an important question whether Polynesia possesses any institutions comparable with the secret organisations of Melanesia. If there is no evidence for their presence, we shall have to suppose that the societies of Melanesia are entirely the result of the special conditions under which the blending of immigrants and aborigines took place. If, on the other hand, similar organisations existed in Polynesia, it will support the view that the Melanesian cults were, in part at any rate, brought by the immigrants.

In the eastern islands of Polynesia there were formerly societies of persons called Areois , in which there were a number of ranks similar to those of the Melanesian Sukwe. The societies were entered by a process of initiation, and both

R. m. s. II.

initiation and raising to a higher rank were accompanied by ceremonies of which the offering of a pig formed an essential part. In many ways the Areoi societies were strikingly different from the Tamate societies of the Banks Islands, but it is a question whether the differences do not seem greater than they really are through the fact that in the Society Islands, where we have the most detailed records, the societies had an exceptional character. Owing to the character of the Tahitian societies, the Areois have become known to us chiefly through their practice of infanticide and their licentiousness, but according to Moerenhout1, the practice of infanticide, as one of the conditions of membership, was limited to the Society Islands, and he believes it to have been a relatively recent feature of the practices of the societies. Further, he states that the indecency and sexual license were limited to the lower grades of the societies, and that even in these the license was not greater than that of the general body of the people. Both the infanticide and libertinage which have hitherto attracted so much attention are probably only relatively late accretions to the functions of the Areoi societies.

I shall return to this subject again in a later chapter. I must be content here to point out that the societies of Polynesia are sufficiently like those of Melanesia to justify the ascription of both to the same immigrant people.

1 Voyages aux ties du grand OcJan, Paris, 1837, 1, 498 — 501.

CHAPTER XXVI

KAVA AND BETEL

For the purpose of simplicity I have so far spoken of immigrants into Melanesia as if they were all of the same culture and the same stock. It is now necessary to study the immigrant culture in different parts of Melanesia more closely, with the aim of discovering whether it had the homo¬ geneous character hitherto assumed, or whether it was itself complex.

There is nothing more striking in the distribution of objects throughout Melanesia than the respective ranges of the two substances, kava and betel. Kava is found in the southern and eastern islands of Melanesia, as well as in Polynesia, while betel is used in the north-western part of Melanesia. It has usually been supposed that there is a hard and fast line between the kava and betel regions of Melanesia, the line passing between the Torres Islands and the Santa Cruz group. It is clear, however, that this line is not so sharp as has been supposed. Though the use of betel is an obvious feature of the culture of Vanikolo, there is no doubt that kava is also used on ceremonial occasions. There seems to be little doubt that kava is not used in Santa Cruz and the Reef Islands, even in ceremonial, while the use of betel is habitual. In Tikopia, an island which, though distinctly Polynesian, has yet had frequent com¬ munication with the Santa Cruz group, the use of kava in ceremonial stands beyond doubt, though the use of betel prevails in everyday life. We have at present no evidence whatever of the use of kava in the Solomons. In Polynesia the drinking of kava is almost universal, the chief places where the custom does not exist being New Zealand and

16 — 2

Easter Island1. In both places, however, the word, in its usual form or as kawa , is found with the meaning of “bitter,” while in New Zealand kawa and kawakawa are also applied to a species of pepper ( Piper excelsum ) much used in religious ceremonies, and also to various ceremonies themselves2.

The view generally accepted is that kava has been intro¬ duced into Melanesia from Polynesia. In some parts of Melanesia, it is probable either that the use of kava has been so introduced or that recent Polynesian influence has greatly modified an earlier method of using the substance. Thus, in Anaiteum, Tanna, Aniwa and Futuna3 4 the name is the same as in Polynesia, while in Eromanga it is ne have\ In the Banks Islands it is called gea and in the Torres Islands gi, both of which are perhaps related to the Polynesian word. When, however, we come to the northern New Hebrides, we find that in Pentecost kava is malohu , in Efate maluk, in Epi milik and in Malekula merukk, words which, though evidently related to one another, are absolutely unrelated to the Poly¬ nesian term. In Fiji again we find a wholly different term, yanggona .

The evidence from language is confirmed by the study of the method of making the drink. Where the name differs from the Polynesian word, the method of preparation is also, with one exception, very different. The exception is Fiji, where kava is used in a way closely resembling that of Polynesia, although the Fijian term has no affinity whatever to the Polynesian name. It is possible, however, that the word yanggona comes down from a time when the mode of preparation was different (see n, 247). In Pentecost the root is not chewed but grated, and those who are drinking usually arrange themselves in pairs, one man .preparing the kava for the other. In the Banks and Torres Islands, where the terms for kava have a distinct resemblance to the Polynesian word, there is a likeness to the Polynesian method in that the root is chewed, but otherwise the mode of pre¬ paration is fundamentally different. In the Torres Islands each man makes the drink for himself, using special small

1 Thomson, Rep. Smithsonian Inst, for 1889; Rep. Nat. Museum, Washington, 1891, pp. 464, 548, 550.

2 Tregear, Maori Comparative Dictionary, Wellington, 1891.

3 Ray, Int. Arch.f. Ethnog. 1894, vn, 231.

4 H. A. Robertson, Erromanga, London, 1902, p. 393.

6 Ray, loc. at.

Modes of preparing Kava 245

cups in a manner fully regulated by custom. In the Banks Islands also small cups only are used, and though the root is chewed by one man for several others, the ritual is wholly different from that of Polynesia.

In the southern New Hebrides, where the term used for the drink agrees with that of Polynesia, the resemblance to Polynesian procedure is much closer. In Tanna1 each man chews a piece of the root from which a boy prepares the liquid in a wooden trough. Enough is first prepared for three men, and then the same root is used for another three. In Eromanga2, the procedure resembles that of Polynesia still more closely. The root is chewed by boys, the chewed mass laid in a wooden vessel, water is added and the mixture strained through coconut fibre and served in coconut shells.

An essential distinction between the different methods is that, in Polynesia and Fiji, kava is always prepared in quantity and then shared out among those present, or among the more important persons in the assembly, while in Melanesia the whole proceeding has a far more individual character. Each man makes it for himself in the Torres, two men make it for one another in Pentecost, or one man prepares the substance in turn for a number of men in the Banks. In association with this more individual character we find that, in place of the large bowl in which the kava of Polynesia and Fiji is prepared, the Melanesians of the northern New Hebrides, Banks and Torres Islands make it in the small cups from which they drink.

It is possible that the more individual methods of Mela¬ nesia are merely a secondary result of the connection of kava with the. Sukwe. In the Banks, for instance, kava is generally drunk in or at the gamai ; if there had been at one time a more rigorous separation between the members of different divisions of the Sukwe than appears to exist at present, the more social fashion of Polynesia would have been imprac¬ ticable. If, therefore, kava had been introduced from Polynesia in comparatively recent times, it is possible to see in the ritual of the Sukwe and similar institutions an obstacle to the adoption of the orthodox Polynesian

1 Gray, Rep. Austral. Ass. 1892, p. 661. See also Ray, Ini. Arch. f. Ethnog. 1894, vii, 231.

2 Robertson, loc. cit.

procedure. The separation between different ranks of the Sukwe may have made more individual methods necessary, and minor variations of procedure in the organisations of different islands may have produced the differences now found in the Banks and Torres Islands and Pentecost. It is thus possible to suggest a mechanism whereby the Melanesian methods may have evolved from that of Polynesia, but the differences are so great that their explanation is probably to be sought in some other way than by direct introduction from that region.

There is one feature of the use of kava in the Torres and Banks Islands and in the northern New Hebrides which is even more important than either nomenclature or mode of preparation in pointing to the great antiquity of the practice in Melanesia. In these islands, and especially in the Torres group, it is evident that the use of kava is most intimately associated with the religious practices of the people. The drinking of kava is a prominent feature of the ritual of such occasions as birth, initiation and death, and on these occa¬ sions kava is offered to the dead with the accompaniment of prayer. It is extremely unlikely that a practice introduced in relatively recent times from Polynesia would have come to be so closely associated with the religious beliefs and practices of the people, and especially with the cult of the dead.

I have so far considered chiefly the region of Melanesia with which I deal particularly in this book, but if the use of kava is ancient there, it is probably ancient also in the southern New Hebrides; it may be that the closer resem¬ blance to Polynesian procedure which is found in such an island as Eromanga is due to modification of an ancient practice through more recent Polynesian influence. The account of a case in which the Fijian method was adopted in the Banks Islands (see 1, 86) well illustrates how an ancient procedure can be modified ; it may be pointed out that a chance visitor who saw the proceedings described by Mr Durrad would have had no hesitation in deriving the practice of the Banks Islands from that of Polynesia or Fiji.

The distribution of the use of kava in the Santa Cruz Islands is strongly in favour of its fundamental place in Melanesian culture. According to the available evidence,

Mode of Preparation 247

kava is not drunk in the Reef Islands, the culture of which is largely Polynesian, while its use is undoubtedly present in Vanikolo. If the use of kava had been due to relatively late Polynesian influence, this would be very difficult to under¬ stand. We should have to suppose that an element of Polynesian culture is absent in those islands which one must suppose to have been the medium of its introduction, while it is present in another island of the group in which Poly¬ nesian influence in general is least apparent. It is very significant that the only island of the Santa Cruz group in which we have definite evidence of the use of kava is one which lies nearest to the Torres Islands geographically, and resembles those islands in its culture more closely than other parts of the group.

An interesting possibility is suggested by a study of the treatment of the kava-root in Polynesia, and in different parts of Melanesia. In Polynesia, the root was formerly chewed. We have no evidence that it was pounded or grated in any part of this region till quite recent times, when the practice of chewing has been given up in many places through European influence1. In Fiji the root was generally chewed when the islands were first visited, but it would seem2 that the original Fijian practice, at any rate in the interior of Viti Levu, was to grate or pound the root, the practice of chewing having been introduced from Tonga.

In the Banks and Torres Islands the root is chewed, but in the New Hebrides, which we have every reason to regard as a region of more archaic culture, it is grated and there is no chewing. We find, then, grating or pounding the root in those regions, viz., Pentecost and the interior of Viti Levu, which the nature of the systems of relationship has led us to regard as regions of more archaic Melanesian culture, while chewing is found in Polynesia, and in the Banks and Torres Islands.

One is tempted to ask whether the use of kava may not have been a practice of the aborigines of Melanesia which was taken over by the immigrants into that area; in this connection I may recall the fact that, in the northern New Hebrides and in Fiji, the terms for kava are wholly different

1 Baessler (Neue Siidsee-Bilder , p. 214), states that the root was crushed in the Marquesas, but as he goes on to say that these islands resembled Tonga in this respect, it is probable that, as in Tonga, the practice is recent.

2 Joske, Int. Arch, f Ethnog. 1889, II, p. 263, n. 2.

from those of Polynesia and of other regions of Melanesia. It is also noteworthy that the people of Pentecost have a tradition of the origin of kava, said not to be known in the neighbouring Banks Islands. This tradition is that kava was first discovered through the observation of its effects on a rat which had been nibbling a root. When in Fiji, however, Professor Stanley Gardiner1 was told a similar story of the origin of the practice in Tonga, so that the idea is probably not indigenous in Pentecost.

The nature of the terms for kava in the New Hebrides and Fiji, and the practice of grating or pounding the root in those islands in place of the chewing of Polynesia suggest that the use of kava may have originated among the abo¬ rigines of Melanesia and been taken from them by the Poly¬ nesians instead of the movement having been in the contrary direction as is usually supposed.

The use of kava is, however, so characteristic and wide¬ spread a feature of Polynesian culture, and it is so unlikely that it can have been adopted from the aboriginal Melane¬ sians, that we seem driven, either to assume its independent origin in Melanesia and Polynesia, or to look elsewhere for the true explanation of its common presence in these two parts of Oceania.

There are certain facts connected with the use of kava in Melanesia which point to an explanation in harmony with the scheme of immigrant influence in Melanesia which has been formulated in the last two chapters. A striking feature of the use of kava in Melanesia is its close connection with the Sukwe of the Banks Islands and with the Nanga of Fiji. It was in the most sacred division of the nanga 2, called the nanga tainbutambu or sacred compartment, that the kava-bowl stood3.

Even in the southern New Hebrides where, so far as we know, the secret organisations do not occur, the use of kava is definitely connected with the houses where the men eat and sleep. Further, a universal feature of Melanesian procedure is the rigorous exclusion of women from all participation in its use, and this exclusion is probably to be associated with the institution of the men’s house and the secret organisations.

1 Journ. Anth. Inst. 1898, xxvii, 516.

2 I use nanga without an initial capital for the enclosure where the rites of the Nanga organisation were performed.

3 Fison , Journ. Anth. Inst. 1885, XIV, 15.

Kava and the Cult of the Dead

This at once suggests that the use of kava belongs to the immigrants to whom I have ascribed the origin of these organisations, and the force of this suggestion is greatly strengthened when we find that kava is closely connected with the ghosts of the dead, whose cult has also been ascribed to these immigrants. It is clear that when offerings of kava are made with prayer, both offering and prayer are directed to the ghosts of the dead, and not to the vui, or spirits which have never been men (see especially i, 85 and 187). If kava thus belongs to the culture of the immigrants, it is easy to understand why its use was at one time limited to the higher ranks of the Siikwe , and why, even now in the Banks Islands, kava should only be made by one of Tavatsukwe or higher rank, while only those of this rank should drink in the gamaL I have suggested that this rank represents the dividing line between the original members and those who were introduced later ; on this supposition, the limitation to people of the Tavatsukwe rank and above becomes perfectly natural.

Two striking differences between the Melanesian and Polynesian methods of using kava are its more definitely religious character in the former, and its more strict limitation to men ; and it is noteworthy that in both of these respects the practice of Tikopia resembles that of Melanesia. In Tikopia, kava is only used in religious ceremonial connected with a cult of dead ancestors from which women are excluded, so that to the parallels considered in the last chapter we have now to add this close resemblance between the practice of Tikopia and that of the secret organisations of Melanesia. It has been argued that Tikopia represents an early stage of Polynesian culture, and the resemblance between Tikopia and the secret organisations of Melanesia in the mode of using kava thus strengthens the hypothesis that the ancestors of the Polynesians and the immigrants who founded the secret organisations were one and the same people.

If now we turn to the distribution of the custom of chewing betel-mixture, i.e., a mixture of areca-nut, betel-leaf and lime, we find that the practice is limited to the north¬ western part of the area with which I deal, but that this region forms only one corner of a vast area of distribution extending through New Guinea and the Malay Archipelago to India.

There are indications that the area of distribution has extended its limits in Oceania in relatively late times, even if it is not still extending. In Vanikolo and Tikopia, betel and kava occur together, but while betel is chewed in every¬ day life, the use of kava is limited to religious ceremonial. In this case, there can be no doubt that the offerings of kava represent the more ancient custom, and that betel-chewing is a later practice. The existence of both substances in these islands and the difference in their mode of use suggest the presence of two cultures, one of which is encroaching upon the area of the other. The Santa Cruz Islands, with Tikopia as an outlier, would seem to be a field in which the encroach¬ ment of the later culture is still in progress.

The distribution of kava and betel thus suggests the presence in Oceania of two cultures which may be called the kava-culture and the betel-culture respectively. I propose to adopt as a working assumption for the rest of this book that these two cultures belong to two immigrant peoples whom I shall call the kava-people and the betel-people. When I use these terms in future, it must be borne in mind that they are not terms for the people of Oceania who use kava and betel now, but are terms for the hypothetical bodies of immigrants who introduced the use of these two substances.

I propose also to adopt a special name for the indigenous population which the kava-people found in Melanesia. We have seen that the earliest form of social organisation of which we have evidence was on a dual basis associated with matrilineal descent, dominance of the old men, and the peculiar forms of marriage which are either known to exist in Mela¬ nesia or have been revealed by the analysis of its systems of relationship. It will be convenient to have a name for the people on whom the immigrants exerted so great an influence, and as the most essential feature of their social organisation was its dual character, I propose to call them the dual people. Here, as in the case of the terms “kava-people” and “betel-people,” I do not use the term “dual people” for those who now possess the dual system of society, but for the hypothetical element in the existing population of Melanesia, formed by the people inhabiting its islands when they were first visited by the immigrants. Since the argu¬ ment of Chapter xvm has shown reason to believe that the inhabitants of the Solomon Islands and Fiji once possessed

Kava- and Betel-peoples 251

the dual system, we must suppose that these islands were at one time inhabited by the dual people ; I make this the working assumption of the argument which follows.

It follows from the distribution of kava and betel that the kava-people settled in southern Melanesia, Fiji and Polynesia, while the betel-people did not extend in their south-easterly movement beyond the Solomon and Santa Cruz Islands. It is, of course, possible that certain elements of the culture of the betel-people may have been carried directly or indirectly to southern Melanesia/ Fiji and Poly¬ nesia, but it seems more probable that we have in the culture of these regions the results of the influence of the kavapeople uncomplicated by the culture of the betel-people, and I shall proceed upon this assumption in the following chapters.

In the Santa Cruz Islands, where both betel and kava are used, it is clear that we have to deal with elements belonging to the three cultures ; and for reasons I have already con¬ sidered, we can be confident that in these islands the kavapeople were the earlier, and the betel-people the later, comers. It must at present be left an open question whether the betel-people themselves reached these islands, or whether certain elements of their culture, including betel, may not have reached these islands indirectly. We can be fairly con¬ fident that the betel-chewing of Tikopia is the result of intercourse with the Santa Cruz Islands rather than ol any settlement of the betel-people themselves.

I have now to consider the question whether the Solomon Islands are also the seat of the mixture of three cultures. It is possible that the kava-people never reached these islands, so that, when the betel-people arrived, they blended directly with an indigenous population possessing a dual organisa¬ tion comparable with that of southern Melanesia. If, on the other hand, the kava-people settled in the Solomons and blended with the dual people and were later joined by the betel-people, it is evident that we shall have a far more complicated problem than appears to be presented by the more southern islands.

We shall have in this case to consider the results of the blending of one people with another whose culture was already complex ; we shall have to inquire how far elements of the culture introduced by the earlier settlers were obliterated or

obscured by the betel-people. An obvious fact to be dealt with will be the absence of kava in the Solomons, for if those I have called the kava-people once settled in the Solomons, a practice has since disappeared which forms so striking a feature of their culture elsewhere that I have chosen it as the means of their designation. All traces of their culture, however, are not likely to have disappeared, and I have now to consider what evidence we possess of the presence of the culture of the kava-people in the Solomons.

When formulating my scheme of the origin and develop¬ ment of the Sukwe and Tamate societies of the Banks Islands, I pointed out that certain prominent features of the secret organisations are present in the Solomons as part of the general and public culture of these islands. These features are a cult of the dead, the institution of totemism and the practice of taboo. If now we examine the culture of the Solomon Islands, we find that all three of these features are only present, so far as we know, in one region, that com¬ prising Florida, Ysabel, Guadalcanar and Savo, which may conveniently be spoken of as the matrilineal region1.

The religious cult of this region is essentially a cult of ghosts, its social organisation stands alone in the Solomons in being based on totemism, and the protection of property by means of taboo-marks connected with the ghostly tindalo is a prominent feature of the culture. It is in this matrilineal region that the resemblance between the secret ritual of the Tamate societies and the open culture of the Solomons comes out most strongly. Further, it is only in this matrilineal region that we have any evidence of secret societies similar to those of southern Melanesia.

According to my scheme, it is the kava-people who founded the Tamate societies, and it is the culture of this people which is enshrined in their ritual ; it will therefore follow that, if the kava-people settled in the Solomons, it is the matrilineal region which has preserved their culture most purely. I pro¬ pose to adopt as my working hypothesis that the kavapeople settled in the Solomons, and that in the matrilineal region of these islands there has been preserved the culture resulting from the blend of the kava-people with the dual

1 Recent accounts sent to me by the Rev. C. E. Fox show that many parts of the island of San Cristoval must also be included in this region.

The Kava-people and the Solomons 253

people, but relatively little influenced by the betel-people, while other parts, such as Ulawa and Malaita and the more western islands, are places where the influence of the betelpeople has been predominant. It is noteworthy that the matrilineal islands occupy the central portion of the Solomons, suggesting that the betel-people have gradually invaded the islands from several sides ; it is probable that their culture was still encroaching on that of the earlier settlers when the islands were first visited in the last century.

The complete absence of betel-chewing in Fiji shows that the betel-people can have had no direct influence in these islands; on the assumption I am now making, Fiji should be the seat of the interaction of the kava-people with the dual people, more recent Polynesian influence being, of course, also present. On this assumption, we should expect to find that Fiji has closer affinities in culture with the matrilineal region than with other regions of the Solomons, and there can be little doubt that this is the case. The resemblance is par¬ ticularly striking in their systems of relationship. No systems recorded in this book show a closer resemblance than those of the coastal people of Fiji and of the matrilineal region of the Solomons. There is not merely a resemblance in structure dependent on the fact that both are based on the cross¬ cousin marriage, but many of the terms are the same in the two places, the identity extending even to the possessive pronouns. Further, the close resemblance which thus exists between the terms of relationship of the two places is only one instance of a general linguistic similarity, for F. W. Schmidt has especially noted the close resemblance between the languages of Florida, Ysabel and Guadalcanar and those of Fiji1.

Another feature which brings Fiji into relation with the matrilineal region of the Solomons, and both places into rela¬ tion with the Banks and New Hebrides, is the presence of secret societies. If these societies are institutions founded by the kava-people, it is a striking fact in favour of the predominance of this people in the matrilineal region of the Solomons that it should be in this region only that secret societies are known to have existed.

I now return to the substances which form the special

1 Mitt. Anthrop. Ges. Wien , 1899, XXIX, 251.

subject of this chapter. I have spoken of the culture of the matrilineal region of the Solomons as having been rela¬ tively little influenced by the betel- people. Though there is reason to believe that their influence was slight compared with that exerted on other regions of the group, it is evident that it was by no means small absolutely, and one of the facts to be explained is the disappearance of kava.

So far as we know at present, this disappearance is com¬ plete. It may be noted that kava is used in such a way in Vanikolo and Tikopia that it might easily be overlooked ; as a matter of fact, its use in Vanikolo has been completely overlooked until now, and has been recorded in this book for the first time. It is therefore possible that, kava may yet be found in the Solomons, perhaps in the ritual of the bush-people of which we are at present completely ignorant. In southern Melanesia, kava is closely connected with the secret organisations and with the cult of ghosts ; we should therefore expect to have found its use connected with the Matambala of Florida, and it is possible that kava disap¬ peared with the extinction of these societies.

In any case, there is so much which suggests the presence of the kava-people in the matrilineal region of the Solomons that it is legitimate to assume that kava was once used in those islands ; if so, its disappearance would have been merely the result of a further progress of the changes which have made it so inconspicuous in Vanikolo that it has hitherto escaped attention. It remains to inquire whether there are any conditions which will explain how a practice intro¬ duced from without should succeed in displacing another, to which we must suppose the people to have been attached by

long custom.

It is not, I think, difficult to see how kava, in so far as it is used as a daily stimulant, may have been displaced by betel-mixture. Kava is a substance which can only be used after prolonged preparation ; even in those parts of Melanesia where it is used, the supply of the root is generally far from plentiful. Further, in the Banks Islands its use is properly limited, not merely to men, but to the older men and chiefs, and it is probable that this limitation would also have been present in the Solomons.

The constituents of betel-mixture, on the contrary, are always at hand. They are carried in the basket or bag

Origin of Kava

ready for immediate use at any moment: the mixture is used* by both sexes and at all ages, and both the areca-nut and betel-pepper are abundant in the Solomons, so that even if they were brought from elsewhere by human agency, it is evident that they have thriven abundantly. It is not un¬ natural that substances which can be used immediately, which are abundant and freely available to all, should have displaced in everyday life one which, if we are to judge from the evi¬ dence elsewhere, was scarce and only allowed to a small proportion of the population.

If, then, kava was once present in the Solomons and other places invaded by a betel-chewing people, it is not difficult to see why the earlier use of kava should have been displaced by the practice of betel-chewing, at any rate in the ordinary life of the people. It becomes readily intelligible why, in such islands as Vanikolo and Tikopia where we may suppose the introduction of betel to have been relatively recent, the use of kava has wholly disappeared from ordinary life, and is drunk only in connection with religious ceremonial, or is made only in order that it may be used as a religious offering.

I cannot conclude this chapter without a brief consider¬ ation of the origin of kava-drinking. The practice of betelchewing is widespread, and Melanesia forms but one corner of so large an area of distribution that we can be confident that it was brought into Melanesia by an immigrant people as a fully developed practice. With kava the case is different. Its use is limited to Polynesia and Micronesia, Melanesia in¬ cluding the Admiralty Islands, and New Guinea, and there can be little doubt that it is within this area that we must look for the origin of the practice. It is probable that it was not brought by the kava-people as a fully developed custom, but arose through the needs and conditions of their new home.

The suggestion I make concerning the origin of kavadrinking is one which involves a conclusion which will only be reached at a later stage of my argument in the next chapter. I mention it only in order to be able to deal with the origin of kava now.

This conclusion is that there was no very great differ¬ ence between the cultures of the kava-people and the betel-people. Probably both peoples came from the same

part of the world, and the differences between them are perhaps to be explained merely by the lapse of time between the two streams of migration and by developments and changes which took place during the interval. Betel-chewing is a complex practice which involves the use of three different substances1; it must have arisen by a process in which one substance was first added to another, and then at a later stage the third substance added to the other two. It is possible that when the kava-people left their old home, the custom of chewing betel was still in process of development, and that at this time the practice was limited to the chewing of the leaf of the betel-pepper, or it may be that it was only this element of the mixture which they succeeded in carrying to their new home. Still another possibility is that the migrants may have been acquainted with betel-chewing in its entirety, but brought none of its constituents with them, so that they could only use such ingredients of the mixture, or plants which resembled these ingredients, as they found in their new home. In either case, it may be supposed that they first chewed the leaves until it was discovered, perhaps in the way sug¬ gested by the Pentecost story, that the root furnished a more potent means whereby to procure the desired effect of the plant. Having once discovered the properties of the root, it may be suggested that it became the custom to grate or pound it in some places and to chew it in others, and that from these beginnings there have developed the various methods of preparing the substance which are found in different parts of Melanesia and Polynesia.

Some facts may be mentioned in favour of this mode of origin of the use of kava. In the Bismarck Archi¬ pelago, according to Stephan and Graebner2, the pepper used as a constituent of betel-mixture is probably Piper methysticum , suggesting that the betel-people found this plant when they reached this region and substituted it for that they had used in their former home. Further, the betel-pepper is known in various parts of Polynesia as kavakava-atua (Mar¬ quesas), ava-ava-aitu (Samoa), and avaava-atua (Tahiti). These names clearly indicate the sacred character of the plant, and it seems possible that this sanctity is due to the tradition of the existence and use of this plant in the former

1 Still more are used at present in some parts of the Malay Archipelago.

2 Neu- Mecklenburg, Berlin, 1907, p. 59.

Origin of Kava 257

home of the kava-people. It may also be noted that one of the very few plants used in Tikopia as a remedy is the kavakava, which may possibly be the betel-pepper.

I suggest, then, that the use of kava was a development of the practice of chewing betel, a view which has already been advanced in somewhat different form by Christian1. This seems to furnish by far the most probable explanation of the origin of a practice which is distinctively Oceanic.

One alternative must be mentioned. It is possible that the practices of drinking kava and chewing betel do not indicate two successive migrations, but have arisen only through the absence of the proper constituents of betel-mixture in certain parts of Oceania. Thus, it might be held that the absence of betel-chewing in southern Melanesia, Fiji and Polynesia is due to the absence of the areca-palm, so that it was only in these parts of Oceania that the immigrants were driven to the exclusive use of a betel-pepper identical with, or similar to, that used in betel-chewing. It might seem to be in favour of this view that the areca-palm is said to be absent in Fiji and Polynesia, although its presence has been recorded in the New Hebrides2.

There are, however, two sets of facts which make this alternative improbable. There can be little doubt that many of the food-plants and other objects of economic importance of Oceania have been introduced by the immigrant peoples to whom I have ascribed the use of kava and betel ; we should then have to explain why these immigrants failed to introduce the areca-palm in a similar way. Still more con¬ clusive, however, is the fact that the presence and mode of use of both kava and betel in Vanikolo and Tikopia show that there have been successive introductions of the two substances. I have therefore no hesitation in adhering to my hypothesis of the two streams of migration into Melanesia which I denote by their respective uses of kava and betel.

1 The Caroline Islands , London, 1 894, p. 1 89.

2 Somerville, Journ. Anth. Inst. 1894, XXiii, 380.

CHAPTER XXVII

BELIEFS AND CEREMONIAL CONNECTED WITH DEATH

It is an essential part of my general scheme that the immigrants into Melanesia practised a cult of the dead as the prominent element in their religion. Since this cult of the dead is a pronounced feature of the religion of Tikopia and of the secret societies of southern Melanesia, it follows that it is to be ascribed to the kava-people. A cult, of the dead is also the prominent feature of the religion of islands, such as Eddystone and Malaita, where I suppose the influence of the betel-people to have been predominant. We have there¬ fore to conclude that the cult of the dead was common to both the immigrant streams supposed to have entered Melanesia. I have now to inquire into the differences between the cults of the two peoples.

The prominent feature of the existing cult of the dead in the Solomons is the importance of the skull. In these islands, and especially in those where we have reason to believe that the influence of the betel-people has been strong, the whole religious ritual centres round the skulls of ancestors and relatives, which are long preserved in special shrines and are the object of numerous rites. We can with some confidence ascribe the highly developed cult of the skull in the Solomons to the betel-people, but we cannot so confidently exclude a skull-cult from the religion of the kava-people.

Our imperfect knowledge of the ritual of the Tamate societies leaves open the possibility that these societies practise rites in which the skull has a place. The only part of the ritual of the Tamate societies which I have recorded with any approach to completeness in the first volume of this book is that connected with initiation into one society. There must be many other examples of ritual yet to be discovered, and the special association of the societies with

Skull-cult and Head-hunting 259

death makes it far from improbable that there are rites in which the skull has a place1. The special importance of the head in the Banks Islands (1, 42) suggests the existence of the idea that the head is regarded as the symbol or representative of a person, an idea which probably underlies the cult of the skull.

In the Solomons, the cult of the skull has taken a direction which gives to the heads of enemies an importance as great as that attaching to the skulls of relatives, though of a different kind. The heads and skulls of enemies have become the chief object of warfare, thus producing the head-hunting which is one of the most characteristic features of the culture of the Solomons, especially of the more western islands. The primary motive which seems to have underlain the practice of head-hunting in Melanesia was that the head might act as an offering on such occasions as the building of a new house or the launching of a new canoe ; it seems certain that the offering on such an occasion was made to the ghosts of the dead, and especially to those of dead ancestors. It is probable that the offering of the head of an enemy on these occasions has arisen directly out of the practice of human sacrifice, the head being used as the representative of the human victim. If this be so, head-hunting would be merely another development of the cult of the dead, and of the special importance and sanctity of the skull. Both the skull-cult and the practice of head-hunting seem to have been the outcome of the idea that the head is the representative of the body, and that skulls are capable of furnishing a permanent memorial of the dead, whether relatives or enemies. The skull of a relative is kept in order that it may act as the symbol, if not as the actual abiding-place, of the dead, to be honoured and pro¬ pitiated, while the skulls of enemies are preserved to act as the means whereby this honour and propitiation are offered.

The head-hunting of Melanesia is most highly developed in the Western Solomon Islands, being hardly present at all in the matrilineal region, the people of which have suffered very greatly from the depredations of the western islanders. It is completely absent from southern Melanesia. We can there¬ fore be confident that the practice did not belong to the culture of the kava-people, and the high degree of its development in

1 Since this was written, Speiser ( Siidsee , Urwald, Kannibalen , Leipzig, 1913, p. 207) has recorded definite evidence of a skull-cult in the New Hebrides.

17 — 2

the Western Solomons leaves little doubt that it is to be ascribed to the betel-people. Indeed, I believe it to be so characteristic of this people that they might appropriately be called the head-hunting people. The practice of chewing betel has been the element of the culture of this people which has spread most widely, but the distribution of head-hunting would probably furnish a more accurate guide in showing where their influence has been specially in action.

The practice of head-hunting and a highly developed cult connected with the skulls of relatives thus appear to be limited to places where the influence of the betel-people has been predominant. The sanctity of the head in southern Melanesia, however, indicates that the central idea which underlies the practices of the betel-people is also present in some degree in that region, and must therefore be ascribed to the kava-people. The sanctity of the head among the kava-people thus suggests some community of culture between them and the betel-people. It suggests that the practices of the betel-people are only a further development of beliefs and practices already possessed by the kava-people ; and that the kava- and betel-peoples were only two successive streams of migrants possessing closely related cultures. They suggest that, at the time of the first migration, the cult of the dead was already to some degree associated with the idea of the special sanctity of the head and its use as the representative of the whole body, but that when a second migration again carried a cult of the dead to Melanesia, the importance and sanctity of the head had become much greater, and had come to be associated with the practice of using the heads of enemies as the means whereby their own dead might be honoured and propitiated.

At this stage I may consider briefly how far there is evidence that a cult of the dead is practised in Polynesia, and whether this is in any way associated with the idea that the head or skull is the representative of the body.

The account given in Chapter xn makes it clear that one of the most important classes of atua among the Tikopians consists of the ghosts of dead relatives and ancestors. Else¬ where in Polynesia, there is also no question that those who are called atua, otua , etc., are often the ghosts of ancestors, though it would seem as if this class of atua has been some¬ what thrust into the background by spiritual beings of another order.

Skull-cult in Polynesia 261

The second question, whether the Polynesian cult of the dead is associated with the idea of the sanctity of the head or skull, must be answered in the affirmative, though the im¬ portance of this part of the body does not appear to approach in any measure that which I suppose to have existed among the betel-people. Throughout Polynesia the head of a chief is regarded as sacred, and its sanctity is the motive of the custom so often noted in Polynesia which does not allow a chief to put himself in a position where anyone can walk over his head. Further, as we shall see shortly, the skull was often preserved after death, and might even be taken as a trophy in war. The skull of a sacrificial victim might also be preserved when the rest of his body was destroyed, showing clearly the presence of the idea that the head is the repre¬ sentative of the body. Nevertheless, there is no evidence of head-hunting as an organised and habitual practice1. The importance of the head in Polynesia appears to be little more than such as I have ascribed to the kava-people.

I have hitherto considered the cult of the dead in so far as it is a feature of the general religious practices of Melanesia and Polynesia, and of the ritual of secret societies. I have now to inquire whether we can obtain any more definite knowledge by a study of the beliefs concerning the nature of the life after death, and of the modes of disposing of the bodies of the dead.

The home of the dead.

Dr Codrington has put on record the striking difference between northern and southern Melanesia in the beliefs con¬ cerning the abode of the soul after death2. In the Banks and Torres Islands and in the New Hebrides, it is the almost universal belief that the dead live underground, the way to the home beneath the earth being in some cases through the volcanic vents which occur in these islands. In the Solomons, on the other hand, the prevailing belief is that the dead find their way after death to islands, either in other parts of the Solomons or more remotely situated. Here and there in

1 The most probable examples are to be found in the Marquesas and New Zealand, but even in these islands there is no evidence that the taking of heads had the social or religious importance which attaches to the practice among the head-hunting peoples of Melanesia.

2 M., 264.

the Solomons, however, as in Savo, we find, either alone or in conjunction with the more widely diffused belief, the idea that the dead go into volcanic craters or caverns, while in at least one place in southern Melanesia, in Anaiteum, it is believed that the dead reach their future home by sea.

There seem, thus, to be two chief kinds of Melanesian belief concerning the home of the dead ; one found in southern Melanesia and Santa Cruz, that the dead live underground ; the other, existing in the Solomons and in Anaiteum, that the dead pass by sea to another island. Taking Melanesia alone, the distribution of these two beliefs might suggest that the passage to another island was the belief of the betel-people, while the belief in an underground Hades either belonged to the kava-people, or came into existence as a result of the interaction between their beliefs and those of the earlier inhabitants.

If, however, we turn to Polynesia we find a condition inconsistent with this hypothesis, if it be combined with the hypothesis of the absence of the betel-people from Polynesia. I do not know the nature of the Tikopian belief concerning the home of the dead, but in other parts of Polynesia both the Melanesian beliefs are found. There is a world of the dead, either on or above the earth, and another beneath the earth, but in both cases this home may be reached by sea. Thus, in the Samoan Islands, the home of the dead was near the island of Savaii, so that the people of other islands had to pass there by sea and find their way to the underworld1. The belief in the passage of the dead to their future home by the sea would thus seem to be common to both kava- and betel-peoples. This belief, however, need not have been an original belief of either people ; it need only be a belief common to migrant peoples who have reached a new home by sea. It would be a natural belief if the first immigrants wished and hoped to return after death to the country whence they had come. The passage of the dead to their future home by sea need not have been the original belief of either kava- or betel-people, but only one common to the two peoples, because both were migrants whose route was on the sea. The real difficulty is not that this belief should be common to the betel-people of the Solomons and the kava-people of Polynesia ; the fact which requires

1 Stair, Old Samoa , 1897, pp. 217-9.

Home of the Dead

explanation is the rarity of the belief in a passage by sea in southern Melanesia, the culture of which seems to be largely that of a people who must have migrated by sea.

The question remaining, whether the belief in an under¬ ground Hades belongs to the dual people or the kava-people, is one which will receive an answer when we are considering the ritual of death. All that I need do here is to suggest the connection of the belief in an underworld with the presence of volcanic activity. In southern Melanesia, where the belief in an underworld is general, there are many manifestations of volcanic activity, and volcanoes are also present in Santa Cruz, Savo, and Bougainville, three places where the belief is found farther north1. Further, the association also exists in Polynesia, for in the Samoan Islands it is believed that the dead find their way to an underworld by an entrance on the actively volcanic island of Savaii, while the belief in an underworld is also prominent in New Zealand, where mani¬ festations of volcanic activity are abundant. It is in such islands as Tahiti, where there are no volcanoes, that the belief in an underground Hades seems to be absent or inconspicuous.

A further point of interest in Polynesia is that in some places there are two beliefs concerning the home of the dead, the chiefs and the ordinary people having different destinies after death. Thus, in the Marquesas, chiefs and the higher gods are believed to inhabit a paradise in the sky, while the underworld is the abode of the lesser gods and of the com¬ mon people2. In the Tahitian Islands there was also the belief in a heaven in the sky above the high mountains, to which went the Areois and the chiefs, while it was also open to their friends through the mediation of the priests. Others went to Po, or the land of obscurity3. Again, in New Zealand, there was some idea of chiefs going to heaven after death, while those of inferior rank went to the Hades, called Po or Night, which was located under the earth4. The combination of the two beliefs points either to the presence of two strata in the population of Polynesia or to a special development of belief

1 For Bougainville, see Thurnwald, Zeitsch.f. Ethnol. 1910, p. 130.

2 Radiguet, Les dernier s Sauv ages, Paris, 1882, p. 220. The paradise in the sky is also inhabited by warriors who die on the field of battle, suicides, and women who die in childbirth.

3 Moerenhout, op. cit. pp. 432-5.

4 Taylor, Te Ika a Maui , 1870, p. 389.

having taken place, but the further consideration of this problem may be deferred till the ritual of death has been studied.

Disposal of the dead.

Before I begin this account it will be well to say some¬ thing about terminology. Most writers on Oceanic ethno¬ graphy use the term burial in several senses, including both interment and other modes of disposal, but in general when they say that a body is buried, they mean that it is interred. In the following account I use the terms interment or inhu¬ mation when I am sure, either from direct statement or from other evidence, that the body is put beneath the surface of the earth. I shall occasionally use the words “ burial ” and “bury” in a generic sense to include all varieties of disposal of the body other than cremation, but they will be especially useful where I quote from others whose descriptions have left the exact mode of treatment doubtful. They will also be useful terms for cases which occur in Melanesia in which the body is only partially interred, cases in which part of the body is left above the ground, or in which the whole body is placed in a hole dug in the ground but is not covered with earth.

One would naturally expect that the disposal of the dead would furnish useful indications of difference of culture. The treatment of the bodies of the dead is so closely bound up with ideas concerning the nature of death and the life after death, that we should expect it to be one of the most persistent elements of the culture of a people. If, therefore, Melanesian society has been built up out of three main ele¬ ments only, as I am now assuming, we should expect to find at the most three main methods of disposal of the dead ; and if, as I have suggested, a special cult of the dead is common to the kava- and betel-cultures, we might even expect to find these two peoples agreeing in the general character of their disposal of the dead, in which case we ought to find a high degree of uniformity in this aspect of culture throughout Oceania. It is, therefore, perplexing to find the modes of disposal of the dead in Melanesia to be so numerous and diverse that it would seem at first sight an almost hopeless task to assign them to the limited number of categories demanded by my present working scheme. Nevertheless,

Disposal of the Dead in Melanesia 265

this task must be undertaken, and I begin by describing briefly the modes of disposal of the dead which are found in the area of Melanesia with which I deal and in Polynesia. I shall then inquire whether it is possible to reduce their great variety to a few essential forms. I will consider the various localities in the order followed in the first volume of this book.

The Banks Islands. Here the most general method is inhumation, but others occur, including burial in caves and preservation in chests or in the house. In the district of Gaua, in Santa Maria, the body was laid on a mat and dried between two fires till nothing was left but skin and bones, a process which may be regarded as a kind of mummification, and this method was once also practised in Mota. In one part of Gaua the body is first placed between the two fires, but is interred at the end of five days1.

In Vanua Lava the body of a dead man is laid in his canoe, and this is placed on trestles in the house with a fire lighted beneath it. The fifth day after death is called “0 kwat ma vule “the head broken off,” because on that day the head is believed to break off from the body, or more probably because formerly the head was removed on that day. Every tenth day is observed to the hundredth, and then every hundredth day till the thousandth, when the bones are wrapped up and interred, sometimes in a secret place, sometimes near a wona or a gamal or a house which has been the subject of a kolekole on the part of the dead man.

In the island of Ureparapara the body of a dead man is tied by the side of a path in the upright position2.

The Torres Islands. In these islands interment is now frequent, but the bodies of the dead were formerly laid out on stages near the houses3. On the tenth day after death the head is removed temporarily from the body (1, 188), and this may be only a survival of a permanent separation.

The New Hebrides. In the more northern islands inhuma¬ tion is practised, and an account given by Dr Codrington4 suggests that in Pentecost the body is placed in a sitting posture during the funeral ceremonies, even if it is not in¬ terred in this position.

1 Codrington, 267. 2 I owe this information to the Rev. W. J. Durrad.

3 Codrington, M 265. 4 Ibid. 287.

In Malikolo the body is either interred or exposed on a platform until it decays, when the bones are interred1. A chief is interred, but his skull is dug up later, placed on a figure in human form, and kept in a special house called the house of the chiefs2. In Espiritu Santo the bodies of ordinary people are interred3, in some parts in old canoes4. The body of a chief is put in a little house on piles, where it is left to be dried by the sun5.

In Ambrym there are several methods. According to Codrington6, interment in the house is the rule. The skull, jawbone and ribs are disinterred five months later and put under the root of a hollow tree, while the long bones are laid in a tree. The body of an important man is kept in the house lying in a canoe or a drum. After ten months the skull, jawbone and the long bones of the limbs are kept in the house, while the rest of the bones are sunk at sea. According to Lamb7, the body of a chief is kept in the house on a framework, under which a slow fire is lighted, while in some villages it is exposed on a high platform. In this island Suas8 found a body interred in the squatting posture four metres below the surface.

In Anaiteum the bodies of the dead are usually thrown into the sea ; the highest chiefs are interred, but with the head above the ground, so that the skull can be taken later and kept in a cave or placed on a tree in a sacred grove9.

Santa Cruz Islands. In Santa Cruz and Vanikolo the usual method appears to be interment in the house, but in the interior of Santa Cruz the bones are dug up to make arrow¬ heads while the skull is kept in a chest in the house10. Mr Blencowe tells me that the people may also keep the body above ground until it is possible to pull off the flesh and extract the bones.

The Solomon Islands. At Saa and neighbouring places in Malaita the bodies of commoners are interred, but the body of an important man is hung up in the house, enclosed

1 T. Watt Leggatt, Rep . Austral. Ass. 1892, IV, 700.

2 Hagen et Pineau, Rev. cPEthnog. 1889, vii, 332.

3 Joly, Bull, de la Soc. d Anthropoid Paris, 1904, Sdr. V, t. v, 369.

4 Hagen et Pineau, loc. cit.

6 Joly, loc. cit. 6 M ., 288, n.

7 Saints and Savages , 1905, p. 118. 8 See Joly, op. cit. p. 365.

9 Lawrie, Rep. Austral. Ass. 1892, p. 71 1; Brown, Melanesians and Polynesians , p. 396; and A. W. Murray, Wonders in the Western Isles , 1874, p. 64.

10 Codrington, M., 263-4.

Disposal in the Solomons 267

either in a canoe or in the figure of a sword-fish. Later, the bones are buried, with the exception of the skull, which is enclosed in the figure of a bonito fish and kept in the house. The bodies of the dead may also be thrown into the sea or sometimes, but rarely, burnt. Still another method is that, also met with in southern Melanesia, in which the body is laid on a platform, sometimes in a canoe, till it is dried ; the process of mummification may be hastened by pouring water upon the body. Both in these cases and when the body is burnt, the skull, or part of it, is preserved1.

In San Cristoval, according to Codrington2, the bodies of common people are cast into the sea, while chiefs are interred, and some relic, such as the skull, tooth or finger-bone, taken up later and preserved in a shrine. According to Verguet3, the bodies of important persons are placed on wooden plat¬ forms surrounded by palisades, until only the bones remain. The less important dead are also placed in the open, sur¬ rounded by palisades, but in the sitting position with hands on knees.

In Florida interment is general, but the skull is often dug up and kept in the house. Men are sometimes thrown into the sea after death by their special wish ; in Savo this is the usual mode of treatment in the case of the common people, while the bodies of chiefs are interred4. Inhumation is usual in Ysabel, but the body of a chief is interred with his head near the surface, and a fire is kept burning over it, so that the skull may later be removed and kept in the house5.

In Eddystone Island, the body is exposed in the squatting position ; after a time the head is removed and placed in a shrine, which usually has the form of a house. Elsewhere in this part of the Solomons, the skull may be kept in a box in the form of a fish or of the human figure. Less frequently in Eddystone the body is thrown into the sea and, as in Florida, usually at the special wish of the deceased, the bodies of the most important chiefs being treated in this way if they should so wish.

In the Shortland Islands in Bougainville Straits three different methods are recorded by Mr Wheeler6. The bodies of ordinary people are either interred or thrown into the sea,

1 Codrington, M 261-3.

3 Rev. d'Ethnog. 1885, iv, 20 7. 6 Ibid. 257.

2 Ibid. 258.

4 Codrington, Af., 214.

6 Arch. f. Religionswiss. 1914, XVII, 64.

while those of chiefs, or of women of chiefs’ rank, are burnt ; the bones are collected from the ashes and are thrown into the sea or into rivers, or are interred. The disposal of the bones has features of great importance in relation to the totemism of this region. When the bones are thrown into water, which is the more frequent practice, this is done at places called keno , each Icitu or clan having its own keno , where it is believed that the bones are swallowed by fishes or other animals, or by mysterious beings, of which one example is said to resemble a hand-net. In some cases the animals which become receptacles for the bones are included in the list of totems of the latu obtained by Mr Wheeler, and in other cases it is evident that they are included in the same category, for in each case the dead person is regarded as the fabiu of the animal or other being, and fabiu is a term of relationship reciprocal to tete and tua , terms for grand¬ parents and also for the totem. The keno is also regarded as the bathing-place of the nunu or “soul” of the dead man. In the rarer cases in which the bones of a chief are interred, a clan may also use a special locality which, though not called keno , appears to be its equivalent.

In Choiseul the bodies of the dead are either burnt or set out in the sitting position, as in Eddystone, until the skull can be removed1.

In the Buin district of Bougainville only cremation is practised. The body of a dead man is burnt on a platform about the height of a man, and the bones taken from the ashes are interred, but we are not told whether each clan has its own special locality for this purpose2.

Polynesia. Numerous modes of disposal of the dead are practised in Polynesia3. The bodies of all persons are interred in Tonga, Samoa and Tikopia. In many other islands this mode of treatment is used only for those who are not of high rank, when it is customary to use the contracted and sitting position, the body being sometimes bound tightly in this position. In Tikopia the body is interred in the extended position, but the bending of the legs which was recorded by Mr Durrad (i, 346) is probably a survival of the ancient

1 Thurnwald, Forschungen auf den Salomo-Ifiseln und dem Bismarck- Archipel, Berlin, 1912, III, 27.

2 Thurnwald, op. cit., p. 19 ; also Zeitsch. f Ethnol. 1910, XLII, 129.

3 This and the following paragraphs give only a brief summary of a full account I reserve for publication elsewhere.

Disposal in Polynesia 269

use of the contracted position ; the extended position is used in Samoa and Tonga. In some cases, as in Tikopia, inter¬ ment takes place either in the house or within a structure representing a house, while in Tonga and Samoa the bodies of chiefs are interred in vaults built of stone. Often the body is buried in a canoe or in a hollowed log of wood which repre¬ sents a canoe.

A second mode of treatment is preservation of the body, either in the house or on a stage often covered with a roof. Some kind of mummification is usually practised in these cases, by continual rubbing with oil, drying by means of a fire, and puncture of the body to hasten the disappearance of the products of decomposition.

In some parts of Samoa there is a definite process of embalming in which the viscera are removed and buried. A body thus treated lies on a platform resting upon a double canoe, and in many other places a canoe is used as a receptacle for the body while it is undergoing the process of mummifi¬ cation. When the body is thus preserved above the ground, the bones may be finally interred, or preserved in the house, or removed to a secret hollow or cavern, often in the highest part of an island. Sometimes it is the skull only which is thus preserved, while the rest of the bones are neglected. Nearly everywhere, it is the bodies of chiefs only which are thus preserved above the ground.

Sometimes, as in Samoa and Rarotonga, interment is delayed in the case of chiefs for many days, during which the body is exposed, and in Samoa a dead chief may be carried round to all the places with which he had been connected during his life. Another mode of disposal is to put the body in a cave or chasm. This practice seems to be associated with the practice of mummification.

The last mode of disposal, used only in the case of commoners, is to throw the body into the sea, or, as in Niue, to send it adrift in a canoe. The dead used also to be sent out to sea in canoes in Samoa.

In the attempt to reduce these numerous and diversified funeral rites of Oceania to a few main principles, I will begin with a widespread feature of these rites according to which the bodies of the dead are placed in canoes or in representatives of canoes. The canoe forms a feature of the ritual, both

when the body is interred, and when it is preserved on plat¬ forms or in the house. There can be no doubt that the function of the canoe is to convey the dead to their future home, either on the earth or to some place from which there is access to the underworld. In considering the nature of the home of the dead, I pointed out that, while we can con¬ fidently ascribe the belief in the passage of their dead by sea to the immigrants, there is no reason to assign it to one only of the peoples I suppose to have come into Melanesia. The belief would be a necessary consequence if immigrants into Oceania believed in a return after death to the country from which they had come. Similarly, there is no reason to assign the use of a canoe, so clearly connected with this passage, to one body of immigrants. It may be only a result of the route taken by people who have migrated by sea. The practice can be regarded as a result of the fact of migration, and does not show that the use of a canoe was the practice of the immigrants in their original home. It may be regarded as a complication of funeral practices due to the nature of a migration, and not as the distinguishing mark of any special body of immigrants.

Another funeral practice of Oceania may also be con¬ nected with the belief in an after-life to be reached by a passage across the sea. It may be that the dead are thrown into the sea in order that they may thus pass to their future home. In Anaiteum, where this is the practice, it is believed that the ghost plunges into the sea from one end of the island and swims to a place called Umatmas1, the treatment of the body thus running parallel with the conduct of the ghost. It is also possible that in some, if not in all cases, throwing into the sea is derived from the practice of sending adrift in a canoe, which was formerly the custom in Samoa and Niue. The sending adrift of those condemned to death in Tikopia (1, 306) may be only the persistence of one Polynesian mode of treating the dead. The Niue and Tikopia customs bring the practice of throwing into the sea into relation with the use of the canoe in interment or preservation.

It is noteworthy that in Anaiteum, Savo, the islands of Bougainville Straits, and many parts of Polynesia, it is only the bodies of commoners which are thrown into the sea. In some parts of the Solomons, however, the practice is not so

1 Turner, Samoa , p. 326.

Cave-burial

limited, but the bodies of chiefs may be thus treated if they have so desired before their death. The treatment of the bones of chiefs after cremation in the islands of Bougainville Straits shows special features which suggest that throwing into the sea or into rivers may have arisen in a wholly different way. I shall return to this subject later ; at present I shall assume that throwing into the sea is a result of migration.

If the use of a canoe in the funeral rites and the practice of throwing the bodies of the dead into the sea are the secondary results of migration rather than indications of the primary beliefs of immigrants, the problem before us will be much simplified. It will not be necessary to assign these practices to any one culture, but they may be regarded only as complications of the original immigrant beliefs through the fact that the immigration took place by sea.

Another mode of disposing of the dead seems in some cases to be the result of certain conditions of the interaction between neighbouring peoples. The practice of burial in caves or in hollows in the mountains may be merely the out¬ come of the desire of the immigrants to remove their dead from all possibility of disturbance. Thus, in Melanesia, the bones of the dead may be stolen in order that they may be used in the preparation of spears or arrows, or that they may be used in magic1. Similar motives are present in Polynesia, as in the Marquesas, where the skull might be stolen by an enemy as a trophy2, or in Tahiti, where the bones might be taken to make chisels, borers or fishing-hooks3. In many Polynesian cases the caves or chasms are in remote and inaccessible places, and their situation may be known only to a few ; it is clear that it is the possibility of desecration which has acted as the immediate motive for the removal of the dead to these resting-places, and the practice of caveburial may have come about in this way, in which case it would not be necessary to assign it to any special culture or cultures, thus producing a further simplification of our problem. I shall return to this subject again. For the present I shall assume that cave-burial has arisen through special conditions within Oceania, so that we are left with

1 Joly, Bull, de la Soc. d'Anth ., Paris, 1904, S6v. v, t. v, p. 369.

2 Clavel, Les Marquisie?is , Paris, 1885, p. 45 ; also Langsdorff, Voyages and Travels , 1813, p. 155.

3 Ellis, Polynesian Researches , 1829, I, 524-5.

three main modes of disposing of the bodies of the dead : inhumation, cremation and the various means by which the body, or some part of it, is preserved above the ground.

Since cremation is practised only on the outskirts of the area with which I am especially concerned, and since we know very little about it even there, I propose to leave it on one side for the present and to deal only with the two kinds of disposal which remain, inhumation and preservation above the ground.

I will begin by considering the varieties of disposal in which the body is preserved above the ground. There can be little doubt that this custom has its roots in a belief that the bodies of the dead are not objects to be thrust out of sight and forgotten, but that they should be kept among the living to serve as centres of interest in the lives of the sur¬ vivors.

The methods which seem to be actuated by this belief are those in which the body is kept in the house or on a plat¬ form, and this idea of preservation is especially evident in those cases in which some kind of mummification or embalming is practised. If now we add the idea that the head is the representative of the body of a human being, a large number of other practices fall into the same category, including many of the cases of inhumation in which the skull is disinterred and preserved. If there be combined the two ideas that the bodies of the dead should be preserved and that the skull is the representative and emblem of the body as a whole, a large number of the modes of disposal of the dead in Oceania fall into one category.

Further, it is probable that many of these practices can be subsumed under the narrower heading of preservation in the house. In Espiritu Santo the body of a chief is put into a little house, with a roof but no sides, erected on piles. In Mangareva, Beechey1 illustrates side by side an example of exposure on a simple platform and one in which the plat¬ form and body are covered by a structure having the form of a roof, and in other parts of Polynesia the bier or platform on which the body is preserved is covered by a house or house-like structure. Such cases from widely separated parts of Oceania suggest that the exposure of the dead on platforms, which is one of the most frequent forms of disposal

1 Narrative of Voyage to the Pacific, London, 1831, 1, 170.

Preservation of the Dead 273

of the dead, is only the survival of preservation in a house, the roof disappearing by a process of degeneration as the original idea underlying the practice was forgotten.

In the western islands of the British Solomons the skull, as the representative of the body, is usually kept in a shrine,’ the form of which shows that it represents a house, so that we have evidence that, even when the body is represented only by its head, preservation in the house remains an essen¬ tial feature of the practice1. There is thus evidence that a large number of the widely diverse practices of Melanesia and Polynesia can be brought into relation with one another as expressions of the idea of the preservation of the body in a house, combined in some cases with the idea that the skull is the representative or emblem of the body as a whole. Many practices become intelligible as elements of a single culture if we suppose that a people imbued with the necessity for the preservation of the body after death acquired, perhaps in the course of their wanderings towards Oceania, the further idea that the skull is the representative of the body as a whole ; if they came to believe that the purpose for which they had hitherto preserved the body could be fulfilled as well if the head only were kept.

The various modes of preservation of the bodies of the dead all seem to imply the absence of any special fear of the dead , or if such fear be present, we must regard preservation as part of a cult whereby the dead are rendered harmless, or even friendly. If it could be shown that inhumation is associated with the idea of removing the dead as effectually as possible from contact with the living, we should have in it evidence of an attitude towards the dead fundamentally different from that underlying the practice of preservation, one which we could safely attribute to a different culture.

In studying the practice of inhumation from this point of view, it is necessary to distinguish at the outset between two chief forms, according to the position in which the body is interred, whether in the extended or contracted attitude. Our information from Melanesia concerning the position of the body in cases of interment is very defective, but the squatting position of the body unearthed by Suas in Ambrym suggests that the ancient practice was to inter in this position.

The full evidence for this conclusion will be given in the account of the Western British Solomons, to be published by Mr Hocart and myself.

R. M. s. II. To

It is clear that the sitting position is that employed in most parts of Polynesia, the chief exceptions being Tonga and Samoa where interment has a special character to be considered later. In Tikopia, where the extended position is used, the bending of the legs suggests the former use of the contracted position.

In some cases of interment in the sitting position, the limbs are tightly bound and there is definite evidence from Mangaia that this binding, together with the heaping of stones over the grave, are intended to prevent the return of the dead man1. If interment in the contracted position is believed to prevent the return of the deceased, it is evident that we have in it the manifestation of ideas radically opposed to those connected with preservation of the body among the living.

Another possibility is that interment is associated with the belief in a home of the dead beneath the ground. I have no evidence that this is so in Melanesia, but in the Fly river region of New Guinea Dr Landtman has recorded2 the belief that the grave is a means of passage to the underworld which suggests the possible presence of the association I suggest. If this should turn out to be the motive, or one of the motives, underlying inhumation, we should still have reason to separate this practice widely from the different varieties of preservation. Whatever be the motives under¬ lying interment in the contracted position, we can be certain that these differ so widely from those which have produced the practice of preservation that we can confidently assign the two modes to different cultures.

There remains to be considered interment in the extended position. With the exception of Tikopia, the only islands in Polynesia where we have definite evidence for the use of this position are Tonga and Samoa, and in both places our definite evidence for the use of this position is where chiefs are con¬ cerned ; the use of a vault also distinguishes these islands from other places in Polynesia where interment is practised. When the royal vault in Tonga was opened for the interment of Finau, Mariner saw two bodies, which had been buried for over forty years, in an almost perfect state3, suggesting that

1 Gill, Life in the Southern Isles , 1876, p. 75.

2 Festskrift tillegnad Edvard Wester mar ck, Helsingfors, 1912, p. 73.

3 Tonga , 1817, 1, 400.

Combined Modes of Disposal 275

this mode of interment is only a variety of the practice of preservation in the house, but in a house beneath the ground. Further, in Samoa the interment is preceded by a long period during which the body is kept among the living. The ex¬ tended interment of these islands suggests a special develop¬ ment of the practice of preservation rather than one actuated by the ideas underlying interment in the contracted position.

I propose to leave the consideration of the causes of this special development for a later part of this chapter.

The general result of this survey of the funeral practices of Oceania is that, putting cremation on one side, they may be reduced to two main categories depending upon two widely divergent, if not radically opposed, attitudes towards the dead ; one, in which a dead body is an object to be preserved and cherished ; the other, in which it is removed as com¬ pletely as possible from all contact with the living.

In several parts of Oceania, we find special cases in which features of the two main categories, inhumation and preser¬ vation, are combined. Thus, the body is interred in Ysabel, but with the head so near the surface that the skull can be removed later and preserved ; many other examples of disin¬ terment could be cited, designed to secure the skull or some other part of the body. Again, in some cases in which the body is preserved in a canoe, it is placed in the sitting position. Such combinations of customs which would seem originally to have been based on opposed ideas are most naturally to be explained by the blending of cultures and the persistence of custom long after its meaning has been forgotten. Such a case as that of Ysabel suggests that a people who believed in the preservation of the body, or of the skull as its repre¬ sentative, settled among another who practised inhumation, and that the needs of the new-comers were met by continuing to inter the body, but with the head so near the surface that it could easily be removed and preserved. Similarly, inter¬ ment in a canoe would follow naturally if a people who believed in the passage of the dead to another island settled among others who practised inhumation. The descendants of the blended peoples would continue to inter their dead, but would place the body in a canoe so that it might succeed in passing to its future home in spite of its deposition in the earth.

Having now established the presence in Oceania of two

18 — 2

modes of treatment of the dead which seem to be founded on ideas widely divergent from, if not diametrically opposed to, one another, the task which presents itself is to assign these modes to the elements of which I assume Oceanic society to be composed. In order to do this it is necessary to place the two modes of treating the dead in order of time, and I have now to seek for criteria which will enable this to be done.

The prevalence of the belief in an underworld of the dead in southern Melanesia suggests that this is a relatively early belief ; if inhumation could be connected with this belief, we should have evidence that this practice is also relatively early. We have, however, no clear evidence of this connec¬ tion and must look elsewhere for our criterion.

It is an essential part of my scheme that the chiefs of Melanesia represent the immigrant element of the population (see 11, 224), and the possibility suggests itself that, if chiefs and commoners observe different funeral rites, we have in these differences the guide for which we are seeking. On examining the evidence, we find that in Espiritu Santo the ordinary people inter their dead, while it is the bodies of chiefs wThich are preserved in the little pile-dwellings which I suppose to be the prototype of the platform so often used else¬ where. Again in Malikolo, it is the skulls of chiefs which are disinterred and placed in special houses. Preservation of the body is also associated with chieftainship in the Solomons. The bodies of commoners are interred in Saa, while the bodies and skulls of chiefs are preserved ; in Ysabel again, it is the skulls of chiefs which are disinterred and kept in the house.

The custom of preservation in Melanesia thus seems to be definitely associated with the chiefs whom I suppose to represent the later immigrant element in the population. This conclusion is in agreement with another part of my scheme. There is definite evidence that preservation of the skull is associated with preservation of the body. If I am right in assigning the cult of the skull to a relatively late period of Melanesian history, it will follow that the preserva¬ tion of the body associated with it must also be relatively late, certainly later than interment in the sitting position. It is easy to understand the direct passage from preservation of the body to preservation of the skull, but the process would be

Practices of Chiefs and Commoners 277

difficult to understand if the practice of inhumation were interposed between the two.

There are, however, exceptions in the Melanesian evi¬ dence. In Savo, the bodies of commoners are thrown into the sea, while the bodies of chiefs are interred ; and in the Banks and Torres Islands, the practice of inhumation is, according to Dr Codrington, a relatively late practice. In none of the places, however, where interment in Melanesia seems thus to be late, have we any satisfactory evidence concerning the position in which the body is buried. We do not know in what position the body is interred in Savo, and in his book Dr Codrington does not mention the nature of the interment in the Banks and Torres Islands. He kindly tells me, however, that he never heard of the use of the sitting position and thinks its occurrence unlikely. It is thus probable that it is the extended position which is used in the interments of these islands, in which case they will form no exception to the rule of the precedence of sitting interment.

The balance of evidence is thus in favour of the ascription of the practice of preservation to chiefs. If, as I suppose, chiefs are the representatives of the immigrants, it will follow that the practice of preservation in Melanesia is to be ascribed to immigrants, and that of interment in the sitting posture to the earlier inhabitants with the dual organisation. If, as I have supposed, the main difference between the cults of the dead practised by the kava- and betel-peoples is a greater development of the importance attached to the skull by the latter people, it will follow that preservation was a practice common to both immigrant peoples. The distinguishing feature of the betel-culture would be the concentration of the idea of preservation upon the skull, whereas among the kavapeople, the preservation of the body as a whole would have been the main object of the funeral rites, though there are definite indications of a belief in the special importance of the head. The study of the modes of disposing of the bodies of the dead thus leads to the same conclusion as was reached in the opening paragraphs of this chapter, a conclusion still earlier suggested by the relation between the use of kava and betel, that the kava-people and the betel-people are but two successive streams of immigrants with cultures closely allied to one another. Before I proceed further, it must be pointed out that if preservation of the bodies of the dead be thus ascribed

to immigrants, it does not follow that the practice must have belonged to the immigrant culture in its former home. It may only have been the result of a desire on the part of the immigrants for the return of their bodies to their former home. Thus, it is possible that the kava-people or any other body of immigrants might have come from a part of the world where inhumation or cremation was practised, and yet may have preserved the bodies of their dead in order that, sooner or later, they might be conveyed to the ancient home for the celebration of the proper rites. The practice of preservation in Melanesia would thus be the result of the transmission of a practice from generation to generation, which in the minds of the immigrants themselves was merely the means to an end ; it would be a practice which has lost its original purpose in the process of transmission. According to this view, the practice of preservation would be a feature of culture of the same order as the use of a canoe in the funeral rites. It would be a consequence of the fact of migration, and not a necessary indication of the original nature of the immigrant culture. Nevertheless from one point of view, the practice of preserving the bodies of the dead is a sign of a cultural influence quite distinct from that of the earlier inhabitants. If I am right in supposing that the practice of interment in the contracted and sitting position is associated with a fear of the dead, it is evident that preservation could only have come into vogue through the influence of people with very different ideas. Whether the practice of preservation be the original custom of the immigrants, or whether it be the outcome of a need arising in their new home, it implies the presence of ideas very different from those which seem to have actuated the people who interred their dead in the sitting position.

The view to which the argument has now led us is that the dual people of Melanesia interred their dead in the sitting position and that the custom of preserving the dead above the ground was brought in by the immigrants, the feature distinguishing the kava-people from the betel-people being that the former believed in the preservation of the body as a whole, while the latter were content to preserve the skull as its representative. I need hardly point out how closely this scheme accords with the ascription of a cult of the dead, and especially of dead ancestors, to the immigrants. It is an essential part of my general scheme that both the kava- and

Cult of the Dead

the betel-peoples practised a cult in which their dead ancestors and relatives were the recipients of offerings and prayers ; it is thoroughly in harmony with this scheme that the bodies of the dead should be preserved in order that they, or some part of them, should serve as an outward and material sign of the ghostly influence believed to be so powerful in the lives of their survivors and descendants.

The ascription of the preservation of the dead to the kava- and betel-peoples not only fits in harmoniously with the scheme to which we have been led by the earlier argument of this chapter ; it also allows us to formulate a more adequate conception of the nature of the cult of the dead which we may suppose to have been practised by the founders of the Tamate societies. Immigrants believing in the ever-present and beneficent influence of their dead would have found them¬ selves among a people who so dreaded the ghosts of the dead that the leading features of their funeral rites were designed to remove all possibility of the return of the dead to earth. We can readily understand how necessary it must have been that the visitors should practise their rites in secret, rites which perhaps brought them into definite communion with the dead, probably by means of such representations of the dead as are still used in some of the New Hebrides, representations which have now degenerated in the Banks Islands into the masks of the Tamate societies. It is even possible that the original object of the Tamate societies was communion with the dead through the medium of their skulls which had been secretly dug up for this purpose.

If the kava-people, believing in communion with the dead, thus found themselves among a people to whom the dead were the objects only of fear, it becomes easy to understand why the societies should have inspired the terror which made it possible for them to obtain such power among an alien people. If the funeral rites of the kava-people and the dual people are based on the ideas to which the argument of this chapter has led us, the whole scheme of the establishment of the secret societies of Melanesia acquires a meaning which adds greatly to its probability. The societies would have arisen out of the interaction between two peoples who differed radically in their attitude towards the dead. If one people believing in communion with the dead settle in small numbers among another by whom the dead are feared, it is natural that

the cult of the immigrants should be practised secretly, if it is to be practised at all.

While the consideration of funeral rites in Melanesia has thus led to the corroboration of several features of the scheme formulated in earlier chapters of this volume, it is otherwise with the scheme of Polynesian history which I have so far adopted. It now becomes necessary to inquire what is the bearing of the evidence accumulated in this chapter upon our views concerning the nature of Polynesian culture.

Until now I have assumed implicitly, if not explicitly, that Polynesian society is simple, the result of the growth of beliefs and institutions brought with them by the kava-people. At first sight there is much which seems to support this idea of the simplicity of Polynesian culture. The uniformity of its social structure and the nature of its systems of relationship suggest simplicity, and this idea is strongly supported by the language. There is no other example in the world of a people spread over so wide an area, whose languages have anything approaching the uniformity of those of Polynesia. This uniformity of social structure and language is supplemented by a considerable degree of uniformity of religious belief; everywhere we find the same kind of higher being or god, and the resemblance extends even to the name, usually some form of the word atua which we have found in use in Tikopia. Even in material culture there are striking similarities, though here the variations are more definite and obvious.

It is a question, however, whether this uniformity has not been exaggerated. There is little doubt that most of those who have described the culture of Polynesia have recorded especially the customs of the chiefs, and that less attention has been paid to the culture of the ordinary people. I have little doubt that it is the almost exclusive attention of Mariner and others to the doings of chiefs in Tonga which accounts for the failure to discover such a fundamental feature of Tongan culture as the functions of the father’s sister. A thorough study of social custom in Polynesia would probably reveal far greater diversity than now appears from the published records.

Even with the available evidence, however, there is much which points to the two-fold nature of Polynesian culture. If the distinction between chiefs and commoners in Melanesia

Chiefs and Commoners in Polynesia 281

has been the result of the fusion of two peoples, the chiefs being the representatives of an immigrant people, it will be difficult to withhold a similar explanation of the two orders of chief and commoner in Polynesia. The view that chiefs and commoners in Polynesia are the outcome of the blending of two peoples will become the more probable if it should be found that the two ranks have differences in their funeral rites of the same kind as those of Melanesia. It becomes necessary, therefore, to examine the mode of disposal of the dead in Polynesia from this point of view.

Throughout Polynesia there is evidence of the preservation of the dead as the practice of the chiefs and of interment in the sitting position as that of the common people. The bodies of chiefs were preserved and their skulls removed in Tahiti, while the bodies of commoners were interred in the sitting position1. In the Marquesas it was the bodies of the rich and influential which were preserved2. In the Paumotu Islands3 and Manahiki4 it was again the bodies of chiefs which were set out on platforms, while in Manahiki certainly, and probably also in the Paumotus, commoners were interred. The bodies of chiefs were interred in Rarotonga5, but only after having been exposed in a canoe. In southern New Zealand disinter¬ ment and the deposition of the bones in a miniature canoe or house were indispensable in the case of chiefs6. In Samoa, where interment was the general practice, the body of a chief was kept unburied for days7, while certain families of chiefs practised embalming and were thus enabled to keep the dead in their houses for years8. Lastly, interment in the contracted position was general in the Hawaian Islands, but the bones of a king were disinterred, preserved and “ deified9.” The evidence showing that the bodies of chiefs were preserved and those of commoners interred is thus even more definite than in Melanesia ; the correspondence of the practices of the two areas is so close that any explanation which holds good of the one can hardly fail to apply to the other. If,

1 Ellis, Polynesian Researches, I, 519; also Wegener, Geschichte d. christlichen Kirche auf d. Gesellschafts-Archipel, Berlin, 1844, 1, 83.

2 Baessler, Neue Siidsee-Bilder , 1900, p. 225.

3 Meinicke, Die Inseln d. stillen Ozeans, II, 218.

4 Turner, Samoa , p. 271.

5 Meinicke, op . cit., II, 147.

6 Taylor, Te Ika a Maui, 2nd ed., 1870, p. 218.

7 Turner, Samoa, p. 145.

8 Stair, Old Samoa, p. 184.

9 David Malo, Hawaiian Antiquities, Honolulu, 1903, pp. 132 and 142.

therefore, the two modes of treating the bodies of the dead in Melanesia belong to two different peoples, they must also belong to two peoples in Polynesia. Further, if those who preserved their dead in Melanesia were later than those who practised interment in the sitting position, it will be difficult to believe that their order of settlement was different in Polynesia. The evidence from the study of the ritual of death points to the presence of two peoples in Polynesia: an earlier, who interred their dead in the sitting position, and a later, who became the chiefs, and believed in the need for the preser¬ vation of the dead among the living.

It may be well to point out at this stage two alternatives to the view that the people who became the chiefs were the later comers, and that the practice they now follow was that brought by their ancestors from their former home. On the hypothesis of the simplicity of Polynesian culture, the bodies of chiefs may have been preserved because this was regarded as an honour appropriate to their rank. On the hypothesis of the complexity of culture, on the other hand, the practice of interment may have been the later introduction, adopted by the mass of the people, but ignored by the chiefs through the greater conservatism which is usually associated with high rank. Though the possibility of these two alternatives must be acknowledged, I propose to proceed on the assumption already adopted and to take as my working hypothesis that the chiefs and commoners of Polynesia are the representatives of two peoples who practised respectively preservation and interment of the dead in the sitting position, the latter being the earlier practice1.

The task which has now to be undertaken is to bring these two elements of the population of Polynesia into relation with the three main peoples through whose blending I suppose the present population of Melanesia to have been produced. On the scheme I have so far followed, interment in the sitting position must be assigned to the dual people of Melanesia. Since this mode of treating the dead also charac¬ terises the earlier stratum of the population of Polynesia, we are driven to adopt one of two alternatives ; one, that the dual people also inhabited Polynesia and were present even in

1 In New Zealand there is definite evidence that interment in the sitting position is ancient. Skeletons are sometimes found in this position, but the present inhabitants know nothing of the people so buried and have no respect for their burial-places (J. Macmillan Brown, Maori and Polynesian, London, 1907, p. 70).

The People of Polynesia 283

such remote groups as the Hawaian and Tahitian Islands ; the other, that the earlier stratum of the Polynesian popula¬ tion was composed of immigrants from elsewhere who also entered Melanesia. If the latter alternative be adopted, it will be necessary to modify the scheme of Melanesian history on which I have hitherto proceeded in a very fundamental manner. It will follow that the culture of the dual people of Melanesia was complex, the result of fusion between an aboriginal people and a body of immigrants who anticipated the kava-people in their influence upon Melanesia.

The first alternative, that there was an aboriginal popu¬ lation in Polynesia similar to that which inhabited the islands of Melanesia, is one which meets with almost insuperable difficulties. If Polynesian and Melanesian cultures have been built up out of the same elements, the vast difference between the two becomes difficult, if not impossible, to understand. I have supposed that the betel-people did not reach Polynesia, thus introducing a difference, but this will not help us, for there are still left the differences between Polynesia and those parts of Melanesia not reached by the betel-people, differences even greater than those between Polynesia and the northern parts of Melanesia. The cultural differences must be due to the presence of an aboriginal element in Melanesia which was absent from Polynesia. Further, if we could reconcile the cultural differences, we should be left with the physical differences between the two peoples. If the practice of interment in the contracted position in Polynesia were derived from negroid aborigines, these people must have had much influence in determining the nature of the culture which emerged from their fusion with the kava-people. They must have been numerous, probably indeed more numerous than the later immigrants. The physical characters of the Polynesians are quite incompatible with the presence of such people in any number. It is true that there are unquestionable indications of a negroid element in the population of Polynesia, but it is probable that this is only due to the admixture of the ancestors of the Polynesians with negro stocks while they were on their way to the Pacific Islands. Indeed, the popularity of negroid features and their prevalence in some islands among the chiefs suggest that this negroid character may have been brought by a late stream of immigration1.

1 Mr Elsdon Best has recently shown (Man, 1914, p. 73) that New Zealand

The view, then, that a population closely allied in physique and culture to the dual people of Melanesia was formerly distributed throughout Polynesia is one which may be put aside. We are left with the alternative that the early stratum of the population of Polynesia was formed by an immigrant people who also found their way to Melanesia.

It becomes necessary, therefore, to carry the analysis of Melanesian culture a step further than has hitherto been attempted, and to seek to ascertain the elements of the dual culture which were truly aboriginal and those which were introduced by the people who interred their dead in the sitting position. It also becomes necessary to consider the mode of interaction between the peoples to whom these cul¬ tures belonged. I propose, however, to postpone the full con¬ sideration of these topics. We have a sufficiently complicated problem before us in the disentanglement of the cultures of the kava- and betel-peoples from that of the people they found already settled in Melanesia. I shall continue, there¬ fore, for the present to make use of the working scheme I have hitherto adopted. I shall accept, however, the double nature of Polynesian culture, and it will be one of my objects in the chapters which follow to seek for elements of culture common to Melanesia and Polynesia which may be ascribed to the people who interred their dead in the sitting position.

I have still to consider some subjects connected with death which I have hitherto left on one side or dealt with inade¬ quately. Before doing so, however, I may mention some of the consequences which follow if the Polynesians are a com¬ plex people built up of two elements, the later of which corresponds with the kava-people of Melanesia.

The double nature of Polynesian culture removes a difficulty which would otherwise be inherent in my scheme of Oceanic history. If the kava-people came into Melanesia in relatively small bands, accompanied by few, if any, of their women, we must suppose that they were in a similar condition when they entered the Pacific Ocean to reach the islands which were to become the breeding ground of the Polynesian people. If they were the first settlers of these islands, there could be no indigenous women for them to marry, as was the

had an aboriginal population whose physical characters resembled those of the Melanesians, and he has recorded traditions of the process by which this population disappeared.

The Kava-people and the Areois 285

case in Melanesia. My scheme, then, only becomes practic¬ able if the kava-people found the islands already populated.

The new view not only removes this important difficulty ; it confirms several features of my scheme reached on quite different grounds. If the kava-people with their practice of preserving the dead were the later comers into Polynesia, we should expect to find the use of kava in Polynesia especially associated with the chiefs, and there is no doubt that this is so. It was drunk especially by the chiefs, and the ceremonial with which its use was accompanied shows its connection with the higher ranks of the people.

The most striking fact, however, in favour of the identifi¬ cation of the later stream of settlers in Polynesia with the kava-people is the close connection of the Areois of eastern Polynesia with the chiefs. If this institution had belonged to the earlier stratum of the population, it is unlikely that it would have attained its predominant position in the culture of the people. The whole nature of the life of the Areois is such as might be expected if a people from without introduced to those among whom they settled new esoteric rites and new modes of public entertainment. It is a striking fact in favour of my general scheme that it should involve the identification of the chiefs who preserved their dead in both Polynesia and Melanesia with the founders of secret societies, organisations which, according to my scheme, came into being through the desire of an immigrant people to practise their religious rites in secret. The explanation of the funeral rites of Melanesia and Polynesia which has been formulated in this chapter fits in with the use of kava and the mode of foundation of secret societies to form a coherent scheme, according to which an immigrant people of superior culture became the chiefs of those among whom they settled and introduced among them, though in greatly modified form, rites and customs which had formed part of their culture in their former home.

I can now turn to the topics connected with death which I have put on one side in the earlier parts of this chapter.

Extended interment.

A subject which needs more consideration is the nature of the extended interment of Tikopia, Tonga and Samoa.

Earlier in this chapter I suggested that this mode of interment especially when a vault is used, is only a special development of preservation in the house, but in a house beneath the ground. It is possible, however, that it is the result of the interaction between the kava-people and those who interred in the sitting position, a view which is supported by the presence of a relic of the contracted position in Tikopia. The geographical distribution of the practice of extended interment, however, raises a doubt whether either of these interpretations is adequate. It is found on the western borders of Polynesia in a situation where it might easily have been brought by a people coming from the west, who failed to reach more distant parts of the Pacific. We should there¬ fore keep our minds open to the possibility that the practice of extended interment is one which has been brought by a stream of immigration different from any of those hitherto considered. Even if this be so, however, it would not be necessary to assign it to a body of people with a culture widely different from those already supposed to have come into Polynesia. The use of a vault and the whole treatment of the body of a chief before it is interred in Samoa show that we have to do with practices allied to those which depend on the idea of preservation. Extended interment need only have been the custom of some special group of the kavapeople who believed in the preservation of the body, but put the idea into execution in a manner different from that of the main body of this people.

Whatever be the origin and essential nature of the extended interment of Tonga and Samoa, there is little doubt that the influence by which it was produced is also that which has led to the recent practice of interment in the Banks and Torres Islands, and possibly also in Savo. If it should be found that the extended position was used in these islands, this conclusion will become almost certain.

Cave- burial

In several parts of Polynesia there would seem to be a definite motive for the disposal of the bodies or bones of the dead in caves or crevices of rocks. Even if the primary motive of this mode of disposal was not to hide the dead from enemies, this is the function which it at present fulfils. If this

Cave-burial and Preservation 287

were all, cave-burial would be simply a mode of disposal which has come into being in Oceania owing to special conditions of the social environment.

There is evidence, however, that the practice may have a deeper meaning. In Mangaia this mode of disposal seems to have been so habitual and was the subject of such definite regulations as to suggest that it depended upon special ideas brought with them by some immigrant people. If, as I have supposed, the idea underlying the disposal of the bodies of chiefs in so many parts of Oceania is that of preservation in the house, it becomes a question whether preservation and cave-burial do not belong to two different cultures, in which case Polynesian culture would become more complex than I have supposed. It is clear, however, that the cave-burial of Mangaia was associated with mummification and involved the idea of preservation. It would seem to be only one mani¬ festation of the idea of preservation. It is possible that it belongs to a stream of immigration different from that which introduced the idea of preservation in the house, but even if this be so, there is no reason why it should not have formed part of the culture of the kava-people, having belonged to some group of this people who had a special method of putting the idea of preservation into practice. It may be that extended interment and cave-burial are only two different modes of expression of the ideas of a people who believed in the preservation of the dead in rocky tombs, but were yet led by circumstances of their environment to put the idea into execution in different ways. It may be noted that there are many parts of Polynesia in which an immigrant people, who were accustomed to dispose of their dead in caves, would have no means of putting their ideas into execution and would have to adopt some modification of their proper practice.

Cremation .

I have so far entirely left out of account the practice of cremation. It is found only at one end of the area of Melanesia with which I deal, viz. in Bougainville and the Shortland Islands, and at the southern end of Malaita. It occurs among the Maoris of New Zealand1, but is unknown in any other part of Polynesia.

1 J. Macmillan Brown, Maori and Polynesian , London, 1907, p. 70, and Elsdon Best, Man , July, 1914. Cremation only takes place in New Zealand

Its occurrence in Bougainville, one of the places possessing an especially archaic system of relationship, might seem to suggest that cremation is a relatively early practice ; but its presence at the southern end of Malaita and its total absence from southern Melanesia point in a different direction and suggest that it is a late arrival in Melanesia.

If the working hypothesis which I have used in this chapter applies here, this suggestion is supported by the fact that in the islands of Bougainville Straits it is the bodies of chiefs which are burnt, while inhumation and throwing into water are practised in the case of ordinary people. Other features of cremation in these islands also point to its lateness. The bones which are collected from the ashes are either interred or thrown into the water, the bones of chiefs after cremation being thus treated in the same way as the unburnt bodies of commoners. If interment and throwing into the water were later introductions, we should have to suppose that the chiefs continued their ancient practice of cremation, but collected the bones from the ashes in order that they might be treated as bands of immigrants were accustomed to treat the unburnt body ; it would be necessary to discover why some chiefs buried the ashes of their dead and others threw them into water. The practices of the Shortland Islands are far more consonant with a con¬ dition in which cremation was introduced into a region where two modes of treating the bodies of the dead, interment and throwing into water, were already in vogue. In this case, we must suppose that the earlier practices survived, even in the case of chiefs, but were applied only to such parts of the body as remained after the new rite of cremation had been put into effect. According to this view, cremation is the rite of relatively late immigrants which has been modified through the desire of the indigenous people to preserve as far as possible their own modes of treating the bodies of the dead. I shall return to this subject again in connection with totemism. For the present I must be content to point out that both the working assumption of this chapter and the intrinsic nature of the rites suggest that cremation was a late

in special circumstances. It is practised when death occurs away from home and it is not possible to transport the body so that it shall rest with its tribal fellows. Cremation is also occasionally practised to stay the spread of disease. Exhumed bones may also be burnt when the nature of the country provides no suitable place for their final disposal.

Cremation

feature of Melanesian culture, possibly derived from some body of immigrants still later than the betel-people. Another possibility must, however, be mentioned. Earlier in this chapter I have pointed out that preservation of the dead need not have been the original practice of the immigrants into Oceania, but may only have been adopted by them in their new home. If so, it would be necessary to seek for the original practices of the immigrants. Since cremation occurs in one part of Polynesia, the possibility is suggested that it may have been the original practice of a body of immigrants which reached many parts of Oceania, but only succeeded in establishing their death-rites here and there. I can only mention this possibility here, and shall not now even suggest who these immigrants may have been. Until we know far more than at present about the nature of cremation in Oceania, it would be premature to discuss the matter at any length.

Throwing into water.

Another subject left for further mention in this chapter is the practice of throwing into the sea or into rivers. I have suggested that, at any rate in some cases, this custom may be only a variant of sending the bodies of the dead to sea in a canoe. The throwing of the ashes of the dead into rivers or the sea after cremation in the Shortland Islands, however, suggests an origin of a different kind. I shall return to this topic in dealing with the subject of totemism, with which the practice of the Shortland Islands seems to have an intimate connection. I need only point out here that, if throwing the ashes into water after cremation is the survival of an earlier practice in which the bodies of the dead were thrown into water, this earlier practice may also have been associated with totemism. The question will arise whether such an association may not exist in other Melanesian cases in which the bodies of the dead are thrown into water, an association which becomes the more probable in those cases, as in the Solomons, in which throwing into water seems to be especially the practice of chiefs.

The conclusion to which this and the preceding chapters have led us is that Melanesian society, as we now know it, is

R. m. s. II.

!9

the outcome of the blending of a number of different peoples. First, a people possessing the dual organisation of society; next, an immigrant people who introduced the use of kava and were the founders of the secret organisations of Melanesia; thirdly, a people who introduced the practices of head-hunting and betel-chewing; and lastly, relatively recent influences from Polynesia and Micronesia. There is reason to believe that the earliest of these peoples, the dual people, was itself complex, having as one of its constituent elements a people who interred their dead in the sitting position; but the problem before us is sufficiently involved without the introduction of this complexity. I propose, therefore, in the succeeding chapters to ignore it as far as possible and to treat the dual people as the aborigines of Melanesia. We still have before us the task of ascribing the different elements of Melanesian culture to the four sources which remain, and this will be undertaken in the following chapters. In them I shall examine how far it is possible to assign different elements of the social structure, art, religion, material culture and language of Melanesia to the four sources. Throughout this examination it will have to be borne in mind that any custom or institution now found in Melanesia may not have belonged to any one of its constituent cultures, but may have come into being through factors which conditioned the interaction of the peoples, and in the next chapter I propose to deal in a general way with the factors which must have influenced the interaction between immigrant and settled peoples under the conditions which exist in Oceania. I shall attempt to formulate some principles which may guide us in our attempt to follow out the course of Melanesian history.

In the attempt to analyse Melanesian culture, I shall pay especial attention to the kava-people and the dual people, and shall not attempt any thorough examination of the culture of the betel-people. The material with which I deal in this book is derived chiefly from the more southern islands of Melanesia which I suppose to have been uninfluenced by the betel-people. If I am right in supposing that these islands are the scene of the mixture of only two main cultures, it is evident that the analysis will be a far easier task than in the Solomons where we have, in addition, the influence of the betel-people. The most favourable condition for an inquiry into the culture of the betel-people would be the study of

The Betel-people 291

some region where their influence has been dominant and where the influence of the kava-people has been relatively slight. Such a region seems to exist in the more western islands of the British Solomons which have been studied by Mr Hocart and myself ; the share taken by the betelpeople in the production of Melanesian culture can only be adequately considered after the full account of this work has been published.

19 — 2

CHAPTER XXVIII

MIGRATIONS

In the last few chapters I have reached the conclusion that Melanesian society has come into existence as the result of the fusion of a number of peoples possessing different customs and institutions. It seems that a succession of migrant peoples have blended with the indigenous population who were the original possessors of the dual organisation of society, and that the culture we now call Melanesian is the result of the influence of these successive migrations on the indigenous culture.

In the following chapters I propose to survey different fields of the existing Melanesian culture to see whether it is possible to distinguish the sources of its constituent elements. I shall endeavour to discover how far it is possible to ascribe existing customs or institutions to any one of the peoples out of which I suppose the present population of Melanesia to be composed, and how far there is reason to believe that customs or institutions have come into being as the result of interaction between these different peoples and their cultures. Before I enter upon this inquiry it will be well to consider certain general problems connected with the move¬ ments of peoples. It will be profitable to attempt to formulate some of the conditions which determine the nature of the compound which results from the settlement of a migrant people among an indigenous population.

Since I am only concerned in this book with the results of the settlement of migrant peoples in a new home, I shall not consider the causes of migration, but only its conse¬ quences. This chapter will deal with some of the conditions which influence the fate of migrant peoples and their cultures, and I shall naturally pay especial attention to those conditions

Conditions of Interaction 293

which are likely to have been important in Melanesia and Polynesia.

These conditions may be considered under three main heads : those arising out of the character and culture of the people themselves, whether immigrant or indigenous ; those determined by the character of the route taken by the immi¬ grants ; and those dependent on the nature of the environ¬ ment within which the interaction between the different peoples takes place. I will begin with the conditions de¬ pendent on the nature of the people.

The nature of the people.

The conditions influencing the mode of interaction between a migrant and a settled people which arise out of the nature of the peoples themselves and of their respective cultures are of four chief kinds : those arising out of the disposition of the people, especially whether they are inclined to peace or war ; those arising out of their numerical proportions ; those due to differences in their physical and cultural endowment ; and those due to the proportion of the sexes, this condition being especially important in the case of the incoming people.

Disposition of the people. By far the most important condition arising out of the disposition of the two peoples will be their inclination to peaceful or warlike behaviour. Its effect, however, will turn so largely on the relation between the two peoples in numbers and endowment that it may be considered under those heads.

Another general feature of the character of a people which is of obvious importance is adaptability as opposed to conservatism. At the present time there is little question that it is peoples of the rudest culture who are the most ready to accept new institutions and new ideas1. The practices of modern civilisation are adopted far more readily by the peoples we rank lowest in the scale of culture than by barbarous peoples and by the possessors of ancient civilisa¬ tions. The conservatism of the latter presents an almost insuperable barrier to the acceptance of customs different

1 I have considered this subject more fully in a paper on “ The Contact of Peoples” which forms one of the Essays and Studies presented to W illiam Ridgeway , Cambridge, 1913, p. 474.

from their own ; and there is every reason to suppose that the adaptability of rude peoples is no new character of human nature, but that it would have been operative when the kavapeople or the betel-people reached Melanesia. It is almost certain that people with such lowly culture as we must ascribe to the earliest inhabitants of Melanesia would have accepted with the greatest readiness the customs and beliefs of a people who settled among them.

Numbers . The number of the visitors as compared with that of the earlier settlers forms a factor of the utmost im¬ portance in determining the results of a migration, and this factor is closely bound up with their inclination toward peaceful or warlike behaviour. If small numbers of a migrant people are received with hostility, there would seem to be only two possibilities : their extermination or their survival in a subordinate position which would give them little chance of exerting any far-reaching influence on the culture of their conquerors. It would, however, be quite unjustifiable to estimate the degree of influence in the case of such survival by the standard of more highly civilised peoples. Even in recent times in some parts of Melanesia, captives taken in warfare became chiefs, not merely as an occasional occurrence but as an organised practice ; and the mode of treating cap¬ tives in Melanesia is even now of a kind which allows them to exert much influence on their conquerors. Such captives may easily become the means of the introduction of material arts, of legends, dances and games, of methods of producing and treating disease. Perhaps even they may succeed in introducing individual features into the religious rites and individual words into the vocabulary, but it is extremely improbable that they will have any permanent effect on social or linguistic structure or, in any large sense, on the religion of the people. Though it is thus possible that captives may exert much influence, it is probable that, where relatively small bodies of immigrants have produced profound changes in the social or religious institutions or on the language of a region, their reception was friendly. If, on the other hand, it is the immigrants who are superior in numbers, the probable alternatives in the case of a hostile reception would be either the extermination of the indigenous people or their reduction to a wholly subordinate position. We shall see later, how¬ ever, that there may be complicating factors which will

Mental Superiority of Immigrants 295

enable an indigenous population to persist and thrive even in the presence of the numerical superiority of the in¬ vaders.

Material and mental endowment. It is evident that the effect produced by a body of migrant strangers will depend quite as much on their superiority or inferiority to the indi¬ genes in material equipment and mental endowment as upon mere difference in numbers. The effect of this factor is closely interwoven with the conditions which determine whether the reception of the strangers is to be peaceful or hostile. Superiority of one party in material equipment may compensate for great inferiority of numbers if the reception is hostile ; while, if it is peaceful, superiority of mental endowment will probably be an even more influential factor in determining the outcome of the interaction. The posses¬ sion by the visitors of useful arts or of attractive ideas may give them an influence far out of proportion to their numbers. This is especially important in regard to the relation between the physical and cultural effects of an immigration. If very small numbers of an immigrant people are able to exert a great influence on those among whom they settle, there may come into being a culture largely based on that of the immi¬ grants, while the physical characters would be predominantly those of the earlier population. From this point of view a great difference between the cultures of indigenous and migrant peoples is a factor the importance of which it would be difficult to overestimate.

Proportion of the sexes. A factor which must play a great part in determining the influence of an immigrant people is whether or not they are accompanied by their women. It is probably a very general character of human migrations, differentiating them from those of other animals, that women are absent or l?ut few in number as compared with the men. The numerical inferiority of the women will probably be the more pronounced, the greater the distance the migrant people have to travel, and it will also largely depend on the means of locomotion into which the migrants are forced by the circumstances of the migration.

In other words, the proportion of the sexes among the migrants will be largely determined by geographical condi¬ tions. I shall therefore return to the subject again in con¬ nection with my second class of conditions, and shall only

consider here the influence of a shortage of women on the actual mode of interaction. If we take the case in which the immigrant men bring with them no women at all, it is evident that the strangers will be forced to mate with the indigenous women. If they bring with them but few women, it would only be possible for the strangers to remain alto¬ gether apart from the indigenous people if they practised or adopted the custom of polyandry; otherwise some at least of their number would mate with indigenous women, and thus produce the same kind of position as arises when they bring none of their women with them. If some of the immigrants married their own women and others took indigenous wives, there would be two classes of persons descended from the immigrants who might come to form distinct classes of the population. If the immigrants are accompanied by women in sufficient number to render unnecessary the marrying of the indigenous women, the outcome of the migration might be very different. There would be scope for the formation of two peoples living side by side, differing in physical cha¬ racter as well as in culture. Even in this case, there would certainly be some mixture of the two peoples, but the physical and cultural differences between them would be far more likely to persist than would be the case if all or most of the children of the immigrants necessarily had indigenous mothers.

One of the main assumptions on which the argument of this volume is based is that the kava-people and the betelpeople were accompanied by few or none of their women, and the nature of Melanesian culture and the physical cha¬ racters of the people are best explained by the relatively rapid fusion of the descendants of the immigrants with the indigenous peoples. It is probable, however, that certain examples of Oceanic culture have arisen through the settle¬ ment of migrant peoples whose own women were largely sufficient for their needs.

Conditions of the route.

The conditions of importance under this head are the distance which the migrants have to travel from their former home and the geographical character of the route.

Distance. I have already referred to the importance of this factor in connection with the proportion of the sexes.

Influence of Route 297

The greater the distance the migrating people have to travel, the smaller will, probably but not necessarily, be the propor¬ tion of women among them1. Still more important is the influence of distance on the nature of the culture and lan¬ guage of the migrants. The greater the distance the migrating people have to traverse, the more likely is their culture and their language to become modified by influences encountered in the course of the migration. It is possible, for instance, that a migration passing from island to island of an area stretching from the Malay Archipelago to New Caledonia may have taken many generations to accomplish, so that none of those who left the earlier home survived to reach the final place of settlement. It may only have been the grand¬ child or still more remote descendant of the original emigrant who finally implanted the culture of his forbear in a new home, but with the changes it must inevitably have suffered in so prolonged a journey.

Geographical character of the route . Here the feature of fundamental importance is whether the migration takes place by land or sea. Since migrations into Melanesia have so obviously taken place by sea, I do not propose to discuss this fundamental distinction, but to limit my attention to the features which come into action through the conditions of a journey by sea.

I will begin with the influence of this factor on the pro¬ portion of the sexes. In a migration using such vessels as are likely to have carried the immigrants into Melanesia, there would be nothing to preclude the presence of women. The canoes must certainly have been spacious, and women would have been able to take their part in the work of the journey. Further, we have evidence that the small migra¬ tions of recent times, and the ancient migrations of the Polynesians from one part of the Pacific to another, were accompanied by women. Nevertheless, there can be little doubt that the conditions of a long journey by sea must tend to reduce the proportion of women considerably.

A set of conditions which must necessarily have played a great part in determining the effects of migration by sea is that arising from prevailing winds and currents, and these

1 This only applies to women of their own race. If the immigrants marry women of the countries through which they pass, they may have as large a pro¬ portion of women at the end as at the beginning.

factors have been frequently considered in connection with Oceania1. I do not propose to enter at any length upon the consideration of this topic. If the immigrants into Melanesia had been exclusively castaways, these factors would have had an importance it would be impossible to overestimate. The migrations which have reached Melanesia were, however, certainly far more than that ; the migrants probably used vessels and modes of progression which made wind and current of much less importance than might be inferred from the means of locomotion by sea now found in many parts of Melanesia. The nature of the prevailing winds at different times of the year must have delayed the progress of the migrants, and by thus promoting temporary settlements on the way would have produced complications in their culture and physical character, but it is very unlikely that either winds or currents produced any very pronounced effect on the final distribution of the people. Further, the possibility must be kept in mind that some of the migrants to Melanesia may not have performed their journey exclusively, or even mainly, by sailing, but may have covered large distances by paddling, passing from point to point of coasts and keeping in rela¬ tion with land as constantly as possible. In such a case wind and current would again have little influence except as causes of delay, though, as we have already seen, such delay may have the most important effect in modifying the migrant culture.

The conditions arising out of the environment which I have now to consider may be dealt with under two heads : those dependent on general conditions of the environment, whether, for instance, the interaction between peoples takes place in a continental or insular region, and those dependent on the geographical and biological features of different locali¬ ties within the continental or insular region which is the general scene of the interaction.

General environment.

The conditions which determine the distribution and nature of the settlements of an immigrant people in an

1 See, for instance, Thilenius, “ Die Bedeutung der Meeresstromungen fur die Besiedelung Melanesiens,” Beiheft z. Jahrbuch d. Hamburgischen IViss. Anstalten xxiii, 1905.

Influence of Insular Conditions 299

archipelago must differ very greatly from those which would result from their invasion of a continent. It is probable that an immigrant body invading a continent would tend to remain in geographical continuity, though the possibility of its be¬ coming broken up is much greater than is sometimes supposed. In an archipelago, however, this breaking up is inevitable, and the conditions are such that bands of people so separated may become completely isolated from one another. Further, the different conditions encountered by these separated frag¬ ments of the migrant body may produce great variations in the cultures which result from the mixture with earlier inhabitants. Through the effect of different kinds of geo¬ graphical environment, there may come about diversities of culture far more pronounced than on an area of land of corresponding size, and yet these diverse cultures may be com¬ posed of precisely the same racial and cultural components.

Another result produced by the conditions of an archi¬ pelago is that islands or groups of islands may altogether escape the influence of an incoming people. Thus, the position of the Santa Cruz Islands might easily lead to their being passed without notice by people travelling southwards. It would be possible for a migration to pass from the Solomons to the New Hebrides without sighting Santa Cruz, and this island might thus escape the direct influence of a migration which became potent in the islands farther south. It would even be possible for a body of migrants to travel directly from south-eastern New Guinea to New Caledonia without touching the greater part of Melanesia. There would thus be found at the two extremities of Melanesia common elements of culture from which the inter¬ vening islands would be entirely free. Similarities of culture would thus be found in widely separated places, and yet they might be the result of a relatively late migration.

Other factors may determine the omission of certain islands or the special choice of others. The presence of an active volcano may act as a deterrent to settlement, whether the new-comers are already acquainted with volcanic activity or not. On the other hand, migrants coming from a volcanic region may, through their experience of the fertility of such regions, be led to choose islands with manifestations of volcanic activity, such as fumaroles or solfataras, while they avoid those possessing active volcanoes.

The influence of such geographical factors on the distri¬ bution of culture has an importance from the theoretical point of view to which I shall have to return later. The geo¬ graphical distribution of culture has been used, not only as a criterion, but as the only trustworthy criterion, for the arrangement of different elements of a cultural complex in order of time. All that I need say now is that an archipe¬ lago presents certain conditions determining the distribution of an incoming people widely different from those which affect a migration by land. Criteria derived from continental migrations are wholly inapplicable to such a part of the world as Oceania.

Local conditions.

I have now to consider a set of conditions arising out of the nature of the immediate locality in which the interaction between an immigrant and an indigenous people takes place. I shall only deal with those characteristic of an insular region, especially those arising out of the geological features, vege¬ tation and size of islands.

Geological character. I have already considered how geological features, such as the presence of volcanoes, may affect the distribution of an incoming people. As soon, however, as a migrating party has reached an island the chief importance of geological character lies in its effect on the vegetation, and to that I will pass at once.

Nature of vegetation. The importance of this is very great, especially when the relations between the immigrant and indigenous peoples are unfriendly. An island covered with thick jungle will furnish cover to the native inhabitants which may make their extermination or conquest quite im¬ possible, even if the immigrants are superior in numbers and possess vastly superior weapons and modes of warfare. In an island but thinly wooded, on the other hand, an indige¬ nous people would have little chance against invaders even moderately superior to themselves in numbers and material equipment.

As an instance of the defensive properties of the Mela¬ nesian jungle, I may mention that even now it is possible for a punitive expedition, armed with all the appliances of modern warfare, to spend several days making its way for a few miles

Vegetation and Size of Islands

into the interior of an island without seeing, much less killing or injuring, a single native inhabitant. Of what use can have been any superiority of weapons or of modes of warfare possessed by the early invaders ? The advantage on the side of the indigenous inhabitants would be so great that where the two peoples have blended together to produce a complex culture we can be confident that the reception of the strangers was friendly.

If an immigrant people is received with hostility, and yet succeeds in effecting a settlement on such islands as those of Melanesia, this settlement must, at first at any rate, be limited to the coast. Further, it is easy to see how the limitation of the immigrants and their descendants to the coast might come about even in the case of a friendly reception. Immigrant strangers reaching an island covered with dense jungle might well lack the enterprise or endurance necessary to penetrate into the interior, preferring to remain on the coast and blend only with those of the indigenous population who dwell on or near the shore. There would thus come about a differen¬ tiation of two peoples : one produced by the mixture of immigrants and indigenes, possessing a complex culture and dwelling on the coast, while the interior would be inhabited by the purely indigenous population which would remain in its pristine condition, or only very slowly acquire such elements of the immigrant culture as are capable of transmission with¬ out blending of the two peoples.

Size of islands. The condition now to be considered is one which may have far more widely reaching and deeply seated effects than appear at first sight. In the last section I have considered how the nature of the vegetation may bring about the limitation of an immigrant people to the coast ; it is evident that any distinction of population and culture so produced would have very different chances of persistence on islands of different size. It is only on a large island that the distinction would be likely to become a per¬ manent feature of the social structure. On a large island it is possible that a differentiation of population, once set up, might become even more pronounced in course of time, especially if hostility between the two peoples became a permanent feature of their intercourse.

On a small island the nature of the vegetation would, in the first place, have less influence in producing a differentiation

of population. In the case of a hostile reception, the vege¬ tation would give the inhabitants less effective cover from their enemies, while the obstacles to peaceful penetration would also be less. Further, if a differentiation had taken place, either by limitation to the coast or by the formation of independent settlements of the immigrants here and there on the island, the distinction would have far less chance of per¬ manence than on a large island.

There are certain conditions of Melanesian society which suggest that the size of an island, which is the scene of an unfriendly interaction between native and immigrant peoples, may have an effect very different from that which superficial consideration would lead us to expect. We should naturally suppose that a few strangers would have a far more pronounced effect on a small than on a large island if they were received with hostility. To take an extreme case, we should expect that a band of fifty men, reaching an island so small that its total population was only two or three hundred, would have much more effect than if the island had a population of ten or twenty thousand. Obvious as this seems to be at first sight, there are now, and probably were long ago, conditions which would give to the factor of size an influence of a very different kind. Where the indigenous inhabitants are broken up into a large number of different tribes, speaking different languages and having little intercourse with one another, it becomes possible that a band of fifty men might have just as much chance of success on the large as on the small island. All that we know of Melanesian culture makes it in the highest degree improbable that coordinated action designed to drive out or destroy an external invasion would ever have taken place on the part of the whole population of a large island. It is even possible that, in the long run, a band of fifty men might have a larger measure of success on the large island than on the small. By teaching their arts, and especially their means of offence and defence, to those among whom they first settled, a community might come into existence equal in knowledge of local conditions to the other inhabitants of the island, and yet so superior to them in material equipment that they might gradually subdue the whole island, and thus impose upon it the culture of a small band of immigrants. The island as a whole might then carry on the process by the invasion and conquest of

Influence of Size of Islands 303

other islands. It would thus be possible for the landing of a small body of immigrants on a large island to produce far more widespread and profound effects on the culture of a region than would have been possible if they had landed on some small island which might seem at first sight to give them a better chance of success. At the same time, it is obvious that the physical characters of the people who became dominant would be very different in the two cases. If the immigrants landed on a small island and so throve as later to dominate a large region, the physical character of the domi¬ nant race would be chiefly or largely that of the immigrants. If, on the other hand, the conquest was due to the union of small bodies of immigrants with the indigenous inhabitants of a large island, the physical characters of the dominant people would be mainly those of the earlier population.

I have now considered in more or less general terms a number of conditions which are likely to influence the mode of interaction between one people migrating from elsewhere and another long settled on the scene of the interaction. Before passing to my detailed analysis of Melanesian culture, I may consider briefly how such conditions as I have enumerated help us to understand two features of Melanesian culture; the distribution of secret societies, and the distinction between the people of the coast and those of the interior of an island which is so often present in Melanesia.

The distribution of secret societies .

It is a remarkable fact that, in the part of Melanesia with which I deal, there is a definite association between the degree of development of secret societies and the size of islands. There is little doubt that the secret societies of southern Melanesia have reached their highest degree of development in the small islands of the Banks and Torres groups. Cer¬ tainly they are more highly specialised than in the larger islands of the northern New Hebrides. In such islands as Malikolo and Ambrym, the available evidence points to the two institutions of the club-house and the ghost-cult being closely blended, while it is noteworthy that in his account of the organisation of Malikolo (see 11, 229), Mr Leggatt takes

the small Maskelyne Islands as his example rather than the larger island of Malikolo itself. Our evidence from the northern New Hebrides is very scanty, but such as it is, it suggests that there has not come about in these islands the clear separation between the more public institution of the club-house and the more secret ghost societies which is so characteristic of the Banks Islands.

If we pass northwards, we find in the Solomons a striking confirmation of the association of secret societies with small islands. The only place in the British Solomons where secret societies have been recorded is the relatively small island of Florida. Even if secret societies were once more widely distributed in the Solomons, there must have been some condition which gave the societies of Florida a greater power of persistence than in other parts of the group. The pre¬ sence of secret societies in Viti Levu seems to contradict the generalisation, but the societies of this island differed con¬ siderably in their character from those of other parts of Melanesia. They are reputed to have been introduced from elsewhere, and certainly they had no great vitality but rapidly disappeared under the stress of European influence.

According to the scheme of the history of secret societies which I have formulated in Chapter xxiv, the secret societies of Melanesia have come into being as the result of the need felt by the kava-people for the secret practice of the rites they had brought with them from their former home. It is evident that the conditions of a small island are more likely to have produced a need for seclusion. In such islands as Mota and Ureparapara, it must have been difficult, if not impossible, for the immigrants to have formed and kept in existence such independent and isolated settlements as would have permitted them to practise their rites without disturb¬ ance by the indigenous people. In larger islands, on the other hand, there would be plenty of room for isolated settlements, and it is easy to see why there may have been no need for the practice of rites in the seclusion of the bush.

Coast-people and bush-people.

The study of the connection between the distribution of secret societies and the size of islands has led me to suggest that the factor of size has acted through the extent

Coast- and Bush-peoples 305

to which it allowed independence and isolation of the immigrant settlements. I have now to inquire whether this same factor of size has not also played its part in the production of another striking feature of Melanesian culture, the distinction so frequently found between the people of the coast and those of the interior of an island.

As one would naturally expect, this distinction is most pronounced in the larger islands of Melanesia. In many of these, the two peoples are not merely different in physical appearance, in language and in many elements of culture, but they are sometimes in a state of continual warfare, tempered only by trade-relations. In the smaller islands, this distinc¬ tion does not usually exist or is in no way obvious. There are often, however, traces, or perhaps only the tradition, of its presence ; as Mr Hocart and I know, the evidence on this point may be so unobtrusive that it is possible to spend several months on an island and probe deeply into the culture of the people without even suspecting the existence of the distinction.

Though a thorough investigation would show that the distinction I am now considering has been widely present, if not universal, in Melanesia, it stands beyond question that, at the present time, it is only definitely present in the larger islands. Further, it is doubtful whether it is present in all the larger islands. I obtained no evidence of the differentia¬ tion in Pentecost where tradition points to the accumulation of the people at the two ends of the island.

There is some reason to believe that the differentiation is more pronounced in the Solomons than in southern Mela¬ nesia, and in the Solomons the distinction is certainly more definite in the eastern islands, and seems to reach its highest pitch in San Cristoval and Malaita. In the last island the coastal people are in a state of perpetual warfare with the interior, and live either in fortified villages on the shore or on islets, close to the shore and largely artificial, sometimes so small that several hundred persons may occupy a space of about two acres1.

In Fiji there is present to some extent the distinction between the people of the coast and those of the interior, though owing to the mountainous nature of the interior, it is customary to speak of the latter as highlanders rather than

1 See Woodford, Man , 1908, VIII, p. 81.

as bushmen. Here again it is in the larger islands, such as Viti Levu, that the differentiation of population is most pronounced.

Native accounts of the differentiation between bush- and coast-peoples in Melanesia, whether at the present time or in the past, lay great stress on the difference of occupation of the two peoples. The coast-people are expert at sea and in fishing and are often spoken of as sea-farers, while the bush-people are noted for their skill in agriculture and their lack of knowledge of navigation. If the existing population of Melanesia has been compounded of two main elements, one indigenous, and the other immigrant coming from afar by sea, these cultural differences between the coast- and bushpeoples are precisely such as might have been expected. It is perfectly natural that in the thickly wooded islands of Melanesia the main body of the earlier inhabitants in the interior should have remained distinct from the descendants of immigrants who settled only on the coast. It is natural that they should attend especially to agriculture, and that the coastal people should be known as sea-goers and should be especially skilled in swimming, fishing and the making of canoes.

The simplest explanation of existing conditions is that the bush-people represent the earliest stratum of the popula¬ tion, and that the coast-people are the descendants of the immigrants through their marriages with indigenous women ; but there are certain facts which show that this simple expla¬ nation is not adequate, and does not fully account for the conditions as they exist at the present time.

Of these facts the most important is the special promi¬ nence of the differentiation in the Solomons. According to the scheme outlined in Chapter xxvi, the Solomons differ from southern Melanesia in that the population of the latter is supposed to be a blend of the dual people and the kavapeople, while in the Solomons the element furnished by the betel-people has been added. If therefore, as seems pro¬ bable, the differentiation into coast-people and bush-people is especially pronounced in the Solomons, the possibility is suggested that the great development of the differentiation is due to the influence of the betel-people ; this suggestion receives support when we find that the distinction is most pronounced in the island of Malaita where the influence

Coast - and Bush-peoples 307

of the betel-people seems to have been especially strong. These features suggest that the earlier immigrants who used kava may have influenced the dual people over large areas, if not over the whole of the islands of Melanesia, and that the strict limitation of the sea-going people to the coast, which is found in some of the Solomon Islands, followed the arrival of the betel-people. In other words, it is possible that the bush-people of the Solomons at the present time repre¬ sent the results of fusion between dual people and kavapeople, while the coastal people are the descendants of the betel-people through their marriages with women of the mixed population they found in possession of the islands on their arrival.

I have already, however, shown reason to believe that the people of the matrilineal region of the Solomons, viz. the people of Florida, Ysabel, coastal Guadalcanar and Savo, also represent essentially a blend of the kava-people with the dual people of the Solomons. In order to reconcile these two hypotheses, I now suggest that the bush-people of islands such as Malaita represent the same elements, racial and cultural, as the people of the matrilineal region.

We know practically nothing of the culture of the bushpeople of the Solomons, and it is only in quite another region of Melanesia that we have at present the opportunity to put this hypothesis to the test. This is the island of Viti Levu where it would seem that the people of the interior are just such a blend of dual people and kava-people as I suggest the bush-people of the Solomons may be.

This argument is only intended to account for the especial prominence of the differentiation between bush and coastal peoples in certain islands of the Solomons. The differentia¬ tion certainly exists in the absence of the betel-people both in southern Melanesia and Fiji, where it is probably to be accounted for by the greater preponderance of the immigrant element on the coast. It is only to be expected that the kava-people should have had far more influence on the coast than in the interior; and this quantitative difference is pro¬ bably quite sufficient to account for such varieties of culture as are at present known to exist in these regions.

3°8

Melanesian Society

Primary and secondary migrations.

Before I pass on to the detailed survey of Melanesian culture, one further character of migrations must be noted. There can be no doubt that, in the history of the human race, there have been movements on a very large scale; migrations in which masses of people have set out from some part of the earth’s surface and have passed to far distant regions. One necessary consequence of migrations on such a scale is that the migrant people will come into contact with, and where they settle will blend with, peoples possessing physical characters and cultures widely different from their own. These migrations have been perhaps com¬ paratively few in number, but of the utmost importance in the history of mankind.

On the other hand, movements of minor extent and importance are always going on. Within any given ethno¬ graphic province there are frequent movements of peoples, set up by local conditions. These movements take place within an area possessing more or less community of culture and serve to complicate the conditions brought about by the larger movements.

I propose to speak of these two kinds of migration as primary and secondary, and also to use these qualifications of their respective cultures and influence. No hard or fast line can be drawn between the two, and cases arise in which it is not easy, or even possible, to assign a given influence to one category or the other. Certain members of a primary migration may settle for a time and then proceed farther, having been so little influenced by their temporary settlement that the later movement may fitly be regarded merely as a continuation of the primary migration. On the other hand, part of a primary migration may settle and so blend with the earlier inhabitants as to produce a culture widely different from that of either. If, after a few generations, a further movement leads to a second settlement among a people which has resulted from a mixture of the same components, we should have to do with a secondary movement, and differences of culture produced by the different nature of the interaction in the two places may produce great complications in the culture of the area within which such movements take place. Intermediate between these two cases, there are others

Primary and Secondary Migrations 309

in which it is difficult to say whether a given condition is to be most fitly assigned to primary or secondary migration.

The movements of the kava-people and the betel-people fall clearly into the category of primary migrations. We can be certain that they are movements of people who have come from without the utmost limits of Melanesia. Through the conditions which I have been considering in this chapter, and according as one or both of the immigrant peoples are present, many varieties of culture have been produced in Melanesia. A culture produced by the blending of dual people and kava-people differs from that produced by the interaction between dual people and betel-people, and these differ from cultures in the production of which all three have taken part. These variations and those produced by geographical or other conditions would be amply sufficient to produce a high degree of complexity and variety, but this complexity and variety will be greatly increased if a number of secondary movements occur by means of which peculiarities of culture arising in one locality are transferred to others.

One of the problems of the survey I have now to under¬ take will be to discover where community of culture has been due to such secondary movements. It may be stated at once that, though such movements have certainly taken place in the part of Melanesia with which I especially deal, they have probably been of small importance compared with those which characterise continental areas. Further, secondary movements have certainly been less numerous and important in the area of Melanesia especially included in my survey than in the more northern parts of Melanesia. The multi¬ plication and modification of the Tamate societies of Mota and the influences which have passed between Tikopia and the Santa Cruz Islands are good examples of the results of secondary movements, but the feeble means of communi¬ cation which have probably existed for very long in southern Melanesia have made secondary movements of relatively small account. This area is thus peculiarly suited for the study of the effects of the primary migrations which I suppose to have been such important factors in the production of its culture.

CHAPTER XXIX

IMMIGRANT INFLUENCE ON SOCIAL ORGANISATION

In the early chapters of this volume I have formulated a scheme of development of Melanesian society. If we assume that the earliest stage of this development was a dual organi¬ sation with matrilineal descent, many strange features now found in this society can be explained as the results of a state of dominance of the old men which enabled them to monopo¬ lise the young women. In formulating this scheme nothing was assumed to have been taken from without ; everything was supposed to have been the result of a simple process of development taking place within a homogeneous community. All that was assumed was, first, a desire on the part of the old men, not only for the young women, but also for more or less individual relations with them, which acted as the starting point of individual marriage ; and secondly, it was assumed that, side by side with the development of individual marriage, there had come about an increasing recognition of the relation between father and child, leading to the evolution of the family in a sense corresponding fairly closely with our own.

The linguistic analysis of the systems of relationship then showed clearly that Melanesian society is not homogeneous, but is composed of at least two elements, and the study of the secret societies and other features of Melanesian culture has since made it probable that, leaving recent Polynesian and Micronesian influence on one side, the present condition of Melanesian society is the resultant of the interaction of two main cultures, an indigenous culture, organised on a dual basis, belonging to people split into small groups and largely isolated from one another, and an immigrant culture which has given to Melanesia that degree of linguistic and cultural uniformity which at the present time it undoubtedly possesses amidst the many

Immigrants and Relationship 3 1 1

diversities found in its different parts. Lastly, it has become probable that this immigrant culture reached Melanesia in at least two main streams ; that while the present culture of certain parts of Melanesia is the resultant of the mixture of an indigenous people possessing the dual organisation of society with people using kava, there came later into northern Melanesia a second stream of immigrant people using betelmixture, thus adding a further element of complexity to the culture of those regions into which it penetrated.

If Melanesian society has this complex nature, it is evident that the scheme of development formulated in the earlier chapters may require modification. It becomes probable that these influences from without have had their part in the evolu¬ tion of social structure ; it now becomes necessary to retrace our steps and inquire how far the evolution which has been sketched may have been the result of the advent of external peoples. It may also be possible to distinguish between the elements of the social organisation which belonged to the indigenous culture and those which were brought with them by the immigrants, while others may be discovered which have only arisen through the interaction of the two cultures.

Relationship.

Here, as in the earlier part of this volume, the subject of relationship can be dealt with under two heads, morphological and linguistic.

It is one of the fundamental principles of this book that the forms in which relationship is expressed mirror social conditions. From this it follows that the nature of the influence of different bodies of immigrants upon the forms of systems of relationship will depend chiefly on their effect upon marriage and other features of social organisation to be considered later in this chapter. I need, therefore, only con¬ sider here the influence of the immigrants in the production of the progressive simplification which Melanesian systems have undergone. I have already dealt with this topic in Chapter xxm, where I have shown reason to believe that so complex a system as that of Pentecost would almost certainly be too much for the patience, if it were not beyond the understanding, of an immigrant people, and we can be confident that the influence of the kava-people would be

Melanesian Society

directed towards simplification. It is probable that this process of simplification would be assisted by later immi¬ grant influence, and the nature of the systems of Ulawa, Saa and Eddystone suggests that the influence of the betelpeople in this direction was especially pronounced. There is reason to suppose that the influence of the betel-people has been especially strong in these islands, and it is therefore signifi¬ cant that they possess the simplest of all the Melanesian systems I have recorded.

More difficult problems are raised when we turn to the linguistic side of the systems of relationship. The first point to consider is whether there are any grounds for revising the generalisation, on which much of the argument of Chapter xxm was based, that where there is found to be diversity in the terms of relationship, the diverse terms belong to a more ancient linguistic stratum. Where I suppose only two elements to be present in the population, as in southern Melanesia, there is no reason to suppose that the generalisation is inadequate, but where there has been more than one immigration, the possibility arises that diversity may have come about as the result of this later influence.

We should not expect that terms of relationship intro¬ duced by the betel-people would have a wide distribution, and we have little evidence which allows us to ascribe such intro¬ duction on any large scale to this people. The terms, however, common to Ulawa and to Heuru in San Cristoval, and such a term as sasi which seems to be spreading through Malaita, may have been derived from the betel-people, and other of the Malaita terms, such as di used for the cross-cousin, and loma and bara used for relatives by marriage, may also have come from this source. We need, however, a far larger collection of systems from this part of Melanesia to enable us to distinguish such terms with certainty. All that can be said at present is that the available evidence suggests that the betel-people were not responsible for such fundamental changes in the social organisation, and consequently in the systems of relationships, as seem to have followed the advent of the earlier immigrants, and such changes as they produced were probably in the direction of simplification of a kind which did not involve the introduction of new terms.

There are, however, certain words which are possibly common to both kava- and betel-peoples ; thus, tama has so

Immigrant Terms of Relationship 313

wide a distribution as to suggest that it is such a word. Its presence in southern Melanesia, Fiji and Polynesia shows that it certainly formed part of the vocabulary of the kavapeople, but it is also present in Eddystone, and, with elided initial letter, in Ulawa where the influence of the betel-people has been especially pronounced. Probably both peoples used this term. Similarly, tina is used in Eddystone as well as in Polynesia, Fiji and the matrilineal region of the Solomons, and here again the term may have been common to both cultures. A more doubtful word is iva used for brothers- and sisters-in-law. This term is found in the matrilineal region of the Solomons and in Eddystone, and probably in the modified form ihe or iha in Ulawa and Saa. Further, it almost certainly occurs in Fiji, both as part of ra-iva and among the Tavua people without the prefix. On the other hand, no form of the term has been recorded in any part of Polynesia. The word thus raises a difficulty, for, if it belonged to the kava-people, we should expect to find it in Polynesia, and its presence in the matrilineal Solomons and Fiji is a difficulty if it be ascribed to the betel-people. I can only suggest that it is a term, common to both peoples, which has disappeared in Polynesia.

The immigrants and the gerontocracy.

The next point for inquiry is the relation of the immigrants to the condition of dominance of the old men. There is no reason to suppose that this dominance was in any way due to the influence of the kava-people. The evidence derived from the linguistic comparison of systems of relationship leads one to suppose that it was under external influence that there disappeared the anomalous forms of marriage which were the result of this dominance ; if the disappearance of the gerontocracy and its consequences was the work of the kava-people, it is clear that this people cannot also have been its producers.

It may therefore be taken as essential to my scheme that the condition of dominance of the old men was earlier than the incoming of the kava-people. It follows that the three especially characteristic forms of marriage, viz. marriage with the daughter’s daughter of the brother, with the wife of the father’s father and with the wife of the mother’s

brother, were all indigenous institutions and that, where they are still to be found in Melanesia, they are surviving elements of this constituent of Melanesian culture. The cross-cousin marriage and the marriage with the brother’s daughter differ from the other three forms in their more in¬ dividual character, and I will leave the consideration of the part which external influence may have taken in their genesis till I come to other aspects of marriage in a later section of this chapter.

Forms of social organisation .

It is essential to the whole argument of this book that when Melanesia was first visited by the kava-people, its society was organised on the dual system with matrilineal descent. The scheme formulated in the early chapters of this volume is founded on the assumption that the dual organisation was not limited to the places where it is now found, but was the mode of social organisation in the Solomons and Fiji, and possibly also in the Santa Cruz Islands. This assumption has become so integral a portion of my scheme that I have adopted the term “ dual people ” for the population of Melanesia at the time when it was first visited by the kava-people.

Certain features of the Tamate societies of the Banks Islands have suggested that these societies may embody the relics of a totemic culture, and since the hypothesis on which I am proceeding is that these societies were founded by the kava-people, it follows that the kava-people were totemic. The idea of the transference of totemism from one place to another is one which raises so many difficulties that I propose to defer its consideration to the next chapter, and I shall deal here only with certain features of the clan-organisation of Melanesia which can be dealt with apart from the totemic aspect.

In the Banks Islands there is a social grouping within, or in addition to, the moieties of the dual organisation which appears, in some cases at any rate, to have a local character. It is possible that this represents an ancient local grouping of the early inhabitants. I have supposed that before the arrival of the kava-people the population was broken up into tribes which had little intercourse with one

Social Groups in Merlav 315

another, and it is possible that the sub-groups or local groups are the representatives of these tribes. The alternative is that they form a social grouping brought into being by the descendants of immigrants, and represent local settlements of the immigrants. I shall return to this subject in the next chapter, but I may point out here how little we know about this subsidiary grouping in the Banks Islands. I only heard of it after I had left the islands, and we do not even know whether a person belongs to the sub-group of his mother, as we should expect if the sub-groups are ancient local divisions of the moiety, or to that of his father, as we might expect if they are the representatives of immigrant settlements.

It will be remembered that one island of the Banks group, Merlav, has a social system widely different from the rest. Instead of two moieties there are ten or eleven exogamous groups called tagataga , and according to tradition these tagataga were founded by people coming from neighbouring islands. If further investigation should show that the taga¬ taga of Merlav correspond to the sub-groups of Mota, we should have important evidence in favour of the immigrant origin of the latter. Two points of interest connected with Merlav may be mentioned here. If tradition is correct, this island was peopled from other islands and must therefore have been unpopulated, or inhabited only by an indigenous population, after the kava-people had made settlements in other islands of the group. It is tempting to connect this with the volcanic character of the island. It is formed by a volcanic cone rising directly out of the sea, which was perhaps still in activity so recently as the beginning of the seventeenth century when some of the Banks Islands were discovered by Quiros. If I am right, we have here a striking example of the influence of geological character on the mode of settlement, and, in consequence, on the form of social structure of a Melanesian island.

If the social system of Merlav arose in the way suggested by tradition, another feature of the culture of this island becomes intelligible. There seems to be little doubt that the Sukwe and the Tamate societies were less highly developed in Merlav than elsewhere in the Banks Islands, and they are said to have now wholly disappeared. This is only natural if the island was peopled by descendants of the. immigrants who left the islands of their original settlement while the social

system was in a state of flux, and before the secret organisa¬ tions had developed the stable characters which gave them the vitality they possessed elsewhere.

There are also social groupings subsidiary or additional to the moieties of the dual system in the northern New Hebrides, but we know very little about them. It is not possible at present to tell whether they correspond to the sub-groups of Mota, or whether they have the quite different character which is suggested by certain resemblances to the matrimonial classes of Australia.

In Chapter xxvi the view has been adopted that the matrilineal region of the eastern Solomons represents essen¬ tially the result of the mixture of the kava-people with the dual people, but relatively little influenced by the betel-people, and in the last chapter I raised two possibilities concerning the peopling of this region. One of these possibilities is that the coastal people represent the descendants of the kava-people by their marriages with indigenous women, these descendants forming a population which remained apart from the main body of the earlier inhabitants who continued to occupy the interior of the island and became the present bush-people. This is the simplest solution of the problem, but it fails to explain certain features of the situation. It does not explain why the distinction between the people of the coast and the bush should be so much more definite in some islands than in others. Still more important, it fails to explain the indications of the dual organisation1 in the social structure of the matrilineal region of the Solomons. If the kava-people merely settled on the coast, and, marrying indigenous women, remained apart from the general body of the earlier inhabitants, there is no reason why they should have acquired the social system of these people. It might be thought possible that the women who were taken as wives by the kava-people succeeded in bringing with them the indigenous form of social organisation, but such an idea is wholly incompatible with the fundamental character of social structure. It is in the highest degree improbable that women, taken only as wives through necessity, should succeed in making their husbands and children adopt their social system. The derivation of the social structure of the matrilineal region of the Solomons from the dual organisation

1 Still less will it explain the actual presence of this form of social organisation which has been discovered by Mr Fox.

Social Sy stem of Betel-people 3 1 7

can only be explained by a far more intimate blending of peoples than is implied in such a process.

We have then to accept the alternative view that the kavapeople blended intimately with the earlier inhabitants, and that the existing social system is the result of the interaction between the social ideas and practices of the two peoples. How far this fusion was limited to the coast, or took effect over the whole area of the islands, is a question which can only be answered when we know far more than at present about the culture of the bush-people of the Solomons.

I have so far dealt chiefly with the kava-people, and I have now to consider how far we can form any opinion concerning the nature of the social organisation of the betel-people. Since it is in the Solomons that the influence of this people has been especially effective, it is there that we must look for evidence of their social structure. On each side of the matrilineal region in which I suppose the influence of the kava-people to have been dominant, there are islands apparently devoid of totemism, in which clan-exogamy is either absent or only present here and there on a local basis. It is natural to conclude that this absence of totemism and of clan-exogamy is due to the influence of the betel-people, and if so, it becomes most improbable that they possessed these institutions. The conditions now present in the Solomon Islands suggest that the betel-people had passed beyond the stage of development in which society is composed of exogamous social groups, and regulated their marriages solely by kinship or genealogical relationship. The possibility, however, must always be borne in mind that the disappearance of exogamy may be only the result of a process set up in a new environment and that the betel-people may have possessed some form of clan-organisation in their former home.

As Dr Codrington has pointed out, certain of the kema of Florida and Guadalcanar have not been derived from the original moieties by a process of fission, but are due to the settlement of strangers. It is possible that some of these may represent independent settlements of the kava- or betel-people, but the names of certain kema suggest that these, at any rate, have a different origin. One of them is called Simbo or Himbo and is reputed to have come from the west, and there can be little doubt that it is the result of a secondary migration from the Western Solomons. In recent times, the influence of

Eddystone Island or Simbo upon the Eastern Solomons has been confined to raids in search of heads, but the use of its name for one of the social groups of Florida and Guadalcanar suggests that an expedition once occurred which, whatever may have been its original motive, ended in a peaceful settlement. Another kema, that called Lahi, is also reputed to have come from the west and to be closely related to the Simbo kema , and this probably represents another settlement of a similar kind. It may have been through these secondary movements, rather than through any immediate settlement of the betel-people, that the matrilineal region of the Solomons acquired the use of betel and such other elements of the betel-culture as it possesses.

It is possible that these settlements furnish the clue to a difficulty which was put on one side in Chapter xxm (see ii, 196). In that chapter it was found to be a general rule that the mother is denoted by terms which I ascribe to the ancient linguistic diversity, and it was recognised that the pre¬ sence of an obviously introduced term for this relative raised a difficulty for my hypothesis. I have already (11, 313) shown reason to believe that the betel-people used the word tina for the mother, and I have now to suggest that this term may have come into use in the matrilineal region of the Solomons as the result of the formation of kema , either by the betelpeople themselves, or through the secondary movements which carried their influence into the matrilineal region. If these settlements were at first independent, but through intermar¬ riage came to influence the other groups, the term used by the betel-people might thus come into general use.

There is one feature of the distribution of the word tina in the Solomons which supports this hypothesis. The number of clans is larger in Florida and Guadalcanar than in Ysabel, and it is only in the former places that we know definitely of any migrations from the western islands. It is therefore significant that tina only occurs as the word for mother in Florida and Guadalcanar, and is not found in Ysabel where there are still only three, or even in one part of the island only two, main groups.

Immigrants and Mother-right

3l9

Descent , inheritance and succession .

I have shown in Chapter xix that the social structure of Melanesia departs very widely from the condition implied in current conceptions of mother-right. Throughout Melanesia succession is purely patrilineal, wherever it is correct to speak of succession at all. Inheritance is in a transitional state between the two lines, but nearly everywhere the paternal line has become the more, important. Matrilineal descent is still general, but even this seems to have become only one of several means for the regulation of marriage ; it carries with it few, if any, of the other social functions which are shown by tradition and. survivals to have been once essential to its nature. . It is evident that great changes have taken place in Melanesia in these respects, and that the existing matrilineal descent is little more than the last surviving relic of a social state in which matrilineal institutions were far more general and important. I have now to consider how far these changes have been the result of the interaction r between the dual people and the immigrants.

It is an essential part of the main scheme of this book that the dual system was associated with matrilineal descent. Even if the individual marriages of the old men were leading definitely to the recognition of the relation between father and child, there is no reason to suppose that there would have been any effect on the mode of descent. If property were held altogether in common, there would be nothing* which could properly be called inheritance. It would only be correct also to speak of succession if the dignity of an old man became capable of transference apart from the factor of age, but this possibility can be most suitably considered in the next section on chieftainship. It may, then, be assumed that matrilineal transmission was the only method known to the dual people. On this assumption it will be natural to suppose that the change in the direction of patrilineal descent and inheritance in Melanesia came about under immigrant influence, and from this it might seem at first sight to follow that the immigrants must have been definitely patrilineal. This, however, is not necessary. Since clear recognition of the relation between father and child may exist with matrilineal descent, and since it is the recognition of this relation which is the really important matter, it is quite possible that the immigrants may

have themselves practised matrilineal descent in their former home, and yet may have succeeded in bringing patrilineal institutions into existence as the result of their settlement in Melanesia. It is easy to see how the mixture of two matri¬ lineal peoples may result in the production of patrilineal trans¬ mission, especially if the immigrant people are not accompanied by their women. It is only necessary that the immigrant men should desire that their fatherhood shall be recognised and that they should succeed in distinguishing their children from those of the people among whom they settle, and motives amply sufficient to bring about patrilineal institutions will be present. It is thus possible that the kava-people may have been derived from a society practising mother-right, and yet have succeeded in bringing patrilineal institutions into existence in Melanesia. It is, however, more probable that they were themselves familiar with such patrilineal institutions.

There is one feature of inheritance in Melanesia which strongly supports the ascription of the patrilineal mode to the kava-people. Both in the Banks and the Solomon Islands trees planted on the land of others pass to the children, even when land goes to the sisters’ children. This custom becomes intelligible if the practice of planting trees on the land of others were a feature of the interaction between the immi¬ grant and indigenous peoples. If the immigrants brought with them the seeds or shoots of trees from their former home, they would have been driven to plant these on the land of others, since all the land would be the property of the indigenous people. At the same time, the fact that the introduction of the plants was directly due to the immigrants would give them so strong a claim on the produce as to make it intelligible that they should have succeeded in transmitting the trees to their children. It is even possible that it was this transmission of introduced plants from father to child which familiarised the earlier inhabitants with the idea of patrilineal inheritance. It becomes probable that the custom of paying a fine to the owners of the land on the death of the owner of a tree is a kind of rent for the use of the soil, the practice resembling the heriot and relief of our own law.

If there is anything in this suggestion, it becomes a matter of great interest to discover whether the patrilineal inheritance applies to all trees or only to some. I have the impression that it is only some trees which are subject to this

Descent in Polynesia 321

peculiar form of ownership, in which case it is possible that the trees to which the rule applies are those introduced by the immigrants, and that we should thus have a clue to the plants so introduced.

If patrilineal succession and inheritance have thus been due to immigrant influence, and primarily to that of the kava-people, it remains a question why this people failed to alter the line of descent which still continues to be so largely matrilineal in Melanesia. This subject can be most fitly dealt with in connection with totemism, and I propose to leave its consideration for the next chapter.

I have so far considered only the mode of descent, inheri¬ tance and succession of the kava-people in so far as Melanesia is concerned. According to my scheme, however, the kavapeople form an important element in the population of Poly¬ nesia, and it may therefore help us if we consider the nature of descent, inheritance and succession in Polynesia. In Tikopia, which I have supposed to approach most closely to the culture of the kava-people, inheritance, and succession are definitely patrilineal ; a man certainly belongs to the social group of his father, though the absence of exogamy only makes it possible to speak of patrilineal descent in Tikopia if the term is used in a sense different from that it bears in most parts of Melanesia. There are, however, certain customs in Tikopia, such as the close relation between a man and his mother’s brother, and the removal of a woman to her father s house after child-birth, which may be survivals of matrilineal descent. Though the institutions of Tikopia suggest that the kava-people were patrilineal, the evidence is not conclusive.

In other parts of Polynesia we know of no forms of exogamous social grouping such as would make it possible to speak of descent in the sense in which that word is used in Melanesia. In the social grouping dependent on the occu¬ pation of different districts of an island, a man belongs in general to his father’s district, but if, as seems to be the case, men sometimes went to live with their wives’ people, this would make it difficult to speak of descent in any exact sense.

The communistic nature of Polynesian culture makes it difficult to express any definite opinion about the nature of their laws of inheritance, and it is in the matter of succession that we have the most definite evidence. This may be of two

kinds : succession to chieftainship or kingship, and succession to special occupations, such as those of priest or craftsman. In the latter case, evidence points to the patrilineal mode1, but according to the available evidence, the succession to chieftainship seems often to have passed in the female line. A woman might herself become a chief, but it is a question whether this was not due to the belief in the special virtue of royal blood, a woman being chosen for the succession to a king or chief in preference to a more distant relative of the male sex2. If so, the custom would have to be classed with that of marriage between brother and sister as a special, and perhaps a relatively late, development of ideas connected with royal rank. The fact that the evidence which points most definitely to the matrilineal mode of transmission is concerned with chieftainship might be held to point to the association of this mode with the kava-people, but, even if it cannot be explained on the lines I have just suggested, it may have been the result of ideas derived from the earlier people of whom the kava-people became the chiefs. If the succession of women to the dignity of chief be put on one side as capable of special explanation, it becomes probable that such indications of matrilineal institutions as are found in Polynesia are to be connected with the earlier stratum of the population, the people who interred their dead in the sitting position.

Before I leave this subject I must point out one feature of my general scheme which would make the actual line of trans¬ mission followed by the kava-people in their former home a matter of no great importance. If, as I suppose, the migra¬ tion of the kava-people lasted so long that generations elapsed between their first setting out from their former home and their final settlement in Melanesia, there is little point in speaking of them as having followed any mode of descent at all. The social groups of such wanderers can hardly have possessed the stability associated with the idea of descent. The important thing is that they should have firmly rooted in their minds the importance of the relationship between father and child which would be capable of acting as the motive for the establishment of the paternal line whenever they settled permanently in a new home. The definite character of the patrilineal inheritance and succession in the parts of Melanesia

1 Moerenhout, op . cit. I, 475.

2 Ibid. 11, 11.

Relation between Father and Child 323

where the influence of the betel-people has been especially strong suggests that patrilineal institutions were even more firmly established among them than among the kava-people, but it must be remembered that, whereas the kava-people are supposed to have settled among a purely matrilineal population, the betel-people who followed them would have found many patrilineal features already established, and their tendency towards patrilineal transmission need not have been stronger than that of the kava-people. While, then, we may conclude with certainty that the dual people of Melanesia were matri¬ lineal and that patrilineal institutions have come into existence in Melanesia through the influence of the immigrants, we have no grounds for deciding what may have been the mode of descent and inheritance of the kava- and betel-peoples in their former home, though the probabilities are in favour of their patrilineal character.

Whatever may have been the mode of descent of the immigrants, there is one feature of their culture about which we can be confident. In the earlier chapters of this volume I have repeatedly pointed to the growing recognition of the relationship between father and child as a leading motive in the development of Melanesian society, and this recognition has been implied in all that I have ascribed to the immigrants in this chapter. Not only does this recognition of the relation between father and child underlie the establishment of patrilineal institutions, but it has also been found to be a most important element in many of the other changes which have come about in Melanesia, such as the passing of authority from the mother’s brother to the father, the institution of the cross-cousin marriage and of the marriage with the brother’s daughter, as well as the attainment of her important position by the father’s sister. Though I have supposed that the individual marriages of the old men had led to some degree of this recognition among the dual people before the arrival of the kava-people, there can be no doubt that it was the strength of the motives connected with this recognition among the immigrants which played the chief part in producing these changes.

I have so far considered only the recognition of the social relationship between father and child, and I have now to consider whether the recognition of the social tie may not have been assisted by another factor, the knowledge of the

physiological relationship between father and child possessed by the immigrants, and perhaps only by them. Throughout Melanesia there appear to exist in combination two sets of beliefs which, according to the ideas of civilised peoples, are contradictory. At the present time, so far as we know, the relation between procreation and conception is recognised everywhere throughout Melanesia, but it is also widely believed that conception can come about through quite other means. It is doubtful how far the belief of the Banks Islander in the influence of animals or plants upon women implies the possibility of conception through other than the ordinary physiological processes, but in the Solomons it is definitely believed that a virgin can become pregnant through the breaking of a taboo, and there is little doubt that such beliefs are very general in Melanesia. The co-existence of the two beliefs suggests that they belong to different elements of Melanesian culture ; that the knowledge of the physio¬ logical relation was first brought by immigrants, and that the indigenous people held other views concerning the process of generation. I must be content to make this suggestion here. If further research should establish it, there is little doubt that the introduction into Melanesia of the knowledge of the physiological relation between father and child would have assisted the other factors tending to turn the matrilineal institutions of the dual people in the direction they have certainly taken.

Chieftainship and succession.

In the gerontocratic state which I suppose to have once existed in Melanesia it would be incorrect to speak of chief¬ tainship at all. The government would not be vested in any persons as individuals, but in the whole of a class. Further, even if it were possible to speak of the old men as the chiefs of the community, such chieftainship would certainly not be hereditary. Even if the term “chieftainship” were extended to cover the gerontocratic condition, there could be no question of succession.

It would seem as if even now the condition in most parts of southern Melanesia has not departed very widely from a state of gerontocracy, although the qualification of age has largely merged in one dependent on possession of high

Immigrants and Chieftainship 325

rank in the Sukwe. The evidence points to the absence of anything which can be called hereditary chieftainship in the Banks Islands and in some of the northern New Hebrides. It is only on reaching the northern part of Melanesia that we find true hereditary chieftainship, and wherever it is found, succession is from father to son.

The obvious conclusion suggested by these facts, one which I have already adopted as an essential part of my main argument, is that the institution of hereditary chieftainship in Melanesia has been due to immigrant influence. If this were so, it would be perfectly natural that, where the culture of the immigrants became part of a secret organisation, the nearest representatives of chiefs should be found in the ranks of the Sukwe , while, in the more northern parts of Melanesia, chief¬ tainship should have become definitely part of the public social order. The distribution of chieftainship in Melanesia is exactly such as might be expected if it is an institution which only came into existence through the settlement of an aristo¬ cratic people1 in the midst of the early Melanesian geronto¬ cracy.

Two possibilities may be mentioned in connection with the origin of chieftainship in Melanesia. One is that the immigrants became the chiefs of the people among whom they settled ; the other is that the immigrant bands were composed of chiefs and commoners, and that it is only the descendants of the chiefs of the immigrants who became the chiefs of the blended peoples.

There is not sufficient evidence to make any full discus¬ sion of these alternatives profitable. I must content myself with pointing out two facts. In Fiji it would seem that the physical appearance of the chiefs differs from that of the commoners. This would be an obvious consequence of the first of my alternatives, while on the second it is less easily explained, though there are certain possibilities, such as the monopoly of captive women by the chiefs, which make it possible. The other fact also comes from Fiji. In Viti Levu

1 It is not, however, necessary that the immigrants should have been derived from an aristocratic community. It may have been only their superiority in relation to the indigenous people which produced an aristocracy in Melanesia. Just as I have supposed that father-right in Melanesia may have been the outcome of the interaction between two matrilineal peoples, so may Melanesian aristocracy have been the result of the interaction between two peoples who before their fusion were devoid of aristocratic ideas.

I was told that the chiefs of the Nandrau are descended from four brothers who landed in Viti Levu Bay, and, making their way to Nandrau, became the chiefs of the people, the four matanggah of the chiefs being descended from the four brothers. Here we have evidence from tradition of" a mode of origin of chieftainship which is in agreement with the evidence derived from difference of physical appearance, suggesting that in this part of Melanesia, immigrants became the chiefs of the population among which they settled. Even, however, if this conclusion were accepted for Fiji, it would not be safe to conclude that elsewhere chieftainship may not have arisen in the alternative manner I have suggested.

Marriage.

In Chapter xxi the conclusion was reached, though with less confidence than in other parts of my argument, that in the earliest state of Melanesian society of which we have evidence there was a condition of sexual communism. I suggested that the first step in the direction of individual marriage was taken when the old men acquired such power that they were able to monopolise the young women of the community. The alteration in the general standpoint from which Melanesian institutions are now being viewed makes it necessary to con¬ sider how far the change in the direction of individual marriage took place through immigrant influence. This raises a number of problems connected with Melanesian communism which may be more appropriately considered at a later stage of my argument. For the present I continue to assume a large degree of communism at the time of the dominance of the old men, and I reserve the full discussion of the subject for Chapter xxxii.

In an earlier part of this chapter I have definitely assigned three of the peculiar forms of Melanesian marriage to the dual people. The marriages with the daughter’s daughter of the brother, with the wife of the father’s father and with the wife of the mother’s brother are so clearly connected with the dominance of the old men that we can safely assume that they were indigenous institutions. There are certain features connected with other kinds of marriage with relatives which make it probable that they did not belong to the pure dual culture, but arose at a later stage of Melanesian history.

Immigrants and Marriage 327

In order that the three forms of marriage I have ascribed to the dual people should come into existence, it is not necessary to assume that there was any definite recognition of the relation between father and child, but, if there be anything in my scheme of the origin of the cross-cousin marriage in Melanesia, such recognition is a necessary factor. According to this scheme, the cross-cousin marriage arises through a man giving his daughter to his sister’s son in place of his wife, and this implies the presence, not only of individual marriage, but of the definite right of the father over his daughter which would thus enable him to bestow her upon his sister’s son. This individual character of the transaction would seem to be borne out by the nature of the cross-cousin marriage as it is practised in Melanesia. So far as we can judge from the evidence, the cross-cousin marriage often, if not usually, takes place between the children of own brother and sister, and not merely between the children of these relatives in a classificatory sense. It is therefore probable that the cross-cousin marriage is definitely associated with the recognition of the relation between father and child, and if so, it follows that it was later than the other three forms and probably came about under the influence of the strangers. It is even possible that the immigrants themselves practised this form of marriage, or were familiar with it in their previous home, and thus assisted a development which would probably, how¬ ever, have come about in any case as the indirect result of the growing recognition of the relation between father and child.

The explanation I have given in Chapter xx of the marriage with the daughter of the elder brother also implies the presence of individual marriage and the definite recogni¬ tion of the relation between father and child. According to my scheme, it differs from the cross-cousin marriage in that there is no reason to believe that the daughter was given to the brother in place of the wife, but it corresponds with it in that the relation of a man to his daughter is recognised to such an extent that he is able to give her to be the individual wife of his younger brother. Here again, it is probable that a man gives his daughter especially to his own brother. The only case of this form of marriage of which I have a genealo¬ gical record was of this kind, and in this respect the marriage almost certainly falls into line with the cross-cousin marriage. Since the marriage with the brother’s daughter thus implies

the presence of individual marriage, of the recognition of the relation between father and child, and probably of the distinc¬ tion of own from classificatory brotherhood, it may safely be assigned to a stage of Melanesian history later than the dominance of the old men, when immigrant influence had had a great effect upon the social ideas and practices of the dual people.

I conclude, then, that of the many peculiar forms of Melanesian marriage, three belong to the dual culture, while the cross-cousin marriage and the marriage with the brother’s daughter arose as modifications of the others through the influence, direct or indirect, of the immigrants.

I may now inquire why the cross-cousin marriage should have become the vogue in some places and the marriage with the brother’s daughter in others. It is clear that it is the cross-cousin marriage which has the greater vitality. It still exists in many parts of Melanesia, while the marriage with the brother’s daughter is now only found as a sporadic occurrence in one small and isolated region. There can be little doubt that the greater vitality of the cross-cousin marriage has been due to the fact that it was one in which the relationship between the parties to a marriage was recognised as more remote than that between a man and his brother’s child ; it is possible also that the cross-cousin marriage was assisted by its being an institution with which the immigrants were already familiar.

There remains for consideration the marriage with the wife of the father’s brother which may once have been a feature of the social structure of the Western British Solomons. It is quite certain that this marriage cannot have come into vogue as part of a dual system with matrilineal descent. If the marriage is to fall into line with the general scheme for the rest of Melanesia, it must be relatively late and due to immigrant influence. The locality where it is found suggests that it may be connected with the betel-people.

I have now to consider the part taken by the immigrants in bringing about the custom of payment for a wife. The fact that the marriages with near relatives, which grew out of the dominance of the old men, are even now unaccompanied by definite payments shows that, even if the practice of individual marriage had already come into existence among the dual people, there was no payment for the wife. There is evidence

Payment for a IVife

(i, 49 and 184) that payment for a wife is directly connected with the cessation of marriage with special relatives, and I have suggested (11, 125) that the payment may have been made as compensation to those who were thus deprived of a potential wife. This hypothesis, however, still leaves it necessary to discover why the payment goes to the relatives of the bride, and not to those who have been deprived of a potential wife.

I left the matter in this position in Chapter xx because I could see no other motive for the payments in a homo¬ geneous society. Let us now consider the matter from the new point of view opened up by the complex nature of Melanesian society. It is an essential part of my scheme that the immigrants were mainly or exclusively of the male sex and married indigenous women, and I have now to consider whether payment for a wife may not have had its origin in con¬ tributions made by the immigrants in return for these women. We can be confident that the immigrants brought with them certain arts of life which would have appealed to those among whom they settled and satisfied either their material needs or their aesthetic desires. We have only to suppose that the dual people refused to give their women to the immigrants, except in return for these objects, to have a sufficient motive for the custom of payment for a wife. On this hypothesis the destination of the payment becomes intelligible ; the relatives of the bride are the persons to whom the payment would naturally go.

I have supposed that at first the dual people and the descendants of the kava-people formed separate communities, and at this stage of Melanesian society there is no reason to suppose that payment would be made on the occasion of a marriage within the indigenous community, but was a feature only of marriage between members of the two peoples. If this be so, the persistence and prominence of the custom after the two communities had fused would depend upon the mode ot fusion. Where the immigrants were wholly absorbed into the social body of the dual people, having little effect on the resultant social structure, we should expect to find payment for a wife absent or unimportant. Where, on the other hand, the immigrants dominated the social structure, we should expect to find payment for a wife an important part of the marriage regulations. If now we study the distribution of

the custom of payment for a wife, we find that the existing conditions accord with these expectations. Pentecost and the Torres Islands are the places included in my survey where payment for a wife is most definitely absent, while it is certainly present in the Santa Cruz Islands and the Solomons where the dual system has been wholly or partially replaced by a social structure of a very different kind. Payment for a wife in the Banks Islands is definitely present although they still possess the dual organisation, but the payments are not heavy and vary in different islands1 ; here we probably have to do with an undeveloped and ill-defined stage of the custom. The distribution of the custom of paying for a wife in Melanesia thus definitely supports the view that the custom came into existence as a feature of the interaction between immigrant and indigenous peoples, a view with which the payment to the wife’s relatives is also in agreement.

A fact which still remains to be explained is the association, which seems to be definitely present in southern Melanesia, between payment for a wife and the cessation of marriage with relatives. I can only suggest that the transactions with the immigrants introduced the idea of payment for a wife, and that this idea was applied later to cases in which a woman who was the potential wife of certain members of the community was married by anyone else.

Functions of relatives.

I can now consider how far the various functions con¬ nected with relationship in Melanesia can have had their origin in, or have been influenced by, the culture of the immigrants. I may point out first that the fact that these functions are so much more pronounced and definite in those parts of Melanesia where the influence of the immigrants was slight suggests that in the main they do not belong to the immigrant culture, but were either indigenous or arose out of the special conditions of the interaction between the dual people and relatively small bodies of immigrants. These various functions are absent, or few and unimportant, in most parts of Polynesia and the Solomon Islands, but their presence in Tikopia and Tonga suggests that the kava-people took a definite part in their genesis.

1 Codrington, J/., 240.

The Mother s Brother

33i

Brother and sister. I have already dealt in Chapter xxn with the customs of avoidance between brothers and sisters. I have shown that these customs are found in parts of Melanesia which seem to be relatively advanced, and it is probable that they are due to relatively late external influence ; that they are the secondary results of the moral laxity which follows the arrival of any foreign influence among such people as the Melanesians. It is possible that, in the special instances before us, the laxity was due to the relatively late Polynesian influence which has undoubtedly been effective in Melanesia.

The mother s brother. There is evidence of a progressive change in Melanesia from a condition in which the mother’s brother had especial control and influence to one in which his place is taken by the father. This is evidently part of the general process of increasing recognition of the relation between father and child which I suppose to have taken place in Melanesia. If this increasing recognition has come about through immigrant influence, it follows that the alteration of the status of the mother’s brother was due to the same cause.

While the influence of the immigrants probably accounts for the loss of his especial status by the mother’s brother, it is possible that this influence may in a still earlier stage have been partly responsible for this special status. The position of the mother’s brother is generally regarded as a natural consequence of mother-right, of a condition in which the father is hardly regarded as a relative. As I have pointed out in Chapter xxn, there are one or two features of the relationship between mother’s brother and sister’s son in Melanesia which are not quite straightforward on this hypothesis. In patrilineal Fiji the duties and privileges associated with this relationship have reached a pitch of development which far surpasses those found in matrilineal regions. The position of the vasu seems to be due to a process in which a custom natural in one community has survived in an exaggerated form. I have now to consider whether the relations between the dual people and the immi¬ grants help us to understand the nature of the relationship between a man and his mother’s brother in its more ordinary and in its hypertrophied forms.

It is probable that, when the immigrant men married indigenous women, the dual people held that they had rights over the children of these women. If to this suggestion

there be added the assumption that these rights were vested in the woman’s brothers, we have a motive which may have played a part in the production of the special status of the mother’s brother, and assisted the process I have already sketched (n, 157). It is possible that at this stage of Melanesian history, when there was in progress a kind of social struggle between the two communities formed by the dual people and the descendants of the immigrants, every child of the latter community owed a double allegiance, to his father on the one hand, and to his mother’s brother as the representative of his mother’s people on the other, and that in some cases this struggle tended to enhance the importance of a relationship which was already prominent among the dual people.

The fathers sister. In passing to the relationship between a woman and her brother’s child I may point out first that there is definite evidence that the importance of this relation¬ ship is relatively late in Melanesia (see 11, 165). I have supposed it to be, partly a secondary consequence of the increasing recognition of the relationship between father and child, partly a consequence of the fact that the father’s sister was at one time a potential wife. If the customs connected with the father’s sister have been a relatively late growth, it may be that they have arisen through some influence later than that of the kava-people, and if so, it is natural to think of the Polynesian influence to which I have ascribed the avoidance between brother and sister. It is in favour of this view that customs connected with the father’s sister, much like those of Melanesia, are found in Tonga. On the other side, there is the definite connection between the father’s sister and the Sukwe in the Banks Islands. On the only occasion when women take part in the actual business of the Sukwe, it is the father’s sister who takes the leading place, and it would seem unlikely that this has been due to late influence. On the whole, I am inclined to believe that the special customs connected with the father’s sister were mainly due to the influence of the kava-people through their having brought with them the definite recognition of the relation between father and child.

Relatives by marriage. I need only consider here the customs of avoidance connected with relatives by marriage. It has been seen that the various practices indicating

Immigrants and Avoidance 333

avoidance between these relatives are definitely connected with the idea of the possibility of sexual relations between those so related. The fact that similar customs of avoidance exist between persons of the same sex shows, however, that there is much more in the matter than a mere sexual taboo. I have suggested in an earlier chapter that the customs of avoidance are probably to be connected with the condition of hostility between the members of the two moieties which certainly exists in the Banks Islands, and probably in other places which possess the dual organisation. If this suggestion holds good, it would not follow that the avoidance has been the consequence of this hostility ; it is possible that both are consequences of some more deeply-seated condition.

We are now in a position to look at the whole matter from a point of view very different from that adopted in Chapter xxn. If there came into Melanesia a number of men of another race who married indigenous women, we should have a condition in which a man and his wife’s relatives would be of different race and different culture, a condition which would amply account for the mutual constraint and suspicion which is indicated by the customs of avoidance.

One of the most striking features of the distribution of customs of avoidance in Melanesia is their great strength in the south and their small importance in the Solomons where they are only present, so far as we know, in the matrilineal region. The avoidance is thus especially characteristic of places which I suppose to be the seat of interaction between dual people and kava-people, and is only present in the Solomons in the region which I suppose to have been relatively little influenced by the betel-people. It would seem as if the incoming of the betel-people had led to the disappearance of customs which had arisen out of the interaction between the kava-people and the earlier inhabitants. Where the influence of the betel-people has been predominant, as in the Western British Solomons, the customs of avoidance are wholly absent while they are apparently in process of disappearance in the matrilineal region of the Solomons which was probably still in course of permeation by betel-influence when the islands were first settled by Europeans in the last century. It is therefore to the interaction between kava-people and dual people that we must look especially for the causes of these customs. The problem before us is to determine how far they arose as

a consequence of the marriage of kava-men with indigenous women.

Before proceeding further, I must point out one difficulty. The avoidance between relatives by marriage is not limited to the relationship between a man and his wife’s relatives ; it also affects that between a woman and her husband’s relatives, and it is evident that this cannot have been directly due to the marriage between immigrant men and indigenous women. In this connection, however, it seems quite clear that the customs of avoidance between a man and his wife’s relatives are more strict than those between a woman and her husband’s relatives, and it is possible that the latter have been a secondary growth due to a process of generalisation. In those communities which I believe to represent most nearly the archaic Melanesian condition, there are different terms for the parents of husband and wife respectively, while in more advanced communities both are included under one designation. If the parents of the husband and wife were once distinguished in nomenclature, and then later came to be included in one category, it is natural that the functions which were at one time connected with one relationship should have come to be associated with both.

There is one feature of customs of avoidance which provides strong confirmation of the view that they have been the result of marriage between immigrants and in¬ digenes. One of the most striking features of Melanesian avoidance is its association with the obligation of mutual helpfulness. People who are not allowed to speak to, nor be in the presence of, one another may yet be in duty bound to help one another in various ways. I have suggested in Chapter XXII that this mutual helpfulness came about as an accompaniment of individual marriage and helped to lessen the hostility which seems to be indicated by the customs of avoidance, but, on the hypothesis I am now following, the helpfulness receives a more direct and natural explanation. If immigrant men married indigenous women, it is easy to see how, in spite of feelings of constraint and suspicion, it would have been incumbent on the strangers to help those of the dual people with whom marriage had brought them into special relations.

The condition I have assumed will explain the production of a mental attitude of indigenous and immigrant peoples

The Head in Customs of Avoidance 335

towards one another which would serve to explain customs of avoidance in general, but it provides no adequate explanation of the special direction taken by these customs. It gives no reason, for instance, why the customs should be especially concerned with taboos on names and on conversation, and why there should be the special reference to the head which is so characteristic of the avoidances of southern Melanesia. The question arises whether these special directions are due to indigenous or immigrant influence.

I have recorded one fact which gives a clue to the answer. In Pentecost we find a remarkable exception to the general rule of reciprocity in the relations between two brothers-in-law. It is only the sister’s husband whose back and head are taboo. On my scheme, the sister’s husband would be one of the strangers, while the wife’s brother would be one of the dual people, so that according to this scheme the prohibition would run that an indigenous man might not touch the head, or go behind the back, of an immigrant who had married his sister1, a condition which would point definitely to the immigrants as those who originally objected to too close intercourse with their wives’ brothers.

If the immigrants thus initiated the customs of avoid¬ ance, it will follow that the special character assumed by these customs was also of immigrant origin, that it was under the influence of immigrant ideas that the head was looked upon as an object to be treated with special respect. It is thoroughly in harmony with this conclusion that the head, and especially the head of a chief, should have the importance, and even sanctity, which attaches to it in Polynesia.

The general features, then, of the avoidance and help¬ fulness which characterise the intercourse between relatives by marriage in Melanesia follow naturally if immigrant men imbued with certain ideas settled among an indigenous people and married their women. I may point out that this result cannot have come about if the immigrants blended at once with the dual people. Such customs of avoidance as I suppose to have resulted from the interaction between the two peoples cannot have been established in a generation. As in other departments of culture, such customs can only have come into

1 It may be noted that it is the relative who was once, on this scheme, indigenous for whom the special term bulena is used, while the immigrant sister’s husband is called sibi and is thus classed with other relatives by marriage.

being if, for long periods, the descendants of the immigrants formed an organisation distinct from, though in intimate social relations with, the earlier inhabitants.

Teknonymy .

One custom which occurs in Fiji and in the Banks Islands, as well as in other parts of Melanesia, receives a ready explanation as the result of immigrant influence. I refer to the custom of calling people by the names of their children ( teknonymy ). Where two people of different race and speak¬ ing different languages live together and intermarry, the children will form an intermediate link between the two peoples ; their names will be known to both parties, while the name of father or mother may be unknown or strange, perhaps even difficult to pronounce, and it will be natural that the familiar name of the child should come to be used as an easy means by means of which to denote its parents. Further, there is an evident connection between this practice and the avoidance of names of relatives and, according to my scheme, it would have been the names of the immigrants which would be especially liable to be replaced by an expres¬ sion in which the immigrants were called the fathers of their children. It is perhaps significant that in Fiji (see 1, 268) to call a man the father of his child is a mark of honour. This would be natural if the custom were especially associated with the immigrants. It is possible, on the other hand, that the relations existing between the two peoples only assisted the persistence of a custom which was already familiar to the immigrants.

CHAPTER XXX

TOTEMISM

In the last chapter I left the subject of totemism on one side as presenting- certain difficulties which required special consideration ; I propose now to attempt to deal with these. I will begin by stating the present position of my argument so far as totemism is concerned.

I have put together in Chapter xviii the facts pointing to the existence of totemism in the area especially dealt with in this book, and have shown reason to believe that this form of social structure, as it now exists in Melanesia, is later than the dual organisation. Then I showed in Chapter xxiv that many features of the ritual of the Tamote societies of the Banks Islands become intelligible as survivals of totemism, as the relics of an immigrant institution which has been em¬ bedded in the ceremonial of these societies. In Chapter xxvi this totemic culture was assigned to a body of immigrants whom I call the kava-people, and this led me to regard the kava-people as the introducers of totemism into Melanesia.

I have supposed that, where totemism is now a definite form ot social organisation, the kava-culture became the basis of the social structure instead of becoming an obscure part of a secret ritual. I have now to see how far this supposition is justified and to deal with the whole problem of the means whereby totemism can have been introduced into Melanesia. I propose to continue to assume that totemism has been intro¬ duced into Melanesia by the kava-people, and to consider certain problems which arise when we try to follow out the process of such introduction in detail.

At the outset of the inquiry we are met by a serious difficulty which would seem to be inherent in any scheme which involves the transference of totemism from one place to

another. The essence of totemism as a social system lies in the function of the totem as the tie which binds together the members of a clan. An object which thus succeeds in becoming the dominant and essential tie between the members of a social body must have so deeply seated a relation to the social fabric that it is difficult to understand how a group could change its totem and yet remain a coherent body, capable of acting as an essential constituent of the social structure. If, therefore, the hypothesis on which I am pro¬ ceeding demands a change of totems on the part of a migrat¬ ing people, we shall be met at the outset by a grave difficulty.

So far as I am aware, all the totem-animals of Melanesia are indigenous, and since the fauna of Melanesia has such special characters, it is unlikely that many of these totems would have been represented in the former home of the kava-people, whose migration I suppose to have been of the primary order, derived from without the utmost limits of Melanesia. Even if the totem-animals of Melanesia were represented in the former home of the kava-people, we can be confident that they do not represent all the former totems, but that the migrants must have had many totemanimals in their old home which they did not find in Melanesia.

It would seem to follow that, if totemism has been intro¬ duced into Melanesia, the process which took place was not a direct transference of a form of social structure from one part of the world to another ; some less simple process has to be formulated to provide the solution of the problem.

Before I attempt to meet this difficulty it will be profitable to consider certain aspects of Oceanic totemism to which I have not hitherto drawn attention. It is an important feature of the totemism of Melanesia and Polynesia that a totemic social group usually has several totems. It is only ex¬ ceptionally, as in Vanikolo and the Buin district of Bougain¬ ville, that each clan has only one totem, and even here it is possible that more ample knowledge will show the existence of others. The cases in which each clan has more than one totem are of two kinds. In some cases the totems form definite classes producing the condition which Dr Seligmann has called “ linked” totemism. The most highly developed example of which we know is that of the Massim of New Guinea, but a similar condition appears to exist in some parts

V aneties of Totemism 339

where one class of totems consists of trees and the other of birds or fishes1. In the Shortland Islands, also, there are two definite classes of totems with different names, one consisting mainly of birds and the other largely of aquatic animals. In other cases, there is no such grouping of the totems in classes, but each clan has several totems of various kinds, as in the matrilineal region of the Solomons. These totems may conveniently be called “ associated ” totems2 to distinguish them from ‘‘linked” totems.

A second aspect of Oceanic totemism comes into view w hen we survey the nature of the objects which are totems in different parts of Oceania, such a survey showing that there are several varieties of totemism distinguished by the character of the objects which serve as totems. I will begin this survey with the Santa Cruz group, where Oceanic totemism seems to exist, in its purest form. Taking this group as a whole, a striking fact is the great predominance of fishes or other aquatic animals as totems. In my own list of the objects with which prohibitions are connected in the main island of Santa Cruz, eight are aquatic animals, one is a bird and two are plants. In Mr Durrad s list there are six aquatic animals and three birds, while Joest gives six aquatic animals, two birds, one mammal and three fruits.

The totems of Vanikolo include four aquatic animals, the hermit-crab, and four inanimate objects. Nearly all the totems of which I was told in the Reef Islands are aquatic animals, the only exception being the flying fox.

Passing to the Solomons, it is probable that the totems of San Cristoval are birds, or, at any rate, birds occupy the most prominent position. In the matrilineal region of the British Solomon Islands the sacred objects connected with the clans are of various kinds, but birds are especially prominent, the others including the crab, shark, snake and lizard, as well as the sun and moon. Among the totems of the sub-divisions of the main groups at Kia in Ysabel, plants are especially numerous ; thus, four of the six sub-groups of the Vihuvunagi have trees as totems, while four out of the twelve Posomogo groups have the same nature. The other totems of these sub-divisions are of very various kinds, including birds, fishes and mammals, as well as the sun.

%

1 Anthropos , 1907, 11, 400.

2 Seejourn. Roy. Anth. Inst 1909, XXXIX, 178.

Melanesian Society

In the Shortland Islands the two classes of totem1 show a decided contrast in nature. No less than nine of the thirteen totems called tua are birds, three of the others, being the flying fox, lizard and a fish, while the nature of one is doubtful. Of the totems called tete only ten were identified and only two of these are birds, the others being fishes, lizards, the crocodile, the ant and two kinds of centipede.

y In Buin the totems are said to be exclusively birds, and these birds are the same as those which are totems in the Shortlands, though the names are different . .

In the only region of southern Melanesia in which we have definite evidence of totemism, Sandwich Island or Efate, nearly all the totems are plants, no less than eight out of the ten clans taking their names from plants, several of which are used as food. The other two totems are the octopus and a shell. In the northern New Hebrides and the Banks Islands some of the social groups are indefinitely connected with animals or plants, and it may be noted that among the objects so connected are the octopus, the giant clam, the turtle and

tar°It has been suggested in Chapter xxiv that the Tamale societies of the Banks Islands grew out of a totemic grouping, and here again the conditions are quite consistent with the existence of varieties of totemism having different kinds of totem. In the Kwat society, which most nearly resembles a group of totemic clans, the animals connected with the different divisions of the society are almost exclusively marine, the only exception being the wumeto or bowl. There is clear evidence that the Kwat society has come to the Banks Islands from elsewhere, and the character of its sacred^animals suggests that it was initiated by a band of immigrants whose totems

were marine animals. # .

Though it is clear that some of the Tamate societies are

of recent origin, it is probable that many of them take their names from ancient totems, and an analysis of the names shows that birds and fishes form by far the most frequent sources. Of the Tamate matawonowono , the small importance of which makes it probable that many of them are recent, four take their names from birds, four from fishes, one each from the spider, dragon-fly and water-snake, while two or three are

1 Wheeler, Arch.f Religionswiss ., 1912, XV, 24.

2 Ibid. 27.

Varieties of Totemism 341

probably named after plants. In the next group, the Tamale talo maea , four take their names from birds, while the Viov is connected with the crayfish and has part of the cuttle-fish as a badge, while the marine animals of the Kwat have already been mentioned.

The eponymous animals of the Tamate salagoro are especially important because most of these societies are probably ancient. The most important of all, Tamate liwoa, is connected with the owl, and Tamate nivat with the pepe fish. Of the others, eight are named after fishes, seven after birds, three after plants, and one each after a shell, the rat, a fly and an ant’s nest. Both this and other groups of the Tamate societies thus take their names most frequently from birds and fishes, and in about equal proportions.

In T ij i, the evidence of de Marzan points to two groups of totems, one consisting of trees and the other of animals. He gives a list of the animal-totems which comprise six birds, five aquatic animals, as well as the snake, flying fox, lizard and frog. Among the totems of which I was /told in the mountain districts, birds predominated, there being eight as against only three aquatic animals, together with the snake, lizard and dog. On the coast, birds and aquatic animals occur in equal numbers together with the snake and the dog.

In Tikopia aquatic animals far outnumber totems of other kinds. Those given to me by John Maresere include six aquatic animals, two birds, the flying fox and a plant. In Mr Durrad’s list, aquatic animals predominate still more decisively, there being only two birds and the flying fox to eighteen aquatic animals.

These facts point to the existence of a number of varieties of totemism in Melanesia and Polynesia distinguished from one another by the nature of the totems, the three chief varieties being characterised by the possession of birds, aquatic animals and plants respectively as totems. The bird variety seems to be represented in a pure form in Buin, and in almost as pure a form in the tua class of totem in the Shortland Islands, while birds seem also to be prominent in the totemism of San Cristoval. The aquatic variety is well represented in the Santa Cruz group, and most purely in the Reef Islands and Tikopia. The plant variety is found in Efate and in one class of Fijian totem, though it may be noted that there is a striking difference between the two places

in that the plants of Efate are largely used as food, while those of Fiji are trees.

Of other objects, insects occur occasionally, but their frequency, even among the tete totems of the Shortlands, is hardly sufficient to suggest that they form a fourth variety to be ranked with birds, fishes and plants. The degree of development of biological classification among the Melanesians makes it improbable that insects should form a separate class. The classification into birds, fishes and plants is one which is definitely recognised by all peoples (if fishes be allowed to include aquatic mammals and crustaceans), but it is very doubtful whether insects form a sufficiently definite o*roup, according to the Melanesian classification of nature, to make it likely that they would be associated with a special variety of totemism.

Inanimate objects occur rarely as totems in Oceania, and the stories connected with the totems of this class in Vanikolo suggest that they are relatively late additions to the objects

associated with social groups.

This survey of the facts of Oceanic totemism shows that there are varieties of the institution characterised by the nature of the totems. These varieties often occur in con¬ junction and in two chief forms ; in one, they maintain their independence, forming linked totemism ; in the other, they lose this independence so that the different classes of totem are no longer to be distinguished.

I propose now to examine the linked totemism of that part of Melanesia with which I am dealing, with the object of discovering whether it is possible to formulate a scheme of the origin of the linkage. This linkage is most definite in the Shortlands and, through the work of Mr Wheeler, we know enough of its nature to see how it may have come into being. The class of totem which consists chiefly of birds is called tua , the word used for the grandfather, and the class in which aquatic animals predominate is called tete, otherwise used for the grandmother. The birds which form the tua class correspond with the bird-totems of Buin in the neigh¬ bouring island of Bougainville, while the tete totems are un¬ represented, or less evident, in Buin. This suggests two totemic settlements; one, common to Buin and the Shortlands; the other, with especial influence in the smaller islands.

Certain facts suggest that the tua totems are the more

Totems and Death-rites

recent. ^ According to the scheme formulated in Chapter xxiii the word tete belongs to an older linguistic stratum, while tua is the more modern ; this suggests that the tete totems are the more ancient and the tua totems the result of a later introduction. This conclusion is strengthened by the fact that the tua totems are the better known. A totemic system recently introduced is likely to be regarded as more important, and therefore better known, than^an older form which has been pushed into the background. There are, thus, two reasons for supposing that the tua or birdtotems are the more recent.

Certain features of the funeral rites confirm the supposition that the two classes of totem are the result of successive settlements of totemic people. The bones saved from the ashes after the cremation of a chief are thrown into rivers or the sea, and this practice seems to be associated with the totemism of the people. The ashes are believed to be swallowed by a fish or other being which is regarded as the tete of the dead man. At the present time the animal which thus becomes a receptacle for the ashes may be either tua or tete , but since aquatic animals are rarely present among the tua and are especially numerous among the tete totems, it is clear that it must in general be the totems of the tete class which are connected with the funeral rites. Since the great, majority of the tua totems are birds, they can take no part in the rites in question. It is probable, therefore, that the original condition was one in which it was the tete class of totem which became the receptacle of the ashes. I have supposed, however, that the rite of throwing the ashes into water after cremation is a survival of an earlier practice in which the body as a whole was thus treated. The totemism of this region, taken in conjunction with the funeral rites, thus suggests the presence of two bodies of totemic immigrants, the earlier of which had as totems aquatic animals which were regarded as ancestors and received the bodies of their sup¬ posed descendants after death, while the tua totems were probably connected with the practice of cremation in these islands.

It would appear that cremation is universal in Bougain¬ ville and, if the bird-totems of the Shortland Islands are to be connected with cremation, the two are probably also associated in Bougainville. If the introduction of

bird-totemism is relatively late in one place, it will probably be so in the other. The connection of totemism with the funeral rites is thus in agreement with the conclusion reached in Chapter xxvn that cremation is a relatively late practice in Melanesia. The available facts are, however, so scanty that this conclusion rests on a very insecure basis. If, however, we assume as a working hypothesis that bird-totemism and crema¬ tion belong to one culture, and if interment and throwing the bodies of the dead into the sea belong, as I have supposed in Chapter xxvn, to two earlier cultures, we should have to suppose that there are three elements in the population of the Shortland Islands ; one, the earliest, corresponding with the dual people, who interred their dead in the sitting posi¬ tion ; a second, who threw their dead into rivers or the sea and had aquatic animals as totems; and a third, who pos¬ sessed bird-totemism and cremated their dead. The apparent absence in Buin of aquatic animals as totems and of the practice of throwing the dead into the sea or rivers may indicate that the second of these three peoples never reached this district, but it may only mean that their culture has largely disappeared so that we have at present no evidence of its presence. The tete totems of the Shortlands seem now to be in course of disappearance, and it is possible that they may have disappeared completely in Bougainville or may have become so inconspicuous that they escaped the notice of Dr Thurnwald1.

The culture of the Shortlands thus points to its linkage of totems having been the result of two successive immigrations of totemic peoples. We know so little about the linked totems of Fiji that it will not be profitable to discuss them here. I must be content to use the culture of the Shortland Islands alone in support of the hypothesis that linked totemism is due to successive immigrations of totemic peoples. If so, it will become probable that those associations of totems which have not preserved their independence are also to be ascribed to successive immigra¬ tions of peoples having different kinds of totemism, the different kinds having become fused in such a manner as to disguise their separate origin.

1 I am indebted to Mr G. E. Wheeler for the information that he has evidence pointing to the presence of totems corresponding to the te/tf-totems of the Shortlands in some parts of the Buin district (see Zeitsch. f Ethnol. , 1914, xlvi, 41).

Influence of Geographical Conditions 345

We have now been led to the position that there are a number of varieties of totemism in Melanesia which either exist alone, or more frequently have fused with one another, producing different forms of linked or associated totemism. The problem before us is to discover whether the simple varieties belonged to distinct immigrant peoples, or whether they have come into existence within Melanesia as the result of local conditions, and have then been combined at a later stage by means of secondary movements from one part of Melanesia to another. On the former supposition, it is evident that we should have to throw over the kava-people as the only intro¬ ducers of totemism into Melanesia. On the latter alternative, it will still remain possible to maintain this view, for the different varieties might have arisen through the influence of one people and then have been carried from place to place by secondary migrations.

If the different varieties of totemism are to be ascribed to the influence of one people, it will be necessary to discover conditions which led to this influence /having had different effects in different places ; if we examine the varieties of totemism in relation to their environment, it is not difficult to see what these conditions may have been. The different varieties are largely associated with geographical conditions. Marine animals are the prominent totems on small islands, while birds and trees are especially the totems of large islands. Thus, in the Reef Islands and Tikopia, marine animals far out¬ number the totems of all other kinds, while it is in the larger islands such as Bougainville and San Cristoval that birds are especially prominent. The correlation between geographical character and the nature of totems is not complete, but this is to be expected if the present condition of complexity has been brought about through secondary migrations.

The study of the varieties of Melanesian totemism in relation to their environment thus leads to a conclusion in harmony with that reached through the consideration of the difficulties inherent in the transference of totemism from one place to another. If totemism is an institution due to an immigrant people or peoples, it will not have been brought ready-made, but will have come into existence as the result of the interaction between the immigrants and their environ¬ ment, physical and social.

Before proceeding farther, it will be well to sum up the

conclusions to which we have been led by the consideration of the nature of Oceanic totemism. The indigenous character of the totems of Oceania made it probable that the totemism of this area had not been the result of a direct transfer¬ ence of a form of social structure from elsewhere. Then a study of the nature of the totems showed that there are a number of varieties of totemism in Oceania, and the as¬ sumption I have adopted, as the most probable explanation of these varieties, is that they were not brought in a fully developed form to Oceania, but arose within this area chiefly through differences of local conditions. These conclusions lead us definitely to the position that totemism was not intro¬ duced into Oceania as a fully-developed form of social structure. The task before us is to formulate a process whereby the varieties of Melanesian totemism, singly and in combination, have come into existence as the result of the arrival of an immigrant people. I suggest as a working hypothesis that the kava-people did not bring totemism as a ready-made institution from their former home, but that Melanesian totemism has been the result of the interaction between the kava-people and the earlier inhabitants, and that its varieties have been due largely to the nature of the geographical environment within which the interaction took place1. We have to discover what there was in the culture of the immigrants which thus acted as the starting-point of totemism. The kava-people must have brought with them beliefs and practices which, in the process of interaction between themselves and the earlier inhabitants, gave rise to the social institution of totemism.

Two chief problems have to be solved. First, in order to have a satisfactory scheme of the development of totemism in Melanesia as the result of the advent of the kava-people, we must discover the nature of the beliefs and practices which acted as the starting-point or starting-points of this totemism. Secondly, it will be necessary to formulate a scheme whereby there crystallised out of these beliefs and practices forms of social structure, or totemic modifications of the dual

1 This position is quite consistent with the existence of totemism proper in the former home of the immigrants. It is part of my general scheme that the journey of the kava-people was of very long duration, and during the many generations which may have elapsed between their setting out and their final settlement their totemism must have been profoundly modified, or even have disappeared as a form of social structure.

Immigrant Totemic Settlements 347

organisation. I will attack the latter problem first, only pre¬ mising that the beliefs and practices of the immigrants were of a kind which would have produced the belief now associated with totemism in Melanesia, viz. the belief in identity between animal or plant and human being, combined with an attitude of the human being towards the animal or plant which involves the prohibition of its use as food.

It is a fundamental part of my general scheme that the descendants of the kava - people formed settlements in Melanesia which for a long time remained distinct from the general body of the earlier population. For the sake of simplicity I will assume that, in any island or district, there were a number of such settlements, each descended from a single immigrant. If this immigrant were for some reason identified with an animal or plant, and transmitted this relation to his children, we should have, at this early stage, a number of local totemic groups and if, as I suppose, the kava-people were strongly imbued with the importance and closeness of the relation between father and child, we should expect to find that a child would belong to the group of his father. If the kava-people practised exogamy, we should have in these settlements of the descendants of the kava-people a number of local totemic clans with patrilineal descent. The problem before us is to discover how these local totemic clans with patrilineal descent developed into the many varieties of totemic organisation now found in Melanesia. It will be natural to suppose that the varieties of Melanesian totemism owe their special character to the mode in which the local totemic settlements formed by the descendants of the im¬ migrants blended with the indigenous dual organisation. If the dual and totemic organisations of Melanesia belong to two distinct cultures and peoples, and if social structure has the fundamental character which is the essence of my whole argument, certain consequences follow. Where the present social system is founded primarily on the dual principle or is a modification of the dual system, we have to suppose that it is the direct descendant of the earlier form of social organisation ; there must have been direct continuity with the earlier system, and we have to seek for some mechanism by means of which the kava-people fitted into and became part of the social body of the dual people.

Where, on the other hand, the social system is essentially totemic and where the dual system has entirely disappeared, we have to formulate some mechanism by which the immi¬ grants became dominant and the dual people were absorbed into their social body. Where, then, we find the dual system still persisting, as in the Banks and northern New Hebrides, or where the social structure is clearly derived from the dual system, as in the Torres Islands and the matrilineal region of the Solomons, it is essential that any scheme of development should have as its foundation the absorption of immigrants into the social body of the dual people. Where, on the other hand, totemism is the essential feature of the social structure, as in Vanikolo, Santa Cruz or the Shortlands, our mechanism will have to be one in which the dual people were absorbed into a social body formed by the immigrants.

Further, since the dual organisation is definitely associated with matrilineal descent and, on the hypothesis I have adopted, the totemic immigrants would have formed settle¬ ments with patrilineal descent, we should expect to find the persistence of matrilineal descent where the totemic settle¬ ments were absorbed by the earlier form of social organisation, and we should expect to find patrilineal descent associated with the purer forms of totemism. I propose now to survey the different regions of Melanesia with the object of seeing how far this expectation is justified, and how far the social organisation of the different regions fits in with the scheme I have put forward.

In the Banks Islands there are indications that the sub¬ grouping which exists within, or beside, the dual grouping (see i, 23) may once have had a totemic character. Some of these sub-groups are connected in one way or another with animals, such as the shark, owl or giant clam, while another has a creeper sacred to itself.

In the last chapter I left it an open question whether these sub-groups represent the ancient local grouping of the dual people, or whether they have arisen from immigrant settle¬ ments. The resemblance with the tacatao-a of Merlav

c> O

pointed in the latter direction, and this would fit in well with the scheme on which I am now proceeding, if the connection of the Mota groups with animals and a plant should be a relic of the totemic character of the culture of their founders. It is quite in accordance with my general scheme of the absorption

Totemism in Southern Melanesia

of the totemism of the kava-people in the ritual of the Tomate societies that there should only be these scanty indications of totemism in the social grouping derived from the settlements of the kava-people. There is some indication that the tagataga of Merlav may also have had a totemic character. We know of no association of these social groups with objects which can be regarded as totems, but there is a striking resemblance between the origin ascribed to the Sarana group (see i, 25) and that of the ambumi or grass-clan of Vanikolo, while the Ronalung people believe that they are connected with a bird which gave birth to a girl, an account much like that of the origin of the Vihuvunagi of Ysabel.

There are thus several facts which suggest that the sub¬ groups of the Banks Islands may be the representatives of the totemic settlements of immigrants. If, as my scheme demands, these immigrants were the kava-people, we have to suppose that the fusion between the dual and kava-peoples is not yet complete ; but that, side by side with the dual system, a mode of social grouping derived frpm the kava-people still persists. It is possible that some of the groups, such as those called kwaekwae or eccentric, are the representatives of purely indigenous elements who have come to have the same status as the descendants of the immigrants.

We have no definite information concerning the mode of descent in the sub-groups. If they should be found to be matrilineal, we shall have to suppose that the process of fusion has proceeded so far that the social groups which represent the immigrant settlements have adopted the mode of descent of the old social structure of which they have come to form part.

The only island of the New Hebrides where we have any definite evidence of totemism is Efate. We know very little about the institution in this island, but descent is certainly matrilineal, so that we have here an example of the associa¬ tion of definite totemism with matrilineal descent which seems to be contrary to the hypothesis I am now testing. We have no evidence of any features of the sub-groups of Pentecost Island which would lead us to ascribe to them a totemic character.

The Santa Cruz Islands differ essentially from the islands south of them in that totemism is the essential feature of the social structure. The only indications of the former exist¬ ence of the dual organisation are derived from the system of

relationship of one district of the island of Santa Cruz, and in this district descent is matrilineal. The small island of Temotu, where descent is patrilineal, may be found to have a system of relationship which bears no traces of a former dual organisation.

Since the totemism of Santa Cruz and of Vanikolo is of the kind I have regarded as typical, we must suppose that it has arisen through the absorption of the earlier social organi¬ sation by the totemic settlements of the immigrants. We should therefore expect to find patrilineal descent. This mode of descent is present in one district of Santa Cruz, but in another district of this island and in Vanikolo descent is matrilineal ; in the latter case, pure totemism is combined with matrilineal descent. In the Reef Islands we find the same association. What we know of the systems of relationship reveals no evidence of the dual organisation, and the pure character of the totemism, together with the use of a Polynesian language, suggest that any earlier form of social organisation must have been absorbed in that of the immi¬ grants. Nevertheless descent, so far as we know, is matrilineal.

Since we are here concerned with totemism, I have only to consider the matrilineal region of the Solomon Islands, including such parts of San Cristoval as possess a totemic organisation, the Shortland Islands and the Buin district of Bougainville.

It has been pointed out in Chapter xvm that indications of the dual organisation are clearly present in the matrilineal region. The kema or vinahuhu appear to have been formed, partly by modification of a dual system, partly by the settle¬ ment of people from other parts of the Solomons as the result of secondary movements. Since, therefore, the dual principle so clearly underlies the social structure, it would seem as if the process which took place was one in which the local settlements of the immigrants were absorbed into the social body of the dual people. It is therefore in accordance with our expectation that we should find matrilineal descent.

It is a noteworthy fact that, in one part of this region, a form of social organisation still exists which may show us a stage in this process of absorption. At Kia, at the north-west end of Ysabel, each of the three main social groups is divided into a number of totemic sub-groups. We

Totemism in the Solomons 351

do not know whether these sub-groups are localised, but if they should turn out to be so, we should have a number of local totemic groups within the three main groups derived from the moieties of the dual system. We should have a condition differing chiefly from that of the Banks Islands in the more definite preservation of the totemic character of the grouping I suppose to be derived from the immigrant settlements. This preservation of the totemic character would receive its explanation in the greater freedom of the immigrants, so that their totemism did not become hidden within a secret organisation, but remained part of the public social structure.

The nature of the social system of Kia suggests that the sacred objects associated with the main social groups of other parts of the matrilineal region represent, in part at any rate, the totems of the Kia sub-groups. The tindcilo, tindao , tindadlio or manjali of the different islands include not only animals, but also the sun and moon, and it may be noted that the sun is the totem of one of the sub-groups of Kia. With these objects ghostly ancestors and images are associated. If, as seems probable, the word tindcilo in its various forms is primarily a word for ghost, it would seem as if the totemic ancestors formed the primary tie binding together the members of the kema , vinahuhu or ravu of these islands, and that it was only later that there were associated with them the totems derived from the breaking up of the sub¬ sidiary grouping we may suppose once to have been present within the larger grouping derived from the dual organi¬ sation.

On the other hand, the possibility must be borne in mind that this association of ancestors with totems proper may have been the result of the influence, direct or indirect, of the betel-people. I have supposed that the increase in number of the primary social groups has been partly due to secondary movements, and the name of one of the kema of Florida and Guadalcanar, viz., Simbo or Himbo, suggests that one such movement at least took place from the western islands of the Solomons where the influence of the betel-people is especially strong. It is thus possible that it was through the influence of this or some other settlement that the association of ghosts with the animal-totems was brought about.

If the process in action has been on the lines I have just

sketched, it will be evident that we have to do with a highly modified totemic system. The aberrant character which has made it difficult for Dr Codrington and others to recognise totemism in the Solomons would be the result of a special direction taken by the process resulting from the interaction between the dual and kava-peoples, on the top of which there have come modifications due to the later influence of nontotemic immigrants, the betel-people.

In the Shortland Islands we again meet with a typical form of totemism combined with matrilineal descent. In this case there is nothing in the culture of the islands itself to suggest the former presence of the dual organisation.. The only peculiar marriage of which the system of relationship bears evidence is with the daughter of the elder brother and, though this form of marriage may be a late result of domi¬ nance of the old men, it may well have come about in some other way. The nearness of the Shortland Islands to Bougainville, however, makes it probable that the dual organisation was once present, but it is evident that it has undergone such changes as to leave little, if any, trace of its former presence. It is therefore probable in this case that the earlier form of social structure, whether of a dual or some other kind, was absorbed by the totemic settlements of the immigrants. Nevertheless here, as in most parts of the Santa Cruz group, the pure totemism is associated with matrilineal descent, and this in spite of the two totemic invasions of which there is evidence in these islands.

Our knowledge of the totemism of Buin is very scanty, but the available evidence goes to show that it is of a fairly typical kind, and yet it is combined with matrilineal descent. Here, however, we have more definite evidence of the former presence of the dual organisation. The system of relationship points clearly in this direction and more complete knowledge will probably show that the social structure of this district possesses other features bearing the stamp of a dual mechanism. This closeness to the dual organisation and the non-Melanesian character of the language point to a process whereby the totemic immigrants were absorbed into the earlier organisation in spite of the pure character of the totemism. We must, however, await more complete knowledge of the totemism of this district to see how farthis view is justified.

Totemism and Descent

In Viti Levu we find the association of totems with patri¬ lineal transmission, but it must be remembered that the totemism of this island departs from the typical condition in

that, in most parts of the island, it is not associated with exogamy.

The result of this survey has been to show that there is only exceptionally to be found the association between totemism and patrilineal descent which is at first sight to be expected in accordance with the scheme I am now following. It is only in Fiji and one district of Santa Cruz that such an association is present. Elsewhere the totemic clans practise matrilineal descent. In some cases, this matrilineal descent can be explained by the absorption of the patrilineal totemic settlements into the matrilineal dual organisation, but this explanation cannot apply to the pure totemism of Santa Cruz, Vanikolo, the Reef Islands, the Shortland Islands and Buin. In order that my scheme shall stand, it becomes necessary to discover some mechanism whereby the dual people were absorbed into the immigrant settlements, - but yet the com¬ munity which resulted from their fusion with the patrilineal immigrants adopted the matrilineal mode of descent. We have to explain how the indigenous mode of descent gained the upper hand, even where the existence of pure totemism shows the predominance of the immigrant culture. I now proceed to show that the clue to the solution of this problem lies in the fundamental importance of descent in the regulation of marriage.

It is an essential part of my scheme that in southern Melanesia the kava-people brought with them few or none of their women, but took their wives from the dual people. Though it is possible that the immigrants may have brought more of their women to the Solomons, I assume that they were relatively few in number and that most of the visitors took their wives from the indigenous population. When, therefore, the children of the immigrants grew up and were ready for marriage, there would be present a social condition in which certain indigenous ideas would be able to make themselves felt, for the children seeking for consorts would be the off¬ spring of indigenous mothers.

I wo alternatives would be open to the children of the immigrants. They might intermarry exclusively with one another, or they might marry with their mothers people. In

the former case, the separation between the immigrants and the indigenous people would be perpetuated, and even accen¬ tuated. In such a case I can see no motive for the adoption of matrilineal descent by the descendants of the immigrants. There would come into existence a number of patrilineal clans, each with a totemic immigrant as ancestor, and if the descendants of the immigrants continued to be endogamous, they would either remain wholly separate from the indigenous people, or would only adopt into their body such a proportion of the indigenous population as would not interfere with the stability of the immigrant line of descent. Such a process would give no opening for the adoption of the indigenous line of descent. For this we have to turn to the second alternative, and inquire whether it is possible to find such a mechanism in the marriage of children of the immigrants with the indigenous people. If we look at the situation from the indigenous point of view, and remember that every child, or nearly every child, of the immigrants would have an indigenous mother, it will be evident that, in the case of a marriage with the child of an immigrant, the moiety of the mother will be a matter of the utmost social importance, while the totem of the father will be of little, if any, importance. We can be confident that the dual people would never allow their own rule of exogamy to be broken, and from their point of view, the child of an immigrant would belong to the social group of his mother.

If, on the other hand, we look at the matter from the point of view of the immigrants, their totems will be of no importance in marriages with the indigenous people, since by hypothesis this people have no totems. They would therefore have no reason for failing to comply with the scruples of the dual people. Thus, from whichever side we look at the matter, it will be the indigenous rule of descent which will form the essential factor in the regulation of marriage if the rules of either element of the population are to be regarded in the mixed marriages.

It is evident that similar conditions would be present whenever in later generations the question of marriage arose between descendants of the immigrants and the indigenous people. The dual people would still be just as particular about the social status of the mother of the pro¬ posed bride or bridegroom and would be indifferent to that

Totemism and Descent 355

of the father. Matrilineal descent would thus inevitably come to have a definite social significance to the descendants of the immigrants and, when the original immigrants had died out, there would be no counterbalancing authority to put against the overpowering' influence of indigenous ideas, for the patrilineal mode would not have lasted long enough to have attained any firm social sanction. According' to this scheme, the descendants of the immigrants retained the totems of their ancestors, but came to transmit them in the female line, so that after a time the maternal line of descent became the deciding factor, even in cases of marriage between descendants of the immigrants. The victory of the indigenous mode of descent was due to its fundamental importance in a department of social life in which both indigenous and immi¬ grant peoples were necessarily concerned.

The movement towards matrilineal descent would have been greatly assisted if the immigrants kept their daughters in their own settlements and did not allow them to live with their husbands. T. hese women would have to marry either indigenous men or men of other immigrant settlements, and the desire to keep their daughters with them may have made marriages with indigenous men more frequent than would otherwise have been the case. Since the indigenous husbands in these unions would have had no totems, their offspring would have had to take the totems of their mothers. Even in the cases in which the daughters of the immigrants married men of other immigrant settlements, the children would have to adopt the totem of the mother, if they are to preserve tneir connection with the ancestor of the settlement. It must be remembered that, if totemism came into being as the result of the interaction between the immigrant and indigenous peoples, totemic descent would be a new social process and would be in a fluid condition ready to crystallise into one or other definite form according to the influences to which it was exposed. On the assumption I have just made, cases of both kinds of transmission would naturally arise within the immigrant settlement, and it would be in the struggle between the two alternatives thus presented that I suppose the in¬ digenous influence in the matter of marriage to have been the determining factor which decided the issue.

These motives would be assisted by a factor already con¬ sidered in another connection. I have shown in Chapter xix

23—2

that one reason for the persistence of matrilineal descent in Melanesia, while succession and inheritance have become largely patrilineal, is that the mode of descent touches but few material interests. This absence of material interests is very important in the matter I am now considering. If the line of descent had affected the transmission of wealth or rank to his child, the immigrants and their descendants would perhaps have made greater efforts to preserve the patrilineal

mode.

I suggest, then, as the explanation of the association of totemism and matrilineal descent in Melanesia, that through intermarriage of the descendants of the kava-people with the indigenous population, there was a constantly recurring stimulus promoting matrilineal transmission, while there was no motive for any strong counteracting influence on the part of the father. In such conditions it is natural that the indigenous custom should have gained the upper hand.

For the sake of simplicity, I have so far supposed that each of the local groups was formed by the descendants of a totemic immigrant whose children were all of the same totem as himself. If it should be found that the totem-clans of Melanesia are localised, or if it can be shown that, they were once so localised, it will not be necessary to disturb this simple supposition. If, however, as is more probable, it should be found that there is no evidence of any local character of the totemic clans, but that each local unit, such as a district or village, always contained people of many totems, it would become necessary to modify my scheme and to suppose, either that each local settlement was formed originally by immigrant men of several different totems or identified with several different animals, or that some process was in action whereby the children of any one original immigrant came to be identified with several different animals, in which case one immigrant might become the ancestor of several totemic clans.

It would be very much in favour of the simpler hypothesis if there should be found to be an association between the local character of Melanesian totemism and the patrilineal mode of descent. Patrilineal descent would be especially probable where the totemism has preserved the local character which, on this hypothesis, it must have originally possessed. Un¬ fortunately we have very little evidence on this point. We

Polynesian Totemism 357

know. that the totemic clans of the Shortland Islands are not localised1, a fact in accordance with their matrilineal character, but we have no definite information from any other region included in my survey. If it should be found that the patrilineal descent of Temotu is associated with the local separation of its totemic groups, and that this local character is absent where descent is matrilineal, we should have a striking piece of evidence in favour of the scheme I have formulated.

In this scheme, put forward to account for the success of the indigenous line of descent in the interaction between two peoples, we have another feature for which it would be very difficult to account if the immigrants had brought totemism with them as a fully developed institution. It is very difficult to see how the matrilineal descent of the dual people could have gained the upper hand, and yet allowed the totemism of the immigrants to become the dominant element in the social organisation. If Melanesian totemism has been the result of the incoming of the kava-people, its frequent association with matrilineal descent is far more easy to understand if the totemism was itself the result of the interaction between im¬ migrant and indigenous peoples.

I have so far dealt solely with Melanesia, and have been working throughout on the assumption that all the various forms of totemism in this area have been derived directly, or indirectly by means of secondary movements, from the kavapeople. At this stage it will be well to turn to Polynesia. The conditions in Tikopia correspond well with the hypothesis on which I am proceeding. We must suppose that the four social groups of this island are derived from four immigrant settlements, simultaneous or successive, and it is thoroughly consistent with my hypothesis that these four groups should be totemic and should practise patrilineal descent. When we turn to Polynesia proper, we meet with the serious difficulty that, in so far as totemism exists at all, it is in a highly modified and almost unrecognisable form. On the supposition that totemism was introduced by the kava-people, we have to suppose that this people failed for some reason to introduce the institution into the islands where their influence became dominant, while they had so great a success in many regions of Melanesia. It is in Samoa and Tonga, however, that we

1 Wheeler, op. cit. p. 26.

have the most definite evidence of totemism, and that this should be so is in accordance with the position reached else¬ where that the influence of the kava-people was greater here than in other parts of Polynesia.

On the assumption, however, that the kava-people brought fully developed totemism with them to Oceania, the absence or imperfect character of the institution in Polynesia would form an almost insuperable difficulty. The comparison of Polynesia with Melanesia would alone have been sufficient to lead to the rejection of the view that the kava-people were themselves organised on a totemic basis. We have here still another argument showing that it is only possible to maintain the thesis that the kava-people were responsible for the intro¬ duction of totemism into Oceania on the assumption that they did not bring the fully developed institution. It must have been through their special mode of interaction with the indi¬ genous people of Melanesia that the institution as we know it in this area came into existence. On the assumption that Melanesian totemism was the result of interaction between the kava-people and the earlier inhabitants of Melanesia, we are driven to suppose that the interaction of the kava-people with the earlier inhabitants of Polynesia was not of a kind to produce the institution of totemism, or that it produced it only in a very anomalous form.

I have, however, supposed that it was certain beliefs and practices of the kava-people which acted as the starting-point of Melanesian totemism. If so, it is clear that any beliefs and practices which it is necessary to assume in order to explain the Melanesian institution should also be found in Polynesia. The connection of the kava-people with totemism would be difficult, if not impossible, to maintain if such beliefs and practices as seem to have been the starting-point of Melanesian totemism were not also to be found in Polynesia.

I have now formulated certain social processes which make it possible to understand how totemism came into existence in Melanesia as the result of the influence of the kava-people. If we suppose that something in the beliefs and practices of the kava-people led to the identification of themselves or their children with animals or plants, it be¬ comes possible to formulate the general lines of the process by means of which the settlements of the kava-people became the forerunners of the totemic social groups of Melanesia.

Identity of Man and Totem

I have now to turn to the second main division of my subject and inquire what can have been the nature of the beliefs and practices of the kava-people which led to their identification with animals or plants.

I will begin by considering the evidence for the identifi¬ cation with animals or plants as the central psychological feature underlying Melanesian totemism. If, at the present time, you talk to a Melanesian about the totemic ancestor from whom he traces his descent, he will speak of this ancestor at one moment as if he were a human being and at another moment as if he were an animal. When you endeavour to ascertain when or how the change took place, you find that, so far as you can tell, there was no change, but the subject of the narrative has been thought of throughout as both a human being and an animal. Your endeavours to give the narrative definiteness from your own point of view seem to your informants only evidence of failure to understand the whole matter ; if you persist in these attempts, he loses heart and may either refuse to say more with the excuse that he has forgotten the story or does not know it properly, or he continues his narrative carelessly and gets out of difficulties by giving answers on lines suggested by the form of the inquiries.

Not only does this identification of human beings with animals or plants form a feature of narratives concerning the past, but several examples have been given in the first volume of this book which show that it is an active belief at the present time both associated with, and apart from, totemism. The attitude towards the tamaniu of the Banks Islands (i, 154), the relation of a person towards the animal which has in¬ fluenced his mother in the same islands (1, 1 5 1 ), the story of the shark-man in Pentecost (1, 210), etc., all show that, even at the present time, there is a belief in a relation existing between human beings and animals or plants which corre¬ sponds so closely with our category of identity that this seems to afford the only term of our language which it is possible to use for the relation.

According to the scheme of this chapter, it was this idea of identity with animals or plants possessed by, or ascribed to, the kava-people and their descendants which acted as the starting-point of Melanesian totemism. The first step in the present inquiry is to discover whether the belief in identity

was held by the kava-people or whether it arose out of the interaction between them and the indigenous population.

At first sight it would seem most natural to suppose that the immigrants themselves believed in their identity with animals or plants, but such a view involves us in grave difficulties directly we attempt to fit it to the facts of Melanesian totemism. If the immigrants identified themselves with animals or plants, it must have been with animals or plants of their ancient home. It seems impossible that they could have changed the animals with which they identified themselves, and that the belief in identity could yet have had such power as to become the starting-point of so deeply rooted an institution as the totemism of Melanesia. Even if the idea of their identity with animals or plants were held by the kava-people, we should still have to explain how they were able to impress this belief on their descendants and on the indigenous people among whom they settled. Such an institution as totemism is not to be explained by the mere belief of strangers that, while to the eye human beings, they are also animals or plants. Not only is probability against the possession of the belief by the kava-people themselves, but even if they pos¬ sessed the belief, it would still be necessary to discover how, in the interaction between the immigrant and indigenous peoples, the idea of identity became the basis of the social organisation of the people who were the outcome of this interaction. Whether the kava-people believed in their iden¬ tity with animals and plants or no, they must either have brought with them practices which were capable of impressing the idea of identity on others, or there must have been some¬ thing in their physical appearance or their conduct which led those among whom they settled to ascribe the characters of animals or plants to them or their descendants.

Another piece of evidence points in the same direction. If the idea of their identity with animals and plants were held by the kava-people themselves, we should expect to find it in Polynesia. The beliefs of Tikopia about the totemic ancestors are different from those of Melanesia ; these ancestors are said to have changed into animals rather than to have been

o ^

both human and animal at one time, and we do not know of any facts from other parts of Polynesia similar to those which show the idea of identity in Melanesia. Too much import¬ ance must not be attached to this negative evidence, but

Incarnation in Animals 361

taken in conjunction with the Melanesian facts, it is against, rather than in favour of, the ascription to the kava-people of the belief in identity of human being and animal which is so important a feature of Melanesian totemism. If the idea of identity were not held by the kava-people themselves, but came into existence as the result of their interaction with the indigenous inhabitants, we have to inquire what can have been the beliefs and practices of the kava-people which gave rise to the idea.

The only line of inquiry open to us is to look for existing beliefs and practices which may have acted in the way we require. In this quest we must attend both to beliefs and practices which are now associated with totemism and to such as are not so associated. In the latter case, it will always be possible that the beliefs or practices may be the mere survivals of totemism. Even if they be such survivals, however, they may suggest lines of thought and conduct which may once have acted as its starting-point.

The class of belief and associated practice with which I will begin is one still definitely associated with totemism. In several parts of Melanesia there is a belief that after death a man becomes an animal, or part of one, or is embodied in one. This belief is very general in the Solomon Islands. Sharks are believed to be the abode of ghosts in Florida, Ysabel and Savo, and ghosts also abide in eels, crocodiles, lizards and the frigate bird1. Again in Ulawa, we hear of a case in which a man announced before his death that he would be in the banana2. In some of the islands where these beliefs are found totemism of a kind is present, but we do not know the exact nature of the connection between the beliefs and the social institution. The animals or plants into which the dead are believed to have entered are regarded as sacred and are not killed or eaten, but we do not know whether there is the association of sacred animals with social groups which is required to connect them with totemism.

In the Shortland Islands, however, we find beliefs and practices which furnish intermediate links between typical totemism and the embodiment of ghosts in animals. In these islands the bones of the dead obtained from the ashes after cremation are thrown into rivers or the sea, and each

1 Coclrington, M., 177 — 80.

2 Ibid., 33.

clan has its appointed place where it was probably once be¬ lieved, even if the belief is not still present, that the bones are devoured by the fish, lizard, shark or other kind of animal which is the totem of the clan. Apparently the practice is based on the idea that the dead are by this rite incorporated into the bodies of these totem-animals. I have supposed that this throwing of the bones into water is a survival of a time when the whole body was so treated, but whether this be so or no, there is little doubt that the practice involves some kind of belief in the incarnation of the dead in the totem-animal.

The belief in incarnation of the dead in the totem is found elsewhere in Oceania, but we know of it only as a tradition in the case of dead ancestors, and not as a process still in action. In Fiji the kalou or ancestral ghost of a village or dis¬ trict is often believed to have been embodied or envesselled in an animal or plant, and in Tikopia the members of a social group believe in their descent from ancestors who after death turned into the animals which are still associated with the groups.

From one part of Polynesia we have evidence that the belief in the embodiment of a dead person in animal form still persisted in the last century. Moerenhout reports1 that in the Society Islands the soul of a dead man is believed to return to earth in the form of some animal which he had revered during his life. If an animal thus believed to be the em¬ bodiment of a dead person is seen by the relatives, they treat it with tenderness, feed it and invite it to return, and when it disappears, they part from it with tears. The gods are also believed to appear in animal form, and this probably indicates only another form of the belief that the dead can be incarnated in animal form.

This collection of facts pointing to the incarnation of an ancestor after death in the animal or plant which I suppose later to have become the totem of his descendants is not as large as I should like, but it is sufficient to suggest that the belief and its attendant practices formed part of the religion of the introducers of totemism into Melanesia. If such a belief of the kava-people in the incarnation of their ancestors in animal form was the starting-point of Melanesian totemism, the chief difficulties connected with its immigrant nature receive their solution. If the migrants did not themselves

1 Op. cit. 1, 457.

Totemism and Incarnation 3^3

believe in their identity with animals or plants, but rather in their incarnation in the form of animal or plant after death, it becomes easy to understand how they were able to establish the belief in their identity with the animals and plants of Melanesia.

People who believe in their incarnation in animals or plants after death cannot possibly transmit this belief in an unaltered form in a new environment. If the belief in in¬ carnation is to persist in a new home, it is inevitable that the vehicle of the incarnation should be an animal or plant of this new home. Not only does this scheme explain the intro¬ duction of totemism by people coming from elsewhere, but it also accounts for the main features ot Melanesian totemism. We have evidence that even now a Melanesian chief will tell his people not to eat a plant into which he intends to enter after death. We have only to suppose similar conduct on the part of the ancient immigrants to account for the observances con¬ nected with Melanesian totemism. If the immigrants told their children that they would enter into animals or plants, and that the animals or plants with which they would thus become identified were not to be killed, injured or eaten, and if the observances thus enjoined were transmitted to further genera¬ tions, we should have groups of people descended from ancestors identified with animals or plants which they would refuse to kill, injure or eat. If, further, the descendants were not allowed to marry within their own body, we should have a social group possessing all the characters which I have supposed to be those of the most typical form of Melanesian totemism.

It remains to account for the varieties of this totemism. The view which seems most probable is that, as I have already supposed, these came into existence largely through differences of geographical environment. If the animals chosen as their vehicles after death were those of the new environment, it is natural that the animals which came into vogue as vehicles of the dead in a small island should be aquatic, and that in the interior of a large island birds 01 plants should come to be chosen for this purpose. Both the orio-in of totemism through immigrant influence and the de¬ velopment of its varieties become intelligible if the kava-people believed that they became incarnate in animals after death, and were able to choose the vehicles of their incarnation.

I need hardly point out how closely the different forms of belief in descent from the totem in Oceania are in accordance with the hypothesis that the starting-point of this totemism was the belief of an immigrant people in their incarnation after death in animal form. The belief of the Tikopian that he is descended from a man who after death changed into his totem-animal, and that of the Fijian in his descent from an ancestor who was embodied or envesselled in an animal, would be natural results of the incarnation of ancestors after death in the form of animals. If Melanesian totemism came into existence in this way, we have an ample explanation of the belief in descent from the totem which forms so general a feature of the Melanesian form of the institution.

I propose now to examine other Melanesian and Poly¬ nesian beliefs concerning animals with the object of inquiring whether they also can be connected with a belief of the kavapeople in their incarnation after death in animal form. There are several beliefs concerning animals and plants in Melanesia which resemble the totemic beliefs of the people, so closely indeed in some cases as to point to some connection between them. If it can be shown that they are connected with the belief in incarnation after death in animals or plants, it will become probable that the resemblance with totemism is due to their being simply different manifestations of the immigrant beliefs and practices which acted as the starting-point of Melanesian totemism.

The guardian animal

I will begin with the beliefs concerning the tamaniu of the Banks Islands and other similar beliefs in which an animal acts as guardian or life-token. The first point to notice is that these beliefs involve the idea of identity with an animal exactly comparable with that I have supposed to underlie Melanesian totemism. When a man of the Banks Islands asks another to seek out his tamaniu , he does not tell him to look at the animal, but says “ Look at me.” Similarly, one who tells a man that he has shot his tamaniu says “ I have shot you.” Again in Pentecost, the narrative of the man who became a shark (1, 210) was told in such a way as to make it quite clear that the father was regarded both as a man and a

The Guardian Animal 3^5

shark. To say that the man changed into a shark, and followed his son to sea in order to punish him, almost certainly involves the translation of the true Melanesian point of view into the language of our own fairy tales. There is little doubt thcxt when the father was punishing his son, he was both man and shark, though to the eye he had the form of a shark at one time and of a man at another. We have here only another example of the belief in identity between man and animal which I suppose to be the psychological essence of Melanesian totemism. Further, the resemblance with totemism becomes very close when we find that a man will eat none of the species of animal, one individual of which he has adopted as a

tamanm.

The relation of human beings to sharks, crocodiles and lizards in the British Solomon Islands is much like that between a human being and his tamanm in the Banks Islands. These animals are called by name and fed, and they help those with whom they are connected. Here the special relation between human beings and animals is clearly due to the belief that the animals are the embodiment or abode of the dead. This suggests that the tamanm and similar beliefs of southern Melanesia are also derived from the idea of incar¬ nation after death, but that owing to the absorption of the cult of dead ancestors in the Tamate societies, the relation with animals has become divorced from the belief with which it was originally associated. According to this hypothesis, the tamaniu of the Banks Islands is simply another manifesta tion of the belief of the kava-people in their incarnation after

death in animal form. ...

It is the character of the tamaniu as a guardian ammax

which finds its parallel in the British Solomons, and we do not know that the animals regarded as embodiments of ghosts in these islands act as life-tokens. This link with the tamaniu is however, found in Buin, though in a somewhat different form1. In this district the sua or “ soul,” which plucks a leaf from a tree in the nether world and thus brings about the death of its earthly counterpart, has the form of a bird. We have here a relation between the causation of death and the representation of the ghost, or of some part of . a human being related to the ghost, in the form of an animal.

1 Thurnwald, Forschungen anf d. Salomo-Inseln n. d. Bismarck- Archiftel, 1912, I, 316.

Further, both the animals of the Eastern Solomons and the birds of Buin bring the matter into direct relation with totemism. There is reason to believe that some, at any rate, of the guardian animals of the eastern islands are those con¬ nected with clans which I have regarded as totems, and though we are not told so explicitly by Dr Thurnwald, there can be little doubt that the birds which form the sua of human beings in Buin are also those which are the totems of this district. There are thus, in two different parts of the Solomons, beliefs which not only form intermediate links between the guardian animals and the belief in animal incarnation after death, but are also links between guardian animals and totems.

If now we turn to Polynesia, we find in one place at least definite evidence of a relation between an animal which acts as a life-token and incarnation in the form of the animal after death. In Tahiti the animal into which a man intends to enter after death is revered by him during his life and, if he is ill, the approach of the animal is regarded as a sign of his coming death1. We have here a clear intermediate link be¬ tween the function of the tamaniu as a life-token and the belief in incarnation after death in animal form.

This suggests an extension of our conception of the beliefs and practices brought with them by the kava-people. The Polynesian belief suggests that the kava-people may have had personal relations during life with the animals in which they were believed to become embodied after death. It is, however, equally possible that the belief in the guardian animal is a later consequence of the belief in incarnation, a belief which only came into existence after the kava-people had settled in Oceania and had established their belief in incarnation.

Such knowledge as we possess about Melanesian and Polynesian beliefs in guardian animals and life-tokens thus brings them into relation with totemism, on the one hand, and with the belief in the incarnation of ancestors in animals, on the other. These beliefs exist in their most definite form where totemism seems to be almost completely absent, but if the belief in incarnation has been the starting-point of totemism, this is not unnatural. It is not difficult to under¬ stand how beliefs which in one part of Melanesia became incorporated in a social system should have persisted in

1 Moerenhout, loc. cit.

Incarnation and Secret Societies 367

another, and even in a purer, form where they failed to influ¬ ence the social organisation.

If the kava-people believed in their incarnation in the forms of animals and plants after death, we obtain a clue to the solution of a problem which I have been compelled so far to regard as one of the mysteries of the secret societies of Melanesia. We have seen reason to believe, from the close association of these societies with death, that their original function was the performance of secret rites connected in some way with death. Our new point of view suggests why these rites should be associated with the use of masks in animal form, and with other ritual features which suggest a relation to totemism. If the object of these secret rites was to bring about the incarnation of the immigrants in the forms of animals or plants, these features receive a fully sufficient motive. It is even possible that some of the masks may originally have been intended to represent animals ol the ancient home, which were only later identified with those of Melanesia.

Another feature of the Tamate societies does not har¬ monise so readily with the theory of Melanesian totemism now put forward. The members of a Tamate society are allowed to eat the animal or plant connected with their society, a practice which is forbidden to men who are not members of the society (see 1, 119). The attitude of the Tamate societies towards their eponymous animals or plants is thus directly opposed to that of totemic clans. It must be remembered that, according to the scheme of this chapter, it is incorrect to speak of Tamate societies having developed out of totemic clans. We must rather regard the societies as an expression of immigrant beliefs and practices concerning animals and plants which elsewhere in Melanesia have found a different form of expression in totemism. We should not therefore expect to find any exact correspondence between the practices of the two institutions, and how greatly the attitude of the societies differs from totemism is shown by the fact that the prohibition of the eating of the animal or plant of a society by non-members does not apply to adult women (see 1, 120). Out of many possible explanations of the difference, it may be suggested that one of the rites which the founders of a Tamate society practised in secret was the ceremonial eating of the animal or plant they revered,

and that, as the originally sacred character of the rite was lost, the eating of the animal or plant became the habitual and ordinary practice of the society.

The view now reached also furnishes a solution of certain difficulties in connection with the rites of death. In this chapter I have ascribed the custom of throwing the dead into the sea to certain immigrant ideas, while in an earlier chapter I have supposed it to be merely a modification of the use of a canoe to convey the dead to their future home. Since this practice is present in Polynesia, and yet cannot be ascribed to the people who interred their dead in the sitting position, it must have belonged to the kava-people. I have, however, supposed that to this people is to be ascribed the preservation of the dead. My scheme, as a whole, seems to involve the ascription of two wholly different modes of disposal of the dead to one and the same people. My new point of view suggests the solution of this difficulty. If such practices as embalming and mummification had as their motive, or as one of their motives, the preservation of the body till it could be sent to the former home for incarnation in the proper animal, we should have to do simply with another mode of expression of the idea which underlies sending away to sea in a canoe, and throwing the dead body or the ashes into the sea.

Influence of animals and plants before birth.

I can now consider the relation to totemism of the belief of the Banks Islands according to which an animal or plant encountered by a woman before the birth of her child is believed to influence the nature of the child. The belief and the practices connected with it have so much in common with totemism as to show that there must be some relation between them. I11 the belief, as in totemism, there is present the idea of identity between human being and animal or plant. A child is not allowed to eat the animal or plant which influenced its mother because it would be held to be eating itself ; the child is believed to partake of the physical and mental charac¬ ters of the animal or plant just as, in some forms of totemism, a person has the same physical or mental characters as his totem. In the Banks Islands these beliefs exist altogether apart from totemism, but in Fiji very similar beliefs occur in

Reincarnation

conjunction with it. De Marzan records1 that, shortly before the birth ol a child in Viti Levu, the expectant mother is visited by the totem-animal of the tribe, conclusions beingdrawn concerning the health and vigour of the child from the behaviour of the animal. Here we have a definite link between the belief of the Banks Islands and totemism, for the Fijian institution must certainly be regarded as totemism, though not of a typical kind. The relation existing between a Banks Islander and the animal or plant which has influenced his mother is thus closely paralleled by that existing between a Fijian totemist and his totem.

I have now to consider how far it is possible to bring these beliefs and customs of Fiji and the Banks Islands into relation with my scheme of the origin of Melanesian totemism. I must first consider the possibility that the belief of the Banks Islands may be only a survival of a fully-developed totemism which may once have existed in these islands. The fact that a similar belief occurs in conjunction with the greatly modified totemism of Fiji might be held to be in favour of this view. Such a belief as that of the Banks Islands, however, could not be a survival of totemism unless it were an integral part of such totemism, so that even if it be a survival, we should still have to account for it as part of Melanesian totemism.

Here, as in other parts of this chapter, the question arises whether the belief in question was brought with them by the kava-people, or arose as the result of their interaction with the dual people, or was even a feature of the culture of the earlier population of Melanesia. If, as seems probable, the animals or plants which influence expectant mothers were once believed to represent or embody dead ancestors, there is suggested the possibility that the kava-people may have brought with them the belief, not merely in incarnation in animal form, but also in reincarnation after a time in human form. According to this hypothesis, the incarnation in animal form would be only a stage towards the process of reincarnation. On this hypo¬ thesis, we have to suppose that in most parts of Melanesia the part of the immigrant belief which has persisted is that which concerns the first stage of the process, the incarnation in the form of animal or plant, while in the Banks Islands it is the latter half- of the process, the reincarnation in human form,

1 Anthropos , 1907, n, 402.

which has survived. We should have to suppose that the belief in incarnation has disappeared from the current religion of the people, though it may still survive in the esoteric knowledge possessed by the members of the Tamate societies. The difficulty in the way of this hypothesis is the apparent rarity of the Banksian belief. We should expect to find some evidence of belief in reincarnation in Polynesia and in other parts of Melanesia, and at the present moment such evidence is completely lacking.

The alternative is that the belief in the influence of animals or plants upon expectant mothers was either held by the dual people before the arrival of the immigrants or arose out of the interaction between the two peoples. The fact that the belief is found in two regions, the Banks Islands and inland Fiji, where the systems of relationship closely approach that ascribed to the dual people suggests that it may be earlier than the kava-people and may have been the result of a theory of child-birth held by the dual people. If the belief should be found in such an island as Pentecost, the culture of which still more closely approaches that of the dual people, the pro¬ bability of the ascription to this people would be increased. If, on the other hand, the belief should be found to be more definite in the Banks Islands than in Pentecost, it will become probable that it is either to be assigned to the kava-people or has been a result of their interaction with the earlier in¬ habitants.

The scheme of Melanesian history put forward in this volume has one feature which would provide an explanation of the belief as the result of interaction between two peoples. It is an essential part of my scheme that, owing to the absence or paucity of immigrant women, the children of the immigrants were of mixed parentage. If the physical characters of the two peoples were very different, there must have been great variety in the appearance of the children. This must have awakened the speculative and explanatory faculties, or in other words, the myth-making tendencies of the people, both indigenous and immigrant. What more natural than that these variations should have been connected with the animal or plant nature of the immigrants ? According to this view, the belief of the Banks Islands would not be a survival of totemism, nor would it have been brought by the immigrants in its present form, but it would have arisen in

Totemism citid Cult of the Dead 37 1

Melanesia as a means of accounting for the peculiarities of the children of immigrant men and indigenous women.

My endeavour in this chapter has been to show that Melanesian totemism with all its varieties can be explained if it be the outcome of the belief of the kava-people in their incarnation in the form of animals or plants. This belief of the kava-people is also capable of accounting for a number of beliefs and practices connected with animals and plants still found in Melanesia. The close resemblance of these beliefs to certain aspects of totemism becomes intelligible and natural if they are the results of different lines of development starting from a body of beliefs and practices brought with them by an immigrant people. The starting-point of my ascription of these beliefs and of the resulting totemism to the kava-people was the use of animal and plant names, of animal masks, and of restrictions connected with animals and plants, in the ritual of the T amate societies. The scheme I have now formulated provides an explanation of the close association of a cult of dead ancestors, with a cult of animals and plants in this ritual, bor very long it seemed to me a grave objection to the scheme of this book that two cults, apparently so different from one another as a cult of dead ancestors and a cult of animals, should be ascribed to one and the same people. It seemed more natural that two such different cults should be ascribed to two different peoples. The evidence brought forward in this chapter provides a satisfactory solution of this difficulty. The belief that the dead become incarnate in the form of animals or plants has two elements or aspects which may be emphasised in different degrees when the belief is introduced into a new home. If my scheme is right, it was the belief in survival after death and the importance of the dead in the lives of the living which took especially deep root in Melanesia, and became the essential element of its religion. The other aspect of the belief, the embodiment in the form of animal or plant, still persists in one form or anbther in many parts of Melanesia, but the connection with animals or plants has in many cases become of a formal kind. It has entered into, and become part of, the social organisation, rather than an integral element in the religious practices of the people.

One objection to the scheme I have formulated in this chapter is the relative insignificance of animal cults in

24 — 2

Polynesia. If the kava-people had believed in their incarna¬ tion after death in animals, we should have expected to find this belief more prevalent in Polynesia than it appears to be. It is noteworthy, however, that the most definite evidence of close relations between human beings and animals comes from Tikopia and from the Samoan and Tongan Islands, and it is in these islands that I suppose the influence of the kava-people to have been especially great. Further, there are a few indi¬ cations that the place of animals in Polynesian religion was greater than is generally supposed. When Captain Cook saw the great wictvcic in the western part of the island of Tahiti , there were figures of a bird and a fish on the platform of the pyramid which formed one side of the iuclvclc. On this platform were placed the images of the gods, and the presence of figures of animals in this situation suggests that they must have occupied a prominent place in the religious cult. The available accounts of Polynesian religious rites are of a most superficial kind, and the record of these animal figures is more important than any amount of negative evidence.

Before I close this chapter I must consider very briefly whether any share in the totemism of Melanesia can be ascribed to the peoples other than that which introduced the use of kava. The whole of this chapter has been based on the assumption that the totemism of Melanesia has been the outcome of beliefs and practices brought with them from elsewhere by the kava-people. I have now to consider how far there is any reason to suppose that the other constituents of the population may have shared these beliefs or taken some part in the production of its totemic institutions. About one people I suppose to have come into Melanesia it is possible to speak with some confidence. It is just in those parts of the Solomon Islands where the influence of the betel-people seems to have been especially potent that we have no evi¬ dence whatever for the presence of totemism. No trace of this institution has been found in Malaita, Ulawa and Eddystone Island. On the other hand, the totemism of the Solo¬ mons is most definite in the matrilineal region where I suppose the culture of the kava-people to have had the greatest per¬ sistence. This distribution makes it extremely unlikely that

1 Captain Cook's Journal , London, 1893, p. 83.

Totemism and the Dual People 373

the betel-people were totemic or that they held beliefs which were the starting-point of totemism.

Whether the dual people were in any degree totemic is a far more difficult question. The only fact pointing in this direction in the part of Melanesia with which I am now concerned is the occurrence of animal and plant names for the moieties of Pentecost and Mota, but this may easily have come about through later immigrant influences. Further, the indefinite nature of any totemic features of Polynesian culture makes it unlikely that the people who interred their dead in the sitting position were totemic or possessed totemic ideas. The evidence is against ascribing a share in the production of Melanesian totemism to any element other than the kavapeople, except in so far as it was through the interaction with the earlier inhabitants that the beliefs of the kava-people acquired that social setting which produced the institution of totemism as it is now found in Melanesia.

CHAPTER XXXI

DECORATIVE ART

The chief examples of decorative art which have been re¬ corded in this book are connected in one way or another with the secret organisations of the Banks Islands, and according to the general scheme of this volume, they are therefore to be connected with the kava-people. I propose now to consider how far it is possible to explain the nature of this art in accordance with this scheme.

The most striking feature of the art of the Banks Islands is the existence of transitions from naturalistic designs in which the human figure is the predominant motive into geometrical patterns in which rectilinear forms largely pre¬ dominate. In Chapter vi, I have regarded this transition as an example of a process which, following many writers on art, I have called conventionalisation. It is one of the chief purposes of this chapter to make clear what I mean by this term.

As I have pointed out elsewhere1, in this, as in other cases of transition from naturalistic designs into geometrical patterns, we have not to do merely with a case of degradation or simplification, but with a process which leads to a definite artistic result. Mere simplification or degradation might result in any kind of meaningless form ; it will not explain why there have come into being such regular figures and patterns as are found in the Banks Islands.

In these islands the process of conventionalisation has led especially to the production of rectilinear forms, of which the lozenge representing the face of a tamate is the best example. This tendency to the production of a lozenge-shaped design is seen in most of the knives shown in Plates V — VI I, but has

1 Rep. Brit. Ass., 1912, p. 599.

Conventionalisation

reached its extreme development in the shape of the figure which represents Tamate Viov (PL IX).

If the conventionalised human figure everywhere passed into angular geometrical forms, it might be sufficient to regard this as the result of the angularity of the flexed human limbs, but when we find that in other parts of the world the human figure passes into curvilinear geometrical forms, it is necessary to go into the matter more deeply. It may be argued that whether the human figure degrades into angular or curved forms depends on the part of the human figure which becomes conventionalised. If it is the limbs which especially interest the artist, the result will be angular geometrical forms ; if it is the face and eyes which become the chief object of atten¬ tion, curved forms will naturally result. This, however, is only putting the difficulty one step further back. We should then have to discover why it is the limbs in one case, and the face and eyes in the other, which have been the especial objects of interest. Further, even if this difference of interest should furnish a sufficient motive for the main difference of direction taken by the conventionalisation in different places, it would not be sufficient to explain the art of the Banks Islands, for it is clear that in this art the human face has been conventionalised, as in the figure of Tamate V iov , and yet has assumed a definitely angular form. It is quite as likely that the face has excited artistic interest among one people and the limbs among another because the rounded nature of the one and the angles of the other were especially fitted to the forms of artistic expression natural to the two peoples.

There are thus numerous features of the process, ordi¬ narily called conventionalisation, in rude art which are not explained by such factors as carelessness, inexactness of copy¬ ing or other similar conditions. There still remains much to be explained, especially in the determination of the direction taken by the process and the nature of its final result.

I propose to inquire whether the process of conventionali¬ sation which has taken place in the Banks Islands becomes more intelligible if it is the outcome of the interaction of peoples and of a struggle between two forms of artistic expression.

The special problem presented by the art of the Banks Islands is to determine why the representation of the human

figure should have changed into a rectilinear pattern. On the general hypothesis I put forward, we have to suppose that the human motive belonging to the art of one people has been modified into rectilinear patterns by the influence of another. In order to bring this problem into line with the scheme of this volume, it is necessary to assign these two forms of artistic expression to the elements out of which I suppose Melanesian society to be composed.

Nearly all the examples of the human motive, whether in their natural or conventionalised form, are used as the decora¬ tion of objects connected with the Sukwe or Tamate societies. In accordance with the general procedure of this volume, it will be natural to assign them to the kava-people whom I suppose to have founded these societies, and the hypothesis which naturally suggests itself is that the human motive of the art of the Banks Islands belonged to the kava-people, and that the process of conventionalisation came about through some influence upon this art, exerted either by the indigenous dual people or by some later body of immigrants. I will consider first whether it is possible to explain it through indigenous influence.

According to the main argument of this book, the kavapeople who founded the Sukwe and Tamate societies, and as I now suppose, had the human motive as the predominant ele¬ ment in their decorative art, reached Melanesia in relatively small numbers and, marrying indigenous women, had descen¬ dants of mixed parentage and culture. The art introduced by the immigrants would thus be executed in succeeding genera¬ tions by people closely connected with the earlier population and liable to be influenced by their artistic ideas. If, therefore, the earlier mode of decoration was by means of rectilinear designs, the transition of the human motive into rectilinear patterns as the art was transmitted from generation to generation would be a natural and intelligible process. In such a process we should have a mechanism whereby there might have come about the process of conventionalisation which is shown by such objects as the pudding-knives of Ureparapara. Accord¬ ing to this view, the process would be one in which the conventional art of an indigenous people gradually modified a motive introduced by an immigrant people who had settled among them.

It is probable that this gradual process took place in

Conventionalisation and the Sukwe 377

the Banks Islands, but certain features of the decorative art of these islands suggest that this was not the only, perhaps not even the chief, factor leading to the conven¬ tionalisation. The human figure, hardly if at all convention¬ alised, still exists as a feature of the art of the Banks Islands. In some of the knives the human figure persists almost unchanged; we have to explain why these knives should have escaped the process of conventionalisation. Further, the scheme I have suggested does not explain why the process of conventionalisation should have reached so extreme a degree in the representation of the face of a Tamate .

A clue to a process of a kind different from that outlined above is furnished by the facts that the pudding-knives of Ureparapara belong to different ranks of the Sukwe, and that those in which the human form has persisted unchanged belong to the Kworokwovoiava and still higher ranks, while the conventionalised knives belong to lower grades of the Sukwe.

I have supposed that the dual people were only slowly introduced into the Sukwe , at first only into the lower ranks. It is thoroughly in accordance with this scheme that they should not have been allowed to use the complete representa¬ tion of the human form proper to the art of the immigrants, but were obliged by their superiors in the organisation to modify the human figure when they used it to decorate their knives. The change may thus have been due to the prohibi¬ tion by the kava-people of a too faithful imitation of emblems which they regarded as especially sacred and as their own peculiar possession.

Further, such a figure as the diamond representing Tamate Viov occurs as the motive of the ordinary art1 of the people, and is used in masks which may be seen by the people at large. This suggests that figures which seem to be examples of conventionalisation carried to an extreme degree may not have been the result of a gradual process, but may be sacred emblems modified in such a way that they will not suggest to the uninitiated the human motive peculiar to the art of the salagoro and the higher ranks of the gamal.

It is thus probable that some examples of transition from the human figure to geometrical designs were not due to the

1 See the illustration of the ear-stick on the left hand in Codrington, M., 329, in which halves of Tamate Viov are represented.

gradual coming into play of indigenous forms of artistic expression, but to motives of a special kind arising out of the secrecy and mystery of the Sukwe and Tamate societies.

The process of conventionalisation would in this case depend on a need for the representation of sacred objects in a disguised and conventional form so as to make them suitable for those of low rank within the secret organisation and fit for exposure to the gaze of uninitiated persons.

If the representations of the human form in the art of the Banks Islands were introduced ' by the kava-people, the question arises whether we have in these representations any indication of the physical characters of this immigrant people. For this purpose we may consider the human figures of the knives together with the stone figures adorn¬ ing the gamut of Santa Maria shown in Plate III, Fig. i. In both cases it is evident that they represent a type of face very different from that of the modern inhabitant of the Banks Islands. The face is elongated and terminates in a more or less pointed chin, and the nose is long and narrow, quite unlike that of the modern Melanesian. It is possible that the tapering of the chin may be in some degree the result of conventionalisation, due to the tendency for the face to become transformed into a lozenge, but it is improbable that this will account for the general non-negroid appearance of the face, and especially for the thinness and elongation of the nose. The type of face is such as we should expect if it belonged to a people who form one of the chief elements of the population of Polynesia1.

The general scheme of the history of the decorative art of the Banks Islands which I suggest is that the kava-people introduced as the chief feature of their art the representation of the human figure with features resembling their own, and that this representation became transformed into rectilinear geometrical forms, the change being due, partly to the gradual coming into play of the earlier forms of artistic expression as the immigrants died out, partly to the direct prohibition of the practice of the pure immigrant art by uninitiated persons or by those of low degree in the secret organisations.

There is one example of the decorative art of the Banks

1 It may be noted that the human face carved on the drums of Ambrym (see Codrington, M., 337) has the same features as that of the Banks Islands. The face is elongated, angular above and below, and the nose is narrow.

The Malo-saru

Islands which does not fit directly into this scheme. Perhaps the purest example of geometrical art in these islands is to be found in the mantle called malo-saru (Plate VIII). This garment, which is now no longer made, was worn only by those of high rank in the Sukwe. On the lines of the scheme I propose, we should expect it to have been decorated with the human or other naturalistic design.

This matter is one of great interest and importance in relation to a subject which I shall consider in Chapter xxxv. It is certain that the malo-saru was made with some kind of loom, and shows therefore the former existence of true weav¬ ing in the Banks Islands. If, following my general scheme, the malo-saru be ascribed to the kava-people, it will follow that this people must also have brought with them the loom and the knowledge of weaving. It is possible that the purely geometrical character of the pattern of the malo-saru may have been due to the technical difficulties in the way of making any more elaborate pattern, but certain facts sug¬ gest that this introduction may have been due to an influence later than that of the kava-people, and that the malo-saru is an exception to the general rule that objects used in the Sukwe are to be ascribed to the kava-people. .

The only place in Melanesia where the loom is now known to exist is Santa Cruz, and the question arises whether this object and its product may not have been the result of a movement of people from Santa Cruz1 to the Banks Islands. That this is what has happened is supported by the character of the pattern of the malo-saru . This is so much like the patterns characteristic of the art of Santa Cruz that no student of the subject could fail to recognise their close connection. Further, the malo-saru is only known to have been made in Ureparapara and Rowa, the islands of the Banks group which lie nearest to Santa Cruz. The solution of the difficulty raised by the character of the decoration of the ?nalo-saru may therefore lie in its having been introduced through a later movement, the introduced art having been seized upon by the members of the more important ranks of the Sukwe and kept for their especial decoration.

Such an introduction need not necessarily have involved

1 I do not consider here whether this migration consisted of natives of Santa Cruz or of a body of the Micronesians who probably introduced the loom into

Santa Cruz.

any permanent settlement of people from Santa Cruz. There is, however, one feature of the culture of Ureparapara which suggests that there was such settlement. This island is unlike any other in this part of Melanesia in that the bodies of the dead are interred in the upright position ; this may be a mode of disposal of the dead practised by the introducers of the loom and of its product, the malo-saru.

There is thus no reason to regard the pattern of the malo-saru as presenting any serious obstacle to the acceptance oi the view I have put forward. I propose, therefore, to make it part of my scheme that the art of the kava-people was devoted especially to the representation of the human figure and other naturalistic motives, and that the change into recti¬ linear forms took place because such forms were proper to the art of the dual people who formed the earlier population of Melanesia.

I have so far dealt only with the representation of the human form in the Banks Islands. In the Tamate societies we have abundant examples of other forms of naturalistic representation, and especially of animals, while two of the pudding-knives from Ureparapara are decorated with designs derived from a fish.

These also can be ascribed with confidence to the kavapeople, who would thus be a people whose art was especially devoted to naturalistic representation. The great prominence of the human figure in the art of the Banks Islands is probably due to the importance which the immigrant cult of the dead acquired in its new home, while the smaller popularity of animal representations may be connected with the small extent to which the totemic ideas of the kava-people persisted in this part of Melanesia.

If now we turn to Polynesia we find evidence of a process similar to that of the Banks Islands, though the final product of the process is different.

Leaving New Zealand and a few other islands such as Niue and Manahiki on one side, the decorative art of Poly¬ nesia is usually in geometrical rectilinear forms. In certain places human and animal motives are definitely present, but have usually been modified into rectilinear patterns. The best known example of this change is in Mangaia and other islands of the Cook group where there is clear evidence for the conventionalisation of the human motive into rectilinear

Polynesian Art 381

forms1. We seem to have here a process closely comparable with that of the Banks Islands.

If the kava-people who entered Melanesia had the human figure as the dominant motive of their art, we can be confident that this motive will also have belonged to the kava-people in Polynesia. We can safely ascribe the human design which has undergone conventionalisation in Polynesia to them, and, if there has taken place in Polynesia a process of the kind I have suggested for the Banks Islands, it will follow that the geometrical art through which the conventionalisation was produced belonged to the earlier inhabitants who interred their dead in the sitting position. The similarity of the process in these two widely separated destinations of the kava-people is most readily to be explained by the interaction of the kava-people with populations having common elements of culture. The comparison of the decorative art of Poly¬ nesia with that of the Banks Islands thus leads to the same conclusion as that to which we have been led by the study of funeral customs.

The example of Polynesian art I have mentioned suggests that the element of the Melanesian population to which the rectilinear geometrical art especially belonged was that which practised interment in the sitting position, immigrants who preceded the kava-people. The difference between Polynesia and southern Melanesia is that, in the former case, the earlier inhabitants were themselves of purely immigrant origin, while in Melanesia they were a blend of these immigrants with an aboriginal population. Though, therefore, the general nature of the process of conventionalisation ought to be alike in the two places, we should expect to find a difference in the product of conventionalisation, and such a difference is clearly present. The decorative forms which have been produced in the Cook Islands are far more complicated, elaborate and artistic than those of Melanesia. The comparison of the two forms suggests that those whom the kava-people found in Polynesia possessed a much higher artistic and technical capacity than the dual people of Melanesia.

According to the scheme I have just outlined, the similarity of the decorative art in the Cook and Banks Islands is due to both having been the outcome of the blend of two similar racial and cultural elements. This scheme will find support 1 See C. H. Read, Jonrn. Anth. Inst., 1892, xxi, 139.

if there should be any other features common to the art of the two areas. A prominent feature of the human designs in Polynesia is the placing of two human figures back to back, and in PI. VI, No. 6, I have figured a knife with a similar Janus-like handle. That the resemblance between the two is more than accidental is shown by the presence in the art of San Cristoval of double figures back to back resembling those ot the Cook Islands very closely except in a different character of the jaws1. The available evidence is not sufficient to allow a positive opinion whether this doubling of the figures is a feature ol the kava-culture or of its predecessor, but probably it belongs to the former.

There is one feature common to the Cook and Banks Islands which is less readily brought into harmony with my scheme. The Janus-like human figures of the Cook Islands are in the squatting position and, in some of the stone figures adorning the gamal in Santa Maria, the arms are in an attitude, frequent in the squatting figures of Oceania, in which the head is supported by the hands. It is probable that both these kinds of figure represent the dead and, if the human motive belonged to the kava-people, we should not have expected to find the representation of an attitude which suggests the sitting burial of their predecessors both in Polynesia and Melanesia. In the Melanesian figures, how¬ ever, it is only the arms which are in the contracted position, and it is possible that the use of this attitude in the sculptures is only another example of the influence of the earlier inhabi¬ tants shown by the conventionalisation into rectilinear forms. On this supposition, the use of the squatting position in the plastic art would belong to the same category as the bending of the legs of the dead in fl ikopia and other features of Poly¬ nesian burial which show the influence of the earlier inhabi¬ tants of Polynesia.

The discussion of this chapter will have made clear the sense in which I use the term conventionalisation in connec¬ tion with the art of such people as the Melanesians and Polynesians. I do not mean by it a process in which the representations of natural objects become geometrical patterns merely through economy of labour or inaccuracy of copying. Such factors play their part, but in so far as they come into action, they are merely the processes by which there works a

1 See Verguet, Rev. d’Et/inog., 1885, iv, 198.

Conventionalisation 383

factor of a very different kind, depending* on the blending of peoples and of their cultures. By conventionalisation I mean essentially a process by which a form of artistic expression introduced into a new home becomes modified through the influence of the conventions and long established technique of the people among whom the new notions are introduced. It is essentially an ethnological process1. At the present time a Melanesian, who is given a naturalistic representation to copy, will not do so exactly, but will modify it in the direction of the representation which is conventional in his own society. It is quite true in one sense to say that the change is due to inexactness of copying, but such inexactness is of a very different kind from that of careless or unskilful copying. It is to be compared rather to the working of a dominant and fixed idea, an idea which in this case has been impressed on the copier by the continuous experience of a lifetime, even if it be not, in part at any rate, the psychologi¬ cal side of aptitudes and forms of expression which have been handed on through so many generations that they may have become almost instinctive. Conventionalisation, as I under¬ stand it, is a typical example of a social process, an example of the process by which social phenomena in general undergo change as the result of the blending of cultures.

1 A similar process may be set up within a community when a new internal movement in art diffuses through the community, the imitators tending to modify the movement in the direction of the conventional ideas and modes of expression in which they have been trained. It is a question, however, how far such new movements take place apart from external influences.

CHAPTER XXXII

COMMUNISM AND MONEY

I propose in this chapter to deal as fully as the evidence allows with the subject of communism. I have shown reason to believe in Chapter xxi that both sexual communism and communism in property were once practised in Melanesia, and I was led to suppose that the communism, at any rate in so far as the relations of the sexes were concerned, was in force at the time of, and had preceded, the dominance of the old men. 1 have now to reconsider the whole problem in the light of the new view of Oceanic culture which has been opened in the last few chapters. If Melanesia was communistic at the time of the dominance of the old men, it is obvious that com¬ munism will have to be assigned to the dual people, and that the change in the direction of individualism was the result of immigrant influence.

I dealt chiefly with sexual communism in Chapter xxi because it was in connection with sexual relations that I had obtained so much new evidence. It is probable, however, that the two kinds of communism were closely associated, and I propose to begin here with the consideration of communism in property, and then to reconsider sexual communism in the light of the conclusions which I am able to reach concern¬ ing this other manifestation of communistic ideas.

It is part of my scheme of the origin of the secret organi¬ sations of Melanesia that the kava-people were responsible for the introduction of the custom of taboo into Melanesia. A most important feature of this custom is that it is the means of protecting property, and so far as we know, it is individual property which is usually so protected. It will be impossible to adhere to this scheme unless it can be shown that the kavapeople were individualistic in respect of property. If it should

Mat- and Shell-money 385

appear that they were communistic, my whole scheme will meet with a severe check.

The subject of communism in property is closely connected with that of money. A thoroughly communistic people can have no use for money among themselves. If they possess anything which can be regarded as currency, it can only be used in transactions with other peoples. The use of money should therefore be associated with the disappearance of com¬ munism ; if it can be shown that Melanesian money is due to immigrant influence, and especially to that of the kava-people, we shall have gone far to establish the conclusions already suggested that the communism of Melanesia was a feature of the dual culture, and that its disappearance or modification was the work of the kava-people and of other immigrants into Melanesia.

I will begin by considering the nature and distribution of the objects which are used as money in the part of Melanesia with which I am especially concerned.

In the northern New Hebrides the currency consists of mats. These objects are used for no other purpose, and their value is estimated by the number of their folds which are counted in tens. They can thus certainly be regarded as money ; they are used only as currency, and they have a definite scale of value which can be expressed in numerical form. In Pentecost two kinds of mats are used ; one called mar aha ; the other, of a red colour, called bwana. The red mats are more valuable than the others, but we do not know whether their relative value is capable of any exact numerical expression.

In the Banks Islands, the money consists of the strings of shell-discs which have been mentioned so often in the accounts of the Sukwe and Tamate societies. We have, in this case, money of the most definite kind. The shell-discs are used for no other purpose and have a very definite scale of value. There are a number of units of which the double fathom is that most frequently used, and the whole account I have given of the Banks Islands shows how definite a value attaches to these units. The use of shell-money agrees with that of the mat-money of the New Hebrides in that its units are counted in tens. It is usually kept in hanks containing twenty fathoms, and repeated instances occur in the record of the customs and rites of the Banks Islands which show how

great an importance attaches to ten and multiples of ten in the monetary transactions. In two islands, Santa Maria and Merlav, where the som shells from which the money is made are not found, the little feathers near the eyes of fowls, dyed crimson and bound on strings, are used as the medium of exchange. They are, however, also used as ornaments, form¬ ing the object called wetapup which is especially associated with the Tavatsukwe rank of the Snkwe (1, 137).

In the Torres Islands, arrows, mats, and pigs’ jawbones are used as money, but we know nothing of the scale of value of these objects, and the arrows are not only used as money, but serve also as weapons.

The only objects we know to be used as money in Vanikolo are pieces of turtle-shell, which also form the raw material for ornaments and other objects made by the people.

The money of Santa Cruz is of a more definite kind. The small red feathers from the wings of a parrot, Trichoglossus massena , are gummed on pigeons’ feathers and then bound together, so that only the red feathers are seen on the surface. The material so made is kept in coils, fifteen feet in length. We know nothing of the scale of value, but this feather-money seems to have no purpose except as a representation of value and medium of exchange.

In the Eastern Solomons there is shell-money similar to that of the Banks Islands. The teeth of dogs and porpoises are also used; of dogs in Florida and Ysabel, and of porpoises in San Cristoval and Malaita ; and these have a more or less definite scale of values, a dog’s tooth being the more valu¬ able. The values, however, are not constant but vary with locality, a dog’s tooth being worth five porpoise’s teeth in Florida and only one or two, according to quality, in San Cristoval. In the western islands the money consists of armrings. Some of a large size, called poata , usually made from the shell of the giant clam, are used for no other purpose, but smaller rings are also used as ornaments. Here there is a definite scale of values, a poata being worth a given number of rings of the smaller sorts.

We have thus an interesting series of objects possessing in different degrees the qualities which give them the character of money. At one end of the series we have the plates of turtle-shell in Vanikolo which form one of the chief kinds of the raw material for the arts of the people, and we know nothing

Distribution of Varieties of Money 387

of any units or of any definite scale of value. At the other end of the series is the shell-money which serves no purpose other than that of money and is used in quantities which, being capable of exact expression in terms of length, form a definite scale of values. The mats of the New Hebrides form money of almost as definite a kind, differing only in the fact that the number of folds furnishes a means of numerical expression rather less capable of adjustment than the lengths of the shell-money. Intermediate between the shell- and mat-money at one end of the series and the turtle-shell of Vanikolo at the other end are such objects as the arm-rings and teeth of the Solomons, some of which are used for other purposes, or are not capable of expression in a scale of values as definite as that provided by the units of length of the shell-money.

There is evidence that the distribution of the varieties of Melanesian money has undergone changes. The people of Santa Cruz say that they formerly had shell-money, and I have suggested (1, 170) that the name of a Mota ceremony shows the former existence of mat-money in the Banks Islands. We have also definite evidence from one locality that the use of feather-money is due to the absence of the materials for making shell-money. In two of the Banks Islands, where the sow shell is not found, feather-money of a crude kind is used in its place. If shell-money formerly existed in Santa Cruz, it becomes possible that the feathermoney of that island is also a substitute for an older form which went out of use owing to lack of raw material, or for some other reason. The fact, however, that several parts of Melanesia even now possess more than one kind of money makes it probable that this was formerly so in Santa Cruz and that, if mat-money was once used in the Banks Islands, it was in conjunction with shell-money.

I am now in a position to consider how far it is possible to assign the various objects used as money in Melanesia to the different elements out of which, according to my scheme, the population is composed. The prominence of shell-money in the ritual of the Sukwe and Tamate societies points strongly to its association with the kava-people. This money is so intimately bound up with every detail of the procedure of these organisations that it is naturally to be assigned to the people who founded these societies. The presence of

25—2

shell-money in the Solomons is therefore consistent with the other features which point to the kava-people as forming one element in the population of these islands. The distribution of the use of arm-rings and porpoise’s teeth in the Solomons, on the other hand, and the absence of these kinds of money in southern Melanesia, point to their ascription to the betelpeople.

Before I proceed further, it will be well to inquire how far it is possible to formulate a mechanism whereby the kavapeople may have introduced the use of money among a previously communistic people. If it is possible to construct a scheme which will fit in with all the known facts, we shall have gone far to establish the communism of the dual people and the individualism of the immigrants.

The problem before us is to explain how the settle¬ ment of strangers among a communistic people would pro¬ duce social needs which would lead to the use of money. It is probably a general feature of migrations that immigrants possess arts unknown to those among whom they settle, or bring with them new methods of practising arts which are already known ; we can be confident that the kava-people were no exception to this rule. They would have possessed articles and means of production previously unknown to, and desired by, the indigenous population. If the kava-people were, as I suppose, individualistic, they would not be likely to employ time and labour in the manufacture of objects beyond their own needs without receiving something in exchange.

The indigenous people, on the other hand, would certainly possess objects desired by the strangers. If they were com¬ munistic, some of these objects, such as food, would probably be given with no thought of any quid pro quo , but however complete their communism, there would probably be some possessions which they would hesitate to share freely with strangers.

I have suggested in Chapter xxix that the custom of payment for a wife came into existence in Melanesia as the result of the need of the immigrant men for women of the people among whom they had settled. If the marriage regu¬ lations of the dual people were of the kind I have supposed, the women of the dual people became wives of certain members of their community as a matter of course. They

Objects used as Money 389

could not be given to strangers without infringing rights which must have been very dear to the indigenous people. If there were no other needs of the immigrants which would have led the dual people to look for some kind of compensa¬ tion, the need for women would be sufficient. The origin of payment for a wife and the beginning of the use of money in Melanesia may thus form two aspects of one and the same problem.

I have now to consider whether the objects used as money in Melanesia are such as are likely to have been given by the kava-people in exchange for the indigenous women or for any possessions of the dual people which the immigrants could only obtain by giving something in return. It would encroach on the province of Chapter xxxv to consider fully here how far all the objects used as money in Melanesia can be assigned to the kava- and betel-peoples. I have already given reasons why some can with confidence be so assigned, and I must be content here to say that in so far as other evidence tends to support the ascription of the articles used as money in Melanesia to the kava- and betel-peoples, in so far will my scheme of the communism of the dual people and the individualism of the immigrants be strengthened, and in so far as this ascription fails, in so far will the scheme be weakened.

Certain aspects of the subject may, however, be considered here. Many of the objects used as money in Melanesia are obviously such as would be useful. Whether they were introduced by the immigrants or made by them for the first time in their new home, they would be desired by the in¬ digenous people. Among such objects are the mats of the New Hebrides and the arrows of the Torres Islands. The motive for the choice of other objects must be sought in aesthetic considerations, and in this category would certainly come the arm-rings of the Solomons and the dogs’ and por¬ poises’ teeth which are favourite constituents of necklaces and other ornaments. The turtle-shell which is used as money in Vanikolo is also the raw material for the most highly prized of the ornaments now used by the people. There is little doubt also, that the discs of the shell-money were once used for necklaces and other ornaments, and are still used for this purpose in the New Hebrides.

Among such peoples as the Melanesians aesthetic motives

39° Melanesian Society

are usually not widely separated from those of a religious or magical kind, and certain features of Melanesian money sug¬ gest that religious motives have not been without influence. The shell-money of the Solomons is called rongo , a word which, elsewhere in Oceania and probably also in the Solo¬ mons, means sacred. The use of such a term for that variety of money which is especially connected with the secret societies isuggests that there was some more or less intimate relation of the shell-discs to the religious cult of the kava-people, and suggests that it was brought with them by these people. An old form of shell-money far more finely worked than that

which is now made (see Fig. 6, a) still exists in the Banks

Islands, and the money now in use may be only an imperfect imitation of an original possession of the kava-people.

Another feature of Melanesian money which suggests a religious element is the importance of redness. We have not only the red feathers of Santa Cruz, Santa Maria and Merlav, but the money of the Solomons to which the term rongo properly applies is of a red colour1, and the more valuable of the mats used as money in Pentecost are also of this colour. It is doubtful how far the whales’ teeth of Fiji were used as money, but they were certainly used as tribute, and it is

therefore of interest that red teeth were held to be far more

precious than white2. A similar tendency for a reddish colour to raise the value of money is shown by the greater value attached to the arm-rings of the Western Solomons when these are made so as to include a portion of the shell of the giant clam which has an orange colour.

This value attached to redness may be only an indication of the aesthetic appreciation of this colour which is so general among people of rude culture, but it is far more likely that it has a religious or magical significance, and in this connection it is interesting to note the high religious value of red feathers in Polynesian culture3, a point of special importance in con¬ nection with the use of red feathers as money in two parts of Melanesia.

1 Codrington, M ., 325.

2 Williams, Fiji and the Fijians, 1858, I, 40, and Erskine, Journal of a cruise among the islands of the Western Pacific, 1853, p. 439. The red colour of the teeth was due to the turmeric with which they had been rubbed, and was not their natural colour. The redness may thus be only a result of their sanctity.

3 See Ellis, Polynesian Researches, 11, p. 204, and Moerenhout, I, 473 for Tahiti ; Stair, Old Samoa , 1897, p. 117 for Samoa; Erskine, op.cit., p. 160 for Tonga. Red and yellow feathers were also much used in the Hawaian Islands.

Manufacture by Women 391

There is one feature of the manufacture, both of the shellmoney of the Banks Islands and of the mat-money of the New Hebrides, which might seem to raise an obstacle to their ascription to the kava-people. Both kinds of money are made by women, and it is part of my scheme that the kava-people were accompanied by few or none of their women. It might seem more natural to ascribe an occupation carried on by women to the earlier inhabitants from whom I suppose the kava-people to have taken their wives.

It is, however, an essential part of my scheme that the descendants of the kava-people remained for a long time separate from the general body of the earlier inhabitants. If it was a feature of the immigrant culture that mats and shell-discs should be made by women, these occupations would naturally be taught to the daughters of the immigrants, and this may have formed one of the motives which led the immigrants to keep their daughters in their own settlements (see 11, 355). It is perhaps a matter of some significance that, while it is the women who make the shell-discs, it is the men who seek out and collect the shells from which the discs are made. We may have here still persisting a feature of the division of labour between the sexes which has come down from a time when it was only the immigrant men who knew the proper character of the shells which they expected the women to convert into material for money.

At this stage it will be profitable to turn to Polynesia where we find the very remarkable fact that, if money exists at all, it occupies a very unimportant place in the culture ol the people. There is no evidence of the use of any object in Polynesia with the definite scale of values which is possessed by several kinds of money in Melanesia.

We are thus presented with a remarkable contrast which raises a problem of great interest and appears at first sight to contradict the main scheme of this chapter. If the use of money in Melanesia is the result of the influence of the kava-people, we might have expected to find money in Polynesia where the influence of the kava-people has been so great. If we succeed in surmounting this difficulty, we shall only be met by one still more serious, that the Poly¬ nesians are largely communistic, probably more so than the Melanesians. It would seem as if my general scheme in¬ volves the paradox that a people to whom I have ascribed the

introduction of money and the individualistic trend of Mela¬ nesian culture became in Polynesia a communistic people who used no money. It is evident that the difficulties raised by the absence of money in Polynesia and the com¬ munism of its people are closely related. A thoroughly communistic people would have no need for money, and any explanation of the communism of Polynesia will therefore furnish also the explanation of the absence of money.

If the argument of this volume were still in the position it occupied before the ritual of death had been considered, the matter would be one of great difficulty. We should have to suppose that a people who were responsible for the change in the direction of individual ownership in Melanesia had them¬ selves such communistic tendencies that, when isolated in the islands of the Pacific Ocean, they became one of the best examples of communism in property with which we are acquainted. On the one hand, we should have to suppose that mankind has a natural tendency towards communism, so that when left to itself this communistic tendency would have full sway. On the other hand, we should have to ascribe the individualism of Melanesia, not so much to the individualistic tendencies of the kava-people, but rather to features of the interaction between the indigenous and immi¬ grant peoples. If, therefore, the culture of Polynesia were the result of the simple development of a culture brought with them from elsewhere by the kava-people, the scheme of this volume would involve us in serious difficulties. The study of the ritual of death, however, has shown us that Polynesian culture is not simple, but that the kava-people, whom I suppose to have been the bearers of individualistic ideas into Melanesia, were only settlers among a people already occupying the islands of Polynesia. The possi¬ bility thus arises that the communism of Polynesia may have been part of the culture of these earlier settlers ; the task with which we should then be confronted would be the relatively easy one of discovering why the kava-people failed to introduce their individualism into Polynesia. I propose to adopt as a working hypothesis that the communism of Poly¬ nesia is due to the earlier settlers who interred their dead in the sitting position, and it becomes my business to discover why the kava-people were less successful in introducing their

Chiefs and Communism 393

individualistic principles in Polynesia than in Melanesia, and why the institution of money came into being- in one place and not in the other.

It is an essential part of my scheme of Melanesian history that the descendants of the kava-people formed settlements which long remained independent of the indigenous popu¬ lation. The transactions I suppose to have taken place between immigrants and indigenous peoples which led to the use of money were not merely transactions between individuals, but between members, singly or collectively, of two largely independent peoples, each of which had needs which could only be satisfied by the possessions or capacities of the other. . According to my scheme of Melanesian history, it was the living side by side of two largely independent com¬ munities, each possessing objects desired by the other, which led to the use of money in Melanesia, and at the same time greatly stimulated, if it did not produce, the idea of individual property.

We have only to suppose that the kava-people never formed independent communities in Polynesia, but were accepted at once as the chiefs of those among whom they settled, to have an explanation of the absence of money and of the failure to disturb in any great measure the communism of the earlier in¬ habitants. . Immigrants accepted as chiefs and endowed with divine attributes, who were able to obtain all they needed for the asking, would have no need for money. They might rather stimulate than counteract the communistic tendencies of those among whom they settled.

It remains to inquire how far the facts of Polynesian culture agree with this hypothesis. Throughout Polynesia it is clear that the chiefs have rights in the property of the ordinary people. In the Hawaian Islands everything belonging to the commoners was at the disposal of the chiefs (see 1, 385), and this appears to have been only an exaggeration of a con¬ dition which was widely spread, if not general, throughout Polynesia.

The explanation of the absence of money in Polynesia and of the communism of its people is to be found in the special mode of settlement of the kava-people. This settlement was of a kind which did not call forth the need for money, nor did it stimulate the desire for individual possession which was the result of the foundation in Melanesia of settlements which

long remained distinct from the general body of the indigenous people.

Further, it is probable that the growth of the idea of individual property in Melanesia was greatly assisted by the special kind of power which was put into the hands of the immigrants by their foundation of the secret societies. These bodies became the means whereby the taboo on individual pro¬ perty was enforced, and thus indirectly they may have played a great part in the development of the institution of individual property. According to my scheme, the growth of the insti¬ tution of individual property in Melanesia was the result of a struggle between two peoples, one communistic and the other individualistic, in which the peculiar power which accrued to the secret organisation founded by the individualists played a large part in the success of their principles. In Polynesia, on the other hand, there was no such struggle ; the immigrants at once gained a predominant position and, obtaining all they needed with no special effort, were not led to produce that modification of the indigenous communism which might have been the result of a less favourable reception.

It is noteworthy that, in that part of Polynesia which had societies similar to the secret organisations of Melanesia, the members of the societies, or the chiefs on their behalf, were able to levy supplies on a large scale1. There is no evidence, however, that the power of taboo was associated with these societies but belonged to the chiefs, as chiefs, and not as Areois. It was probably through the power of taboo that the immigrants into both Melanesia and Polynesia were able to enforce their ideas. It is therefore thoroughly in accordance with the scheme of this volume that the institution, which in Melanesia was used, especially by members of the secret societies, to enforce the rights of individual property, should in Polynesia be in the hands of the chiefs. Though often employed in their own interests, it seems, so far as property was concerned, to have been chiefly used in the general interest of the community, especially in the protection of garden-produce in times of scarcity.

The solution of the difficulty raised by the communism of Polynesia and its lack of money is that the communism was a feature of the culture of the earlier settlers who interred their dead in the sitting position. The absence of money and the

1 Ellis, Polynesian Researches , I, 319.

Common Ownership of Land 395

failure of the kava-people to disturb the communism were the result of the special mode of settlement of this people.

If the communism of Polynesia was thus due to the people who interred their dead in the sitting position, it becomes a question whether the communism of Melanesia may not also have been due to their influence, but this is a topic which must be postponed until it is possible to deal fully with the place of this people in the dual culture.

So far I have only considered whether the use and distri¬ bution of money in Melanesia allow us to assign the institu¬ tion of individual property to immigrant influence. I have now to consider how far other facts of Melanesian culture support the conclusions which have been reached by the study of money.

Dr Codrington has given us information1 which shows how the change from common to individual property in land in Melanesia may have come about through the influence of the kava-people. He points out that a definite distinction is recognised between land long cultivated and that which has been reclaimed from the uncleared forest. An instructive example of the kind of intermediate condition which may arise after several generations has been recorded in Chapter 11 (1, 55). This case shows that a man transmits land which he has cleared to his children, and it is possible that this is only the persistence of a custom which illustrates how the kavapeople attempted to bring about the individual ownership of land. We may suppose that, when the strangers found that any gardens given to them would revert to their wives’ people, they cleared fresh places for themselves in the hope of being able to transmit them to their children, but that in the next generation the influence of indigenous custom became too strong, and the old form of inheritance again obtained the upper hand.

If the ownership and transmission of individual pro¬ perty in Melanesia were derived from the kava-people, it is easy to see why communal ownership should show greater persistence in the case of land than of other forms of property. Land would have been especially associated with the dual people, and indigenous customs and ideas would tend naturally to be perpetuated in connection with it. Manufactured objects, and especially those made by the kava-people, on the other

1 M.} 63.

hand, would be more likely to be regarded as individual property and to be transmitted from individual to individual. If this be so, we are met by the difficulty that the canoe pro¬ vides one of the most definite cases of common ownership of property in Pentecost ; I have suggested also that certain features of ceremonial in the Banks Islands are survivals of common ownership of the canoe in those islands. I hope to show in Chapter xxxv that the form of canoe now used in this part of Melanesia may have come down from the dual people, and might therefore be expected to show signs of communistic ownership. Even, however, if it were introduced by the kava-people, it must be remembered that a canoe is used by a number of persons, and the account I have given in Chapter vi shows that its manufacture is a matter in which large bodies of men participate. In a few generations the canoe might well come to be regarded as a typical example of a common possession, even if at first the immigrants were able to treat it as individual property. The mode of manu¬ facture and use of the canoe might account for the victory of the indigenous concept of property, even if the canoe itself were derived from the immigrant culture.

The laws of inheritance connected with another object lend strong support to the view that the immigrants were individ¬ ualistic in their treatment of property. Its mode of use would lead us to expect that the gamal or club-house of the Sukwe would be regarded as common property, and yet the evidence is quite definite that it is usually, if not always, the property of an individual man, and passes on his death to another individual. According to the scheme of this book, however, the gamal is an institution due entirely to the kavapeople, and therefore one in connection with which we should expect to find immigrant ideas persisting. The individual ownership of the gamal points very decisively to the individ¬ ualism of the kava-people.

The study of communism in property and of the distribu¬ tion of money in Melanesia has thus brought out a number of facts which form a coherent whole in agreement with the scheme previously formulated. It confirms the view that the dual people of Melanesia were communistic and the change towards the institution of individual property the result of the influence of the kava-people. The facts of Polynesian culture fit in with this scheme if it be assumed that the earlier settlers in this

Origin of Individual Marriage 397

region were also communistic, the special conditions of the interaction between them and the kava-people not permitting so fully the change in the direction of individual property which was the result of the advent of the kava-people into Melanesia.

Sexual communism .

I am now in a position to return to the subject of sexual communism. The scheme of this volume has hitherto been based on the assumption that the dual people practised a form of sexual communism in which men of one moiety normally entered into sexual relations with a number of women of the other moiety. I have suggested in Chapter xxi that the first step towards individual marriage was taken when the old men succeeded in monopolising those young women of the community with whom the dual system made sexual relations possible. I have now to consider whether the change may not have been wholly or in the main due to immigrant influ¬ ence, and especially to that of the kava-people. I was attempting in Chapter xxi to trace the evolution of indi¬ vidual marriage out of communism among a homogeneous people, and the only motive I could then find was the desire of the old men for individual wives which they were able to satisfy through their dominant position in the community. It still remains possible that the first step towards individual marriage was taken by the old men, but it is more probable that the process whereby this institution came into existence was initiated by the immigrants and was the result of the social interaction between the dual people and themselves.

I may first consider how far the argument of the later chapters of this volume are in harmony with the view that the dual people practised sexual communism.

In dealing with the subject of marriage in Chapter xx it was found that, while the marriages which were assigned to the earlier stages of Melanesian history do not necessarily involve the definite recognition of the relationship between father and child and consequently of individual marriage, this necessity is clearly involved in the scheme of causation which I advanced for marriage with the cross-cousin and the brother’s daughter. The general result of the discussion of marriage in this chapter and in Chapter xxix is consistent

with the view that the dual people were communistic, and that the movement towards individual marriage was greatly assisted by, if it was not entirely due to, the influence of the kavapeople.

The discussion of the present chapter has tended to justify the ascription of communism in goods to the dual people, and the change in the direction of individual property to the kava-people. Since communism in property is probably closely related to sexual communism, this increases the pro¬ babilities in favour of those features of my general scheme which involve the sexual communism of the dual people.

I have now to consider a difficulty arising out of the nature of Polynesian culture of the same order as that with which I have already dealt in the case of communism in property. If the dual people practised sexual communism, and if the change in the direction of individual marriage took place largely under the influence of the kava-people, it will follow that the kava-people practised individual marriage. It is therefore somewhat disconcerting at first sight to find a large amount of sexual communism in Polynesia where the influence of the kava-people has been so great. Here, as in the case of communism in goods, the difficulty would be almost insuperable if Polynesian culture were simple, the result of the evolution of beliefs and practices brought with them by the kava-people. On this supposition we should have to suppose that, although the kava-people were largely responsible for the growth of individual marriage in Melanesia, they had them¬ selves such a tendency to sexual communism that, when isolated in the islands of Polynesia, this tendency obtained the upper hand. At one stage in the formulation of my argument, before I had recognised the complexity of Polynesian culture, I had to content myself with this explanation. If, however, Polynesian culture is complex, and if the kava-people were only later settlers among a population long established in the islands of the Pacific, the matter becomes far more natural. We have to suppose that, just as the individualistic kavapeople failed to influence the communism in property of the earlier population, so they failed greatly to affect their sexual communism. I have now to consider how far the facts of Polynesian culture fit in with this hypothesis.

The facts from the Hawaian Islands which I have given in Chapter xiv may seem to be against the hypothesis.

Polynesian Communism 399

There is evidence that individual marriage only existed among the chiefs of the Hawaian Islands as a temporary expedient, designed to produce a proper line of succession, and that when this object had been attained, the marriage came to an end, the parties to it entering without restriction into the general communistic practices of their class. I have given reason to suppose, on the other hand, that individual marriage existed among the commoners, although the nature of the system of relationship and the institution of punalua point to this individual marriage having been associated with a consider¬ able amount of communism.

In other parts of Polynesia, however, the evidence is more in accordance with my scheme. In the Society Islands, a chief had rarely more than one wife1 ; both among them and the higher members of the Ai'eoi society there appears to have been such decided jealousy2 as to show a definite, even if one-sided, strictness of the marriage tie.

Further, the licentiousness which probably stood in a definite relation to the communism of the people is said to have been more pronounced among the lower strata of the population3, who according to my scheme would be the descendants of the earlier inhabitants, than among the chiefs who would be the descendants of the kava-people.

There is one part of Polynesia where the communism and licentiousness appear to have been much less than elsewhere, viz. in the Samoan and Tongan Islands, and here we have reason to believe that the influence of the kava-people was much greater than in the more eastern islands. The strictness of individual marriage in Tikopia, which I have supposed so closely to represent the culture of the kava-people, also suggests that we must associate the kava-people with indi¬ vidual marriage rather than with sexual communism. In this connection, it may be noted that in the Tongan and Samoan Islands we have no evidence of interment in the sitting position which I suppose to have been associated originally with sexual communism, while according to the available evidence, this form of burial only shows itself in Tikopia by the bending of the legs of a corpse otherwise interred in the extended position. The distribution of pronounced communism in

1 Moerenhout, op. cit. II, 68.

2 Ibid. I, 498.

3 Cook, Captain Cook's Journal , London, 1893, pp. 91, 96 ; Wegener, op. cit . P- 77-

Melanesia thus shows some agreement with the distribution

o #

of the form of burial practised by the people who, according to my scheme, formed the communistic element of the popula¬ tion.

Adoption.

The position which has been reached in this chapter makes it possible to see in a somewhat different light the practice of adoption from which, in Chapter xxi, I drew one of my arguments for the former prevalence of sexual communism in Melanesia.

It has already been seen (n, 138) that the payments made on behalf of the child at different ages point to the custom being something more than a survival of community of children ; I have now to consider whether it is possible to frame a more complete mechanism of the process whereby the different customs connected with adoption have come into existence. I have already suggested (11, 137) that some of these customs may have been connected with the recognition of the relation between father and child. Since we have now seen that this recognition is largely to be ascribed to immigrant influence, it is necessary to consider whether the whole body of customs connected with adoption may not have been the results of the interaction between the dual and kavapeoples. I mentioned the possibility of external influence in Chapter xxi, though the influence I had then in mind was that of the Polynesians who are known to have settled in Melanesia, and especially in the Banks Islands, in relatively recent times.

Whether the dual people were or were not communistic, we can have little doubt that their matrilineal institutions would have led them to regard the children of their women as members of their own community, even when they had become the wives of strangers who had settled among them. The immigrants, on the other hand, would wish to keep their children in their own settlements, apart from the children of the indigenous women whom they had not married. There would thus arise a struggle between the immigrants and the earlier population for the possession of the children of the former. If we suppose that the rights of the indigenous people were satisfied by means of payments similar to those

Adoption 401

made for a wife, we have a motive which will go far to explain many of the features of the adoption of the Banks Islands. We should have a practice resembling that of peoples in other parts of the world where a man not only pays for his wife, but has also to pay his wife’s people for each of his children1. ’

It is an obstacle to the acceptance of this view that it is the real father who receives the payment at the present time. According to the scheme I have suggested, we should have expected the payment to go to the mother’s brother. We have to suppose that the payment to the father has come about through some later transference of functions from the mother s brother to the lather as part of the increasing recog¬ nition of the rights of the father over his child. &

There is one feature of the Mota custom which is in accordance with the view I have suggested. An important feature of the custom in this island is the position of the woman who helps at birth. It is the payment to her which determines the social parentage of the child. On the assump¬ tion that the kava-people were not accompanied by women of their own race, this helper must have been one of the dual people. Further, even if the strangers had some of their own women with them, it would only be natural that the indigenous wife would be allowed to have one of her own people^as her companion at such a time. In either case, power would be put into the hands of the dual people which would help them in their desire to keep the children of their women as part of their own body.

The payment to the woman who helps at the birth is a special feature of the custom in the island of Mota. In Motlav a rhan acquires a child by means of the first food given to it, while in Merlav adoption depends on the planting of a leaf of the cycas. Since the cycas is closely associated with the Taniate societies, it will be connected, according to the main argument of this volume, with the kava-people, and thus we have a further piece of evidence connecting the practice of adoption with the immigrants.

The mechanism I suggest has one feature which at first sight makes it seem unlikely to have been that by means of which the practice of adoption came into vogue in the Banks Islands. It involves the development of a practice which was

1 See Rep . Cambridge Exp. to Torres Straits , Vol. v, p. 232, for an example of this custom.

R. M. s. II.

originally one whereby a father obtained a right to his own chiTd into one whereby any man other than the father obtains such rights. We have to suppose that a custom, which came into being in order that strangers might obtain from the dual people rights over their own children, became transformed into a practice whereby anyone can obtain the rights of parentage. Such a transformation would seem impossible to a people among whom the institution of individual marriage had any firm roots, but in a state such as we must suppose to have followed the advent of the kava-people among a communistic people, there is no inherent difficulty in such a process.

According to my scheme, the dual people would have had only a feeble, if any, recognition of a right which seems so obvious to us, that of a father over his child. To them the claims of the immigrant fathers would have had no justification and might even have seemed wholly unintelligible and fantastic. If therefore the practice persisted to later generations and became habitual and familiar, there is nothing incongruous in a process whereby rights first claimed by immigrant fathers, and obtained by means of payments, should have come later to be claimed and obtained by anyone who desired to become the “ father” of a newly-born child. If the mechanism I have suggested for the development of the practice of adoption be accepted, it only takes us by another route back again to the

communism of the dual people.

I have now to consider how far it is possible to fit into this scheme the frequency of adoption in Polynesia. The general argument of this chapter makes it very improbable that adop¬ tion can be explained on the same lines as in Melanesia. If the kava-people acquired in Polynesia such powers as I have ascribed to them, they would have had no difficulty in obtaining rights over their own children. We know so little about the details of adoption in Polynesia that we have no materials for the formulation of a definite scheme, but a few facts suggest that the practice is to be connected with the earlier settlers in Polynesia rather than with the kava-people. The practice of adoption is almost completely absent in Tikopia which I have supposed to represent so closely the culture of the kava-people. Further, the belief in the virtue of royal blood which is shown by the marriage customs of the chiefs of the Hawaian Islands and other parts of Polynesia is inconsistent with the ascription of adoption to the kava-people.

Community of Children 403

It would seem probable that, where chiefs adopted their successors, this was due to the influence of the people among whom they settled. The adoption of Polynesia must, them be regarded as one of the concomitants or consequences of the sexual communism which, according to my scheme, was practised by the earlier stratum of the population of Poly¬ nesia, but we have no data which enable us to formulate the exact nature of the relation between the two practices. The study of adoption both in Melanesia and Polynesia is thus consistent with the position otherwise reached in this chapter that the communism of Oceania was a feature of the culture present in the islands before the arrival of the kava-people.

It seems, therefore, probable that the practice of adoption in Melanesia is due, though perhaps only in an indirect way, to the communism of the dual people, many of the special features of the practice having been due to the condition which arose out of the desire of the immigrant men to keep with them the children of the indigenous women they had married. If the practice of adoption is thus only an indirect consequence of the communism of the dual people, it becomes necessary to reconsider a conclusion reached in Chapter xxi. In that chapter I considered two possibilities ; one, that the communism of those I now call the dual people was ancient and existed before the dominance of the old men ; the other, that the communism was only the secondary consequence of this dominance, young men having been driven into com¬ munistic relations owing to the shortage of wives due to the monopoly of the young women by their elders.

One of my reasons for deciding in favour of the first alternative was the evidence for community of children, which would not be likely to come into existence if sexual communism arose as the result of the relatively unimportant marriages of the young men. If, however, adoption in the Banks Islands was largely subsequent to the influx of external influence, the evidence for a condition of community of children becomes less conclusive ; it again becomes an open question whether the sexual communism of Melanesia may not have been a secondary consequence of the dominance of the old men. The answer to this question depends on the solution of the more general problem concerned with the origin and nature of the dual organisation, and I shall return to the topic of communism when I come to deal with this subject.

CHAPTER XXXIII

RELIGION AND MAGIC

In this book I have dealt chiefly with social institutions in the narrow sense, especially with social structure ; the new facts bearing on religion and magic have been comparatively scanty, except in so far as the secret organisations of Melanesia are to be regarded as religious institutions. I propose there¬ fore to deal with the subjects of this chapter briefly, only con¬ sidering certain problems especially illustrated by the facts I have recorded.

In the descriptive portion of this book I have avoided the use of the term “religion,” and have only used magic as a convenient term wherewith to label certain actions which would undoubtedly be classed under this head by most students of anthropology. It is no longer possible to avoid the free use of these terms, and I must consider briefly the meaning which I give to them. It is customary to define religious and magical rites on the basis of the mental attitude of the agent who is performing them. Actions are ascribed to magic if they are believed to be in themselves sufficient to produce the desired effect, so that any element of appeal or supplication is absent from the mind of the agent. Religious actions, on the other hand, involve a definite appeal to a higher power. The obvious objection to this mode of dis¬ tinguishing religion from magic is that it depends on a factor, the mental attitude of the agent, of which we have, and can have, no direct knowledge; and further, it makes the definition of religion as a social phenomenon depend too closely upon the attitude of individuals. In consequence, some more objective way of defining the two kinds of action has been sought,

Definitions 405

especially in France by the school of Durkheim. To this school1, the distinction has seemed to lie in the degree in which a rite forms part of an obligatory cult, and in its nature as public and openly recognised in the case of religion, and as secret and more or less forbidden in the case of magic.

In spite of the obvious objection to the usual mode of definition, I propose to adopt it as the most convenient for my present purpose. When I speak of religious practices, I shall mean practices which are believed to bring human beings into relation with powers which they regard as higher than them¬ selves2. On the intellectual side, the belief in this relation shows itself in the presence of the elements of appeal and propitiation in the rites which are held to bring the people into relation with the higher powers, while on the affective side, it shows itself especially in awe, wonder and love which go far to make up the special group of emotions and senti¬ ments associated with religion. The special significance of the element of appeal which I hold to be characteristic of religion is that it implies a belief that the being to whom the appeal is made is able to withhold that for which he is asked.

No one who reads the accounts I have given of the rites of the Banks Islands and of Tikopia can fail to have been struck by the fundamental difference between the two. While the practices of the Banks Islands recorded in Chapter vi would by almost universal consent be regarded as magical, there can be none who will doubt the essentially religious character of the rites of Tikopia. In this island benefits are obtained both for the individual and the community, calamities are averted and injuries inflicted, by means of direct appeal to atua , beings who are believed to possess the power of con¬ ferring or withholding that for which appeal is made.

In the Banks Islands, on the other hand, we find compli¬ cated rites carried out in order to produce certain effects with no evidence whatever of any appeal to higher powers. I have

1 See Durkheim, LI Anne e sociologique, 1898, p. 1, and Hubert and Mauss, Ibid. 1904, p. 13, et seq. A more recent definition by Durkheim ( Les Formes elementaires de la Vie religieuse , Paris, 1912, p. 58, et seq.) lays especial stress on the collective nature of religion, but distinguishes it less definitely from magic.

2 I intend this to exclude the case in which there is a belief that non-human beings can be compelled to carry out the wishes of human beings, even though the beings so compelled may have attributes ordinarily regarded as divine. The fact that such compulsion can be exerted implies that in this special respect the beings are not “higher powers,” whatever they may be in other respects.

only been able to obtain one or two of the formulas of these rites ; if we had more of them, the evidence for an appeal to higher powers might become apparent, but in their absence we can only accept the belief of the people that certain men have the power of carrying out rites which inflict injury or confer benefits on their fellows.

In one respect, the rites of the Banks Islands do not con¬ form to a frequent definition of magic. It is clear that some kind of spiritual agency is concerned in these rites. Their efficacy depends upon the use of certain stones or other objects which are believed to possess mana (or power) for some special end, and this mana is definitely associated with a belief in the presence of a vui or spirit. The available evidence, however, seems to show that it is the mana due to the presence of the vui which produces the desired effect, and that the vui has no power to withhold this effect1.

It is certain that the actions I propose to regard as magical have been, and possibly are still, very prominent in the culture of the Banks Islands. At the present time the people have lost much of their belief in the peculiarly malignant magic of which I have given an example from Motlav (see i, 161), and it is probably now but rarely practised. This is due partly to the work of the Melanesian Mission, partly to the existence of the associations for protection against magic which form so special a feature of the culture of this region. Even in the Banks Islands, however, there is little doubt that the malig¬ nant magic is still practised, while in the Torres Islands, where the Melanesian Mission has made less progress and where it is probable that the protective associations do not exist or are less developed, malignant forms of magic are still so rampant that all go about in perpetual fear of disease or death as their result.

It seems quite certain that this whole class of action is unrepresented in Tikopia. The evidence of John Maresere is explicit on this point. He was in an especially favourable position to express an opinion, for he had lived both in the Banks Islands and Tikopia, and was himself a Polynesian. If the Tikopians had carried out such practices as those of the Banks Islands, it is impossible that they could have escaped

1 The most elaborate utterance which I record (i, 163) was given to me in English and I did not preserve the actual words used. It is possible that the Motlav words would show whether they carried a supplication or a command.

Magic and the Dual People

his notice. The magic of any community is a feature of culture about which it is most difficult for an outsider to obtain knowledge, but the fact of the existence of magic is always so patent that it cannot escape the notice of even the most casual observer. If magic such as is practised in the Banks Islands had been present in Tikopia, it is incredible that it could have escaped the attention of so excellent an observer as John Maresere during his long residence of twenty years.

In the Tikopians, then, we have an example of a people who possess religious institutions of a very definite kind, while magic is completely absent. It is part of my general scheme that Tikopia may be taken as an index of the culture of the kava-people. On this assumption it follows that among the kava-people religious institutions were in the ascendant and that, if they possessed magic at all, it was so compara¬ tively unimportant that the isolation of Tikopia has allowed it to become extinct.

This conclusion opens the way to a consideration of the part taken by the dual people and immigrants respectively in the production of the magical and religious institutions of Melanesia. If the kava-people were free from magic, it follows either that the magic of Melanesia was the possession of the indigenous population or that it arose through the interaction of immigrants and dual people. Of these alterna¬ tives there can be little hesitation in choosing the former, though it is probable that the great malignancy of the magic of southern Melanesia may have been a special development in this region, the magic of the earlier inhabitants being a weapon, and perhaps the only effectual weapon, which they could use against the gradually encroaching immigrant influ¬ ence. In this connection it may be noted that, though magic undoubtedly exists in the Solomons, it is less important and far less malignant there than in the Banks and Torres Islands, a fact which supports the hypothesis that it was an indigenous institution, for the dual people have certainly left far less definite traces of their presence in the Solomons than in southern Melanesia.

The conclusion to which I have thus been leading is that the coming of the kava-people into Melanesia was the occasion of a conflict between religion and magic ; that such rites as were practised by the immigrants had a religious character, while those of the dual people were mainly

4°8 Melanesian Society

magical. In the Solomons, where the influence of the im¬ migrants was predominant, the religious attitude obtained the upper hand, introducing a definitely religious element into rites which often have a more magical character, while the strictly magical practices are much less prominent in the general life of the people. In the Banks Islands, on the other hand, magic seems to have prevailed so far as the ordinary, daily life of the people is concerned. If there had been an open and equal struggle, perhaps here too religion would have won the day but, owing to the desire for secrecy on the part of the immigrants which, in its turn, I have sup¬ posed to be connected with their inferiority in numbers, the struggle was unequal. While the religious rites of the strangers were swallowed up in the ritual of the secret organi¬ sations, and thereby lost much of their religious character, magic as an effective agent influencing the every-day life of the people may have become stronger, reaching finally the great strength it has in the Torres Islands at the present time, and probably had not long ago in the Banks Islands.

In thus assigning religion to the kava-people and magic to the dual people, I only wish to indicate a broad contrast. It is possible that the kava-people brought with them to Melanesia practices which had a magical character, but that they fell into desuetude beside the more powerful local magic of the indigenous population. Still less do I wish to imply that the dual people had nothing which could be called religion. Just as I suppose that any magical practices which the strangers brought with them soon came to be of little importance beside the local rites, so does it seem probable that any religious practices of the dual people would have been profoundly modified by the incoming of the immigrants with their advanced religious beliefs and observances. It is possible even that the rites of the dual people involved appeal to higher powers, thus answering to my definition of religion, and that the character which now leads us to assign them to a different category has been the outcome of the interaction between the dual people and the immigrants.

Thus far I have spoken of magic as the dominant feature of the culture of that part of southern Melanesia with which I deal, and I have accounted for this by the relative pre¬ dominance of the indigenous element in the ordinary life of the people. I have now to consider how far the religious cult

Religious Nature of Tamate Rites 409

of the immigrants has persisted. I have to consider how far the people of the Banks and Torres Islands can be said to possess religious institutions in addition to the magic which is certainly so prominent in their lives. The consideration of this subject may be taken under two heads: I shall consider first how far the secret societies of this region are to be regarded as religious institutions, and secondly, what part religion plays in the life of the people apart from the Sickwe and Tamate societies.

The ghost societies .

If the argument of this book be accepted, it is clear that the Tamate societies of the Banks Islands and similar bodies elsewhere had at their inception a religious character. According to my scheme, they arose through the desire of the immigrants to carry out their rites in secret ; if I am justified in regarding Tikopia as, in the main, a persisting example of the kava-culture, it will follow that the rites thus carried out in secret had a definitely religious character. The question now to be considered is how far this religious character has been maintained.

I can, of course, only proceed on the basis of the avail¬ able evidence, but I may point out the probability that the Tamate societies possessed rites more esoteric and sacred than any of those about which I was told. A full record would perhaps show the societies to have, even at the present time, a far more truly religious character than would appear from the available evidence.

Among the practices connected with the Tamate societies there is one which elsewhere in Oceania has a definitely religious character, viz. the practice of taboo. The religious character of taboo in Polynesia generally, as well as in Tikopia, is evident. The same is true of the taboo of the Solomons ; when a man breaks a taboo in these islands — takes a coconut, for instance, protected by a taboo-sign — it is not necessary that the theft should be discovered by his fellow-men, who may remain in ignorance of the fault until the culprit falls ill or suffers some other infliction which is believed to be directly due to the action of a ghostly agency, the power of which is certainly regarded as higher than that of man.

Here the whole process seems to have a definitely religious character and one of a high order.

If now we turn to the soloi of the Tamate societies, we find that, if its infraction is not discovered by those whose pro¬ perty has been taken, no evil consequence follows. It is only when the commission of the fault has been discovered through human agency, or revealed by confession, that the breaking of the taboo has any consequences. Even when the occurrence of the fault is revealed by confession, this is not due to any superhuman intervention, but is simply the result of the fear inspired by the largeness of the penalty which may be imposed by the members of the injured society. The soloi of the Tamate societies, then, appears to possess a purely social or juridical nature, and to be wholly devoid of the religious character which the institution of taboo undoubtedly possesses in other parts of Melanesia. So far as taboo is concerned, we seem to have evidence that, in becoming part of the proceed¬ ings of the Tamate societies, a religious institution of the immigrants has wholly lost its religious character and has become purely juridical. If we limit the term “taboo” to a prohibition which has a magical or religious sanction, the soloi of the Banks Islands would not properly be included under the term, though its connection with a secret organisation gives it a special character which differentiates it from other forms ol social prohibition. According to my scheme, the soloi would be a modified or degenerate taboo.

So far I have had particularly in mind the way in which the soloi of one society is regarded by the members of other societies. To those who are not members of the Tamate societies, to women, children and uninitiated men, the soloi would share in the general sense of mystery which belongs to the societies as a whole. In them, the soloi would arouse emotions of awe and wonder ; though an offence against the prohibition in their case, as in that of initiated persons, is really punished by their fellow-men, the belief that it is inflicted by the ghosts of the dead brings the whole matter into the category of religion, for the ghosts of the dead with whom the sufferers believe themselves to be thus brought into relation are certainly regarded as powers higher than them¬ selves.

I suggest, then, that the question whether the soloi of the Tamate societies is or is not a religious institution would be

Communion with the Dead 4 1 1

answered in one way if the matter were looked at from the point of view of the members of the societies, and in another way if considered from the standpoint of the uninitiated. We have a good example of the peculiar difficulty which is introduced into the definition and classification of the subject if secret societies are the survivals of ancient cultures.

This difficulty provides a good example of the weak side of the definition of social institutions on the basis of psychology. If the decision whether certain actions are or are not to be regarded as religious is to depend on the mental attitude of those concerned, it will follow from the available evidence that in the Banks Islands an institution is religious to one section of the population and not religious to another.

I must be content now with drawing attention to this difficulty involved in the psychological mode of definition, and pass on to point out that conditions similar to those of the soloi are present in other features of the secret organisa¬ tions. On the definition I have chosen to adopt, the decision whether various features of the Tamate societies are or are not religious will turn on the presence or absence of a belief in the influence of the ghosts from which the societies take their name. To the uninitiated, the belief, not merely in the influence of the dead, but in their actual presence during the secret rites is, or has until lately been, very real, and in so far as the uninitiated are brought into relation with the societies, the ritual of the societies will possess a religious character. To all, whether they be members or not, who believe that the Tamate societies are associations for communion with the dead, the societies will possess a truly religious character.

Among the uninitiated the presence of the belief is clear ; the doubtful point is to what extent it is held by those who have become members. So far as the available evidence goes, it would appear that the chief fact revealed to the candidate at initiation is that the cry of the dead he has supposed to be mysterious and wonderful is no mystery at all, but is produced by simple mechanical means like any other sound ; if this be the whole truth, it would seem to follow that the religious aspect of the societies disappears at initiation. Up to the time when the secret is revealed to the initiate, everything has been directed to accentuate the sense of mystery which until this moment the candidate has shared with other un¬ initiated persons. On the available evidence it would seem

probable that the religious character of a Tamate society reaches its acme at the moment of initiation to decline thenceforward in strength and reality.

A few points may be noted, however, which seem to show that the religious character does not become wholly lost even to initiates ; thus, the fact that no Tamate hat or mask may touch the ground clearly points to an element of sanctity as pertaining to those objects, probably due to the fact that they are especially the emblems of the ghosts, com¬ munion with whom was originally the chief function of the societies. Many of the regulations of initiation may also be something more than mere ceremonial, and may preserve a meaning which even in the initiated arouses religious emotions. The various features of the ritual of initiation which I have regarded as symbolic of death depart so widely from an actual representation of death that they would probably have little tendency in themselves to arouse any special emotions, but I must again point out the possibility that there are other rites bringing members into relations with the dead more calculated to produce such an effect.

In so far as the ritual of the secret societies is believed to bring the members into relation with higher powers, it is certain that it is the ghosts of the dead who constitute these higher powers, though it is of course possible that there may be some more esoteric ritual in which beings of another and perhaps higher order are involved1. On the evidence as it stands, there does not appear to be any real belief in inter¬ course with the dead on the part of initiated persons, though the ritual shows clearly that such a belief once existed. If this be so, it would seem that just as the soloi is a degenerate taboo, so is the ritual as a whole a degenerate and mechanical performance of rites which were once believed to bring the participators into actual communion with the dead. In this case, however, it would be false to speak of a meaningless and merely mechanical ritual. In one sense the ritual of the secret societies still has a very definite significance. It is one of the means whereby there is kept up among the uninitiated a belief in the mysterious nature of the societies through which their

1 In the northern New Hebrides there would seem to be a belief in personal beings with individual names connected with the secret societies, but further know¬ ledge may show this to be the result of misunderstanding. Kwat, the mythical hero of the Banks Islands, was supposed to be a god by those who first visited these islands.

4i3

Religion in Daily Life

social power is maintained. We have not to do with the maintenance of a ritual through pure conservatism, but with the preservation of vast social powers which have been acquired by one organisation existing within another. This power was originally based on a belief which must be regarded as religious, and it is the fact that this belief persists among the uninitiated which furnishes a sufficient motive for the pre¬ servation of the ritual in spite of the apparent loss of the religious beliefs which were once possessed by those who practised this ritual.

I can now turn to the second branch of my inquiry and endeavour to ascertain how far religion can be said to play a part in the lives of the Banks and Torres Islanders apart from the secret organisations, and for this purpose I shall make use chiefly of the account given by Dr Codrington1.

The two practices which provide the clearest evidence for the existence of religion are prayers and offerings. If formulas are used which contain definite evidence of supplication to higher powers, and if offerings are made with formulas which express the idea of averting evil from, or bringing benefits to, the offerer through the action of some being who has the power of conferring or withholding that for which appeal is made, the religious nature of the practices will have been put beyond all doubt.

Prayer .

If we turn to Dr Codringtoffs account, we shall find that in the Banks Islands formulas called tataro are used which can definitely be regarded as prayers, and were regarded by the natives as of the same nature as the prayers of Christianity. An example of a tataro has been given (i, 85), and several others have been recorded by Dr Codrington 2. Their nature can leave no doubt that they are true prayers in which dead ancestors are asked for benefits. There is one indication, however, that their efficacy is dependent on their form, for Dr Codrington records3 that a man who calls on deceased friends when in danger at sea is only held to be using a tataro if he utters a certain form of words.

That the tataro are true prayers may be regarded as certain. The point of especial importance in relation to the scheme of

1 M.y pp. 128 — 149. 2 Af., 14 7- 15 Af., 146.

this book is that they are essentially formulas in which appeal is made to the ghosts of the dead, and not to the spirits called vui. There is no evidence that vui in general are addressed by means of formulas resembling the tataro. Even when a man has been making an offering in connection with a vui , he does not pray to the vui , but to the ghosts of his ancestors1. Though prayers are not offered to vui in general, there is one class of vui to whom forms of words resembling tataro are said, though these words, not being addressed to the dead, are not regarded as tataro. I refer to the vui with individual names, such as Kwat and Marawa, whose names take the place of the word tataro at the beginning of the formula2. These beings, however, clearly differ in nature from the vui associated with stones and other inanimate objects ; they will be dealt with in another part of this chapter.

There is thus definite evidence, not only for the existence of true prayer in the Banks Islands, but also that the prayers are addressed to the ghosts of the dead rather than to the vui or spirits which have never had human form. It may be noted that the word tataro is evidently the same as the ’ ataro or ’ adaro of San Cristoval which is the equivalent of the tindalo of other islands of the Solomons and of the tamate of the Banks Islands. We have, therefore, the remarkable fact that in the religious formulas of the Banks Islands the ghosts of the dead are addressed by a term different from that in ordinary use, though it is used in the more general sense in another part of Melanesia. I suggest, therefore, that the original word of the kava-people for the ghosts of the dead was some form of the word tataro 3, and that the words tamate , t ornate, atmat , etc., derivatives of mate, are terms for the ghosts of the dead which have come into use later.

Dr Codrington states4 that the word tataro is used in the northern New Hebrides for a form of words which produces its effect by power residing in the words themselves, and apparently through the action of spirits rather than of ghosts, while words addressed to a dead relative are not tataro. We can have little doubt that in this case the word tataro has been diverted from its original meaning, but the evidence is

1 M., 142.

2 M., 148.

3 Tindalo is another form of the same word, while the kalou of Fiji may be only an example of the interchange of t into k and r into /.

4 M., 148—9.

Offerings to Ghosts 4 1 5

too scanty to allow an opinion as to the exact nature of the formulas to which the term is now applied.

The evidence from the New Hebrides is thus indecisive, but so far as the Banks Islands are concerned, it is clear that prayer is definitely associated with ghosts and not with spirits.

Offerings .

I have now to consider the subject of offerings where we shall find less simple conditions. In southern Melanesia offerings are made in connection with both ghosts and spirits. The offerings to ghosts differ from those of the Solomons in that they have a less formal character, or perhaps more correctly, the offerings of the south resemble the less formal offerings of the Solomons. Throughout Melanesia it is customary to throw a small portion of food to the dead1 ; if, as I suppose, the cult of the dead is of immigrant origin, we should thus have evidence that this informal, and more or less domestic, religious practice of the immigrants has persisted wherever their influence has reached.

In addition to these habitual and domestic offerings, there are in the Solomons a number of occasions on which offerings are made to the dead on special occasions and with special rites. These more formal offerings to the dead appear to be un¬ represented in the Banks or New Hebrides except in so far as the offerings of kava made on important occasions are to be so regarded. Outside the secret organisations, then, it would seem that the offerings to the dead made in southern Melanesia are simple and informal. On my scheme, we have to suppose that the more formal offerings to the dead have been embodied in the ritual of the secret organisations, and that only the more domestic offerings of the immigrants have persisted in ordinary life.

So far, the facts are such as might have been expected according to the scheme of this book. It is when we consider the offerings made in connection with vui that we find condi¬ tions which it is less easy to fit in with this scheme.

In the Banks Islands the offerings to vui , as well as the act of offering, are called oloolo , but when used of the action, it is noteworthy that the word is associated with the man who

1 M., 128.

carries out the rite rather than with the vui in connection with which the offering is made. A man who wishes to obtain a benefit of a certain kind goes to one who is known to possess a stone or other object by means of which that benefit may be procured. He gives money or other offering, and in so doing, he is said to oloolo to the man. There does not seem to be the idea of offering to a non-human being which is clearly present in offerings to a ghost. Further, it does not appear that any definite formulas are used ; at any rate none have been recorded by Dr Codrington, and it is a fact of especial significance that, even when a man has been making an offering at a stone or other abiding place of a vui, he does not pray to the vui , but to the ghost of his predecessors in this particular mystery1.

In the northern New Hebrides offerings are made in connection with both ghosts and spirits. As in the Banks Islands, however, the offering in the latter case is not made to the vui , but to the man who owns the object or place connected with the vui. Further, it is significant that in the only two cases in which Dr Codrington gives formulas, the offering in one case was made to ghosts and in the other to a vui of the personal variety called Tagctro.

An important distinction between the formal offerings of northern and southern Melanesia is that in the former the offerings to the ghosts are burnt, a practice unknown in the south. I must be content here to point out this distinction ; I shall return to the meaning of burnt-offerings in a later chapter.

I have now given a body of evidence that, both in the Banks Islands and the New Hebrides, the beliefs which underlie the offerings in connection with spirits are of a different order from those implied in the prayers and offer¬ ings to the dead. The latter are clearly addressed or offered directly to the ghosts, but it would seem that offerings are not made to the vui in the same kind of sense, while there is no evidence of anything which can be called prayer in the cult of this class of being. The relations believed to exist between human beings and spirits are evidently of a different order from those believed to exist between human beings and ghosts. We have seen that the latter have a definitely religious character, but in the case of the vui, it is precisely the

1 M., 142.

Ghosts and Kava

4i7

evidence for this religious character which is lacking. The nature of the offerings in connection with a vui gives no indication of a belief that the offerer comes into relation with a higher power, or even of a belief that the man to whom the offering is made comes into such relation. The whole pro¬ ceeding appears to resemble that which is followed when a man pays the owner of a spell or other magical instrument. The offerings seem to be of a special kind, not easy to class with actions we know elsewhere. They do not fit readily into either the magical or religious categories, partaking in some degree of the nature of both. They suggest such a condition as we might expect to result from the blending of two kinds of belief belonging to two different cults.

Ghosts and spirits.

The different nature of the offerings made to ghosts and spirits in southern Melanesia suggests that they are two kinds of superhuman beings belonging to two different cultures ; I have now to consider how far it is possible to assign them to the peoples by whom I suppose the existing culture of southern Melanesia to have been formed.

It is evident that, according to my scheme, the ghosts, together with the prayers and offerings directed to them, must be assigned to the kava-people, and it may be noted that the prayers called tataro are closely connected with the use of kava. In the Banks Islands it is customary to utter tataro when drinking kava, while in the Torres Islands prayers are offered whenever kava is used, these being offered to the ghosts of the dead as in the Banks Islands. It is clear that the use of kava is even more intimately associated with the cult of ghosts than the association of the practice with the secret institutions would by itself indicate.

When we pass to the cult of vui or spirits, the matter becomes more difficult. If I am right in assigning the practice of magic to the dual people, the clear connection of the vui with magic suggests that these beings were also connected with the dual people, but the question would still remain whether the belief in these spirits was held by the dual people or whether it came into being as the result of their inter¬ action with the kava-people ; it is possible that the belief in vui might have arisen through an animistic interpretation by

R. m. s. II.

the kava-people of practices followed by the earlier inhabitants, which in the minds of the latter were not connected with a

belief in any spiritual agency.

The first point to notice is that there are two distinct classes of vuz ; those without personal names who seem to be concerned in magical and other rites, and vui with special names such as Kwat, Marawa and Tagaro. I shall consider the named vui later, and for the present shall deal only with the unnamed variety.

A striking feature of the unnamed vui is that they are definitely localised ; they are local spirits. Not only are they said to have definite haunts or abiding places in the Banks Islands, but the rites connected with them are performed in definite places. In the northern New Hebrides, also, the offerings connected with vui are not made to the vui them¬ selves, but to the man who owns the place connected with the vui. It would seem as if ownership of a locality carried with it ownership of the vui connected with the locality.

This local character of the vui is shown very clearly in the account of possession I have given in the first volume (p. 164). A man may be possessed either by a tamate or a vui, and especial stress was laid on the fact that, in the treat¬ ment of the condition produced by the action of a vuzy it is necessary for the gzsmaua to discover the place of the vuz. Moreover, when the vui has thus been localised, the gzsmaua cannot himself effect the cure, but has recourse to the assis¬ tance of another man who has special powers in connection with that vui, probably the owner of the place where the vui lives. There is no such need to discover the place of a tamate which has possessed a sick person. .

This condition is exactly in accordance with the view that the vui are local spirits belonging to the indigenous owners of the soil, while the gismana is a representative of an immigrant culture who can divine the cause of an illness, but is obliged to call in a representative of the indigenous culture if he should find that the mischief has been produced by a local spirit. The local character of the vui is thoroughly in ac¬ cordance with the idea that they are beings connected with the dual people which have continued to play an important part in magical and religious practices long after a new cult of ghosts had been introduced by an immigrant people. We seem to have here only a somewhat exceptional example of

Ghosts and Spirits 419

the world-wide persistence of the beliefs and practices of an ancient cult long after the introduction and acceptance of a new religion.

There is little doubt that the great prominence of spirits in the cults of southern Melanesia is due to the introduced cult of ghosts having been embedded in a secret ritual, so that it did not come into open conflict with the earlier ideas and practices. In most parts of the world, it is the later and introduced cults which are exercised openly so that they are obvious to all, while the ancient cults are practised secretly or unobtrusively, and are only to be discovered by careful investi¬ gation. It is thoroughly in accordance with my scheme of Melanesian history that in southern Melanesia it should be the cult of ghosts which requires looking for1, while the cult of spirits is the prominent and obvious feature of the magical and religious rites.

It is, however, part of my scheme that the rites which form the basis of the secret ritual of southern Melanesia are present in the open cult of the Solomons, and in accordance with this idea, we find that ghosts are prominent in the religious cere¬ monies of the Solomons, while the cult of spirits is far less obvious. The people of the Solomons believe both in ghosts and spirits, but it is to the ghosts especially that offerings are made and prayers are uttered.

The study of the magical and religious beliefs and practices of Melanesia thus leads us to the view that their two main groups have been derived from two peoples. Beliefs and practices of a purely religious character based on a belief in the influence and power of the dead must be ascribed to the kava-people, while a belief in spirits connected with certain localities, and concerned both with magic and religion, seems to have belonged to the earlier dual people.

I propose now to consider briefly how far the Polynesian evidence accords with the ascription of the two classes of belief and practice to different peoples. W e should expect to find the belief in ghosts connected with the kava-people, and the belief in spirits with the people who interred their dead in the sitting position. We shall not be able to go very far in this quest, for the simple reason that we know so little of the

1 The unobtrusive character of the cult of the dead in the Banks Islands has been well exemplified by Speiser ( Siidsee , Urwald, Kannibalen , p. 269). During a recent visit to these islands he failed to find any evidence of the cult which is yet so definitely present in the secret ritual.

27 — 2

details of the religious rites of Polynesia. If those who have had the opportunity had devoted to the study of ritual one hundredth part of the time and trouble they have spent in the collection of tales and legends, the case would have been very different.

In the earlier part of this chapter I have made much use of the fact that magic is absent from the culture of Tikopia, and I may first inquire, whether this absence of magic holds good of Polynesia in general. There is clear evidence that it does not. Magic closely comparable with that of the Banks Islands exists, though it probably took a relatively unimportant place in Polynesian culture. Thus, in Tahiti there were men called manatiaa who brought misfortune upon persons whose hair, saliva, clothes, etc., they had been able to obtain and submit to certain rites1, and similar magical rites have been recorded elsewhere in Polynesia2. It is part of my general scheme that Tikopia differs from other parts of Poly¬ nesia in the predominant share which the kava-people have taken in the production of its culture. It will therefore be , thoroughly in accordance with this scheme to suppose that the absence of magic in Tikopia and its presence in Tahiti point to the connection of magic with the earlier inhabitants who interred their dead in the sitting position.

I have now to inquire whether we can distinguish any sacred beings in Polynesia which can be regarded as the representatives of the ghosts and spirits of Melanesia. In spite of the great development which the ideas of the Poly¬ nesians on such matters have evidently undergone, I believe that this is still possible. In Tikopia it stands beyond all question (i, 315) that the ghosts of dead ancestors and relatives, as well as animals, are atua , and though the con¬ notation of the word seems to have become wider in other parts of Polynesia, there is little doubt that it still includes both the ancestors and the animals which, if I am right in my view of Oceanic totemism, are closely connected with dead ancestors3.

It remains to inquire whether Polynesia possesses any class of beings which can be regarded as the representatives of the vui of Melanesia. In the hierarchy of sacred beings in

1 Moerenhout, op. cit. I, 540.

2 Krusenstern, Voyage round the world , London, 1 B 1 3> P* 1 7 3 4 > Radiguet, Les derniers Sauvages , 1882, p. 240.

3 See Moerenhout, op. cit. 1, 444 and 454 ; Mariner, op. cit. 11, 106.

Personal Vui

Tahiti one class is formed by beings called tii. The tii were little respected, as shown by the fact that their images might be sold or broken, just as we might expect if they were the gods of an indigenous people who had been supplanted by introduced beings of a higher order. They seem to have had to some extent a local character, for one of their functions was to mark boundaries. Most important, however, from my present point of view is the fact that it was through the agency of the tu that the magical effects of the manatiaa were pro¬ duced1. The tii thus bear so close a resemblance to the vui of southern Melanesia that they probably formed an element in the culture of the people who interred their dead in the sitting position, and thus provide us with another instance of the part taken by this people in the dual culture.

The comparison of Melanesian beliefs and practices with those of Polynesia thus suggests that the ancestral ghosts belong to the culture of the kava-people, and that the local spirits are derived from the culture of the people who interred their dead in the sitting position, the dual people of Melanesia having derived the beliefs and practices associated with the vui from this people2.

I have now to return to the class of vui I have hitherto left on one side, those with special names such as Kwat and Marawa in the Banks Islands, and Tagaro and Subwe in the New Hebrides. The stories about the beings of the two groups of islands are evidently but different versions of one and the same narrative ; the brothers of Kwat in the Banks are called Tangaroa, a word which is evidently allied to the Tagaro of the New Hebrides. Further, the resemblance with names of legendary persons in Polynesia can leave no doubt that the Melanesian ideas have either been introduced from Polynesia, or have had a common origin in the two areas. In the latter case, the question arises whether they are to be ascribed to the kava-people or to the earlier settlers.

There is, so far as I know, nothing in the Polynesian evidence which allows us to make this ascription with any confidence. The fact, however, that these beings are classed with vui in Melanesia suggests that they belong to the earlier culture. It seems unlikely that the term vui would have been transferred from the spirits connected with stones and other

1 Moerenhout, 1, 458.

2 For further light on the nature of the vui , see II, 429.

inanimate objects to the definitely anthropomorphic Kwat and Tagaro. The question can only be settled by a thorough comparison of Melanesian and Polynesian mythologies in relation to the general culture of the two areas ; I must be content to suggest that the Melanesian terminology points to the connection of these beings with the people who interred their dead in the sitting position.

CHAPTER XXXIV

SUN AND MOON ; STONE-WORK; INCISION; TATTOOING

I propose in this chapter to deal with certain features of Oceanic culture about which I have myself recorded little new, but which are yet so important that it is impossible to pass over them in silence. I shall first consider the place occupied by cults of the sun and moon in the religion of Melanesia and Polynesia, and then show that the distribution of the cult of the sun stands in some relation to that of the ancient stone¬ work which is found in several parts of Oceania. I shall also consider in this chapter the subjects of incision and tattooing.

The Sun.

In the collection of facts recorded in the first volume of this book, there seems at first sight little to suggest that the sun takes any important place in the religion of Melanesia. Representations of the sun in stone are found in the New Hebrides1, but it is only the evidence of Moerenhout2 pointing to a cult of the sun having been the underlying motive of the celebrations of the Areoi societies of eastern Polynesia which has led me to see that there are features of the secret rites of Melanesia which can be referred to a similar motive. The legend of the origin of Tamate Liwoa (i, 107) has certain incidents which point strongly, if not decisively, to Wetmatliwo having been a personification of the sun. The great light which filled the house when Wetmatliwo was shown to his wife’s parents and his disappearance by sinking into the ground are just such features as we should expect if he were a representative of the sun.

1 See next section on the moon, p. 426.

2 Voyages aux lies du grand ocdan , Paris, 1837, 1, 503.

The ritual of the Tamate liwoa society includes only one feature which suggests any connection with the sun. The six stakes which a candidate has to clasp during his initiation are arranged from east to west1, a mode of orientation of which I have recorded only one other example2 in the ceremonial of the Banks Islands. This mode of arrangement suggests that the movement of the candidate towards the representation of his death, which I suppose to be the motive of the ritual, is in the direction of the sun’s movements. There are a few other fragments of our knowledge about the Tamate societies which suggest a connection with the sun. The conventional repre¬ sentation of Tamate liwoa is a figure with rays, and it may be noted that the conventional diamond-shaped demit , which is cicatrised on the bodies of men in Uripiv in the New Hebrides, is also surrounded by rays3. Further, the drawing of Tamate liwoa shown in PI. IX is accompanied by a number of representations of the sun, and the name of one of the higher ranks of the Sukwe, Wometeloa or Wemeteloa , means “the man in the sun.”

In the Matambala of the Solomons the connection with the sun is more definite ; images of the sun were kept in the vunutha or sacred houses of this society4.

According to Moerenhout the ritual of the Areois in the Marquesas had a seasonal character and celebrated the annual death and re-birth of the sun. In the Tamate societies of the Banks Islands, there is a belief in the birth and death of the tamate 5, but there is no evidence of any seasonal character. In the Solomons, however, this was present, for though the celebrations only occurred at intervals of several years, they took place at a definite season.

There are thus a number of features of the secret societies of Melanesia which suggest that the cult of the sun may have formed part of their ritual. If, as I suppose, the ritual of these societies represents the religious cult of the kava-people, it follows that the sun must have been an important object of this cult. I have supposed, however, that the cult which was embedded in the secret ritual of the Banks Islands became part of the open religious cult of other parts of

1 I, IOI. 2 1} J47>

3 Somerville, Journ. Anth. Inst. XXIII, 371.

4 Codrington, M ., 94 ; see also Ray, Zeitsch. f afrikan. u. ozean. Sftrachen , 1897, ill, 217.

5 1, in, 1 18.

Sun-cult and Ghost Societies 425

Melanesia; we should therefore expect to find the sun revered in the Solomons, and there is definite evidence of such reverence. In Guadalcanar, offerings are made to the sun in conjunction with the moon as part of the religious ceremonial of the people1, while the sun forms an important motive in the decorative art of the Buin district of Bougain¬ ville2. These instances are few in number, but they are suffi¬ cient to show the existence of the cult which I suppose else¬ where to have become part of the secret ritual3.

If a cult of the sun is thus to be assigned to the kavapeople, we should expect to find it prominent in the religion of Polynesia. We have at present, however, no evidence of its existence ; all I can now suggest, as an explanation of this absence, is that in Polynesia the sun has become a god whose original nature has been obscured by the acquisition of anthro¬ pomorphic characters.

The presence of a cult of the sun as an element in the ritual of the Tamate societies of the Banks Islands raises the question whether the cult belonged to the original migration of the kava-people which I suppose to have been responsible for the foundation of the societies, or whether it was an addition to the ritual of the societies which resulted directly or indirectly from a later migration. It may first be noted that it is only in connection with the Tamate liwoa of Mota that we have at present any evidence of a hidden cult of the sun, and that this society is believed to have come to this island from elsewhere. There is definite evidence in the formulas used during initia¬ tion (see 1, 102) that the society is connected with Ureparapara and the Torres Islands. It is therefore important that, little as we know about Ureparapara, there is evidence that its culture differs in several respects from that of the rest of the Banks Islands. In this island the dead are buried in the upright position, and this island and the adjacent islet of Rowa seem to have been especially the home of the malo-saru , and consequently of the loom. If tradition is right in assign¬ ing the Tamate liwoa to Ureparapara, it will become probable that the cult of the sun and the upright position after death,

1 1, 244.

2 Thurnwald, Forschungen auf d. Salomo-Inseln u. d. Bismarck- A rchiftel, Berlin, 1912, I, Tafel XII ; also Ethnopsychologische Studien an Siidseevolkern , Leipzig, 1913, Tafel XXI.

3 It may be noted that representations of the sun are used in the Banks Islands when sunshine is being produced by “magic” (see Codrington, Ytf., 184).

perhaps also the loom and its products, are due to some relatively late migration, possibly of the secondary order, which had a pronounced influence on the organisation founded long before by the original migration of the kava-people.

The Moon.

In several cases in which the sun is the object of ritual in Melanesia, it is closely associated with the moon. 1 hus, the moon is one of the objects images of which were kept in the sacred houses of the Matambala of Florida, and the moon is also associated with the sun as a tindalo in Guadalcanar.

In some parts of the New Hebrides, also, representations of the sun and moon have been found. Thus, in the small island of Mau, near Efate, Somerville1 was shown a large stone with representations of the sun and moon carved on it, and he also saw in Malikolo a demit stone on which were painted objects he supposed to be the crescent moon and a rainbow. In Anaiteum Inglis2 saw two large blocks of stone, the larger of which was called the sun and the other the moon. There is a belief in these islands that the moon is the wife of the sun3, and in Anaiteum the moon is honoured by songs,

dances, and offerings of food4.

This association of the moon with the sun would suggest that both are to be assigned to one people, viz. those who introduced the use of kava. The connection of the moon with the kava-people is supported by the character of the cult which I have recorded from Vanikolo. The moon, which is believed to be the creator of the Vanikolans and their world, is promi¬ nent in a rite of which the skulls of the dead and kava form other elements (see 1, 226).

One point, however, raises doubts. I was told of the Vanikolo rites by a native of the Banks Islands, who was also well acquainted with the Torres Islands, and he was quite confident that in neither group of islands was there anything like the practices of Vanikolo. This might suggest that some influence has come into Vanikolo, and also into the southern New Hebrides, which has not reached other parts of

1 Journ. Anth . Inst. 1894, xxm, 9 and 11.

2 In the New Hebrides , 1887, p. 30.

3 Lawrie, Rep. Austral. Ass. 1892, iv, p. 712; see also D. Macdonald, Oceania > 1889, p. 173.

4 Lawrie, loc. cit.

Stone-work in Melanesia

Melanesia. Since, however, the cult of the moon should, if it belonged to the culture of the kava-people, have become part of the secret ritual, the absence is not surprising ; it is possible that further knowledge will show the presence of features derived from a cult of the moon in the ritual of Melanesian “ ghost ” societies.

Stone-work.

In many parts of Oceania structures and images of stone are to be found, the manufacture of which seems quite beyond the present powers and implements of the people, and in most cases the present inhabitants do not know when and by whom these objects were made. If it is possible to bring these struc¬ tures into relation with other features of Oceanic culture to which an immigrant origin has been assigned, we shall have taken a definite step towards the solution of one of the most difficult and mysterious problems of Oceanic ethnology.

I will begin by describing the distribution and nature of stone-work in Melanesia. The island in which it is most abundant, according to our present knowledge, is Santa Maria in the Banks Islands. Dr Codrington has described and illustrated1 stone-buildings in this island, including a miniature trilithon, and the gamal shown in PI. Ill, Fig. 1 is decorated with figures in human form worked in stone. Recently, Freeth2 and Speiser3 have shown that structures of worked stones are even more abundant in Santa Maria than has been hitherto supposed. The island is covered with stone-walls to such an extent that altogether they must be several hun¬ dred kilometres in length ; they are as high as a man, partly built of great blocks of basalt and must have cost an immense amount of labour to construct. Both Freeth and Speiser note the presence in many of the basalt blocks of round or oval hollows, sometimes as large as a wash-basin, evidently arte¬ facts which can only have been made by a gigantic amount of labour, or perhaps more probably, by very prolonged use of some kind. Freeth also records the occurrence in Santa Maria of mounds of earth as high as a man’s shoulder.

The stone-work in the Banks Islands is not limited to Santa Maria. I saw a block of worked stone in Mota which

1 M., 302 and frontispiece.

2 Southern Cross Log, 1913, xix, 12.

3 Siidsee , Urwald, Kannibalen , Leipzig, 1913, p. 269.

was said to have come from an ancient gam at (1, 22), and there are also examples of worked stone in Loh in the Torres Islands.

The recent work of Speiser shows that similar stone-work exists in the northern New Hebrides. In the island of Malo, to the south of Santo, there are walls and high platforms of stone, sometimes very finely worked, closely resembling those of Santa Maria1. In other islands Speiser found stone struc¬ tures which had a definite function in relation with the dead. Thus, in Ambrym the skulls of the dead are placed on stone tables2. In Vao, a little island north-east of Malikolo, Speiser saw a stone “ altar ” in a hut devoted to the ancestor-cult, under which he supposed the head of an ancestor to be buried3. Again, he illustrates a table for offerings from south Malikolo which has a striking resemblance to a dolmen4, and in Aurora he saw stone-rings which were said to mark the graves of chiefs, together with stone monoliths as high as a man5.

In the Solomons we know of stone- work only in the island of Ysabel, where it takes the form of stone forts said to have been erected as a defence against head-hunters6.

Dr Codrington states that the stone-work described by him was recent, having been made by a man who had not long been dead, and the stone structures of Loh are also said to be recent, but there can be no doubt that the greater part of the stone-work of this part of Melanesia is very ancient. This is certainly so in the case of the stone-walls and earthmounds of Santa Maria which are ascribed to the labours of a people called Mala-vui or Mala-tuniun who are said to have had no houses, to have slept in the bush like animals, and to have had little or no sense. They are said to have built the walls, heaped up the mounds and made the hollows in the stones at the bidding of the few “normal human beings” who then existed.

The use of some of the stone-work as part of club-houses in the Banks Islands, and the evident connection of the stone¬ work of the northern New Hebrides with the cult of the dead suggests that it is to be ascribed to the kava-people, either to the main body of this people, or to a special migration which may have brought the cult of the sun. It will be noted

1 Op. cit. p. 210. 2 Op. cit. p. 207.

3 Op. cit. p. 71.

4 Op. cit. opp. p. 208 ; see also Somerville, op. cit. p. 11.

5 Op. cit. p. 100. 6 Codrington, M., 302.

Immigrants and Stone-work 429

that the distribution of the stone-work is just as it should be if it were made by those who founded the secret organisa¬ tions. Not only are the Banks, Torres and northern New Hebrides the special home of secret societies in Melanesia, but there is a tradition that the Matambata of Florida came from Ysabel, where stone- work is also found.

The tradition concerning the stone-walls and earth-mounds of Santa Maria is just such as we might expect to find if these objects were made by an indigenous people at the bidding and under the direction of a few immigrants, such as the kavapeople, who regarded themselves as normal human beings and the natives as hardly human. It is of especial in¬ terest that the indigenous people should have been called Mala-vui , for this is thoroughly in agreement with my ascription of vuz to the dual people (see 11, 419). It suggests that the dual people themselves may have been regarded as vuiy and it becomes possible that the non-human ^character now ascribed to the vui may be only the outcome of the belief of the kava-people that the indigenous inhabitants were hardly human. The Santa Maria tradition suggests that the vui are the ghosts of the dual people.

If the forts of Ysabel were constructed as a defence against head-hunters, they must be much later than the advent of the kava-people, but we can ascribe the use of stone-work as a means of defence to ideas introduced by the kava-people. Similarly, it is probable that the recent examples of stone¬ work in the Banks and Torres Islands are due to the tradition or actual presence of such work in the places where the recent examples have been executed.

In Polynesia and Micronesia, also, there is a correspondence in the distribution of stone monuments and of secret societies1, and one feature of this correspondence stands in an especially close relation to the scheme of this book. There is reason to believe that the marae of the Society Islands and the Marquesas were associated with the cult of the sun which I suppose to be embodied in the rites of the Areois . This view is supported by the orientation of the enclosure of the marae in the only case where this has been recorded. Captain Cook states- that the enclosure of the marae of Oamo in Tahiti was to the east of the pyramidal platform, which implies

1 1 sha11 consider this subject fully in a paper to be published shortly.

Captain Cook’s Journal , London, 1893, p. 83.

that the pyramid was at the western end, and that the whole structure was oriented in an east-west direction. It is there¬ fore a striking fact that the nanga of Fiji should not only have been compared to a marae by more than one of those who have described it, but the orientation of its length was from east to west, while structures in the form of truncated pyramids were placed at the eastern ends of two of the enclosures of which the nanga was composed1.

In spite of the pyramids being at the east end in one case and at the west end in the other, the resemblance between the two kinds of building, each connected with a secret organisa¬ tion, is so close as to leave little doubt about their common origin. It seems most unlikely that the Nanga of Fiji can have been due to any direct Polynesian influence. Tradition points clearly to introduction from the west rather than from the east, and ascribes this introduction to small dark men who certainly cannot have been Polynesians. If native traditions have any value at all, the introduction of the Nanga into Fiji is certainly to be ascribed to influence from some other part of Melanesia. Further, it is not among the Tongans or other near neighbours of the Fijians that we meet with the structures most nearly allied to the nanga , but in the remote islands of the eastern Pacific. These facts make the resemblance between the nanga and the Polynesian marae all the more remarkable. They show that the resemblance between the structures of Tahiti and Fiji is not the result of recent movements from Polynesia to Melanesia, but is due to an element common to the two cultures which has its roots in a very remote past. It is probable that further research will bring to light other examples of stone structures related to the nanga and marae , but at present it would seem as if we have in Fiji and Tahiti two isolated remnants of a mode of archi¬ tecture associated with sacred rites which belonged to an immigrant people. We have no evidence whatever that the Fijian secret cult was connected with the sun, but if the nanga of Fiji is the representative of the marae of Tahiti, and if the latter is connected with a cult of the sun, it will become probable that a cult of the sun formed at least one of the motives of the secret mysteries of the Fijian organisation.

The most conspicuous examples of megalithic archi¬ tecture in Oceania are the trilithons of Tonga, and we have 1 See especially Joske, Int. Arch.f. Ethnog. 1889, 11, p. 257.

Megaliths and the Kava-people 431

at present no evidence of a cult of the sun in these islands. If, however, we take the further step which the scheme of this book allows and assign the stone-work of Oceania to the kava-people, it becomes perfectly natural that such work should be found in its most complete form in the Tongan Islands which I suppose to have been especially influenced by the kava-people. The island of Tongatabu where the trilithons are found was probably the main seat of the activity of this people.

The trilithons of Tongatabu have features which support their ascription to the kava-people. On the top of the trilithon near Nukualofa is a stone bowl which Brenchley1 supposed to be a kava-bowl. On the top of the trilithon at Haamonga there is a cavity which was likened to a small kava-bowl, and de Quatrefages2 has suggested that this may have served to receive a large bowl such as is situated on the trilithon of Nukualofa. If the suppositions of Brenchley and de Quatre¬ fages are correct, we should have striking confirmation of the ascription of the monuments to the kava-people.

In spite of the support which would thus be given to my present scheme, I cannot forbear from suggesting, as an alternative hypothesis, that the bowl or bowls may have been destined to receive the skull and other bones of the dead, so often preserved in . Polynesia. This practice, however, has not been recorded in Tonga and appears to be incompatible with the mode of sepulture.

The idea that the bowls represent those used for kava is therefore the more probable. Even, however, if they should have been used to hold the bones of the dead, we should only be brought back again by another route to the kava-people as the builders of the monuments for, according to my scheme, it is to this people that we must ascribe the preservation of the dead and of their bones.

I can now return to a problem which was left in a some¬ what indeterminate position in Chapter XXVII. The presence of interment in the extended position in the Tongan and Samoan Islands raised a problem which led me to suggest that it may have been the practice, not of the kava-people as a whole, but of a special group of this people who combined the practice of interment with that of preservation of the

1 Cruise of the ‘ Curaqoa ,’ London, 1873, p. 132.

2 Rev. cV Ethnog. 1883, 11, 101.

dead. This mode of interment in the case of chiefs has the special feature, unknown elsewhere in Oceania, that the bodies of the dead are placed in vaults constructed of large stones. The combination of this mode of interment with the presence of such typical examples of megalithic monuments as those of Tonga supports the idea of a special migration.

I must be content here to state this possibility. If it is accepted that the megalithic monuments, the A.reoi societies of Polynesia and the Tamate hwoa were built or founded by a special migration of the kava-people, some modification will be necessary in my general scheme of the origin of the secret organisations of Melanesia. I do not propose, however, to consider this matter in detail, but to await further evidence which may enable us to decide whether the cult of the sun and the knowledge of working stone, so as to form such megalithic monuments as those of Tonga, were the possession of the kava-people in general or only of one migration of

this people.

Incision and circumcision.

In the part of Melanesia where I worked the practice of incision only exists in the northern New Hebrides and Fiji. According to Moseley1, incision is also practised in the Santa Cruz Islands, but Mr J. W. Blencowe tells me that he has never heard of it in that region, and it may be that a man seen by Moseley had been operated on elsewhere. According to Dr Codrington2 the incision of the northern New Hebrides has come from the south where it is universal, and is combined with the form of dress characteristic of that region (see n, 442). There seems to be a close association here between the practice of incision and a mode of dress which hides the part of the body which has been exposed by the operation, and there is definite evidence that the dread of such exposure is connected with the belief in the magic called narak .

A similar condition is found in Polynesia ; incision is there very general, and has probably once been practised even where it is no longer the custom4. In some parts of Poly¬ nesia, the practice of incision is combined with just such

1 Journ. Anth. Inst. 1877, VI, 398.

2 M., 234.

3 Somerville, Journ. Anth . Inst. 1894? xxm, 36°*

4 See Festskrift t. Edvard Westermarck , 1912, p. 125.

Incision in Polynesia 433

a dread as exists in Melanesia. In the Marquesas and the Gambier Islands incision is either combined with, or practised side by side with, the custom of securing the prepuce with a ligature so as to hide the glans1, and it is evident that this practice is definitely associated with a dread of this part of the body being seen by others2. Though the covering is less ample than in the New Hebrides, we seem to have here just the same combination of an operation designed to expose a part of the body and a dread of its actual exposure.

Whenever we find contradictory beliefs and practices in human culture, we should first consider whether they may not be due to the fusion of two elements. If an immigrant people introduce a practice which is in conflict with indigenous ideas, or if the immigrants find an indigenous practice which con¬ flicts with their own ideas, we have the materials for just such a contradiction as is presented by the Melanesian and Poly¬ nesian practices. Since, according to the scheme of this volume, the population of Polynesia consists of only two elements, we have here a simple field wherein to study how the practice may have arisen out of the interaction between two peoples. I have to inquire whether it is possible to formulate a scheme whereby the contradictory practices of Polynesia can be assigned to the two peoples I suppose to have formed its population.

The first point to note is that incision in Polynesia is not especially associated with the chiefs, but is practised by all elements of the population. It has little if any sanctity ; it is performed by ordinary men and not by priests3 4.

These facts suggest that the practice is to be assigned to the earlier stratum of the population of Polynesia and not to the kava-people ; it is strongly in favour of this view that in Tonga the only man who was not incised was the tmtongax who is almost certainly the chief representative of the culture introduced by the kava-people. I propose,

1 See Langsdorff, Voyages and Travels , 1813, I, 158; Krusenstern, Voyage round the World , 1813, I, 156; Beechey, Narrative of a Voyage to the Pacific ,

1 83 1 , 1, 149 ; Friederici, Mitt. d. Verein f Erdkunde , Leipzig, 1911, p. 150.

2 See especially Lisiansky, Voyage round the World, , London, 1814, 86.

3 See Clavel, Les Marquisiens , 1885, p. 35. In Tahiti the evidence is con¬ flicting. Hawkesworth ( Voyages , London, 1773, 11, 241) states that the operation is only performed by priests, but Moerenhout (of. cit. 1, 338) says that it is done by common men, and Wilson (Missionary Voyage, London, 1799, P- 355) by those whose business it is to tattoo, who do not appear to be the priests.

4 Mariner’s Tonga , 1817, 11, 84.

R. M. s. 11.

therefore, to assume that incision was practised by the people who interred their dead in the sitting position. If one of the two contradictory practices of Polynesia is thus to be assigned to the earlier stratum of the population, it follows that the other, viz., the objection to expose the glans, must have been part of the mental equipment of the kava-people.

I have now to inquire whether it is possible to formulate a mechanism whereby the conflicting practices and ideas of the two peoples can have produced the condition now found in Polynesia.

It might seem at first sight that such a dread as 1 have ascribed to the kava-people would be wholly incompatible with the existence of incision in Polynesia. If the kavapeople exerted the influence in Polynesia which my scheme implies, it may seem incredible that they should have adopted an indigenous practice which was directly in conflict with their ideas. It will be necessary to find a very potent motive which would have induced immigrants, who became chiefs and obtained almost unlimited powers, to submit to such an operation.

The clue to the explanation of this, as of so many other features of Oceanic culture, is to be found in that part of my scheme according to which the kava-people were accompanied by few or none of their women, so that they were driven to take their wives from the earlier population of the places where they settled. One feature of the practice of incision in Polynesia is the strong objection of the women to marry, or have sexual relations with, a man who has not submitted to the customary operation1. We have only to suppose that this idea prevailed among the earlier inhabitants of Polynesia to have the explanation of the submission of the kava-people to the operation. The practice would have been adopted by the kava-people, and have persisted among their descendants, because it touched a department of life in which women have the deciding voice, perhaps even more decisive in Polynesia than in many other parts of the world.

Further, it becomes natural that the new settlers should have done their best to neutralise the result of the opera¬ tion by taking measures to hide in public the part of the body which the operation had exposed. The objection of the

1 Clavel, Les Marquisiens, Paris, 1885, p. 35 ; Wyatt Gill, Rep. Austral. Ass. 1890, 11, 327.

Incision in Melanesia 435

indigenous women to marry the strangers unless they submitted to the operation customary among themselves not only explains the adoption of the practice by the kava-people and their descendants, but it also explains the contradictory Polynesian practice of combining the operation with ligature of the prepuce or other measures designed to hide the part exposed by the operation.

The nature of incision in Polynesia thus suggests the ascription of the practice to the people who interred their dead in the sitting position, while the dread of exposure of the glans is to be ascribed to the kava-people. If now we turn to Melanesia, we find much which agrees with this view. If incision had been a practice of the kavapeople, we should have expected to find it part of the ritual of the Sukwe and “ghost” societies. According to Lamb1, the first step in joining the organisation in Ambrym which seems to correspond to the Sukzve is “circumcision” ; boys in Malikolo are secluded in the amil for ten days after the operation2, and circumcision was a feature of the rites of the Fijian Nanga. These are the only cases in which we know of any association between the operation and the men’s organisations in the part of Melanesia with which I am now concerned. If the practice had formed part of the culture of the kava-people, we should also expect to have found it in the Solomons and especially in the matrilineal region, but it is completely absent. Since the people who interred their dead in the sitting position must have been present in these islands, we have to suppose that the operation was once practised, but disappeared under immigrant influence.

The incision of southern Melanesia has one feature which supports its ascription to the earlier inhabitants. The dread of exposure of the glans is clearly connected with the fear of narak or magic. Since, according to my scheme, magic is to be ascribed to the earlier population, it would seem to follow that it was dread of the indigenous people which led to the covering of the part exposed by the operation. In this factor we have the probable motive for the process by which the measures taken to hide the glans have developed into the very elaborate covering which often forms the whole dress of the men in these islands.

1 Saints and Savages , London, 1905, p. 127.

2 Watt Leggatt, Rep. Austral. Ass. 1892, p. 704.

28 — 2

For the sake of simplicity I have so far spoken of incision as the practice of the earlier population of Polynesia and Melanesia, thus putting aside a problem I have now to consider, viz. that of the relation between incision and cir¬ cumcision proper. There seems to be no doubt that true circumcision was practised in the Nang a rites of Fiji1, and, as we shall see later, circumcision exists elsewhere in Melanesia;

I have now to consider whether the scheme I have just put forward helps us to understand the relation between the two operations. I suggest that the practice of incision arose in Oceania as a modification of circumcision. If the earlier inhabitants of Melanesia and Polynesia practised true circum¬ cision, and if the kava-people only submitted to the operation unwillingly in response to the importunity of the indigenous women whom they took as wives, it becomes possible that they may have been able to modify the operation. Incision would thus be a half-measure designed to satisfy the scruples and desires of the indigenous women, without conflicting too deeply with the feelings of those who submitted to the opera¬ tion. It is in accordance with this idea that the practice of some islands of the New Hebrides should be intermediate between circumcision and simple incision, the prepuce being not merely slit, but cut round for a certain way so as to form an appendage on either side after healing has taken place.

The scheme I propose not only explains how and why the practice was adopted by the kava-people and was combined with measures which seem to contradict its purpose, but it also provides a possible mechanism for the origin of incision as a modification of an earlier practice of circumcision. The nature of the operation of incision, its distribution in Polynesia and Melanesia, and its association with measures designed to hide the part exposed by the operation, all become intelligible if incision arose out of an indigenous practice of circumcision through a process of conflict between the ideas of the immigrants and those of the indigenous women whom they married.

Tattooing .

This practice exists both in Polynesia and in the part of Melanesia with which I deal, but with a striking difference in the two areas. In Polynesia tattooing is more especially 1 See especially Fison ,Journ. Anth. Inst. 1885, xiv, 28.

Tattooing

<3

connected with the male sex. Women are tattooed, but the tattooing is less extensive and elaborate than in the case of men. In Melanesia, on the other hand, it is women who are the more frequently tattooed. In some places, as in Fiji, there are myths to account for the difference. It is said that a party of Fijians learnt the custom in Samoa, where men are especially tattooed. On the way home, they repeated con¬ stantly, ‘‘men, yes; women, no,” but an accident on landing made them reverse the parts of the sentence with the result that women were tattooed instead of men. This is probably only a myth to account for a difference which must have some more deeply seated social causes. A theory of Oceanic tattooing must provide a more satisfactory explanation of the difference.

I will begin by considering whether we have evidence which allows us to assign the practice to any one of the elements of which I suppose Oceanic culture to be composed. Its high development in Polynesia suggests its ascription to one of the two chief elements of this people, and the fact that tattooing was so prominent a feature of the Areoi societies of Tahiti points to its association with the kavapeople. On the other hand, the tuitonga who would seem to be the special representative of the kava-people in the Tongan Islands was not tattooed1. This is explained by the people as the result of an objection to do anything to so exalted a person which would be painful, but it is probable that this exception to the general Polynesian rule has a deeper meaning2. The facts from Polynesia being thus incon¬ clusive, I turn to Melanesia where we should expect to find tattooing in the ritual of the Sukwe if it were part of the kava-culture.

Tattooing is practised in the Banks Islands, but only by women, so that we are here brought up against the difference which separates Polynesia so sharply from Melanesia. If the custom is to be ascribed to the kava-people, it will be

1 Mariner’s Tonga, 1817, 11, 84 and 281.

2 Mr R. W. Williamson has called my attention to the exemption of the tuitonga from the practice of drawing blood which formed one of the marks of mourning (see Captain Cook’s Voyages , 1813, vol. V, p. 406; also pp. 345 and 351). This suggests that the exemption from incision and tattooing may also have been due to the objection to the effusion of blood which attends these operations. If so, the objection would provide an alternative explanation of exemptions which I have supposed to be connected with the absence of the customs in question from the culture of the kava-people.

necessary to discover some motive which led to the limitation of the practice to women in Melanesia and to its especial development among- men in Polynesia. If, on the other hand, we ascribe tattooing to the earlier inhabitants of Oceania, the Melanesian conditions become explicable. We may suppose that, before the arrival of the kava-people, the custom was in vogue among both men and women, but went out of fashion among the men after the arrival of the immigrants. On this alternative, the custom would have been adopted by the kavapeople in Polynesia and have become an essential part of an organisation founded by them.

There is one aspect of the practice which is in favour of the second alternative. Tattooing is a custom which seems to appeal very strongly to the aesthetic appreciation of many peoples. We have only to look at ourselves to see how readily it is adopted by those whose occupation takes them to countries where it is practised. It is just such a feature of culture as is especially likely to be adopted by an immigrant people. It may therefore be a feature of early Oceanic culture which was adopted by the kava-people in Polynesia, and through its adoption by them, came to be regarded as essentially an adornment of the male sex, while in Melanesia it was not adopted by the kava-people, and con¬ sequently became unfashionable for men, but persisted here and there in the case of women.

The readiness with which the custom of tattooing is adopted, however, suggests a third alternative. It may be an element of culture which has reached Oceania through some influence which has had few, if any, other effects in the parts of Melanesia and Polynesia with which I am especially concerned in this book. It is possible that it may have passed from island to island during transient visits, as in the manner indicated by the Fijian tradition, and may indicate no important movement of people or of culture. On this suppo¬ sition, it would become probable that tradition is right in assigning the origin of the practice in Fiji to relatively recent intercourse with Polynesia, and its presence in other parts of Melanesia would probably have had a similar cause. Unless we accept the Fijian tradition in all its details, however, we should still have to face the difficulty raised by the limitation of the practice to women.

CHAPTER XXXV

MATERIAL CULTURE

It will only be possible to deal very briefly in this chapter with the material culture of Melanesia. In most parts of this area the opportunity for any exact study of its arts and crafts has already passed. The processes of manufacture and the rites by which they were accompanied have largely dis¬ appeared, and our knowledge of the material culture has to be derived from the products of this manufacture collected in the museums of Europe and America.

This vast collection of objects will have to be brought into relation with other aspects of Melanesian culture before it will be possible to assign them with any certainty to the various peoples by whom this culture has been built up. I propose in this chapter to deal only with such objects as it is now possible to bring into relation with the social and religious institutions which form the especial subject of this book. If it is possible to show how the variety and distribution of certain elements of the material culture may be fitted in with my scheme of Melanesian history, we shall be provided with examples of the method by which material objects may be made available in the future as an instrument for the ethnological analysis of culture.

One or two general problems may first be considered. In the case of other aspects of culture, it has been found that many customs and institutions, as they now exist, cannot be ascribed directly to one or other of the peoples who have blended in Melanesia, but have arisen out of the interaction between them. This possibility will have to be borne in mind in the subject with which I am now about to deal. It is probable that few wholly new elements of the material culture have arisen out of such interaction, but the nature of this interaction must have

determined whether an element of an introduced culture was to succeed in implanting itself in a new home, whether it was to disappear, or whether it was to continue in use with some modification of structure or function. Similarly, the nature of this interaction will have determined the survival, modifica¬ tion or disappearance of objects of the indigenous culture.

One of the most striking features of social and religious institutions is their tendency to persist, but in altered form. A leading characteristic of the aspects of human culture which form the special subject of this book is their extraordinary plasticity. Indigenous elements of culture and practices introduced by immigrant peoples have persisted in a re¬ markable way, though often with modifications which would make their recognition almost impossible if it were not for the intermediate links which have been preserved in the wonder¬ ful variety of Oceanic culture. Occasionally, as in the case of circumcision, a rite once practised seems to have wholly disappeared, but as a rule it is persistence rather than loss which is characteristic of the social and religious aspects of human culture.

Material culture is far less plastic. An indigenous weapon or utensil found to be less formidable or less useful than one introduced by an immigrant people will not as a rule be greatly modified, but will be displaced entirely by the superior object. Similarly, an introduced object unsuited to a new environment will as a rule be found incapable of much modification and will disappear. Such an object, whether indigenous or introduced, may continue to be used in sport or may become the object of religious rites, and by such survival in sport or ceremony material objects may be of the utmost value in the analysis of culture ; but with this excep¬ tion a material object tends either to persist with little change from its original form or to disappear ; it does not undergo the exceedingly various modifications to which the less ma¬ terial elements of human culture are subject.

One kind of persistence is, however, frequent in material objects. A special feature of a material object will often persist in a form which shows that it once had a definite meaning and purpose. A canoe may have protuberances and angles which can be shown by intermediate links to be the survivals of structures which once served to protect the canoe from injury by shallow reefs or provide a means for pulling it

44i

Disappearance of Useful Arts

from the water1. Such survivals may be of the greatest use as indications of past history and of cultural influences ; they do not depend, however, on any active process of the inter¬ action of peoples, but are only the results of modification or even of degeneration in a new physical environment. The survival of features of a material object in degenerate form are often only the precursors of the degeneration or even dis¬ appearance of the object itself, and there is reason to believe that this disappearance of material objects is far more frequent and complete than in the case of elements of social and religious culture. I have elsewhere given reasons why the study of material objects is far less valuable than that of other aspects of human culture as an instrument for ethnological analysis2. To these reasons I have now to add the smaller degree of plasticity and consequent tendency to disappear which is characteristic of material culture.

I have considered elsewhere in a general way the dis¬ appearance of useful arts, and the various factors to which it may have been due3. One purpose of this chapter will be to show the special importance of the factors which arise out of the interaction of peoples, to illustrate the process by which material objects disappear and to show how great a complexity this disappearance introduces into the analysis of culture.

The chief purpose of this chapter, however, will be to inquire how far it is even now possible to assign elements of the material culture to the peoples out of whom I suppose the existing population of Melanesia to be composed. Several material objects have been considered in earlier chapters. My argument has already led me to ascribe their original use to one or other of these peoples. I have now to inquire how far the available evidence supports this ascription. In so far as it is confirmed by the general evidence, in so far will my general argument be strengthened ; in so far as this ascription fails to be confirmed, in so far will the argument be weakened.

The two departments of my subject in which material objects have been especially important are money and the ritual of the secret organisations. I have regarded the money of Melanesia as of immigrant origin ; this view will be greatly strengthened if it is possible to show in this chapter that the

1 W. Miiller, Baessler-Archiv , 1912, 11, p. 235.

2 Rep. Brit. Ass. 1911, p. 490.

3 Festskrift t. Edvard Wester march, Helsingfors, 1912, p. 109.

objects used as money have been introduced, or have been rendered available for use, by immigrant arts. Similarly, the view that the ritual of the secret societies represents an intro¬ duced religious cult will be strengthened if the material objects used in this ritual can definitely be assigned to those immi¬ grants who were, according to my argument, the founders of the organisations.

Clothing.

Within the area of Melanesia with which I deal there is much variety in the dress both of men and women. In the Banks Islands men formerly wore nothing ; in Lepers’ Island and in Pentecost they wore mats such as are used by Polynesians, while in the islands further south the chief or only dress was a covering for the genitals attached to a belt. Women in the Banks wore a small band called pan , such as is shown in Plate XI ; in Leper’s Island they wore pari indoors, but covered themselves with mats when out of the house. In Pentecost and other islands of the New Hebrides short petticoats were worn. The men and women of Santa Cruz wear mats like those of Polynesia.

In the Eastern Solomons it is probable that the men once wore nothing or only a shell covering the glans, while women wore short fringes in some places, or might sometimes, as even now in Malaita, be completely nude. In Eddystone and other islands of the Western Solomons both men and women wear perineal coverings, that of the women being greatly developed behind so as to become a kind of gluteal knapsack.

Of these different kinds of clothing, it is the mats of Santa Cruz and of the northern New Hebrides which are of especial importance in relation to the general argument of this volume. If I am right in ascribing the use of mats as money to the kava-people, we should also expect this people to have been responsible for their use as clothing, and there is one custom connected with the men’s clothing of Pentecost which supports this expectation. The malo which forms the dress of the men is important in connection with the Bweta (see n, 227), initiation into which takes place about the time of the first assumption of this garment1.

If the use of mats as clothing was introduced by the kava-people, we have to explain why they are now used

1 Codrington, M 92.

Disappearance of Clothing 443

only by the men and women of Santa Cruz and Lepers' Island and by the men of Pentecost. The close association of the people of Santa Cruz with the Polynesian settlements of the Reef Islands and 1 ikopia suggests that their use of mats as clothing may be due to relatively recent Polynesian in¬ fluence ; if so, it becomes probable that the custom of the northern New Hebrides has also been derived from the Polynesians who have settled in so many parts of Melanesia. If the use of mats as clothing is due to recent Polynesian influence, the question arises whether their use as money may not have had a similar origin. If the use of mats as money is ascribed to the kava-people and their use as clothing to the recent Polynesian settlements, the possibility is suggested that the people who came into being through the fusion of dual and kava-people gave up the use of mats as clothing. We should have a case of the disappearance of the use of mats as cloth¬ ing. If, as I suppose, mats were once used as money in the Banks Islands, it would seem as if clothing had once existed in these islands and has since disappeared.

The definite evidence for the disappearance of other useful objects makes this possibility of the disappearance of clothing a matter which cannot be thrust on one side as absurd, but one which must be carefully considered. Such consideration brings out several facts in favour of such disappearance.

One line of evidence would go far to settle the matter if it were available. If the material, shape, and technique of the mats used as money were different from those of the mats used as clothing, it would become highly probable, if not certain, that we had to do with the results of two successive migrations. At present, however, I do not know of any available material for the comparison. It may be noted, however, that the undoubted antiquity of the mats used as money, and the enhanced value which this antiquity confers, are in favour of their having had a more ancient source than the mats used as clothing.

If I am right in supposing that mats were formerly used as money in the Banks Islands, we should have further evidence of the disappearance of objects which would have been useful as clothing, or would have been made by pro¬ cesses by means of which clothing could also have been made. Further, we have in these islands definite evidence of the disappearance of an article of clothing, the malo-saru . It is

true that this garment was only used in the ritual of the Sukwe, but nevertheless it shows that the people once possessed the means of making clothing and that this has disappeared.

Lastly, the language of the Banks Islanders contains evidence of their former acquaintance with cloth. When the natives of Mota were first visited in the last century, they were found to use the word siopa for cloth, a word evidently related to the siapo or hiapo of Polynesia. Dr Codrington1 refers this word to a recent settlement of Tongans in the little island of Kwakea, but the possibility cannot be excluded that it may have an older source. More important is the use of the word malsam in Motlav, for the first syllable of this word is probably derived from the word malo , a widespread Poly¬ nesian word which is still used for the mats and mat-money of the northern New Hebrides.

There is thus a certain amount of definite evidence in favour of the disuse of mats as clothing in the Banks Islands. This makes it probable that the use of mats as money is no recent introduction, but goes back to the kava-people to whom it was ascribed in Chapter xxxn. In this case there would be two alternatives. The use of mats as clothing in the New Hebrides may be due to the persistence in certain islands of Melanesia of an ancient form of clothing which has dis¬ appeared elsewhere, or, more probably, it is due to the later introduction of a kind of clothing which had been introduced long before, but had only established itself for a time to dis¬ appear later or to persist merely as material for currency.

Materials for clothing.

Excluding the use of grass as petticoats, three kinds of material for dress are used in Melanesia : bark-cloth, woven cloth and plaited mat-work.

Bark-cloth. The Melanesian distribution of this material taken alone would suggest its ascription to the betel-people. Several kinds are made in the Western Solomons, where it is still very largely used. In the eastern islands it is still made in Ysabel, and formerly in Ulawa and San Cristoval, the people of Florida using cloth made in Ysabel. Its use at the extremities of the group, and not in Florida, suggests a

1 J/., 321.

The Loom

gradual spread of a process introduced by the betel-people. The fact that it was formerly made in Ulawa and San Cristoval shows, however, that we may have to do with another case of disappearance.

The almost universal use of bark-cloth in Polynesia and its presence, though apparently of a special kind, in the New Hebrides seems, however, to connect it directly with an immigration earlier than that of the betel-people. The most probable view is that it was an element which was common to the cultures of both kava- and betel-peoples.

Woven cloth . I limit the term “woven” to cloth in the manufacture of which some kind of loom is used. It is widely held that Santa Cruz is the only place in Melanesia1 where the loom is known. If we take account only of the present time, this is true, but there can be no question that the loom has had a wider distribution in the past, the garment called malo-saru (see Plate VIII) in the Banks Islands having certainly been woven. The art had finally disappeared not long before Dr Codrington wrote, having last been practised by two men on Rowa. The garment seems to have been widely used in the ritual of the Sukwe , and it is possible that Rowa was only the last remnant of a wider distribution. Dr Codrington tells me that the maker had to sing while he was weaving the garment, the mana thus brought into action being essential to the success of the manufacture. We have here a good example of the importance of the magical or religious aspect of the manufacture of useful objects which supports in a striking manner the view I have advanced elsewhere2 that it is this aspect of the process of manufacture which accounts for the loss of useful arts. The malo-saru disappeared, not because no one knew how to make the loom or prepare the fibres, but because the makers had not imparted the knowledge of the songs which were essential to the proper making of the garment.

I have already sufficiently considered the plaited work which forms the material of the mats of Polynesia and southern Melanesia.

1 It is also present in Ongtong Java, if that island be held to be part of Melanesia.

2 Westermarck Festskrift , p. 123.

Melanesian Society

The fillet .

In several ceremonies of the Sukwe and Tamate societies of the Banks Islands a fillet is worn round the head, and in Tikopia a fillet is worn in the dances and also by a man who is sent adrift in a canoe to die. One of the stone figures shown in Plate III, fig. i, is wearing a cylindrical hat, and a similar head-covering is not infrequent in Melanesian and Polynesian representations of the human figure, reaching its greatest development in the high cylindrical head-coverings of the stone figures of Easter Island. It is possible that the fillet of the Banks and Tikopia is a survival of such an elaborate head-covering in which case we should have another link between the ritual of secret societies and megalithic monuments.

Weapons.

The only weapon I propose to consider in any detail is the bow and arrow. There are two features of the general scheme of this volume which involve the ascription of this weapon to the kava-people. The bow and arrow is so prominent in the ritual of the Sukwe that it must have had an important place in the culture from which, according to my scheme, the Sukwe has been derived. The other feature is the use of arrows as money in the Torres Islands. I have supposed that the objects used as money in Melanesia belonged to the immigrants and were used in the barter whereby the kava-people obtained their wives. If this is accepted, it follows that the kava-people must have used the bow, without which arrows would have no meaning.

If the bow was thus a weapon of the kava-people, we should expect to find it in Polynesia ; though it is present, the nature of its use in Polynesia seems at first sight to present a difficulty. It is only in some islands of western Polynesia, viz., the Tongan and Samoan Islands and Tikopia, that we know of the bow and arrow as a weapon. Elsewhere it is used, but only in sport or as a means of shoot¬ ing fish, birds or rats. These uses, however, show that the bow and arrow is generally known throughout Polynesia. I have to consider whether the use in sport, in fishing and in

The Bow and Arrow

shooting- small game may not be a survival of its former use in warfare, and if so, how it has come about that the bow is no longer used as a weapon.

If we were in the position of a few chapters back and still believed in the simplicity of Polynesian culture, we should be in some difficulty. The Polynesians have several weapons, such as the club, javelin and sling; if this people were simply descendants of the kava-people, we should have to explain why these objects, if originally weapons of the kavapeople, should not have survived in the ritual of the Sukwe. We should also have to explain how the bow and arrow, which must have been very prominent in the culture of the ancestors of the Polynesians, should have been so entirely displaced by other weapons. If, on the other hand, the kava-people were only later settlers in Polynesia, these difficulties do not arise. We have only to suppose that some or all of the existing weapons ol Polynesia other than the bow and arrow belonged to the culture of the earlier population and that, whether owing to its unsuitability to the nature of Polynesian warfare or for some other reason, the bow and arrow of the kavapeople fell into disuse as a weapon and survived only for other purposes. There are certain features of the use of the bow and arrow in Polynesian sport which show that this supposition is correct.

Our most detailed evidence concerning the use of the bow and arrow in sport comes from the Society Islands1. In Tahiti archery was practised in sacred places to which only chiefs and leading members of their class were allowed access. Before indulging in the sport, the players visited the sacred enclosure called marae where they offered prayer and donned special garments kept in the marae and only worn on these occasions. When they had finished, the players had to bathe before touching food or putting on their ordinary garments. The sacred character of the sport and its limita¬ tion to the chiefs shows that, according to the general scheme of this volume, the bow and arrow must be associated with the kava-people of whom the chiefs are the representatives. The facts are thoroughly in agreement with the hypothesis that the kava-people gave up the use of the bow and arrow as *a weapon in most parts of Polynesia, but that their

1 See especially Moerenhout, op. cit. n, p. 140.

descendants continued to use it in a manner which must be regarded as a combination of a sport and a religious rite1.

The distribution of the use of the bow and arrow in Poly¬ nesia also supports its ascription to the kava-people. The only places where we know of its use as a weapon in recent times are the Samoan and Tongan Islands and Tikopia. This would suggest that in these islands the influence of the kava-people was not so strictly limited to their own descen¬ dants, but pervaded the culture of the people as a whole, a view thoroughly in agreement with a conclusion reached on other grounds. The more general use of the extended posi¬ tion in burial and the individual character of the institutions of property and marriage have both pointed in the same direction. A feature of material culture thus serves to con¬ firm a conclusion already reached through the study of other aspects of culture.

It may, therefore, be accepted with much confidence that the bow and arrow formed part of the material equipment brought with them by the kava-people. Such acceptance, however, does not necessarily carry with it the consequence that the earlier peoples of Melanesia and Polynesia were unacquainted with this weapon before the arrival of the kavapeople.

In connection with this possibility, it is noteworthy that in the northern New Hebrides there are varieties of the bow different from that found in other parts of Melanesia and in Polynesia. In Espiritu Santo the bow has a double curvature, while in Malikolo and Ambrym one end is longer than the other and turns backwards, and there are several variations in the size of the bow and the degree of its curvature in different islands2. It is possible that some or all of these variations may be survivals of an indigenous bow. The use of the bow and arrow in the Mota ceremony in which a newly-born child is shot at by its maternal uncles might also be held to be a survival of the use of this weapon by the dual people ; on the general scheme of this volume, the ceremony would be a survival of the struggle for the possession of a child which once took place between the maternal uncles representing the indigenous population and the father representing the

1 The sacred character of the sport has only been recorded by Moerenhout and was unknown to me when I dealt with the disuse of the bow and arrow in the

Westermarck Festskrift.

2 Hagen and Pineau, Rev. d'Ethnol. 1899, vii, 357-

Terms for Bow 449

immigrants ; in such a struggle we should have expected that the indigenous people would use their own weapons.

There is linguistic evidence that the bow has had more than one source in Oceania. Friederici has shown1 that two widely distributed words for the bow occur in various forms in Melanesia and Polynesia, busur and pana. Sometimes these two words occur together, one used for the bow and the other lor the arrow or for some object or action connected with the bow and arrow ; this suggests that they may be words formerly one People for the bow and arrow respectively, one of which has survived in some places and the other in other places. . The character of the distribution recorded by Friederici, however, makes it more probable that the two words belong to two different streams of migration. Both words occur in the Banks Islands and in the New Hebrides, but modifications of busur appear to be the more frequent,' especially in those places where peculiar forms of the bow are ound. Thus, in Ambrym both bow and arrow are uoa, the connection of which with busur is shown by the uso or oso of Aurora, the puo of Lepers’ Island, and the usse of southern Pentecost . In the Banks Islands the bow is us in Mota, but there is also a word, vene, used for shooting with an arrow, which is probably connected linguistically with pana. Again,' both words occur in Tikopia, hasau or ngasau for the bow and fana for the arrow. Modifications of pana, on the other hand, appear to be more frequent in Polynesia.

The presence of two words for the bow in Oceania thus suggests that there have been two bow-bearing migrations into Oceania, and since both words are found in Polynesia and in southern Melanesia, there is no reason to ascribe either of them to the betel-people. If busur be the earlier, we can assign it to the earlier stratum of the population of Polynesia who interred their dead in the sitting position and to the branch ol the same people who formed a constituent element of the dual people of Melanesia. Pana , on the other hand, would be the word used by the kava-people for the bow they brought with them to Oceania.

If this linguistic argument is accepted as valid, it fol¬ lows that the bow and arrow was a possession of the people

r 1 flssenscf/Hu'he Ergebnisse einer amtlichen Forschungsreise , n ; Be it rave 2. Volker- und Sprachenkunde von Deutsch-Neuguinea , Berlin, iqi2 d 124 1 Hagen and Pineau, loc. cit. ’ ^

who interred their dead in the sitting position ; we are thus driven to suppose that the failure ol the kava-people to intro¬ duce the bow and arrow as a weapon into Polynesia was the second example of such a failure, their predecessors in this region having failed to preserve its use. Such a double failure would greatly increase the probability that the bow and arrow in Polynesia has failed to survive as a weapon on account of its unsuitability to the needs of Polynesian warfare. In Tahiti certainly, and probably in other parts of Polynesia, land warfare was of little account, and the most important quarrels were settled by warfare at sea1. Friederici has pointed out how unsuitable is the bow and arrow for such a mode of warfare2.

An alternative explanation of the presence of the two widely different words and of the varieties of the bow is that they belong to two different migrations of the kava-people. It is in favour of this alternative that it would account for the presence of other weapons, such as the club and javelin, in Polynesia, for these could then be ascribed to the people who interred their dead in the sitting position.

The canoe.

This object has a special interest since it is by its means that all immigrant peoples must have reached Oceania.

In Melanesia there are two chief types of canoe which it seems natural to ascribe to different cultures, viz., the dug-out canoe with outrigger and the plank-built boat without an outrigger. Since the former is widely distributed through the area of Melanesia with which I am especially concerned, while the plank-built canoe is only found in the Solomons, it is natural to ascribe them to the kava- and betel-cultures respectively. There are, however, difficulties in the way of an ascription of this simple character when we examine the evidence more closely, and especially when we take Polynesia into account.

In some parts of southern Melanesia which I do not suppose the betel-people to have reached, there are forms intermediate between the dug-out and the plank-built canoes, the sides of the dug-out being raised by the addition of planks

1 Moerenhout, op. cit. II, 40. . ,

2 Op. cit. pp. 1 19 — 133 and Mitt. d. Verein f. Erdkunde , Leipzig, i9ir> P* IP5*

V arieties of Canoe 45 1

put on in the same way as the planks of a plank-built canoe. Thus, Somerville describes1 a large war-canoe of Malikolo as made by building up above the ordinary canoe three or four planks, sewn together through small holes along their edges and caulked with the gum of some tree. This method corre¬ sponds so closely with that by which the plank-built canoe of the Solomons is made that it suggests the influence of people familiar with this vessel. This influence may well have come through a secondary movement from northern Melanesia which had no perceptible influence on the deeper elements of culture, but it must also suggest the possibility that the kava-people were familiar with the method of plank-building, though they did not succeed in introducing it into southern Melanesia, or it disappeared if they succeeded.

This ascription of the knowledge of the plank-built canoe to the kava-people is supported by the presence of the plankbuilt canoe in Polynesia. In some cases the accounts of those who have described Polynesian canoes leave it doubtful whether we have to do with a true plank-built canoe or with a dug-out with raised sides, but in some cases the description is quite unequivocal on this point. Thus, according to Moerenhout2, the canoes of Chain Island in the Paumotu group are constructed on the same plan as our ships, the keel rarely consisting of only one piece, a definite statement which wholly excludes the dug-out as the foundation of the boat. Again, Wegener is almost equally definite concerning the mode of construction of some of the canoes of Tahiti3.

The ascription of knowledge of the plank-built canoe to the kava-people is, however, by no means inconsistent with the introduction or extensive modification of the canoe of the Solomons by the betel-people. Equally important with the structure of a canoe is the method used for its propulsion. The plank-built canoe of the Solomons is rarely if ever sailed, but is propelled entirely by means of paddles. Further, it is a principle of the navigation of the Solomon Islanders, at any rate in the western islands, never to go out of sight of land and never to pass the night at sea. Even in prolonged expeditions for the purpose of obtaining heads, the people always sleep on shore. This mode of navigation may have

1 Jotirn. Anth. Inst. 1894, xxm, 375.

2 Op. cit. 1, 180.

3 Geschichte der christlichen Kirche auf dem Gesellschafts-A r chip el, Berlin, 1844, 1, 48.

29 — 2

come about in the Solomons owing to local conditions, but it is more probable that it points to a definite principle of navi¬ gation and warfare characteristic of the people who form the special element in this part of Melanesia, viz., the betelpeople. It is to this people that I ascribe the practice of head-hunting, and it is thoroughly consistent with this ascrip¬ tion that a special kind of canoe and mode of navigation should be found where this influence has been dominant.

Though plank-built canoes undoubtedly occur in Poly¬ nesia, dug-out vessels used either singly or lashed together to make double canoes, are far more frequent. If the knowledge of plank-building were owned by the kava-people, it becomes a question whether the dug-out canoe may not have belonged to the earlier inhabitants of Polynesia who interred their dead in the sitting position. If so, it would follow that the dugout canoe of Melanesia may also be ascribed to this people. The people who interred their dead in the sitting position must have reached the islands of Polynesia and Melanesia in some kind of canoe, and such canoes must have been large and seaworthy craft. I suggest therefore that dug-out canoes, either lashed together in pairs or used singly with outriggers1, belonged to the culture of the people who interred the dead in the sitting position, and that the kava-people possessed in addition the knowledge of plank-building which, however, they only succeeded in introducing in its complete form into a few islands of Polynesia. Elsewhere the only sign of their knowledge is the raising of the sides of a dug-out which is so frequent a feature of the Oceanic vessel of this kind. Further,

I suggest that the betel-people were acquainted with a more highly developed form of plank-building and brought with this knowledge the special mode of using the canoe char¬ acteristic of the head-hunting people of the Solomons. It is thoroughly in harmony with the rest of my scheme that the art of making plank-built canoes should have been common to both the kava- and betel-peoples, but should have been more highly developed among the latter.

If the dug-out canoe formed the means by which the people who interred their dead in the sitting position reached Oceania, we should expect it to have been a possession of the dual people, and I have already drawn attention (n, 396) to one

1 I propose to consider elsewhere the relation between these two modes of using the dug-out canoe.

Structural Survivals in the Canoe

feature of the canoe of southern Melanesia which suggests its ascription to this people. The canoe furnishes one of the clearest examples of communal property of which we know in Melanesia. Though, as I have shown, it is possible to explain this common ownership if the canoe were derived from the kava-people, it is still easier to understand if it belonged to the people who inhabited Melanesia before the arrival of these immigrants.

Before I leave the canoe, I must refer briefly to recent work by Dr W. Miiller1 on certain forms of the Oceanic canoe which is so important that it cannot be passed over in silence. Dr Muller has shown the widespread distribution of certain features of the Oceanic canoe, of which I need consider only one here. This is the occurrence of structural features at one or both ends of a canoe which, in their complete form, are evidently designed to protect the canoe from injury in passing over shallow reefs, while at the same time they provide a convenient means of drawing the canoe from the water. In some places these structures exist in a form still adapted for these purposes, but more frequently only protuberances or angles have persisted as survivals of useful features of con¬ struction. In spite of great diversity, these features of structure show so clearly a common idea that they must have been de¬ rived from a common source. Within the region I am now considering, they are found in the Solomons, Samoa, Tonga, the Hawaian Islands, Penrhyn Island, Manahiki and Tahiti. The canoe from the Solomon Islands in which the character¬ istic features occur is not one of the kind ordinarily found in these islands, and is probably therefore an ancient form or has been derived from some recent Polynesian influence.

The general distribution of the features in question suggests their ascription to the kava-people, and this is supported by the presence in the canoe of Tikopia of features of structure (see Pis. XVII and XVI 1 1) which evidently bring it into line with the forms collected by Muller. If these features are due to the kava-people, we have to explain their absence in southern Melanesia. Since we have evidence in this region, not merely of great degeneration of the canoe, but even of its total disappearance in one group of islands2, it is making no great demand on probability to assume

1 Baessler-Archiv , 1912, II, 235.

2 Codrington, M 293 ; see also Westertnarck Festskrift, p. 1 10.

that these special features have also disappeared. I have already supposed that the knowledge of plank-building was possessed by the kava-people, and yet there is no sign of its presence in such a group as the Banks Islands. It would be quite in accordance with this view that another manifestation of the craft of the kava-people should also have failed to be introduced or, if introduced, should have disappeared later.

Alternative views are that the features in question were brought into Oceania by some special migration of the kavapeople which did not reach southern Melanesia, or that they are due to some still later migration. If, as I suppose, the cult of the sun and the use of megalithic monuments are due to a special migration later than that of the main body of the kava-people, it becomes possible that the special features to which Muller has drawn attention may have been brought by this migration.

Houses.

In the area of Melanesia with which I am especially con¬ cerned there are at least six varieties of house : the round house and five forms of the rectangular house, viz. the oblong house with and without piles, the square house, the long house and the tree-house. I will begin with the varieties of rectan¬ gular house.

The respective distributions of oblong rectangular houses with and without piles suggest their ascription to different cultures. Pile-dwellings are found especially in the Solomons, while houses situated directly on the ground are the rule in southern Melanesia and Polynesia. This suggests that the pile-dwelling is to be ascribed to the betel-people and the oblong house without piles to the kava-people or to the people who interred their dead in the sitting position. Pile-dwellings are, however, found in Fiji, and though we can with much confi¬ dence regard the betel-people as constructors of pile-dwellings, it is far more doubtful whether we are justified in withholding the knowledge of this kind of house from the kava-people. It may be noted that the body of a dead chief in Santo is placed in a miniature house on piles. Though it is possible that this island may have been reached by a party of the betel-people, it is more likely that this pile-dwelling of a dead chief is an indication that the practice of raising houses from the ground was known to the kava-people. If so, the kava-people must

The Long House

either have failed to introduce the practice into southern Melanesia, or it was introduced but fell into disuse. In any case, however, it is probable that the use of pile-dwellings formed a more constant element of the betel-culture than of that which preceded it in Melanesia.

Another distinction between northern and southern Melanesia may be mentioned here. In the western islands of the British Solomons, and probably in other parts of the group, the roof is built and thatched from above downwards. A carefully constructed roof-ridge is put on first and the rest of the thatching is put on so that each new layer passes beneath that above it, thus making a ridge and surface over which rain readily flows. In southern Melanesia, on the other hand, the roof is thatched from below upwards and the ridge is put on last1, leaving the top relatively weak and more permeable to the rain than the roof of the Solomons. It is possible that the more elaborate and stable roof of the Solomons may be an independent improvement in the native architecture, but the ridge has a special sacred character in these islands which makes it almost certain that it is the outcome of new ideas introduced by the betel-people2.

The great length of many of the club-houses of southern Melanesia suggests that they may be examples of a special kind of house, and according to tradition (i, 22) there was once a gamed in Mota far longer than any in existence at the present time. 4 he use of these long buildings as club-houses obviously points to their association with the kava-people, and the question arises whether the great length was a feature peculiar to the kava-people or whether it was due to the special needs of the secret organisations founded by this people. It is evident that the character of the Sukwe would produce such needs, and it is noteworthy that at the present time the eleva¬ tion of a man into a higher rank often makes the lengthening of a house necessary, the length of the gamal of a village de¬ pending upon the number of ranks represented in that village. It is not therefore necessary to suppose that long houses are characteristic of the original culture of the kava-people. They may only have arisen through the special needs of the organi¬ sation founded by that people.

1 See W. T. Durrad, Southern Cross Log , June, 1909.

2 The full consideration of this subject must be postponed till the Western Solomons are dealt with in a later work.

The square house is only known in Fiji and I will postpone its discussion until I consider the round house.

In the area of my own survey the tree-house is only found in Ysabel, where it is so clearly used as a refuge from head-hunters as to suggest that it may be only a special development due to the needs introduced by that mode of warfare. If so, it would evidently belong to the people who inhabited Ysabel before the advent of the head-hunting betel-people. Whether it came into use in response to a special need, or whether it was an ancient mode of dwelling which was utilised as a refuge, the Melanesian evidence alone does not enable us to say. I need only point out here that the knowledge of its exact mode of construction would help very materially in the solution of this problem.

I can now turn to the round house. In the area included in my survey, it is only known to exist at present in Santa Cruz, and even there it is limited to the little island of Temotu and to the district of the larger island with which the Temotu people are especially associated. As shown in PI. XII, it has a circular wall surmounted by a conical roof. Similar houses occur in New Caledonia where it would seem from models and available accounts that the roof forms a cone with steeper sides than in Santa Cruz, while the apex of the cone is formed by an image, often in human form. A wider survey is needed before it will be possible to assign this house to its proper people and culture, and I propose here only to consider certain evidence pointing to its former wider distribution.

There is definite evidence for the former presence of the round house in Fiji. Williams records1 that some Fijian houses looked like conical hayricks and a round house with a conical roof formed a feature of the Nanga , the house standing outside the enclosure of the nanga , apparently at its western end2. . It may be suggested that the square house of Viti Levu is the outcome of a process of fusion between the round and oblong forms of house. According to Webb 3, the square house of south-western Viti Levu has a round shaped roof with a central post, such as occurs in the conical house of

1 Fiji and the Fijians , I, 79.

2 Fison, Journ. Anth. Inst. 1885, xiv, p. 15 and PI. I. Fison calls the house bell-roofed and the plate shows definitely the conical form of the roof.

3 Rep. Austral. Ass. 1890, II, 620.

The Round House

New Caledonia1, and probably also in the similarly shaped house of Santa Cruz. In the Western Solomons many of the houses have a rounded apse-like end which also suggests the fusion of architectural motives derived from the round and rectangular forms of house.

There is evidence suggesting that the round house may be one of the elements of the material culture of Polynesia. The houses of Samoa are often round or oval, and rounded apse-like ends, apparently similar to those of the Solomons, have also been recorded in Polynesia. On the assumption that there have been only two elements in the culture of Polynesia, it will be natural to assign the round house to the people who interred their dead in the sitting position, since the rectangular house clearly belongs to the kava-people. If so, we have to suppose that the house peculiar to this people was largely supplanted in Polynesia by the rectangular house of the kava-people, and that the people who interred their dead in the sitting position failed to introduce the round house widely into Melanesia, or more probably that it was intro¬ duced, but was so extensively replaced by the rectangular house that it only survives in a few corners of Melanesia. The association of the round house with the Nanga of Fiji might be held to point to its ascription to the kava-people, but it may be noted that the house stood without the nanga proper ; it may well be that it represents only the kind of house which was used by the people of this part of Viti Levu at the time that the Nanga was introduced.

A third possibility must be borne in mind. The distribu¬ tion of the round house in Melanesia suggests that it may belong to some immigrant influence different from any of those which I have so far considered. This view receives support from the fact that in New Caledonia round houses are especially associated with the chiefs and are used as club-houses, while those of ordinary people are square or elliptical'2. If the principle I have used elsewhere applies to New Caledonia, the chiefs should be the representatives of immigrants, and it would be to these immigrants that the round house would have to be ascribed. There is much in the culture of New Caledonia and Santa Cruz which suggests

1 Erskin e., Journal of a cruise among the islands of the Western Pacific , London, 1853, P- 353-

2 Baessler, Siidsee-Bilder, 1890, p. 194 — 5. Baessler also records conical club¬ houses at Meli in the New Hebrides.

the presence of some influence of which other parts of Melane¬ sia especially included in my survey show few, if any, traces. It is possible that, in these islands and in the south-western part of Viti Levu, the round house bears witness to some immi¬ grant influence additional to those I have so far supposed to have come into Oceania. If so, the oval and rounded houses of Samoa and other parts of Polynesia would suggest that this people also influenced Polynesian culture.

Sound-producing instruments .

I shall only consider here the means of producing sounds which are used in the ritual of the Sukwe and Tamate societies. The chief of these is the werewere which forms one of the distinguishing features of Tamate liwoa. There is a tradition that the method of making this mysterious sound was derived from the process of rubbing down frag¬ ments of shell on a stone to make the discs used as money. Two members of Tamate liwoa in Vanua Lava found an old woman engaged in this occupation, making a leaf of the umbrella-palm serve both as the stick for rubbing down the money and a means of protection from the sun. The noise she was producing seemed likely to be so useful for their mysteries that they killed the old woman and carried off her stone and umbrella for use in their Tamate society.

In the Matambala of Florida the mysterious sounds of the ritual are made by the bullroarer, and this object is well known in the Banks Islands. This suggests that the bullroarer was originally used in southern Melanesia, but was displaced by the werewere, perhaps because the secret of the bullroarer became known, perhaps because the werewere sound seemed even more likely to arouse the wonder and curiosity of the uninitiated.

The meretang, another instrument for making sounds used in the ritual of the Tamate societies, may also have come into use when the bullroarer was given up. It may even represent one of several attempts to find a substitute for the bullroarer which, though superseded in importance by the werewere, has yet survived as the distinguishing sound of certain societies and grades of the Sukwe. On this supposi¬ tion the werewere, and possibly also the meretang, are not to be assigned to any of the constituent cultures of Melanesia,

The Conch and Gong

but have come into existence in Melanesia in response to a need arising out of the interaction of dual and kava-peoples.

Two other instruments used for making sounds in the Sukwe are the conch-shell and the wooden gong or drum.

The conch-shell exists in two forms in Melanesia, one blown by means of a circular hole in the side and the other blown at the end. The former is that used in the Sukwe and in most parts of Melanesia, and this form is also in general use in Polynesia. Its occurrence in Polynesia points to its ascription either to the kava-people or to the people who interred their dead in the sitting position, and there is reason to suppose that it was of especial importance in connection with the chiefs. It may also be noted that, in Malikolo, it is used at the funerals of chiefs. This connection with chiefs both in Polynesia and southern Melanesia suggests that it was the kava-people who brought with them the use of the conch, a conclusion in harmony with its prominence in the ritual of the Sukwe.

In the Solomons, however, the conch is of especial im¬ portance in connection with head-hunting. It is used as a signal, especially in the ceremonies which accompany the return from a successful expedition, and this suggests either that it is an element of culture common to the kava- and betel-peoples, or that it was taken over by the betel-people from the earlier inhabitants.

The only place in Melanesia where we know of the existence of the conch-shell blown at the end is Efate, and its associa¬ tion here with a special form of totemism suggests that it is connected with a special development of the kava-culture which has been responsible for the form of totemism found in this region.

The other instrument to be considered consists of bamboo or hollowed wood, the sound of which is produced by beating against a slit. Following Dr Codrington and the habitual usage of the white inhabitants of Melanesia, I have called this instrument a drum in the first volume, but it is rather a gong, and it will be useful to distinguish it by this name from the drum proper in which the sound is produced by beating a membrane. I propose therefore in this volume to call the instrument a gong. If the word “ drum ” be pre¬ ferred, it may be called the slit-drum to distinguish it Irom the drum proper or membrane-drum. The distribution of

the gong points to its ascription either to the kava-people or to those who interred their dead in the sitting position. It is widely distributed in Polynesia and southern Melanesia and occurs in the matrilineal region of the Solomons, but is completely absent from the more western Solomon Islands where I suppose the influence of the betel-people to have been predominant. One piece of evidence from the New Hebrides supports the ascription to the kava-people which should follow from its prominence in the Sukwe of the Banks Islands. The upright human figures called demit of Malikolo and other islands have a longitudinal slit in the body and are used in the same way as the gongs of other parts of Melanesia. According to the general argument of this volume, the human motive belongs to the kava-people, and the human form of the gong thus makes it highly probable that it is to be ascribed to this people.

One piece of evidence relating to both the gong and the conch may be mentioned. A Motlav story represents a vui as afraid of the sound of a gong, while Merambuto, a vui of Lepers’ Island, did not know and dreaded as un¬ known, the sound of a conch1. According to the scheme of Chapter xxxiit, the vui of southern Melanesia belong to the culture of the dual people ; it will therefore be wholly in accordance with this scheme that they should have been unacquainted with and should have feared the sounds of in¬ struments brought with them by the kava-people.

Domestic animals.

The pig. The prominence of the pig in the ritual of the secret organisations suggests that it may have been intro¬ duced by the people who founded these organisations. If so, it becomes natural that the pig’s jawbone should be used as money in the Torres Islands and that this object should be prominent in the dance connected with initia¬ tion into one of the higher ranks of the Sukwe (1, 74). It may be noted that it is not only in the secret organisations of Melanesia that the pig is important, but it also takes an important place in the ritual of initiation into the Areoi societies of Polynesia. There is much reason to believe that the pigs found in Polynesia by the earlier European navigators

1 Codrington, M.y 171.

Domestic Animals

were widely different from the domestic pig of Europe, even if they were not members of a different species, such as is still found in New Guinea. The Melanesian pig still differs widely in appearance from our own. If the considera¬ tions which have led me to ascribe other elements of culture to the kava-people have any weight, the pig should have been introduced into Oceania by this people.

The dog. The occurrence of dog’s teeth as money in Florida and Ysabel suggests that the use of these objects as material for currency was introduced by the kava-people. It becomes probable therefore that the introduction of the animal itself was also due to this people. The fact that the dog is a totem in Santa Cruz and Fiji, and its presence in Polynesia are fully in accordance with this ascription.

The fowl. If objects used in the ceremonial of the secret organisations of Melanesia are to be ascribed to the kavapeople, it will follow that this people was responsible for the introduction of the fowl into Melanesia. The use of its feathers as the badge of one of the ranks of the Sukwe and as material for money in the Banks Islands point to its associa¬ tion with the kava-people, and this is supported by the occurrence of the fowl as a totem in Santa Cruz and Fiji and by its presence in Polynesia.

The bush-turkey. In some parts of Melanesia this bird is treated in a manner which justifies its inclusion in a section dealing with domestic animals. Mr J. J. Lister1 has shown reason to believe that the Megapodius pritchardii found on the island of Niuafou, lying between Fiji and Samoa, must have been introduced there by human agency, and he points out that the native name of the bird malau ( mallow ) is also the name for the bird in the New Hebrides. It is most unlikely that the bird was carried from the New Hebrides to Niuafou or vice versa , and according to the scheme of this book, its presence in these two places is the result of an immigrant culture common to them, viz. that of the kavapeople. The presence of the bush-turkey in Melanesia is definitely associated with volcanic activity, the heat of the soil taking an important part in the incubation of the eggs. Niuafou is also volcanic, and it may have been this character which has allowed the survival of the bird in that island.

1 Proc. Zool. Soc. London, 1911, p. 749

One of the aims of this chapter was to inquire how far there is evidence that the objects used as money and in the secret rituals of Melanesia can be ascribed to the people I suppose to have founded these institutions, and I will conclude by considering briefly how far this ascription is justified.

I have already considered the shell-money of the Banks and Solomons and the feather- money of Santa Cruz, and this chapter has shown that most of the other objects used as money in Melanesia can be ascribed either to the kava- or the betel-people. The mat-money of the New Hebrides is prob¬ ably related to the mats used as clothing by Polynesians, and the ascription of the bow and arrow to the kava-people will account for the use of arrows as money in the Torres Islands. The use of fowls’ feathers in the Banks, of pigs’ jawbones in the Torres Islands, and of dogs’ teeth in the Solomons are consistent with other facts showing that the fowl, pig and dog were brought by the kava-people.

It remains to account for the turtle-shell of Vanikolo, and the porpoise-teeth and arm-rings of the Solomons. Turtleshell is used as the material for the most highly prized of the ornaments of Vanikolo, and it is probable that it was the utilisation of turtle-shell by the immigrants to make this ornament which led to its adoption as currency. It may have been only through the arts of the immigrants that it became possible to catch the turtle, and similarly, it may have been only through some art introduced by the betelpeople that the porpoise was first caught. Of the arm-rings used as money in the Western Solomons, all that can be said is that the manufacture of the more important kinds would only become possible after the introduction of the drill, and this is certainly not an indigenous implement of Melanesia.

Such knowledge as we possess about the articles used as money in Melanesia is thus in agreement with their introduc¬ tion or first utilisation by the kava- and betel-peoples. The character of the material objects used in the ritual of the Sukwe and Tamate societies is fully in accordance with their ascription to the kava-people. The following are the material objects used in this ritual. In initiation into the Sukwe the pig, the conch-shell and the cycas tree are used. In the dances which follow initiation into Wometeloa, there are also used the wooden gong, the bow and arrow, rods for measuring money,

Objects used in the Sukwe 463

the pig’s jawbone, a fillet round the head and armlets with scented leaves. In the ceremony accompanying admission into Avtagataga , mats and the wooden gong are used, while the head of the pig occupies a prominent place. In the ritual of the Tamate societies, we again meet with the pig and the cycas.

Nearly all these articles are prominent in the culture of Polynesia and must therefore be ascribed either to the kavapeople or to those who interred their dead in the sitting position. In some cases the objects are associated with the chiefs of Polynesia, so that according to the general scheme of this volume they are to be assigned to the kava-people. In most cases, however, there is no evidence, apart from their connection with the secret organisations, which enables us to assign them to one or other of the two peoples. All that can be said is that, with one exception, the distribution and use of the objects are thoroughly in harmony with the view that they were introduced by the kava-people.

This exception is the mato-saru which there is some reason to believe may have been due to later influence com¬ ing, either directly or indirectly by way of Santa Cruz, from Micronesia. If one material object, introduced by some influence later than that of the kava-people, has been util¬ ised by the secret organisations, it becomes possible that other material objects common to these organisations and Polynesia may have been the result of the relatively late influences which we know to have passed from Polynesia and Micronesia to Melanesia. The close connection with the ritual of the Sukwe and Tamate societies, however, makes it more probable that they go back to the early history of the organi¬ sations and have been derived from the migration, common to Melanesia and Polynesia, of those whom I have called the kava-people.

CHAPTER XXXVI

LANGUAGE

Many of the conclusions formulated in this volume have been reached by the study of linguistic evidence, and especially by the combination of linguistic with sociological inquiry. My original argument for the existence of two distinct strata in the population of Melanesia was based on the results of the com¬ parison of the terms of relationship used in the different islands of Melanesia, and the aid of language has also been invoked in dealing with the secret organisations and the material cul¬ ture. In dealing with the subject of language more explicitly in this chapter, I propose first to consider the general problem how the peoples of Melanesia have come to speak the family of languages now known by their name, and then to inquire how far it is possible to determine in what degree the different immigrant streams into Melanesia have contributed to this result.

I will take as my starting-point the condition reached in Chapter xxm. The comparison of Melanesian terms of re-

• lationship to which that chapter was devoted led me to the conclusion that the islands of Melanesia were at one time in¬ habited by peoples possessing a great diversity of speech. The uniformity of the terms for certain relationships led me to the view that into this condition of linguistic diversity there had come a people through whose influence modifications of the social organisation were produced, and that with these modi¬ fications a need for new terms had arisen which had been supplied from the language of the immigrants. I have now to consider the far more comprehensive process of which the introduction of new terms of relationship only formed part, the process by which the language of the immigrants was introduced into Melanesia and produced the relative

Distribution of Melanesian Languages 465

uniformity of language which now exists throughout this area. Before doing so, it will be well to state, as briefly and in as general terms as possible, the present distribution of languages in Melanesia.

By far the greater number of the peoples of Melanesia speak languages which belong to one linguistic family. Here and there in the more southern parts of Melanesia, as in Ambrym and Santa Cruz, languages are found which at first sight appear to differ so widely in phonetics and vocabulary from the rest that they seem to belong to a different family, and the languages of the two islands I have mentioned were once supposed not to be Melanesian. More exact study has shown, however, that they are Melanesian in character, though of an aberrant kind1. It is only on passing to the Solomons that languages are found which cannot be regarded as Melanesian and must be ascribed to a wholly different family. Within the area with which this volume is primarily concerned such languages are only known in Savo and Vella Lavella, though it is possible that non- Melanesian languages may also be spoken by some of the inland people of the Solomons. Languages which are not Melanesian are also spoken in the southern part of Bougainville and become more frequent as one passes north-westwards towards New Guinea. The exact nature and affinities of these non-Mela¬ nesian languages are at present doubtful. They have usually been called Papuan, thus classing them with the majority of the languages of New Guinea, but this must not be taken to mean that they belong to a family of languages in any way comparable with that called Melanesian. They have certain similarities in construction, but differ wholly from one another in vocabulary, except when they contain words which have been borrowed from languages of the Melanesian family.

There are thus three classes of language in Melanesia: — (i) languages which are definitely not Melanesian; (ii) aberrant Melanesian languages only recognisable as such by expert examination; and (iii) typically Melanesian languages. Such languages as those of Santa Cruz and Ambrym differ so widely from one another that to the speakers of one the other would be wholly unintelligible, and I propose at first to treat them as forming, together with the non- Melanesian languages,

1 Mr Ray tells me that Ambrym differs from other Melanesian languages chiefly in vocabulary and that the grammar is essentially Melanesian in character.

R. M. s. II.

Melanesian Society

examples of the linguistic diversity which existed before the arrival of the immigrants. Further, I propose to assume that the kava-people were the immigrants who introduced the widely distributed terms of relationship.

I have now to inquire how immigrants, such as I suppose the kava-people to have been, can have brought about this condition of linguistic uniformity. I have to explain how an immigrant people, few in number, with an alien culture and without the prestige derived from success in war, succeeded in imposing their language on the people among whom they settled. If, as I suppose, they were accompanied by few or none of their women, the difficulty seems at first sight almost insuperable, for it is one of the most widely accepted principles of ethnology that language follows the mother. It is generally supposed that invaders marry the women of the country in which they settle and that the children learn the language of their mothers. If my main argument is to hold good,

I have to explain why, not this, but its exact opposite has happened. According to my scheme, small bands of immi¬ grant men married indigenous women and yet succeeded in introducing, not merely the vocabulary, but the far more fundamental grammatical structure, of their language. If no explanation can be discovered, doubt must be cast on the general scheme of this volume. If, on the other hand, a mechanism can be discovered which will connect the facts of Melanesian philology into a coherent scheme, the main hypothesis of this volume will receive an amount of support which will encourage us to use it with even more confidence than hitherto as a guide to the study of Melanesian culture.

It becomes, then, a vital matter to seek for a mechanism whereby men of an alien culture, relatively few in number, can succeed in imposing their language on an indigenous population. The clue to such a mechanism is given by the present condition of the islands of the Pacific. The pre¬ dominant element among the settlers in the Pacific islands in recent years is of English origin, and the English lan¬ guage in a pidgin form is at present the almost universal language of this vast geographical area. It is not merely used between the white and coloured populations, but it is becoming the medium of intercourse between members of the different elements of the native people. A Samoan who meets a Fijian, or a Solomon Islander who wishes to

Immigrants and Lingua franca 467

converse with a native of the New Hebrides, finds his most convenient, and often his only, means of intercourse in pidgin English1. At the present time, we can watch the process whereby a new and uniform language is displacing a con¬ dition of linguistic diversity. We have only to suppose that a similar process followed the arrival of the kava-people in Melanesia, and we have a mechanism for the coming into being of the family of language we now know as Melanesian.

If, at the time of the wide diffusion of the dual organi¬ sation and the dominance of the old men, there was such linguistic diversity as now exists between the languages of Ambrym and Santa Cruz, or between these and the non- Melanesian languages of Savo and Vella Lavella, there can have been no intercourse by means of speech between the peoples of the different islands. Further, if the phonetic differences now found within so small a group as the Banks Islands, or even within one island of the group, are survivals of the ancient diversity, there must have been such an amount of linguistic variation as to exclude any but the most superficial intercourse even between neighbouring peoples. According to my general scheme, there came among these peoples, thus separated by their differences of speech, immi¬ grants who formed settlements which for many generations remained distinct from the general mass of the indigenous population. The people of these immigrant settlements would have a common tongue, and those who had settled on different islands would thus furnish a link between peoples who had formerly had little, if any, friendly intercourse with one another. We have only to suppose that the language spoken by these immigrant settlers became the means of intercourse between the inhabitants of different islands and of different districts of one island, and we are provided with a simple and natural mechanism whereby the language of the immigrants would have become widely known and used as the universal means of intercourse.

I have now to explain how the language of the immi¬ grants became, not merely a language used for intercourse

1 It is true that owing to the influence of the Melanesian Mission there is a second lingua franca at the present time in Melanesia, the language of the island of Mota, but this is rapidly losing ground, partly owing to the advent of other missions, partly to the knowledge of English possessed by natives returned from Queensland, and partly to the increase of the white population.

between the inhabitants of different districts and islands, but the only language of the people. It is part of my general scheme that the descendants of the kava-people gradually fused with the dual people. During this process of fusion there must have been a struggle between the many diverse tongues of the dual people on the one hand and the uni¬ form and widely spread speech of the immigrants on the other. Is it surprising that, in the process of fusion, lan¬ guages perhaps spoken only by the dwellers in districts smaller than an average English parish should have dis¬ appeared before a language which had become universally known over the whole of the area in which these districts were included ?

The scheme I have thus sketched is capable of explaining how any invasion by small bands of men, peacefully received and unaccompanied by their women, may yet succeed in imposing a language on those among whom they settle. If, however, those who thus introduced a foreign speech were at the same time the founders of organisations such as the secret societies of Melanesia, their success becomes still more easy to understand. The Sukwe and Tamate societies in the earlier stages of their existence must have formed an impor¬ tant element in keeping up relations between the descendants of the immigrants who had settled in various islands and, as the dual people were gradually admitted to membership, the speech of the visitors would tend more and more to become, not merely the means of intercourse with the people of other islands or districts, but the language of everyday life. The common life of the gamal and the salagoro would provide a social mechanism in constant action tending to spread the new language among the indigenous population.

Further, the early age at which children are admitted in Melanesia into the common life of the men, thus removing them from the influence of the mother, would have been a factor which must have interfered very seriously with the conditions which are so generally supposed to make language follow the mother. There is evidence (see 1, 79) that the initiation of children into the Sukwe is no modern innovation; it is probable that the practice came into existence very early in the history of the institutions, and if this was so, the Sukwe must have been a potent instrument in the spread of the language of its founders. The introduction of the new

Diversity in Vocabulary 469

language becomes particularly easy to understand if it was spoken by the people who founded the secret organisations.

At this point it will be convenient to consider the causes of the diversity which now disguises to some extent the uniformity of Melanesian languages. I will consider first the smaller differences which distinguish from one an¬ other those languages I have regarded as typically Mela¬ nesian, and then turn to the aberrant forms which are found in certain parts of Melanesia. There are three sets of factors to which this diversity may be ascribed: — (i) the influence of the languages spoken by the earlier inhabitants, (ii) the influence of later bodies of immigrants and especially of the betel-people, and (iii) the influence of isolation acting in conjunction with certain intrinsic factors through which the isolation becomes effective.

The diversity of Melanesian languages shows itself especi¬ ally in vocabulary and phonetic character. Differences in grammatical structure are by no means absent, but they are less evident. I shall not attempt to deal with them at present, but shall confine my attention to vocabulary and phonetics.

No better example of the diversity of vocabulary which exists within the uniformity of Melanesian languages could be found than that already so fully considered in Chapter xxm. Melanesian systems of relationship show clearly that in one department of vocabulary great uniformity in certain respects may co-exist with great diversity in others. In this case, the uniformity seems to have been the results of certain social needs produced through the influence of the immigrants, and this process is one which cannot have been limited to terms of relationship. Relationship has so fundamental a character that the vocabulary connected with it was probably one of the last to change under the influence of the immigrants. The persistence of elements of the more ancient language which is shown by the comparison of systems of relationship must, however, have occurred in other departments of life. It is probable that many of the differences of vocabulary which are found in the languages of Melanesia are to be explained by the persistence of indigenous words to denote objects and actions, such as those connected with magic, which were relatively little influenced by the immigrants1.

There can be little doubt also that the phonetic variations

1 This subject is more fully considered later in this chapter (see p. 483).

of the languages of Melanesia are largely to be explained by the influence of the earlier inhabitants. Many of the phonetic interchanges best known to philologists can be found even within so small a group as the Banks Islands; the k of one island becomes p in another, while in a third a sound may be heard which partakes of the characters of both consonants. In the northern New Hebrides even more striking variations occur. Nearly all the sounds which I have mentioned on p. 18 of the first volume as values of the letter q used by the Mela¬ nesian Mission are to be found in this region, and several of these variants may occur even within the limits of one island. Such enormous phonetic variation is very difficult to understand on any hypothesis other than that on which I am proceeding, according to which it would be the result of phonetic differ¬ ences in the speech of the peoples who inhabited these islands before the arrival of the kava-people.

It is more difficult to say what may have been the influence of the betel-people and other later comers into Melanesia. The languages spoken in the islands where the influence of the betel-people has been especially strong are of the same general character as those of other parts of Melanesia. The betebpeople must have had some effect on vocabulary, but the evidence for their influence seems to be so slight that this people probably furnish an example of the widely accepted principle that language follows the mother. It is probable that the betel-men married women of the islands where they settled, and that their children adopted the languages of their mothers. This process would be the more natural if the language of the betel-people did not differ very widely from that of the earlier immigrants. The existence of common elements in the use of kava and betel, in the cult of the dead and in the material culture, has led me to regard the kavaand betel-peoples as closely allied to one another, and the slight differences between the languages of places settled by the betel-people and those they did not reach suggest that the languages of the kava- and betel-peoples did not differ in any fundamental respect from one another.

The third factor to which the diversity might be ascribed is isolation. I have supposed that one of the consequences of the arrival of the immigrants was to bring about friendly intercourse between peoples who had previously been wholly isolated from one another, this becoming possible through the

Influence of Isolation 47 1

improved means of communication furnished by the vessels in which the immigrants reached Melanesia. So long as these vessels remained large and seaworthy, such communica¬ tion could be kept up, but there is clear evidence that the canoes of many parts of Melanesia have degenerated, or have even disappeared. In such islands as the Banks group there are definite traditions of intercourse with distant islands, intercourse which is quite impossible with the canoes the people now possess. With such degeneration Melanesia must again have been broken up into a number of isolated areas. The question arises how far this isolation has been a factor in the production of the diversity of Melanesian

The influence of isolation upon human culture is a subject opening up a wide field of inquiry which it is impossible to consider adequately here. I shall have to return to the subject later in connection with the languages of Polynesia; I need now only point out that if we are to assume that isolation has been a factor in the production of differences of human culture, it will be our duty to formulate some kind of mechanism whereby the isolation can have produced the results which are ascribed to its influence. In the case of language, and especially of vocabulary, we know of one factor by means of which isolation might assist in the production of great variations. The prohibition of the use of the per¬ sonal names of certain relatives is widespread in Melanesia, and the extension of the prohibition to the names of objects which correspond even partially to the forbidden personal names might be expected to produce great changes in the vocabulary of a people. In the cases, however, where our knowledge is most complete, the evidence shows that the avoidance of names has become associated with an organised system of substitution, such as that of the un words of the Banks Islands, through which the influence on the general vocabulary becomes very slight.

A more potent cause of change would be the prohibition of words to the whole body of the people, especially in con¬ nection with death, but of this we have little or no evidence in the part of Melanesia with which I am now concerned.

Even, however, if such factors could explain the variations in vocabulary, they cannot account for the phonetic differ¬ ences. These must be due to definite structural differences

in the organs of speech, and it is most unlikely that these could be produced by such differences of environment as exist within the regions, and even within the single islands, where the phonetic differences are found. Variations pro¬ duced originally by the mixture of peoples would perhaps become accentuated by isolation, but we can be confident that isolation has been only a subsidiary factor in the produc¬ tion of such wide differences as are found in the languages of Melanesia.

So far I have dealt only with the languages which conform closely to the general Melanesian type. I have now to con¬ sider such aberrant forms as are found in Ambrym and Santa Cruz. It is, of course, possible that these are only due to the influence of the earlier inhabitants having been especially pronounced, this influence perhaps having been assisted in Santa Cruz by the factor of isolation. The differences, however, are so great, especially in the case of Santa Cruz, as to suggest that they are more than merely pronounced variations, and depend upon some very important factor in the history of Melanesia. In order to see what this factor may have been, I propose to turn from Melanesia and inquire whether any light is thrown on our present problem by the study of Polynesian language.

The languages of Polynesia are peculiar, perhaps unique, in their remarkable uniformity, not merely over a wide area, but over one consisting of islands separated often by vast expanses of sea. This uniformity of language is so great that an inhabitant of one island may be able to understand and speak the language of another, perhaps a thousand miles away. In other cases, the differences are more pronounced, but even in these it is usually phonetic interchange and the disappearance of consonants which form the obstacles to mutual understanding rather than differences of grammatical structure or wide differences of vocabulary1.

The great uniformity of Polynesian languages is a factor which has naturally had much influence on the views held by anthropologists concerning the origin of the Polynesian people and their culture. The explanation of the uniformity which is generally accepted is that the Polynesians have spread from some centre where the language developed, and it has been

1 The Paumotu Islands are perhaps an exception.

Linguistic Uniformity of Polynesia 473

the uniformity of language which has led to the wide accept¬ ance of the relatively recent date for this dispersal which is suggested by the traditions of the Polynesians themselves.

Underlying the views of most writers on Polynesia is the assumption that its culture is simple. It is generally supposed that some migrant people found their way to a centre in the Pacific, the Tongan and Samoan Islands being the region generally chosen, and that the whole mass of Polynesians are the descendants of streams of migration from this common source.

The discussions of this volume make it no longer possible to believe in the simplicity of Polynesian culture. The study of funeral customs has shown the presence of two cultures, characterised by attitudes towards death so different from one another that they must have belonged to different peoples, and many other customs and institutions have been found to bear evidence of a double origin. It is probable that the culture of Polynesia is even more complex than this. The practice of extended interment suggests that a third element must be taken into account in Tonga and Samoa, while there are features of the culture of the Maoris1 which suggest a still greater complexity in New Zealand. The problem before us is to reconcile this complexity of the general culture of Poly¬ nesia with the uniformity of its language.

I have ascribed the diversity of the languages of Melanesia chiefly to the influence of its indigenous peoples. It is an essential part of my general scheme that Melanesia was once inhabited by peoples speaking widely diverse languages, and I have supposed that the linguistic variations now found in Melanesia are due chiefly to the different degrees in which the vocabulary of the indigenous people became part of the existing languages, and to the phonetic modifications which the immigrant language suffered in the mouths of the indige¬ nous inhabitants and their descendants. Further, the physical characters and the general culture of Polynesia show that these indigenous inhabitants of Melanesia were not present in Polynesia, or if present, the mode of interaction between the immigrants and themselves allowed them to exert very little influence on the physical characters or culture of the Polynesian people. The absence of the chief cause of

1 Especially the highly developed curvilinear character of their decorative art.

Melanesian diversity thus goes far to account for the uni¬ formity of Polynesia.

Until Chapter xxvn, I supposed that the natives whom the kava-people found in Melanesia were the aboriginal in¬ habitants, but the study of funeral customs in that chapter led to the conclusion that these supposed aborigines were them¬ selves complex, and that there entered into their composition a people who interred their dead in the sitting position, people who had also preceded the kava-people in Polynesia. If, therefore, we can discover the nature of the language spoken by the earlier stratum of the population of Polynesia, it will enable us to take a step further in our construction of the history of the languages of Melanesia.

The researches of Codrington, Ray, Schmidt and others have fully established the close relation which exists between the Melanesian and Polynesian families of language, and Schmidt has coined a term which is so useful that I propose to adopt it at this stage of my inquiry. He uses the word Austronesian to include the Melanesian and Polynesian families of language together with the Indonesian languages of the Malay Archipelago. It is thoroughly in harmony with the general scheme of this volume that there should be this close relation between the languages of Melanesia and Polynesia. According to this scheme, as it has developed in recent chapters, more than one element of the population is common to the two areas ; I have now to inquire to which of these common elements the close linguistic relation between the two is to be ascribed; in other words, I have to discover who were the introducers of the common element which makes it possible to class the two languages together as Austronesian.

If I am right in ascribing the introduction of the languages of Melanesia to a lingua franca introduced by the kava-people, it is clear that the kava-people must have spoken an Austro¬ nesian language, and it will follow that the kava-people must also have spoken this language in Polynesia and would have been responsible, wholly or in part, for the Austronesian character of the Polynesian languages.

The first question to be considered is whether the Austro¬ nesian character of the Polynesian languages has come about through the same kind of mechanism as in Melanesia, viz. through the gradual use of the language of the kava-people

Language of Sitting-interment People 475

as a lingua franca until it became the general language of the whole people. Two difficulties stand in the way of this explanation. The wide separation of the islands of Polynesia must have made the establishment of a lingua franca a far more difficult matter than in Melanesia. More important, however, is the fact that the mechanism I have suggested for Melanesia would imply that the kava-people found a high degree of linguistic diversity in Polynesia, and this is diffi¬ cult to reconcile with the existing uniformity of Polynesian languages. If the mixture of peoples in Melanesia has been the leading factor in the production of its linguistic diversity, the uniformity of the existing languages of Polynesia makes it most improbable that there can ever have been any great degree of diversity in this region. If the earlier stratum of the Polynesian population spoke widely diverse languages, these can hardly have failed to influence the languages spoken after the arrival of the kava-people. Even if the earlier languages were uniform but differed widely in character from that of the kava-people, it would be difficult to understand the present uniformity. This uniformity suggests that the language of the earlier settlers who interred their dead in the sitting position was also Austronesian, and that isolation had produced no great variety in its different members when the kava-people came to settle in Polynesia. The uniformity of the languages of Polynesia is most naturally to be explained if the earlier immigrants who interred their dead in the sitting position spoke an Austronesian tongue which was not greatly affected by the language, also Austronesian, of the later immigrants through whose influence the use of kava was introduced.

Before I leave Polynesia and return to Melanesia, I should like to refer again to the factor of isolation. Even on the most moderate computation and adopting their own chro¬ nology, the inhabitants of different parts of Polynesia have been isolated for many centuries; and if there is anything in my scheme, the long isolation which preceded the arrival of the kava-people can also have produced but little diversity. The complexity of Polynesian culture and the evidence for the high antiquity of its earlier stratum must raise the gravest doubts concerning the validity of the widely accepted belief in the great influence of isolation in the production of linguistic diversity. The Polynesian evidence reinforces that derived

from Melanesia in showing that the blending of peoples is a far more potent factor than isolation. The greatest linguistic differences among peoples of similar culture with which we are acquainted are not found where peoples are absolutely isolated by wide expanses of sea, but they occur rather among peoples such as the Papuans of New Guinea, the northern Australians, or even within the limits of a single island of Melanesia. In these cases the isolation, when it exists, has not a physical cause, but is due to social and ethnical factors.

I can now return to Melanesia. The study of Polynesian language has led to the conclusion that the people who interred their dead in the sitting position spoke an Austronesian language. This people entered Melanesia before the kava-people and, in some way I have yet to consider, helped to produce the culture I regarded at one time as aboriginal. It follows that the kava-people were not the first introducers of Austronesian languages into Melanesia. Two alternatives present themselves: one, that the earlier immigrants into Melanesia failed to introduce their language or languages; the other, that the kava-people found Austro¬ nesian languages already in use on their arrival in Melanesia. I now suggest that the aberrant Melanesian languages, such languages as those of Ambrym and Santa Cruz1, furnish evidence in favour of the second of these two alternatives. On this supposition the languages of Ambrym and Santa Cruz are examples of the Austronesian language spoken by the people who interred their dead in the sitting position, but little influenced by the later immigrants. Their diver¬ gence from the general Melanesian type is to be explained by their being far more ancient and by their bearing in far more ample measure than the rest the stamp of the linguistic peculiarities of the true aborigines with whom the earlier immigrants must have blended.

The ascription of the archaic forms of Melanesian language to a body of immigrants earlier than that which used kava makes it necessary to inquire how this earlier introduction came about, and whether it was due to the use of the immi¬ grant language as a lingua franca which I have supposed to have been the mechanism in the case of the kava-people. It would be unprofitable, however, to consider this subject till we have some idea of the mode of social interaction between

1 Probably also the languages of the Loyalty Islands and New Caledonia.

Language and Death-rites 477

the people who interred their dead in the sitting position and the earlier inhabitants.

I shall return to this topic when I consider the nature of the process whereby the dual organisation came into being.

I need only now point out that if these aberrant examples of Melanesian speech have been due to the influence of a people who interred their dead in the sitting position, we should expect to find this mode of interment in Santa Cruz and Ambrym. In Santa Cruz interment is the most frequent practice, but the records do not tell us in what position the dead are placed. In Ambrym, the evidence is more satis¬ factory. If I am right in my general principle that earlier settlers are represented by the commoners, we should expect to find the bodies of commoners interred in Ambrym, and so it is. We are not told in what position they are now buried, but in the ancient interment excavated by Suas1, he was able to recognise the sitting position. If my scheme is right, this ancient burial, no less than four metres below the present surface of the ground, is an example of the sepulture of the immigrants who preceded the kava-people into Melanesia, whose archaic Austronesian language still survives, distin¬ guishing Ambrym from other islands of the New Hebrides in which more recent influences have brought the languages into line with those of the rest of Melanesia.

At this stage it will be interesting to inquire if it is possible to discover any reason for the persistence of ancient forms of language in certain parts of Melanesia. Bougain¬ ville and Vella Lavella lie near the Bismarck Archipelago where it is probable that many of the languages do not belong to the Melanesian family. These islands are therefore merely outliers of a region which I shall consider later. The case of Savo is more difficult, for this island is situated in the midst of a region of the Solomons where the later Austro¬ nesian speech has obtained a hold perhaps firmer than in any other part of Melanesia. It must be remembered, however, how little we know of the interior of the adjoining island of Guadalcanar. It is possible that the bush-people of this island still speak languages which are not Melanesian ; the language of Savo may be only a fragment which has somehow become separated from this inland group. In Santa Cruz and its neighbours we have a group of islands occupying a position 1 See Joly, Bull, de la Soc. d’Anth ., Paris, 1904, Ser. V, t. v, p. 365.

which, as I have already pointed out (n, 299), might lead to their escape from some of the influences which have affected other parts of Melanesia. The only island of this group in which we have any evidence of secret societies is Utupua, and it is possible that Santa Cruz largely escaped the influ¬ ence of the kava-people or may have been affected by it only through secondary movements. Another possibility is that the interaction between the earlier inhabitants and the immigrants was of a kind different from that of other parts of Melanesia. In these islands we have peoples who speak Melanesian and Polynesian languages living side by side and having intimate social relations with one another. This coexistence of the two languages suggests that Santa Cruz and the Reef Islands form an example of a mode of immigrant settlement in which the descendants of the immigrants continued to form a sepa¬ rate community, so that the fusion did not take place which elsewhere I have supposed to have been so potent a factor in the permanent adoption of the immigrant speech.

Of Ambrym I can only point out that geographically it lies next to Pentecost which, of all the parts of Melanesia about which we have detailed knowledge, approaches most nearly to the archaic character. It is possible that Ambrym will be found to approach still more nearly to the conditions I suppose to be archaic, and that its aberrant language is only one sign of the strength of the indigenous elements in its culture.

I cannot pass from this subject without calling attention to a physical feature common to most of the places where languages are spoken which are not Melanesian or are of an archaic Melanesian type. All of these places are the sites of volcanoes or of pronounced signs of volcanic activity. Ambrym and the small adjoining island, Lopevi, possess two out of the three active volcanoes of the New Hebrides, and the volcano of Savo was active when the Solomons were visited by the Spaniards. There is also an active volcano close to Santa Cruz, and there is much evidence of volcanic activity in Vella Lavella. If, as I have supposed, the kava-people were the introducers of the lingua fi'anca which developed into the typical Melanesian languages, and if this people avoided places with manifest signs of volcanic activity in their primary migration, we should have an explanation of the aberrant languages of Melanesia. The influence of the

Influence of Volcanoes 479

kava-people is present in the places where these aberrant languages are spoken, but this influence may have been carried by means of relatively late and secondary movements. It is noteworthy in this respect that Merlav in the Banks Islands, which has probably been peopled by such secondary movements, was an active volcano when it was sighted by Quiros. The matter becomes of great interest in relation to the suggestion I have made in an earlier chapter concerning a possible connection between volcanoes and the home of the dead. I have supposed that the belief in this connection existed in Melanesia before the advent of the kava-people, and if there is anything in my present supposition, this view is supported by the distribution of the aberrant languages of Melanesia. It becomes probable that the belief in an under¬ ground Hades reached through volcanoes or volcanic vents is to be associated with the earlier strata of the population of Melanesia, and that to the kava-people volcanic activity was a thing to be avoided. It may even have been that the indigenous belief in the volcanoes as homes of the dead assisted this avoidance. If, as seems probable, the under¬ ground Hades of Polynesia is associated with volcanic activity, we have confirmation of the view that this belief is to be ascribed to the earlier stratum of the population of Polynesia, while it was the kava-people who believed in a future home on earth or in the sky.

Before I proceed to consider how far the scheme of the history of Oceanic language which I have formulated in this chapter helps us to understand existing features of these languages, it will be well to summarise the position I have now reached. The scheme on which I propose to proceed is that all three of the peoples I suppose to have come into Oceania, viz. the sitting-interment people1, the kava-people and the betel-people, spoke languages of the Austronesian family. I suppose that the earliest comers who interred their dead in the sitting position formed the foundation of the languages of Polynesia, while they also succeeded in intro¬ ducing their language into many of the islands of Melanesia, but probably in every case with a large admixture of the

1 I propose to use this term occasionally for the sake of brevity, but it is too cumbrous to make it fit for general use. If my scheme should be generally ac¬ cepted, this people might be called the Proto-Polynesians, but I hesitate to use this term in the present state of our knowledge.

indigenous speech. Further, I suppose that the difference thus produced by different degrees of admixture with the aboriginal tongues was accentuated by the isolation which followed the degeneration of their canoes, so that when the kava-people came into Melanesia, they found the high degree of linguistic diversity which made the use of their language necessary as a lingua franca. Moreover, I suppose that they had a far greater success than the sitting-interment people in bringing about linguistic uniformity in Melanesia. This greater success would have been due, partly to the Austronesian character already given to the languages of the dual people by the earlier settlement of the people who practised sitting interment, but still more to the influence of the secret organisations which I have already considered, — this acting especially through the early removal of the children from the influence of their mothers.

While I thus suppose the existing uniformity of Mela¬ nesian languages to be due chiefly to the influence of the kava-people, I suppose this people to have had much less influence on the languages of Polynesia. Owing to the great distances between the islands of Polynesia, the speech of the kava-people was not so readily useful as a pidgin language, but, still more important, the languages of Polynesia were already far more uniform than those of Melanesia so that a unifying agent was less necessary. Further, I suppose that owing to absence of admixture with aboriginal tongues, the languages spoken in Polynesia before the arrival of the kava-people were so like that of this people that the new settlers found little difficulty in learning the language of those who had preceded them in the islands of the Pacific.

I propose now to consider the bearing of this scheme on current views concerning the nature of Oceanic language, and then to inquire how far my scheme enables us to understand some of the difficulties which face the students of these lan¬ guages.

Students of Melanesian languages belong to two chief schools : one, following F. Muller, which believes that these languages are the results of mixture ; the other, which holds that the Melanesian languages form a group which may be regarded as an independent member of the Austronesian family, and most adherents of this school believe the Mela¬ nesian languages to represent most nearly the original stock

Language and Culture-mixture 481

from which the various members of the Austronesian family have been derived. It will be clear to which of these two schools the arguments of this chapter lead us to give our adherence. According to my scheme, the Melanesian and Polynesian languages are not the outcome of a simple process of development by means of gradual differentiation from some common stock, but they are essentially the outcome of the blending of peoples possessing different forms of speech. According to this scheme, the languages of Melanesia are the result of the mixture of at least four component elements, the earliest of which differed very widely from those with which it blended. If this be so, the primary task of the philologist should be the analysis of Melanesian languages into these component elements, just as it is the primary task of the sociologist to analyse its social institutions and customs. This is not the place to attempt such an analysis even if I were competent for the task. I propose only to indicate certain general results which must follow if my scheme is accepted as a working basis for the study of Oceanic philology, and to point out certain lines of inquiry which should be useful in the process of analysis.

According to my scheme, the uniformity which is present in the languages of Melanesia is mainly due to the influence of the kava-people. It is to them that we should look as the source of linguistic features, structural, phonetic or verbal, which present any high degree of uniformity throughout Melanesia. Whenever, therefore, we find a form of gram¬ matical structure, a phonetic feature, or an element of vocabulary, the same or closely similar in many different parts of Melanesia, we should be led to see in this sameness or likeness evidence of the influence of the kava-people. Where we find grammatical forms, phonetic features or words, alike in so far as they are Melanesian, but unlike in detail, or in the case of words in meaning, they should probably be assigned to one of the other immigrant stocks which I suppose to have spoken languages of the Austro¬ nesian family, either the betel-people or those who interred their dead in the sitting position. Where, on the other hand, we find absolute diversity, the diverse elements will probably have been derived, though perhaps with much modification, from the diverse languages of the people who originally in¬ habited the islands of Melanesia.

r. m. s. II.

Moreover, in language, as in other departments of human culture, there will always be the possibility that its features may not belong to any one of the elements out of which it is composed, but may have arisen as the result of the interaction of these elements with one another. If I am right in supposing that the essential element in the production of the uniformity of the languages of Melanesia has been their growth out of a hugua franca , it is clear that the character of the languages of Melanesia is primarily due to the inter¬ action of peoples, and that we have to look in this direction for the explanation of many features of Melanesian language. If there is anything in my scheme, many features of Mela¬ nesian language have been the direct result of their origin in forms of speech designed to convey the ideas of one people to another, differing greatly from them in culture, and prob¬ ably inferior to them in general intelligence. I propose to consider here only certain points in which vocabulary and grammatical structure are concerned, and to leave any dis¬ cussion of the phonetic aspect of Oceanic language on one

side.

Vocabulary .

In this subject we are met by the difficulty that, though it is in vocabulary that we should expect indigenous influences to show themselves most strongly, it is here that our means of comparison are most defective. The direct way to dis¬ cover whether a word is of indigenous origin would be to seek for its relatives in one of the non-Melanesian languages spoken in Melanesia or its neighbourhood. This, however, is impracticable because these non- Melanesian languages differ so much from one another that any argument from comparison with them would be a most dangerous procedure. It is neces¬ sary to attack the problem from some other side.

The whole argument of this book is based primarily on the assumption that it is possible to assign certain elements of vocabulary, viz. those denoting relationship, to different linguistic strata, and it may be worth while to consider how far the process of which I have made so much use in the case of relationship may be applied in a more general manner. According to my scheme, the kava-people only succeeded in introducing their own terms of relationship when they were

Immigrants and Vocabiriary 483

the means of bringing about modifications of the social organisation of the earlier inhabitants. Where the kavapeople did not influence the social structure, I have supposed that the earlier terms persisted and became part of the lan¬ guage of the people which resulted from the fusion between the dual and kava-peoples.

. The process which I thus suppose to have taken place in the case of relationship is only a sample illustrating the general character of the influence on language of the inter¬ action of peoples. The rule which applies to relationship must hold good of social terminology in general. Other departments of culture may be expected to have vocabularies in which it is possible to distinguish words from different linguistic strata according as the denoted objects or processes have or have not been affected by immigrant influence.

Perhaps the best example of the kind of process which would thus determine the relative shares taken by immigrant and indigenous elements in vocabulary is to be found in the case of magic. I have supposed that the magic of the Banks Islands belongs to the culture of the people who inhabited the islands before the arrival of the kava-people. The existence of such magic must soon have forced itself upon the notice of the kava-people ; it must have been a process of great interest to them and have been prominent in their intercourse with one another and with the dual people. We should therefore expect that the terms for magic and for its chief varieties would belong to the immigrant speech. The private character of magic, however, would prevent the immigrants from obtaining any intimate knowledge, if any knowledge at all, of the magical processes themselves. We should therefore expect that the objects and processes known only to the magician would continue to be denoted by the indigenous terms. The small vocabulary which is provided by my record of Motlav magic supports this conclusion. The words used for the varieties of magic, such as garatai and talamatai , are evidently Melanesian in character, but those used in the magical processes themselves, such as nikao, nurnem , lakwor and nerlani , bear this character much less obviously. These words may belong either to the true aboriginal languages or may be words belonging to the people who interred their dead in the sitting position, greatly modified by indigenous influence, but it is most

improbable that they belong to the vocabulary of the kavapeople.

I suggest, then, as a general principle which may help in the distinction of different strata in vocabulary that those processes and objects which belonged to the immigrant culture, or which would have entered largely into the interests of the immigrants, would be denoted by immigrant terms, while those which would have remained unknown or of little interest to the immigrants would preserve their indigenous names.

It is evident that this principle will have to be used with the greatest caution and will only have any value in conjunc¬ tion with other lines of evidence. Thus, we might expect at first sight that animals or plants special to Melanesia and therefore unknown to the immigrants would preserve the names used for them by the indigenous population. If, however, these animals or plants became important to the immigrants, say as the nearest substitutes for animals or plants important in their former home, and especially if the feature which made them important became an element of the culture which resulted from the interaction with the indigenous people, the animals or plants might be named by means of words from the immigrant vocabulary. A name might be chosen owing to some real or fancied resemblance to animals or plants of the former home, or it might be determined by onomatopoeia, a process very frequent in the naming of animals, and especially of birds, in Melanesia.

The principle I have just suggested is one which may be applied at any stage of Melanesian history. I have drawn my examples especially from the interaction between the kavapeople and the earlier settlers organised on the dual basis of society, but it may be applied to any other of the inter¬ actions I suppose to have taken place in Melanesia, to that of the betel-people with those produced by the blend of the kava-people with the still earlier inhabitants, or to the mixture of the people who interred their dead in the sitting position with the true indigenous population.

I have supposed that all three of the immigrant peoples of whose influence we have evidence in Melanesia spoke languages of the Austronesian family, and the question now to be briefly considered is how far we possess any criterion which will enable us to assign elements of the Melanesian

Culture-mixture and Vocabulary 485

vocabulary to these different peoples. We should expect that an Austronesian word confined to the area where betel is chewed would have been introduced by the betel-people, while words shared by this area with southern Melanesia or with Polynesia or with both would belong either to the language of the kava-people, or to that of the people who interred their dead in the sitting position. If we find words limited to the area where betel is chewed, and especially if these words are used in connection with practices such as head-hunting, we should have reason to assign them to the betel-people.

It is a very difficult matter to distinguish between the two earlier immigrations into Oceania, but one principle may be suggested which may help in this direction. There are certain Melanesian words, evidently of immigrant origin, which are widely spread throughout Melanesia and Polynesia in a form in which their unity can be recognised by the veriest tyro in linguistic studies. Examples of such words taken from social or magico-religious categories are mana ; tapu or tambu ; tamate, tomate , or atmat ; tagataga or itokatoka . The meaning of these words is so much the same in different parts of Oceania that there can be no doubt about their close connection. They vary so little in form or meaning that it is probable that they are relatively recent and could with much confidence be assigned to the kava-people, merely on lin¬ guistic grounds, even if we had no other evidence leading us to associate ’them with this people. On the other hand, there are words, such as oloolo and vui, the relation of which to other Austronesian words it is far less easy to recognise, or words such as rongo, which though widely distributed in Oceania, have different meanings in different places. Such words may belong to the earlier Austronesian language spoken by the people who interred their dead in the sitting position.

Here, again, the principle I suggest is an instrument which must be used very cautiously and will only be of much value when combined with evidence of other kinds. As an example of such combination of evidence I may cite the words vui and oloolo. In this chapter it is their dis¬ tribution which leads me to connect them with the earlier immigrants into Oceania, but this agrees with the view I have advanced in Chapter xxxm where I have shown

Melanesian Society

reason to believe that the features of culture for which these terms are used belonged to those whom the kava-people found already settled in Melanesia. It is only as our know¬ ledge both of language and of custom and institution becomes more exact that we shall find vocabulary of any great value in the analysis of culture.

Grammatical structure.

It is certain that the grammatical structure of the Mela¬ nesian languages is far more purely the result of immigrant influence than its vocabulary, but the possibility must always be borne in mind that certain features of this structure may have arisen as the result of interaction between the different elements of the population. If I am right in supposing that the Melanesian languages came into existence as examples of pidgin language, this origin should betray itself in their nature. A language with such an origin may be expected to exhibit features of a pidgin character, features such as would arise when one people uses its language as a means of intercourse with aliens, in this case of a lower degree of intelligence and culture.

I do not possess the knowledge necessary to enable me to undertake any detailed investigation from this point of view, but I may be permitted to give two examples to illustrate the kind of result to which such an investigation may be expected to lead.

Inclusive and exclusive plural. One of the most striking features of Melanesian grammatical structure is the existence of the inclusive and exclusive forms of the first person plural. If a person wishes to indicate himself and others including the person he is addressing, he will use one grammatical form, but if the person addressed is not included, a different form of speech will be used. So far as I am aware, the attention of philologists has been exclusively devoted to the distribution of this grammatical peculiarity and to its value as a sign of linguistic relationship, and no attempt has been made to seek for its origin. It is evident, however, that it is exactly such a feature as might be expected to arise when a more or less new language is coming into being as the result of intercourse between two peoples. In the argument of this volume, I have supposed that the two peoples, indigenous and immigrant, did not blend at once, but that there was a

Inclusive and Exclusive Plural 487

long period during which they lived side by side. At this stage we may suppose that there would be in existence three forms of language ; the indigenous, the immigrant, and the lingua franca which was later to become the language of both peoples. Is it not perfectly natural that this third language for intercourse between the two peoples should come to possess some means of distinguishing between acts which the community of the speakers have carried through or propose to carry through themselves and acts which they have per¬ formed or propose to perform in conjunction with their neigh¬ bours ? According to this hypothesis, the inclusive and exclusive forms would have arisen through a definite social need, a need for the distinction between acts performed by one or both of two peoples living in close intercourse with one another and yet preserving in large measure their own customs and interests.

It is evident that such a distinction as that of the inclusive and exclusive forms of the first person plural might be due to any other social differentiation which made it important to distinguish between different elements in the population; thus, it might well be the result of the distinction between chiefs and commoners. If it were due to this latter cause, we should expect to find it especially developed in those parts of Oceania where chieftainship is most highly developed, as in Polynesia and the Western Solomons, and we should hardly expect to find it in southern Melanesia, where the distinction between chiefs and commoners is so indefinite.

As a matter of fact the distinction between the inclusive and exclusive forms is found in Polynesia, and it must remain an open question how far it has arisen or been promoted there by differences of rank. The fact, however, that the distinction is definitely present in southern Melanesia makes it probable that the most important element in the production of the distinction is to be sought in the intercourse between different peoples. Further, if the distinction between chiefs and commoners is, as I suppose, itself the result of the con¬ tact of peoples, there would be but little difference between the two views. A condition in which the distinction between inclusive and exclusive forms came about as the result of the intercourse between chiefs and commoners would only be a secondary and indirect consequence of the interaction of peoples.

I put forward this hypothesis of the origin of the two different forms of the first person plural in Oceania only as an example of the kind of process whereby grammatical features of language may arise as the result of the contact of peoples. It is possible, even probable, that the distinction of the inclusive and exclusive forms was already a feature of the Austronesian language which the immigrants into Oceania brought with them, and if so, we should have to do with the successful transmission of the feature to a new home owing to its social usefulness rather than with a case of independent origin in response to a social need.

Melanesian possessives. Another striking feature of Mela¬ nesian languages is the existence of two modes of denoting possession ; one, used in general in the case of parts of the body, relationships and especially close possession, which takes the form of true possessive pronouns ; the other, used with all other words, in which the possessive pronoun is affixed to a noun or particle, making up the form of speech which is called a possessive noun. The Melanesian languages differ from the other members of the Oceanic family in the regular use of both these modes of denoting possession, and it is possible to for¬ mulate a scheme showing how these two modes may have come into existence.

My attention was directed to this subject by a feature of Melanesian language, which has hitherto been unknown or has received but little attention. It is usually held to be a general characteristic of Melanesia that true possessive pronouns are always used with terms of relationship, but in Viti Levu both modes of denoting possession are found, the true pronouns especially on the coast and the possessive nouns in the interior (see 1, 290 and 11, 196). According to my scheme, the terms of the interior are the more ancient ; it will therefore follow that the possessive nouns present the more ancient Melanesian usage and the true pronouns the more recent, and I use this as a working assumption in the following argument.

In an earlier part of this chapter I have used the pidgin English of the Pacific as a pattern of a lingua franca. In this form of English there are no possessive pronouns, but possession is indicated by the use of pronouns following the verb “belong,” “my head” becoming “head belong me.” It is generally supposed that this is merely a translation of the

Nature of Pidgin Language 489

Chinese idiom, from which pidgin English acquired its special characters, but it has almost certainly a far more deeply seated significance. If an Englishman were to say to a Melanesian “my head,” “your head” and “his head,” the three different prefixes1 would tend to obscure the word common to the three expressions, and thereby the perception of the word “head” would be obscured and retarded. If, on the other hand, he says “ head belong me,” the attention of the hearer is at once attracted by the noun, and the interposition of a more or less neutral word gives him time to attend to the nature of the possessive pronoun. The English words are no mere translation of a native idiom, but a mode of expression definitely adapted to make a foreign language more readily intelligible, and this explains why this feature, originally a character of the lingua franca used for intercourse with the Chinese, is so general in the pidgin languages of the Pacific. I suggest, then, that the possessive nouns of Melanesia are examples of a general law which leads to the separation of a noun from its pronoun when a foreign language is being used as the means of intercourse with a rude people, and it is noteworthy that, according to Dr Codrington2, the natives of Melanesia now use the possessive noun in place of the pronoun, even where the latter should properly be used, when they wish to make their meaning clear to foreigners.

According to this scheme, the first immigrants who reached Melanesia would have used the possessive nouns ; it remains to see why there should also have come into use the true pos¬ sessive pronouns to qualify certain classes of noun. Let us imagine that a second stream of immigrants, speaking a similar language, reached Melanesia when the pidgin language started by the first stream had reached some degree of organisation and stability. Such new comers would no longer find a wholly foreign and unintelligible speech, though doubtless the lingua franca due to the mixture of the first stream of immigrants with the aborigines would not be at once understood, just as the pidgin English of the Pacific is far from plain to the Englishman who hears it for the first time. On the other hand, though the language of the new comers would be strange to those among whom they settled, it would be very

1 The pronouns are none the less prefixes because we write them as separate words.

2 M.L. , 28.

far from having the difficulty of the language spoken by the first comers. I suggest that, in consequence of this greater familiarity, the new comers would be able to modify the earlier language and introduce their own method of denoting posses¬ sion, especially when for any reason the idea of possession was especially strong or intimate. According to this scheme, the two modes of denoting possession in Melanesia have been the outcome of two successive migrations of peoples speaking allied languages and arriving at a sufficient interval to allow the language introduced by the earlier comers to have reached a certain degree of organisation.

The conclusion to which we are thus led is that the two classes of possessive in Melanesia belong to two successive migrations of people speaking allied languages. The whole argument of this chapter, however, has gone to show that there have been two such successive migrations even in those parts of Melanesia which have not been reached by the betelpeople. It is therefore in accordance with the general scheme of this chapter that the possessive nouns of Melanesia should belong primarily to the languages which were the outcome of the earliest settlement of people speaking an Austronesian lan¬ guage, and that it is to the kava-people that the Melanesian languages owe the use of the suffixed pronouns with certain classes of noun1.

I have now to inquire whether the hypothesis that the pos¬ sessive nouns are derived especially from the sitting-interment people and the true possessive pronouns from the kava-people will explain the characteristic use of the latter with certain classes of noun. The nouns which take the true possessive pronoun in Melanesia are of three kinds; terms of relationship, terms for parts of the body, and terms denoting especially close possession. We have already seen that the kava-people to whom I have ascribed the introduction of the true posses¬ sive pronouns had a great influence on relationship. If, as I suppose, the dual people were communistic, there would have been no need to distinguish “my father” from many other men. The distinction of “my father” or “his father”

1 It may perhaps be of interest to mention that this scheme of origin of the two forms of possession was formulated by me long before the study of the ritual of death had led me to believe in an Austronesian invasion of Melanesia prior to that of the kava-people. When the linguistic scheme was first formulated, I had to suppose that the two forms of possessive were due to two successive migrations of the kava-people.

Possessive Pronouns

out of a large class of men would have been the result of the movement towards individual relations which I suppose to have been one of the chief results of the influence of the kava-people. Similarly, the use of true pronouns for especially close possession corresponds with the presence of individual as opposed to communistic possession. The use of the possessive pronouns by the kava-people falls into line with the trend towards individual ownership set up by this people.

There remains the use of the possessive pronouns for parts of the body, perhaps the class of noun for which the possessive pronouns are used most constantly. Here I must confess that I can see no such clear motive for the use of the true pronouns. It may be noted, however, that terms for parts of the body are among the most widely distributed words of Melanesia. According to the scheme of this chapter, widely distributed words used in the same senses throughout Mela¬ nesia are to be ascribed to the kava-people, an ascription which takes us one step towards the explanation of the use of pos¬ sessive pronouns with terms for parts of the body. I can only suggest that there may have been some feature of the inter¬ action between kava- and dual peoples which gave to parts of the body a social importance they had not previously possessed among the dual people, and the importance of the head in Oceania furnishes us with at least one example of such social importance. Another possible factor is the human motive in decorative art, which would have given parts of the body an interest they would not possess to a people who practised a purely geometrical form of decoration. I have ascribed both the importance of the head and the use of the human motive in art to the kava-people, and it may be that it was only these and other elements of culture introduced by this people which gave parts of the body that social interest which made a de¬ finite system of nomenclature necessary. The interest given to parts of the body by the kava-people may only have assisted a tendency to the use of the pronominal forms arising out of the peculiarly intimate possession which exists between a person and the parts of his body.

I venture to suggest, then, that the true possessive pro¬ nouns of Melanesia were introduced by the kava-people ; in two out of the three classes of noun with which they are used it is possible to refer their introduction to definite social

Melanesian Society

factors, and there are features of Melanesian culture which may furnish motives for the use of true pronouns with the third class. I have now to inquire whether there are any special characters of the true possessive pronouns which support this suggestion. It is a peculiar feature of these pronouns that they are only used in the singular number ; when plural suffixes are needed, the plural forms of the per¬ sonal pronouns are used. That there should be such a differ¬ ence between singular and plural forms is just as might be expected according to my scheme. I suppose that it was the individual ideas of the kava-people as opposed to the com¬ munism of the earlier inhabitants which acted as the motives for the use of new possessive forms for relationships and especially close possession. A thoroughly communistic people would never have occasion to say “my father” or “my canoe,”

“ his father ” or “ his canoe,” and it is a striking fact that it is only in such cases that we have new grammatical forms.

Another important feature of the true possessive pronouns is that, in parts of Melanesia where there are two articles, one is used with nouns which suffix their pronouns and the other with those which take the possessive nouns. Thus, in Mota na is the article used with nouns which take the suffix, while o is used in other cases. This suggests that the two articles belong to different linguistic strata, and the use of na with nouns which take the suffix shows that it is this form of the article which must be assigned to the kava-people, and I believe that the use of na as an article in Melanesia will be found to be in agreement with this view. If so, it is in accordance with my scheme that the Polynesian article should be wholly different, for I have supposed that the grammar of the languages of Polynesia is essentially that of the earlier settlers who interred their dead in the sitting position. The nature of the possessive pronouns of Melanesia leads to the conclusion that the kava-people used na as their definite article, and we should expect according to my scheme that the alternative article of Mota, o , is a decayed form of the Polynesian te , which in my scheme is to be assigned to the sitting-interment people.

If my scheme of the origin of Melanesian possessives is accepted, certain conclusions concerning the nature of the languages of Polynesia follow. Throughout Polynesia the chief, and usually the only, possessive form is that of the

Polynesian Possessives 493

noun which I suppose to have come into existence through the influence of the sitting-interment people. This suggests that the essential structure of the Polynesian languages is that which was given to them by the earlier settlers who interred their dead in the sitting position, and that the kava-people failed here to produce the modifications which I have ascribed to their influence in Melanesia. This, however, is precisely the conclusion which I have reached on quite other lines of evidence. The scheme I have formulated to explain the nature of Oceanic possessives leads to the same goal as that reached in earlier parts of this chapter. This agreement will become still more striking if we are able to find reasons why the kava-people should not have succeeded in introducing their possessive forms into Polynesia. I have supposed that the introduction of possessive pronouns into Melanesia was a result of the tendency set up by the kava-people towards individualism in regard both to relationship and property. It is, however, just this tendency which has been of so small effect in Polynesia. The systems of relationship of Polynesia remain examples of the classificatory principle carried to the extreme, while communism of property still remains far more pronounced in Polynesia than in Melanesia. As regards two of the classes of noun for which the true pronominal forms are used, there are definite reasons why the kava-people should have failed in Polynesia to produce the effect which I have ascribed to their influence in Melanesia. No such definite motive can be given for the failure of the kava-people to introduce the use of their possessive forms for parts of the body. Both the sanctity of the head and the human motive in art, which I suppose to have been important in Melanesia, are present in Polynesia, and I can only suggest that the absence of possessive pronouns is an example of the general failure of the kava-people to produce any great effect on the grammatical structure of the language spoken in Polynesia before their arrival.

The scheme I have formulated for the origin of Melanesian possessives, not only accounts for the main features of this aspect of the Oceanic languages, but it also brings other details of linguistic usage into harmony with my scheme of Oceanic history. It makes the linguistic forms by means of which possession is denoted in Oceania the direct con¬ sequences of the social development which followed immigrant

influence and furnishes a good example of the close inter¬ dependence of linguistic with other aspects of human culture.

If my scheme of the origin of Melanesian possessives is accepted, still another consequence will follow. If possessive nouns have their origin in a lingua franca , the almost exclusive use of these nouns in Polynesia makes it necessary to hold that the Polynesian languages have arisen out of a pidgin language. This consequence of my scheme has now to be considered.

Dr Codrington has characterised the languages of Poly¬ nesia as “late, simplified and decayed1.” Could one have a more apt description of a pidgin language or of one which has developed out of a pidgin language ? Further, such an origin of the Polynesian languages helps us greatly to under¬ stand the constancy which has preserved their uniformity in spite of isolation. If Polynesian languages are essentially pidgin languages, easy to understand and learn, this constancy becomes natural. From our new point of view the uniformity of the languages of Polynesia, which seemed to present so real a difficulty at the outset of our inquiry, is not only a result of the relative simplicity of the Polynesian people and their culture ; it is still more the natural outcome of their intrinsic nature as languages already so simplified at their birth that they have not been liable to the extensive changes which more complex languages are liable to undergo.

Further, the pidgin origin of the Polynesian languages supports a conclusion already widely held by philologists that the Polynesians are the descendants of a people who passed through Indonesia and Melanesia on their way from their original home. The pidgin form from which the Polynesian languages have developed would be a language which the migrants had learned to use in their intercourse with alien peoples not only, it is probable, in Melanesia, but also in other regions which lay in their path from their ancient home. If Polynesian language had its birth in a pidgin form, it will follow that those who finally settled in the islands of the Pacific must have been separated by many generations from those migrants who first set out upon a journey which was to make them the ancestors of a new people.

With these suggestions I must leave this subject. I hope that the scheme which I have sketched in this chapter

1 M.L. , 26.

Language and Social Function 495

may provide a fruitful working hypothesis for students of Oceanic languages. So far as I am able to judge, students of Oceanic philology have hitherto been subject to the same spell which I believe to have afflicted the students of other aspects of social culture1. Their attention has been almost exclusively directed to the study of resemblances between the many languages of Oceania. This is the essential first step, but, when it has been taken and the unity of Oceanic languages demonstrated, it becomes necessary to turn the attention to the far more difficult problems involved in the study of differences : not merely differences in the languages of different regions and the dialects of different districts, but also those which exist within any one language or dialect, such as are shown by the un and salagoro words of the Banks Islands or the differences in the language of chiefs and com¬ moners in Polynesia. I hope to have shown reason to believe that a most important feature of the differences between the languages of Melanesia is that they contain varying propor¬ tions of terms derived from diverse linguistic channels. That such a mixture exists is nothing new to any student of Oceanic philology; the important point is that the different elements have not hitherto been the primary object of study.

One other point of general interest may be mentioned. I hope to have shown in this and other chapters of this volume the close interdependence of language and social function. The conclusion which formed the starting-point of the process of ethnological analysis to which so much of this book has been devoted was reached, neither by a study of language alone nor of social structure alone, but by a combination of the two. The mere study of social structure wholly failed to show me the complexity of Melanesian culture, and the mere study of language seems to have failed to reveal this in any decisive manner to others. It was the combina¬ tion of the study of social structure as shown by the forms of systems of relationship with a comparative study of the distribution of their terms which showed the unquestionable influence of some external agency and revealed how it had acted. I have attempted to show that, in other aspects of culture, much is to be expected if the study of social and religious customs and institutions is combined with that of the words used to denote them and their constituent parts.

1 Folk-Lore , 1909, xx, 254.

Language has not developed by itself as an independent and isolated part of human culture, but has grown in the closest association with social needs. Those who wish to understand this growth cannot expect to succeed if they tear language from its connections and treat it as if it were independent and self-sufficient. If we are to advance in our knowledge of the history of human culture, language must be treated as an integral part of that culture, not to be studied merely for its own sake, but together with other subjects with which it has so vital a connection.

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE BISMARCK ARCHIPELAGO

I have so far confined my attention almost exclusively to those parts of Melanesia which I myself visited. I have gone slightly outside this area in order to include the southern New Hebrides at one end of Melanesia and the Buin district of Bougainville and the Shortland Islands at the other, but I have strictly avoided all reference to the Bismarck Archi¬ pelago. I have now to consider the culture of this part of Melanesia in order to see how far it can be ascribed to the same peoples by whom I suppose the cultures of the more southern parts of Melanesia to have been formed.

The Bismarck Archipelago differs in several important respects from the part of Melanesia with which I have hither¬ to dealt. In its larger islands there are still many peoples who speak languages belonging to a family wholly different from that called Melanesian, languages which are usually classed with the majority of the languages of New Guinea as Papuan. We have sufficient knowledge of some of these peoples to enable us to recognise that their cultures differ in several important ways from those of the people who speak languages of the Melanesian family. In this respect the Bismarck Archipelago differs from the islands hitherto con¬ sidered in which non-Melanesian languages are used, where we do not know of any decided features of general culture distinguishing them from their neighbours.

Another feature distinguishing the Bismarck Archipelago from the more southern parts of Melanesia is the frequency of secondary movements, partly within the Archipelago, partly between its islands and New Guinea. We know that there have been secondary movements in southern Melanesia, but they have probably been slight in extent and importance, and

R. m. s. II.

3 2

the nature of the means of navigation in recent times must have made their occurrence exceptional.

In the Solomons secondary movements have been more important, but even here they seem to have been slight in extent compared with those of the Bismarck Archipelago. The accounts of Stephan and Graebner1 show how extensive have been such movements, and how important their effects, in the southern part of New Ireland. The frequency of second¬ ary movements makes the analysis of culture a more com¬ plicated and difficult process than in southern Melanesia, but it has only obscured and has been very far from obliterating features of culture due to the same influences as those which have reached the more southern parts of Melanesia.

I cannot attempt to deal fully with the varieties of culture found in so extensive an area as that of the Bismarck Archi¬ pelago, and I shall only consider certain regions from which we have the most complete records. Even here I shall deal only with those topics which have occupied us in other parts of Melanesia. The task is made difficult, but at the same time brevity is justified by the fact that our knowledge of the social structure of the whole area is of the slightest.. The argument of this book rests primarily on the comparison of systems of relationship, and at present only one system of relationship has been recorded from the Bismarck Archipelago.

The chief region with which I shall deal is one character¬ ised by the possession of the dual structure of society and of secret organisations closely comparable with those of southern Melanesia. This region probably includes most of the north coast of New Britain2, though it is only about the peoples of the Gazelle Peninsula that we have any detailed information. It also includes Duke of York Island and the southern part of New Ireland. I shall first consider the majority of the inhabitants of this region who speak Melanesian languages, and shall then consider briefly the Sulka, who differ from the other possessors of the dual system in speaking a non-Melanesian language. I shall also deal here briefly with another people of the Gazelle Peninsula, the Baining, who speak a non- Melanesian language.

1 Neu- Mecklenburg, Berlin, 1907. , ,

2 I propose to call this and other islands of the archipelago by their old names. In doing so, I am only following the example of more than one German ethnologist.

32 - 2

The Bismarck Archipelago.

njoo Melanesian Society

Other areas which must be more briefly considered are the Siara district of New Ireland, the region comprising New Hanover and the northern parts of New Ireland, and the Admiralty Islands.

The Region of the Dual System.

The places with which I shall deal in this section are the following : —

(i) The southern part of New Ireland which includes two chief districts ; one, formed by the expanded southern extremity of the island ; the other, called Laur, comprising the northern portion of the broad extremity together with the slender neck of land joining this to the central part of the island. Through the work of Stephan and Graebner, we know much about the recent history and the material culture of the southern portion, but it is chiefly from Laur that we have any exact records of social structure.

(ii) Duke of York Island.

(iii) The coast of the Gazelle Peninsula.

(iv) A district of the north coast of New Britain, towards its western end, inhabited by the Barriai, Kilenge, and Kobe peoples.

In all these districts the people are divided into two exogamous moieties. Though these moieties have different names in different districts, their relation to one another is recognised, so that a person going from one place to another will be assigned to that moiety of his new home which corre¬ sponds with his own. In New Ireland there is a feeling of hostility, eiu kleiner Hass , between certain members of the two moieties (see n, 508), and it is customary for these persons to use insulting expressions to one another1.

In the north-eastern part of the Gazelle Peninsula, the moieties have no definite names, but the people speak of their own and the other moiety as “we” and “they,” or as “our stock” and “their stock”2, this usage resembling that of most parts of the Banks Islands. According to Danks3, however,

1 Peekel, Anthropos, 1908,111,469. , .

2 P. A. Kleintitschen, Die Kiistenbewohner der Gazellehalbinsel , Hiltrup oei Munster, preface dated 1906, p. 191 ; Parkinson, Dreissig Jahre in der Sudsee , Stuttgart, 1907, p. 612 ; Meier, My then u. Erzahlungen der Kiistenbewohner der Gazelle-Halbinsel , Munster i. W., 1909, p. 21.

3 Journ. Anth. Inst. 1889, xvm, 281.

Animals of the Moieties 501

the moieties are called after To Kambinanaand To Kovuvuru (or Karvuvu), two legendary persons to whom I shall return later. Everywhere else the moieties have definite names. In Duke of York Island they are called Pikalaba and Maramara1, and these names are used also in the Laur district of New Ireland2, while further south in this island the moieties are called Baumbaum and Marrmarr3 *, the latter evidently being a modification of Maramara.

In other parts the -moieties are named after two birds, usually called by forms of the words taragau 4 and malaba 5. The taragau is Pandion leucocephalus , a fish-hawk which feeds on the fish which it catches in the shallow water of the reefs and is definitely a marine bird. The malaba is Haliaetus leucogaster , a hawk or eagle, the largest and most powerful bird of the kind in the Bismarck Archipelago ; it usually lives on high trees, and often feeds on marine animals which it may obtain by chasing the taragau and catching its food as it is dropped in the pursuit6.

In Duke of York Island the moieties are associated with the praying mantis called kam, and with an insect, ko gile le , so called because it mimics the leaf of the chestnut. Authorities differ concerning the moieties to which these insects belong ; Danks and Brown connect the mantis with the Pikalaba and the leaf-insect with the Maramara, but Parkinson7 reverses these relations.

In the Gazelle Peninsula between Kininigunan and Birar where the moieties seem to have no names, they are never¬ theless associated with the Pandion and Haliaetus which are called taragau and manigulai or minigulai respectively. Elsewhere on this coast the moieties are associated with the lisrht and dark coconut8. We do not know with which

O

1 Ibid, and Brown, Melanesians and Polynesians , London, 1910, p. 27.

2 Cox, Man, 1913, p. 196. 3 Stephan and Graebner, op. cit. p. 106.

4 Its variants in Laur are tarrangau (Stephan and Graebner), taraqau (Cox)

and tarrago or tarragon (Abel) ; the word becomes targo at Kokole further north in New Ireland (Poch) and tarrangau among the Barriai (Friederici).

Peekel calls the bird taragau and the moiety tar ago.

6 Its variants in Laur are malabar (Peekel) and mallawa (Stephan and Graebner) ; at Kokole it is malam and among the Barriai malabar. The word is derived from ?nan , bird and laba , great. The bird is also called minigulai , mannigulai (Stephan and Graebner) or miniqulai (Cox) in one part of the Gazelle Peninsula and in Laur. This word is derived from man , bird and gulai , great, so that it is the exact equivalent of malaba.

6 See Abel, Ant/iropos, 1907, 11, 220, and Cox, loc. cit.

7 Op. cit. p. 612. 8 Meier, op. cit . p. 20.

moieties of other districts these groups connected with the coconut correspond, but there is evidence that the Maramara and Pikalaba of Duke of York Island correspond with the Taragau and Malaba moieties elsewhere. In Laur the Malaba may also be called Pakilaba1, and the moieties to which Cox2 ascribes the birds are those which would follow from this correspondence.

The birds or insects connected with the moieties are treated with great respect. No one may kill, injure, or eat the bird or destroy the insect connected with his moiety, nor are they allowed to be killed by others, such an occurrence leading to fighting between the moieties. The people of Duke of York Island like to destroy the insect of the moiety to which they do not belong, but they only do so secretly, a quarrel ensuing if the injury or insult becomes known3. If one of the birds connected with a moiety is killed by mischance, it is buried as if it were a human being, and a feast is held in its honour as would be customary if a man had died4.

The people of Laur believe that each moiety is descended from its bird5 . The birds are called hintubuhet ; hin signifies “female,” and tubu is the term for grandparent, so that the bird seems to be regarded as a female ancestor. In Duke of York Island each moiety regards its insect as a relative; according to Danks7, the people believe themselves to be descended from it, but Brown8 doubts the existence of this belief.

It is believed that the members of the moieties can be distinguished by certain physical characters. They are said to walk differently, though there is some conflict of evidence concerning the exact nature of the difference. According to Peekel9, the Pakilaba of Laur, whose bird is the malaba , put out the right foot first, and the Taragau the left, while, according to Cox10, it is the Maramara, whose bird is the taragau , who lift the right foot first. According to a third

1 Paki , land and /aba, great; the Pikalaba of Duke of York Island is evidently formed from this word by metathesis, a frequent phenomenon in Melanesia.

2 Loc. cit. 3 Danks, op. cit. p. 282.

4 Peekel, Anthropos , 1908, III, 458. 5 Abel, Anthropos, 1907, II, 220.

6 Peekel, Religion u. Zauberei auf dem mittleren Neu -Mecklenburg, Munster

i. W., 1910, p. 7.

7 Loc. cit. 8 Op. cit. p. 28.

9 Anthropos, hi, 458. 10 Loc. cit.

Nature of the Moieties 503

account by Poch1, the special feature of the Malaba is that they put down the left foot more firmly than the right. It is believed also that the members of the moieties can be distinguished by the folds on the palms of their hands, as in Santa Cruz and the Solomons. According to Abel2, the Taragau have three lines and the Malaba four or five, while PeekeP and Poch4 say that the Pakilaba or Malaba have only three as contrasted with the four of the Taragau. It is possible that the belief in the varying number of the folds is connected with differences in the nature of the feet of the birds5 connected with the moieties, and such a connection is certainly present in the case of another physical peculiarity ascribed to the Malaba, who are believed to have projecting eyebrows like the malaba bird.

At Kokole in New Ireland the Malam is said to be the more powerful moiety, this being connected with the stronger nature of its bird which is able to deprive the targo of its prey 6.

In the Laur district the two birds connected with the moieties do not stand alone. The Taragau moiety is also connected with the sun and with the male of a butterfly ( Ornithoptera urvilliana or O. bornemanni), both being re¬ garded as kintubuket , while the Pakilaba or Malaba are con¬ nected with the moon and the female butterfly of the same species7. It may be noted that in this district the sun is re¬ garded as male and the moon as female, so that the Taragau moiety is connected with male objects and the Malaba with female. According to Poch, the moieties have other birds in addition to the Pandion and Haliaetus.

A quite different feature of the moieties is that they are connected in some places with certain legendary personages. I have already mentioned that, according to Danks, the moieties of the Gazelle Peninsula are named after To Kambinana and To Kovuvuru, the heroes of a large cycle of tales in which the former appears as a kind of personification of ability and guile, while To Kovuvuru represents stupidity and ignorance. A connection with persons similarly opposed in character also exists in New Ireland, where the Maramara have as their head Soi, an intelligent but unscrupulous man,

1 Globus , 1908, XCIII, 9. 2 Loc. cit. 3 Loc. cit . 4 Loc. cii .

6 There is such a belief in Buin connecting the nature of the folds with those of the totem-birds, Thurnwald, Forschu?ige?i . , I, 317.

6 Poch, loc. cit. <7 Peekel, Religion und Zauberei , p. 7.

while the head of the Pikalaba is Tamono, a fool who was continually falling a victim to the deceptions of Soi1.

All authorities agree that two persons of the same moiety should never marry, but this rule of exogamy is now breaking down in many places. The infraction of the rule, known as budo , was formerly punished by death, the mode of inflicting the punishment being by hanging or strangling, which should be put into effect by the culprits themselves2. It is noteworthy that the term for the breaking of the rule of exogamy should bear a close resemblance to the buto of Florida in the Solomons which applies to the animal from which the members of a clan must abstain.

With one possible exception, there is also agreement that descent is matrilineal, a person belonging to the moiety of his mother. The possible exception is in the case of the Barriai who, according to Friederici3, practise father-right. Friederici, however, only refers explicitly to patrilineal succession and does not state definitely that a person belongs to the moiety of his father. He believes that a change from a more matrilineal condition may be still in progress, and as evidence for this belief, states that the mother’s brothers still have a large place in the life of their nephew. Another sign of the importance of the maternal line is shown by the practice of killing all the women when a foreign village is conquered, the motive being that, if a woman were taken as a captive and gave birth to a son, this son would be an enemy who would take the first opportunity to return to his own people and avenge his mother and his people. It is evident that we have to do with a change from matrilineal to patrilineal institutions, but it must remain doubtful for the present whether descent, in the sense in which the word is used in this book, has become patrilineal.

In addition to the moieties of the dual organisation, another kind of social grouping has been recorded in New Ireland and may perhaps exist elsewhere. Peekel4 states that in Laur each moiety has numerous sub-groups ( Stdmrne or Geschlechter ) called hun , named after men of influence who died long ago. Abel records5 similar sub-groups in another part of Laur

1 Cox, loc. tit.

2 Peekel, Anthropos , 1908, III, 458.

3 Beitrdge z. V'olker- und Sprachenkunde von Deutsch-Neuguinea , Berlin, 1912, P- 93-

4 Anthropos, 1908, in, 459, and Religio?i u. Zauberei, p. 16.

5 Ibid. II, 220.

Sub-groups of the Moieties

and gives a long list of these groups, bringing out the note¬ worthy fact that the names are wholly different from those of the list recorded by Peekel. Thus, the sub-groups do not show the agreement in nomenclature which characterises the names of the moieties through so large a part of the dual region.

Each of the sub-groups is connected with a place called paga which is tambu to the members of the group. There is usually water at these places in the form of rivers or ponds which are believed to be the dwelling-places on earth of taboron or ghosts.

These sub-groups within, or associated with, the moieties bring the social organisation into line with that of the more southern parts of Melanesia. They would seem to be the definite representatives of the sub-groups of Mota, the Torres Islands and Kia. If I am right in supposing that the addi¬ tional sacred birds mentioned by Poch are associated with the sub-groups described by Peekel and Abel, we should have a dual organisation with totemic sub-groups which would correspond exactly with one of the hypothetical stages I have formulated in my scheme of the history of Melanesian social organisation. One feature of the Laur district affords a striking confirmation of this scheme. I have supposed that the sub-groups are descended from immigrant men, and it is remarkable that Peekel records that the sub-groups of Laur trace their descent from men of influence. This tradition of descent from men in a matrilineal people is most naturally explained by such a mechanism as I have suggested in Chapter xxix1.

While there is thus a remarkable agreement between the features of the dual system in the Bismarck Archipelago and those of southern Melanesia, there is a most important difference. In the Bismarck Archipelago the moieties of the dual system are definitely connected with objects which meet all the requirements of my definition of totems. These objects are connected with exogamous social groups; they are believed to be related to the members of these social groups, and there is a belief in descent from them. They are treated with a degree of respect higher than that of which we know else¬ where in Melanesia, for after death they may be treated like

1 I may mention that the scheme of this chapter was completely written while I was still ignorant of Peekel’s and Abel’s accounts.

5°6 Melanesian Society

human beings, and instead of others being allowed to kill or eat them, as in other parts of Melanesia, their injury or death is treated as an insult to be wiped out in blood. Further, it is possible that the physical characters which are believed to distinguish one moiety from the other may be the result of a belief in the physical similarity between totems and totemists which occurs elsewhere in Melanesia.

The resemblance of the social structure of this region to the dual system of southern Melanesia shows that we have not to do with a system containing two groups which has arisen through the reduction in number of the groups of a totemic system such as that of Santa Cruz, but with a typical dual system which is at the same time totemic.

In turning to the bearing of this condition of social organi¬ sation on my scheme of the history of totemism, the doubtful point is whether the totems of the moieties in the Bismarck Archipelago were derived from totemic settlers or were an original feature of the dual culture.

In the former case we have to suppose that the dual people took over certain totems from their visitors and treated them with a degree of respect which is unknown elsewhere in Melanesia, while the groups assumed to have been founded by the immigrants either lost their totemic character, or this has become so inconspicuous that it escaped the attention of both Abel and Peekel. The solution of the problem can only be reached when the collection of systems of relationship and of other facts is far larger than at present, so that it will be possible to arrange the different peoples in order of social development. I need hardly point out that if further evidence makes it necessary to assign the totems to the dual people, it will become necessary to modify my general Melanesian scheme and to give up the view that the kava-people were the sole introducers of totemism into Melanesia.

Relationship and marriage.

This section, so essential to any full understanding of the social structure, must be very short owing to the extreme paucity of material. Only one system of relationship is known in the whole of this region, but this has been recorded in the most admirable manner by Peekel1 from the district of Nama-

1 Anthropos , 1908, III, 456.

Relationship at Namatanai 507

tanai on the east coast of New Ireland near the northern limit of the dual system. Its terms are given in the comparative tables at the end of the first volume. It is a good example of a fairly simple classificatory system, rich in terminology and having few complexities. An important feature of the terminology for parents and children is that the mother does not use the term nati which the father applies to both son and daughter. Since nati is certainly a term of immigrant origin, this usage affords striking confirmation of the view that the use of different terms for their children by father and mother is a result of the blending of peoples (see 11, 195). The nomenclature for brothers and sisters differs from that of most Oceanic systems in that one term is used between brothers and another term between sisters, there being no distinction according to age in either case. The usage between brother and sister, on the other hand, falls into line with the general Melanesian practice, there being only one reciprocal term, and there are definite customs of avoidance between those so related.

The fathers sister is called tama, the term for the father, but she may be distinguished by the addition of the feminine prefix, as hintama. Other terms used by her nephews are remarkable in that they differ for the two moieties, a feature of the terminology of relationship for which there is no known parallel in other parts of Melanesia. If a child is of the Tarago moiety, he calls his father’s sister rahat , but if one of the Pakilaba, the word he uses is tau. These words are used recipro¬ cally. A man may not marry his father’s sister, and the two do not use their personal names ; there is no other kind of avoidance, but nephew and aunt may embrace and joke with one another. The nephew may ask his aunt for her posses¬ sions which she frequently gives. We are not told of similar behaviour in the case of the mother’s brother.

The mother’s brother and the father’s sister’s husband are called matua , suggesting either the cross-cousin marriage (see below) or the exchange of brothers and sisters. There is a special term, kamala , for the mother’s brother of the wife, but this word is not given as a term for any other relative. The word hi hi is used for the wife of the mother’s brother and for the mother’s brother of the husband, a correspondence with which we have not met before, but this may be owing to defect of my own information, for the husband’s mother’s

brother is not a relationship for which I have especially sought a name, though it is one we might expect to be distinguished by a matrilineal people. Another correspon¬ dence is that a woman calls her husband’s father tubu, the term otherwise used for the grandfather. This is the corre¬ spondence which exists in the Shortlands and, as already pointed out, it would be the natural result of marriage with the daughter of the brother. Here, however, the term in question is also used reciprocally for the daughter-in-law and grandchild.

There is a special term lapu for cross-cousins of the same sex, but those of different sex call one another hine, or hinekokup , hine being the term for the brother-sister relationship. Cross-cousins ( hine-kokup ) may not marry, nor may they utter each other’s names, and they avoid one another in the same way as brother and sister. It is clear from Peekel’s account that the prohibition of the use of the personal name is very closely bound up with the prohibition of marriage1. Lapu is also said to be used between persons of different moieties apparently irrespective of generation or nearness of relationship2. It is those who call one another lapu who are in the habit of insulting one another (see n, 500), but we do not know whether this mode of behaviour is limited to persons of the same generation or is general between the members of the two moieties.

There are several terms for brothers- and sisters-in-law. Two men use one term, two women another, while a third word is used for the four relationships existing between persons of different sex. Peekel records a New Ireland custom which is evidently connected with relationship by marriage. The usual expressions used between men in greet¬ ing and leave-taking (the equivalents of our “ How do you do ? ” and “ Good bye ”) are always in the dual form, and the custom is known as di uauas makus , which means “ one counts the brother-in-law.” The corresponding expressions used between a man and a woman are in the plural form ; this custom is called di uauas mahat , but in this case the mean¬ ing is no longer known. Both kinds of expression are now purely formal, but it seems probable that they have arisen out of beliefs and practices similar to those which have led to the use of the plural form of terms of relationship elsewhere in Melanesia (see 11, 1 3 1 ).

1 Op. cit. p. 471.

2 Abel, Anthropos , 1907, 11, 221.

Marriage at Namatanai 5°9

Linguistically, several of the Namatanai terms belong to the group which is widely distributed throughout Melanesia. Such are tama (father), nati (child), tasi (brother), tubu and pupu (grandparents and grandchildren). Certain other terms, though not belonging to the widely distributed group of terms, are yet certainly Polynesian in character. Thus, matua , the word for mothers brother and father’s sister’s husband, must be the frequent Polynesian term for elder, and June, the word for the brother-sister relationship, is also in one form or another a frequent Polynesian term for a woman.

The important point about these terms is that those which belong to the widely distributed group apply to just those relationships which are denoted by widely distributed terms elsewhere in Melanesia. The use of these terms for the father, grandparents, brother and child suggests that social processes of the same general kind as those of other parts of Melanesia have been in action in this region. The chief difference in this respect is that, with the exception of the use of tubu for the husband’s father, relationships by mar¬ riage are denoted by a number of terms which do not belong to the widely distributed group. It is hazardous to venture an interpretation of an isolated system, but if the lessons learnt elsewhere in Melanesia apply here, the system of Namatanai shows that some process has been in action which has led to the use of introduced terms for the grand¬ parents and brothers, suggesting the ancient existence of marriages between persons of alternate generations. This conclusion is strengthened by the presence of the corre¬ spondences which may indicate the former presence of the cross-cousin marriage and of the marriage with the daughter of the elder brother. The cross-cousin marriage is now strictly forbidden, but the prohibition of the use of the personal name suggests that the idea of the marriage is present to the minds of the people, and makes it probable that it was once an orthodox institution. On the other hand, the system of Namatanai differs from other similar Mela¬ nesian systems in the presence of many terms for relatives by marriage ; this suggests that if the system is the remote consequence of dominance of the old men, the mechanism by which this disappeared was not of the same kind as in the more southern islands. That the process has been different is supported by another feature. The terms for the mother s

5 1 o Melanesian Society

brother and the brother-sister relationship are among those which have been found to be denoted by widely diverse terms throughout Melanesia and are terms which, by my main hypo¬ thesis, have not been introduced in most parts of Melanesia. The use of terms for these relatives derived from the lan¬ guages of Polynesia suggests that some process has been set up by relatively recent Polynesian influence which has led to a need for new terms for these relationships, but in the present state of our knowledge it is not possible to say of what kind this process may have been.

Ch iefta insh ip.

The condition of the dual region of the Gazelle Peninsula in relation to chieftainship resembles in some respects that of the Banks and northern New Hebrides. Rank depends chiefly on the amount of shell-money a man possesses, but it does not appear to be so definitely connected with position in the secret organisations. A still more important difference is that, when the relatives of a dead man are able to bring about a form of succession by the distribution of the shell-money of the deceased, the person who succeeds is not the son but the sister’s son1. We have here a condition more nearly ap¬ proaching pure mother-right than anything of which we know at present in southern Melanesia. At the southern end of New Ireland2 and among the Barriai and other tribes of the western end of the north coast of New Britain3, there is true hereditary chieftainship with succession in the male line. There is an interesting resemblance with the more southern parts of Melanesia in that the secret organisations have almost disappeared in both these districts. I have supposed the substitution of true chieftainship for the social grading pro¬ duced by the secret organisations to have been due to the influence of the betel-people in the Solomons, and the similar change in the dual region of the Bismarck Archipelago may also have been due to the influence of this people.

Secret societies .

There is no evidence of any organisation in the region with the dual system comparable with the Sukwe of southern

1 Kleintitschen, op. cit. p. 236. 2 Stephan and Graebner, op. cit. p. 113.

3 Friederici, loc. cit.

The Dukduk

5i 1

Melanesia. A special men’s house is a regular feature of the culture, but there is no evidence for the existence of any in¬ stitution in which there are grades comparable with the ranks of the Sukwe. If there be such grades, they would appear to be connected with associations which correspond rather to the Tamate societies. It is probable that the differentiation be¬ tween the organisation of the men’s house and the secret societies proper which is so characteristic of the Banks Islands has not taken place in this region.

The secret societies are of two kinds, the Dukduk and the Ingiet . The latter is the older institution, while the Dukduk seems only to have been introduced into Duke of York Island and the Gazelle Peninsula in comparatively recent times. It now takes, however, a more prominent place in the public life of the people, and I will begin with it.

The Dukduk Society \ This society has a general resem¬ blance to the Tamate societies of the Banks Islands in that it meets in the bush on a cleared space called taram or terete, and is entered by a process of initiation open only to males, though a very few old women take some part in the ceremonial on certain occasions. There are masks of two kinds, called dukduk and tubuan1 2, the former being very long and tapering and the latter short and conical with two eyes. The tubuan is regarded as female and as the mother of the dukduk to whom she gives birth annually towards the end of the north¬ west monsoon. The dukduk dies at the beginning of the following monsoon, but the tubuan never dies, remaining to give birth again to the dukduk in the following year. The dukduk has a special cry, but we are not told how it is produced, and this suggests that it is a secret which has not been revealed to the European inquirers into the mysteries. There seems to be little doubt that the members of the Duk¬ duk are supposed to represent the dead, but the evidence for this is less definite than in southern Melanesia3. It is probable, however, that skulls take a part in the rites. Masks partly made of human skulls are used in dances in one part of the

1 The following account is taken from Parkinson, op. cit. p. 574; R. H. Rickard, Proc. Roy. Soc. Victoria , 1891, ill, 70; G. Brown, op. cit. p. 60; and Willey, Zoolog. Results..., Cambridge, 1902, p. 715.

2 In accordance with my general plan, I use a capital initial letter when I am referring to the organisation, and omit the capitals in the case of an object used in connection with the organisation.

3 It may be noted that duka is the word for “ghost” in Santa Cruz.

Gazelle Peninsula, but there is no definite evidence that these dances are connected with the Dukduk societies. Parkinson speaks of dukduk masks and skull-masks as if they were separate things.

The tubuan masks can be bought for money and they confer much importance on their owners. In one part of the Gazelle Peninsula a tubuan gives its owner a rank which is the nearest approach to that of a chief, and everywhere the ownership of a tubuan is an important means in the acquisition of wealth and power. This wealth is derived partly from payments made in cases of initiation, and also from those made in return for the protection of private property. The owner of a tubuan can protect his own trees or gardens and also those of other people by means of a taboo-sign, and this forms an important element in the power of the Dukduk society.

There is little to connect the Dukduk societies with animals : a tubuan mask is said to represent a bird and may be spoken of as a bird, but the fact that this mode of naming is used especially in the presence of the uninitiated suggests that no great importance can be attached to it.

Before considering the relation of the Dukduk societies to those of southern Melanesia it will be convenient to refer to features of the secret societies of other parts of the Bismarck Archipelago and the German Solomons which serve to throw light on certain obscurities in the procedure of the Dukduk .

The foregoing account of the Dukduk societies applies chiefly to the Gazelle Peninsula and Duke of York Island. Westwards of the Peninsula in New Britain we only have definite information about the Barriai and Kilenge1 who have a dance called aulu or bokumu in which a cylindrical mask is used. The dance may only be seen by initiated persons, others being warned off by means of the bullroarer. A new member is allowed to see the bullroarer on payment of a pig, and by means of a second pig obtains admission to the dance. The use of the bullroarer in these apparently degenerate repre¬ sentatives of the Dukduk suggests that this is the means whereby the mysterious sounds of this society are also pro¬ duced. At the southern end of New Ireland the Dukduk is now extinct, but there is definite evidence of its former

1 Friederici, op. cit. p. 102. The people of Nakanai have a similar dance.

Dukduk and Tamate

importance in this district ; it is probably from here that the organisation reached the districts where it now flourishes.

The corresponding society of northern Bougainville is the Riikruk. The name of this society is evidently the same word as Dukduk , r and d being very often interchanged in this part of Melanesia. Also, the open place where the Rukruk meet is called talohu, which is probably a variant of the taraiu or tereu of New Britain. With these similarities in nomenclature there is associated a similarity of ritual, the initiates wearing head-coverings, cylindrical or globular in form. It is clear that the Rukruk are believed to be ghosts, thus supporting the supposition that this is also the case with the Dukduk. The special sound of the Rukruk is produced by means of the bullroarer, which was also the instrument used in the Matambala of the British Solomons, and as we have just seen, it is probable that this also is the source of the sound of the Dukduk.

There is evidently a very close resemblance between the Dukduk society of the Bismarck Archipelago and the Tamate societies of the Banks Islands. Both are societies consisting of initiated men meeting secretly in the bush and wearing masks, especially when their members come into relation with the uninitiated. The belief that the members represent the ghosts of the dead is almost certainly common to both, and both possess the power of protecting private property by means of taboo. One obscurity of the Banks ritual is the existence of male and female masks, which occur in pairs as the possession of allied societies (see 1, 91 and 1 1 5). The different sex of the tubuan and dukduk is clearly connected with the belief that one is the mother of the other, and it may be that the difference of sex in the Banks was once associated with a similar difference of function. It may be noted that both in the Tamate and Dukdtik the male masks are distinguished by their length.

The most striking and important feature of the Dukduk society is that it forms a clear intermediate link between the Tamate liwoa society of southern Melanesia and the Areoi societies of eastern Polynesia.

I have suggested in Chapter xxxiv that the birth and death of the Tamate in the Banks Islands may be the survival of a celebration of the annual changes of the sun which are the special object of the ritual of the Areoi in the Marquesas.

In the Banks Islands we have no evidence of any seasonal character, but in the case of the Dukduk this is very definite. The Dukduk is born at the end of the north-west monsoon and dies at the beginning of the monsoon of the following year. The available accounts of the Dukduk societies give no hint that the life of the Dukduk represents that of the sun, but that the practice of the Bismarck Archipelago is definitely connected with the sun is rendered almost certain by the fact that, in one part of this region, the southern solstice is definitely the object of ceremonial. The seasonal movements of the sun are recognised everywhere in and about the Gazelle Peninsula1, but only in one district is any definite ceremony connected with the sun2. This is the Valaur district in the south-west part of the island of Vuatom. The people of the island of Vurar and of Weberhafen on the main island take a great interest in the ceremony and form with the people of Valaur a group, probably of one stock, who differ in language from the other inhabitants of this region. The ceremony takes place at the beginning of January, and is definitely intended to celebrate the end of the southward course and the beginning of the northward movement of the sun. The ceremony of Vuatom resembles the ritual of the Areoi in the Marquesas in that offerings of first-fruits appear to be an element in its ritual3.

According to the scheme of this book, the ritual of the Areoi in the Marquesas, of the Dukduk in the Bismarck Archipelago, of the Matambala in the Solomons, and of the Tamate liwoa in the Banks Islands must thus be ascribed to a common origin, the nature of the Dukduk confirming in a most striking manner the tentative conclusion suggested by the comparison of the Marquesas with the Banks Islands. It would seem as if there had come into Oceania a body of immigrant people who had a cult of the sun as the chief element in their religion, a people who celebrated the return of the sun at the end of the winter and its supposed death at the end of the summer, and offered first-fruits when the sun was at its height. We have to suppose that this ritual was preserved more or less in its purity by the Areoi of the Marquesas, although greatly obscured, if not lost, in many of the islands of the Society group. Further, it would seem

1 Josef Meier, Anthropos , 1912, vn, 706.

2 Otto Meyer, Anthropos , 1909, III, 700 and Josef Meier, loc. cit.

3 Otto Meyer, loc. cit.

The Ingiet 515

as if the ritual had been preserved with a considerable degree of fidelity in the Dukduk society of the Bismarck Archipelago, while in another part of this region it has persisted, not as part of a secret ritual, but as an integral element of the open reli¬ gious cult. In the Banks Islands, on the other hand, it would seem as if any ritual connected with the sun had lost so much of its proper character that, without the suggestions furnished by comparative evidence, it would not have occurred to any one to connect the ritual with the sun, and yet this comparative evidence leaves little doubt that the ritual is only the survival of a cult which has apparently lost its true meaning to those who practise it.

It is clear that, of all the Tamate societies of the Banks Islands, it is Tamate hwoa which bears the closest resemblance to the Dukduk. The question arises whether the Dukduk is not the representative of this society rather than of the Tamate societies in general. If so, we should expect to find representatives of the rest of the Tamate societies in the other secret organisation of the Bismarck Archipelago, the Ingiet , and I shall now consider what we know about this institution in order to see how far this expectation is justified.

The Ingiet' . In some respects the Ingiet organisation resembles the Tamate societies of the Banks Islands more closely than does the Dukduk. The available records2 suggest that there are many Ingiet societies just as there are many Tamate societies, but with the important difference that admission into any one admits to participation in the whole organisation^ The payment of shell-money is an important feature of initiation which seems, however, to be a far less complicated business than in the Banks Islands. It must be remembered, however, that the Tamate iizvoa of Mota may be exceptional in this respect. Another important point of resemblance with the Tamate societies is that initiation is accompanied by seclusion, and there is reason to suppose that this seclusion is symbolical of death. When the initiates are restored to their relatives and friends, they are presented with shell-money by all present because they had been dead and are alive again3.

1 Also written Ingiat , Iniet , Iniat , Igiet and Igiat.

2 The following account is taken chiefly from Parkinson, op. cit. p. 598 and from Joseph Meier, Anthropos , 1911, vi, 837 ; another account has been given by the Rev. H. Fellmann in Brown’s Melanesians and Polynesians, p. 73.

3 See Meier, Anthropos, vi, 867.

33—2

gi6 Melanesian Society

There are, however, a number of features which distin¬ guish the organisation of the Bismarck Archipelago from that of the Banks Islands. At first sight these differences seem so great as to suggest that the institutions of the two regions must have had very different histories, but I hope to show that the proceedings of the Ingiet have only to be examined in detail to bring out their dependence on the same general ideas as those underlying the ritual of the Tamate societies.

One difference between the two organisations is the nature of the secret which is revealed to newly initiated members. We are not told that any mysterious sound is made by the Ingiet . The uninitiated may be warned to keep out of the way by the sound of a conch-shell1, but there is no evidence that the source of this or of any other sound is regarded as a secret. The special secret revealed to initiates is "that they are shown certain stone images, and it is the nature of these images which brings out the essential similarity

with the Tamate societies.

According to Meier2, these stone images are primarily re¬ presentations of the dead : all portray in one form or another dead members of the Ingiet. Many are in human form, but when, as frequently, they represent animals or inanimate ob¬ jects, they seem still to be regarded as representations of dead human beings. The animals chosen are those in which the native of New Britain recognises the power of a personal spirit, or, according to the terminology of this book, of a ghost. Similarly, images of such objects as wooden gongs or water-vessels are regarded as sacred because the ghosts of their makers are believed to be still present in them. The stone images thus bring the ritual ol the Ingiet into direct relation with two aspects of the Tamate societies, the repre¬ sentation of the dead and of animals, and show that the organisations are more alike than would appear at first sight. It would seem as if representations of animals, which in the Banks Islands are used only as masks in dances and to furnish names for the societies, are still intimately asso¬ ciated with dead human beings in the Bismarck Archipelago. It is, of course, possible that further information will show the association between animals and the dead in the

1 Meier, Anthropos, VI, p. 860.

2 Ibid. p. 841.

The Ingiet and Totemism 5r7

Tamate societies is more intimate than our present knowledge indicates, but it is probable that the Ingiet has retained more nearly the intimate association between men and animals which I suppose to have been characteristic of the founders of the secret organisations of Melanesia.

I need hardly point out how strong is the support which the Ingiet thus lends to the hypothesis concerning totemism I have put forward earlier in this volume. We have lingering on in the organisation of the Ingiet just such an intimate association of animals with dead ancestors as I suppose to have been the starting-point of Melanesian totemism. Meier has given a list of the animals represented by the stone images of the Ingiet. It includes numerous birds : the fowl, hornbill, cassowary, owl, crow, various kinds of pigeon and parrot, as well as the Haliaetus, the bird connected with one of the moieties, but it does not include the Pandion which is asso¬ ciated with the other. Other animals represented are the dog, pig, kangaroo, flying fox, the crocodile, snake, two lizards, the shark and another fish. All these animals are such as have become totems in other parts of Melanesia. If, as I have supposed, Melanesian totemism arose through the belief that immigrant ancestors were embodied after death in animals, it is natural that images of animals should be used as the means of their embodiment in the secret organisations founded by these ancestors. The ritual of the Ingiet thus supports in a most striking manner the view that the totemism and the secret organisations of Melanesia were due to the kava-people. The nature of the animal images of the Ingiet is such as might have led me to the hypothesis of Melanesian totemism for¬ mulated in Chapter xxx if I had not already been led to it on quite other grounds.

One feature of the stone images may be mentioned here because it brings them into definite relation with another element of culture which must be ascribed to the kava-people. The most important and sacred images used in the Gazelle Peninsula are obtained from Nakanai on the north coast of New Britain whence the people also obtain the shells from which they make their shell-money. Both stone images and shell-money are thus shown to have travelled together, and further evidence that the Ingiet reached the Gazelle Peninsula from this direction is furnished by the fact that, even now, the celebrations travel from west to east, a direction opposed

to the movement of the Dukduk which is first celebrated in the east and travels westward1.

There are other indications of the important part taken by the representations of animals and human ancestors in the ritual of the Ingiet. Images of ancestors occur in many of the rites, and in one ceremony seen by Parkinson2 repre¬ sentations of various animals, including the shark, snake, sting-ray and lizard, were cut in the bark of the trees sur¬ rounding the place where the ceremony took place.

One feature of the attitude of the Ingiet towards animals shows a closer relationship to totemism than anything of which we know in the societies of southern Melanesia. The flesh of several animals is prohibited to initiates for a time, while that of the pig is permanently forbidden to all members.

Another difference between the Ingiet and the Tamate societies is the great part which is taken in the former by ‘‘magic.” We have no evidence that magic of any kind forms part of the functions of the Tamate societies, but all accounts of the Ingiet agree in regarding the practice of magic as one of its chief interests. According to Parkinson3, the Ingiet societies fall into two main groups ; one devoted to beneficent magic, while the other produces illness and death by means which resemble closely the malignant magic of other parts of Melanesia, the misfortunes being produced by acting on hair, food, excrement, or even earth from the foot¬ steps of the person whom it is desired to injure. In the societies associated with beneficent magic, the ritual seems designed to counteract the action of evil ghosts or spirits, and the malignant magic of the other group of the Ingiet works through the agency of such evilly disposed beings. We are not told definitely that the evil beings whose activity the one group of the Ingiet strives to counteract are the same as those by whose agency the effects of the other group are produced, but there are features of the two kinds of society, such as the importance of animals in both, which leave little doubt that this is the case.

The great importance of “ magic ” in the Ingiet seems at first sight to separate this organisation widely from the Tamate societies of southern Melanesia. It may seem as if this dif¬ ference would be difficult to reconcile with a scheme of the origin of the organisation on lines similar to that by which

1 Meier, op. cit. p. 838. 2 Op. cit. p. 603. 3 Op. cit. p. 599.

“Magic” in the Ingiet

I have sought to explain the Tamate societies. I have sup¬ posed that the magic of southern Melanesia is mainly or entirely derived from the culture of the people who inhabited this region before the arrival of the founders of the ghost societies. It would seem as if it would only be possible to adhere to a similar scheme for the Bismarck Archipelago on the supposition that, in the interaction between indigenous and immigrant peoples, the former came to have far more influence than in the southern islands. The condition will come into harmony with my scheme, however, if it can be shown that the so-called magic of the Ingiet consists of practices closely allied in nature to those I have ascribed to the founders of the Tamate societies. I propose, therefore, to examine the proceedings of the Ingiet more closely with the object of discovering their exact character ; it is only through the recent work of Father Joseph Meier1 that this has become possible. The proceedings described by him evidently correspond to those of the Ingiet na matmat, or death-bringing group of Parkinson. The native name for the process by which the effects are produced is e magit , and I shall use this term in preference to the question-begging English term. Magit is primarily a term for some part of himself which a man is able to project (or eject) out of himself so that it assumes other forms.

The first point to notice is that, though membership of the Ingiet is essential for the practice of e magit , not all members of this organisation are allowed its practice, but only those who have undergone a special initiation. In a secret hut in the bush initiates are shown two images in human form, one name for which is mmigulai used otherwise for the bird sacred to one of the moieties. This initiation, with its use of images in human form and the possible relation to totemism, at once removes the whole business widely from anything of a magical kind with which we are acquainted in the Banks Islands.

The next point is that a man who wishes to put e magit into action does so by the projection of his magit into some other form by the aid of the images which he was shown at initiation. The man who thus projects his magit names the being into which he wishes it to go. This may be one of a certain number of animals, or the magit may take a new

1 Anthropos , 1913, vm, 285.

Melanesian Society

human form, either male or female1. The animal or human form thus taken by the magit of the man produces the de¬ sired effect, which is apparently always to bring misfortune on others. If it is an animal which is entered, it becomes noxious, even if it is on ordinary occasions harmless, and the activity of the beings in human form actuated by the magit is also always injurious to others.

The general idea of some principle leaving the body of a man to enter the body of an animal seems to be closely allied to the beliefs in change into the form of an animal which occur elsewhere in Melanesia and to the projection of his atai by the gismana of the Banks Islands (see i, 165). The 7nagit of New Britain seems to be the representative of the atai of the Banks Islands, except that the activities of the principle are directed to good ends in one place and to evil ends in the other.

It is probable that the institution of the gismana of the Banks Islands has been derived from the kava-people (the name points definitely in this direction), and it therefore becomes probable that the idea of the magit is also derived from this people, and has thus naturally come to be con¬ nected with the secret organisation of which, according to my scheme, the kava-people were the founders. This proba¬ bility is greatly strengthened when we find that the animals into which the magit is projected are such as we have other reasons to connect with this people. Meier gives a list of the animals which become the vehicles of the magit ; they include a number of birds, including the minigtilai, but not the taragau, the kangaroo, pig and dog, the shark and sting¬ ray, the crocodile, a crab, and two lizards. It will be seen at once that they correspond closely with the animals of which stone images are made, and, like them, are just such animals as are totems elsewhere.

A still more decisive point of resemblance is the presence of a belief similar to that in the guardian animal. Birds are believed to announce death, though the practice of the Bismarck Archipelago differs from the form found elsewhere in Oceania (see 11, 366) in that the bird believed to announce the death is inspired by the magit through whose agency the death is supposed to be produced.

1 It is this projection of the magit into female forms which accounts for the presence of female human figures among the images of the Ingiet.

Noxious Character of Ingiet 521

The evidence thus provided by a detailed examination of the custom of e magit fits in definitely with that derived from the study of the sacred stone images. Both seem to be modes of expression of ideas which I have been led on quite other grounds to ascribe to the kava-people who, according to my scheme, founded the secret societies of Melanesia. The animal masks and the names of the societies of the Banks Islands, the stone images and e magit of the Gazelle Peninsula, and the totemism of other parts of Mela¬ nesia seem to be only different manifestations of ideas and practices brought with them by the kava-people, ideas and practices which still survive here and there in the belief in guardian animals and in the incarnation of the dead in animal form.

There still remains, however, one decided difference between the beliefs and practices of the Ingiet and those of the Tamate societies. We have no evidence that ghosts and animals are believed by the initiated in the Banks Islands to have any noxious influence. They are dreaded by the uninitiated, but we do not know of anything which indicates that they are so dreaded by members of the Sukwe. The attitude of a member of a society towards his tamate seems to be one of reverence into which the element of fear does not enter to any great extent.

In the Ingiet , on the other hand, this element of fear is obvious. It is definitely held that the principle of the Ingiet is injurious. Both the stone images and other objects of the organisation are believed to have naturally an injurious and destructive effect. Similarly, the magit so closely bound up with the Ingiet is regarded as a destructive principle, and it is doubtless this aspect of e magit which has led to its being classed so definitely with magic. We do not know that the Tamate societies of the Banks Islands possess any special means whereby their members are able to injure their fellow creatures. The “magic” of these islands is connected with associations quite separate from the Tamate societies.

It is tempting to connect the difference between the two places with the difference in size of the islands where two branches of the kava-people settled. We may suppose that in small islands such as those of the Banks group, the immi¬ grants were able to bring about a state of affairs in their new home which made unnecessary any attempt to awaken or

strengthen belief in their malign influence. Their natural gifts and their material arts would have been sufficient to ensure their power and influence in their new home. In the larger islands of the Bismarck Archipelago, on the other hand, we may suppose that the greater relative inferiority of the immigrants in number made more necessary recourse to such means of enhancing their influence as would be pro¬ duced by such a practice as e magit.

I have supposed earlier that the magic of southern Melanesia is largely the result of an effort on the part of the indigenous people to assert themselves in opposition to the power and influence of the immigrants. In the Bismarck Archipelago, on the other hand, we must suppose that the “ magic” of the Ingiet is the outcome of a similar motive actuating the immigrants. Ideas and practices which else¬ where in Melanesia have come to form elements in religion or in the social structure, have here become the means whereby an alien people strove to strengthen their position by bringing harm upon those who ventured to stand in their way. In this connection it is noteworthy that blackmail and terrorisation, as features of the secret organisations, seem to be more highly developed in the Bismarck Archipelago than in southern Melanesia, a difference to be expected if the immigrants in one place were able to make their way without bringing into action beliefs and practices designed to bring misfortune upon those among whom they had settled.

A difference between the secret organisations of two parts of Melanesia which seemed at first sight to raise a serious difficulty for my scheme is thus seen on closer inquiry to strengthen my position. The totemism of the Solomons and Santa Cruz, the animal masks and guardian animals of the Banks Islands, the use of animal images and the practice of e magit through the intermediation of animals in the Bismarck Archipelago, are simply different manifestations of ideas and practices introduced by one people ; they are differences which have been determined by varieties in the physical and social environment within which the interaction between these immigrants and the earlier inhabitants took place.

An alternative explanation of the “magical” character of the Ingiet is suggested by the resemblance of its beneficent group to the protective associations of the Banks Islands (i, 160). If, as seems to be the case, the practices of the

The Kinao Ceremony 523

beneficent division of the Ingiet are designed to protect its members from the working of malignant magic, they would seem closely to resemble the protective associations of Mota and Motlav. If associations corresponding to those of the Banks Islands had been incorporated in the Ingiet , if the magical methods learnt from indigenous members had become part of its proceedings, and if a blend had taken place between the indigenous magic and immigrant ideas and practices, we should have a mechanism whereby the features of the Ingiet which seem at first sight to separate it so widely from the Tamate societies of the Banks Islands might have been produced.

One other feature of the Ingiet must be mentioned which has no parallel in southern Melanesia, but may yet stand in some relation to the ritual of certain secret societies of Oceania. One branch of the Ingiet performs an annual ceremony called kinao in which a tower-like structure is erected on the lopped main branches of a tree1. The tower is of considerable size, being 6 to 8 metres long, 4 to 5 broad, and 20 to 25 metres high, narrowing upwards to end in a platform which, accord¬ ing to Parkinson, has the form of a canoe. On the lofty platform, which is reached by climbing within the tower, cere¬ monies are performed in which as many as eight or ten people may take part. The initiation of boys is evidently one of the purposes of this ceremonial. We know little about the exact nature or meaning of the proceedings, one feature of which is the thrusting of lances at two wooden images of the “seaeagle” which hang on poles before the tower, but the pyramidal character of the tower and its great size suggest that it may stand in some relation to the pyramids of the Polynesian marae and the Fijian nanga. It is possible that the wooden structures of the Ingiet take the place of the structures in stone which, in Fiji and eastern Polynesia, are so important in the ceremonial of the secret organisations.

I have now considered how far the Dukduk and Ingiet of the Bismarck Archipelago can be regarded as representatives of the ghost societies of southern Melanesia. It has been seen that there are striking similarities between the institu¬ tions of the two regions, not only in general character, but

1 For an account of the ceremony see Parkinson, p. 607 ; and Meier, Anthropos , 1910, V, 108; 1911, VI, 843 ; and Mythen u. Erzahl , p. 151.

even in minute details. Perhaps the most striking fact which has emerged from the comparison is the clear evidence of an underlying community of purpose in features of the organisa¬ tions which seemed at first sight to show essential differences between them.

Another striking fact is the presence of definite distinctions in the one which explain obscure features of the other. I refer especially to the light which is thrown on the male and female masks of the Banks Islands by the male and female character of the dukduk and tubuan. In the Banks Islands it was impossible to learn anything about the meaning of this dis¬ tinction, while in New Britain it has a definite meaning in the belief that the tubuan gives birth annually to the dukduk. .

This close resemblance between the secret organisations of two widely separated regions can leave no doubt that they must own a common source. I suppose the source of the Tamate societies to have been the kava-people, and in accordance with my scheme, it follows that this people must also have been the founders of the Dukduk and the Ingiet.

I have, however, left it an open question in Chapter xxxiv whether the cult of the sun which seems to be embodied in the ritual of the Dukduk is to be ascribed to the kava-people as a whole, or whether it is due to some later migration. The evidence from the Bismarck Archipelago points to the latter alternative. There is clear evidence that the Dukduk , which I suppose to represent a hidden cult of the sun, is a relatively recent introduction, and that the other secret organisation, the Ingiet , is far older. This suggests that the Dukduk is not to be regarded as the representative of the Tamate societies in general, but is the northern representative of the Tamate hwoa. If the Dukduk is rela¬ tively recent, it becomes probable that the Tamate liwoa is also relatively recent, a conclusion in harmony with the presence of a definite tradition that it has come from else¬ where. Further, the presence of terms of relationship with a definitely Polynesian character in New Ireland suggests that the introduction of the Dukduk may have come from, or by way of, Polynesia. In this case both it and the Tamate liwoa of the Banks Islands would represent the results of settle¬ ments from Polynesia much later than that of the kava-people who were the founders of the other Tamate societies and of the Ingiet , the new society having blended more

Dukduk, Ingiet and Tamate 525

completely with the old in the Banks than in the Bismarck Archipelago.

There are, however, certain features of the Dukduk insti¬ tution which suggest that the distinction in the Bismarck Archipelago which corresponds to that between Tamate liwoa and the other Tamate societies is between Dzikduk , on the one hand, and Tubuan and Ingiet , on the other hand. It is said that the power of imposing a taboo rests especially with the Tubuanx, and further, the tubuan is always supposed to be in action, whereas the dukduk is only alive for a portion of the year. This makes it possible that the cult of the sun which is represented by the annual birth, life and death of the dukduk is an accretion to an older institution of which the tubuan is the representative. We need, however, far more accurate information than we possess about the exact relations between Tubuan and Dtikduk before any decisive opinion will become possible. The important point is that the organisations of the Bismarck Archipelago support the idea that that part of the secret cult in which the sun is the prominent object is later than other parts of the secret organi¬ sation, and there is clear evidence that this new feature of culture came from the east to the district where it is now most definitely present.

If I am right in supposing that the tower of the kinao ceremony of the Ingiet is the representative of the pyramid of the marae and nanga , it will follow that elements from this later culture have been introduced into the ritual of the Ingiet. Taking the evidence as a whole, it seems probable that the people who introduced the cult of the sun and the art of working stone influenced both the secret organisations of the Bismarck Archipelago, being responsible for the annual representation of the birth, life and death of the Dukduk and for the wooden imitation of their stone pyramids in the Ingiet.

I have already mentioned one way in which the size of islands may have had an influence on the Ingiet , and I must now return to this subject. There is reason to believe that in the more southern parts of Melanesia the secret organisa¬ tions are especially well developed in small islands, and in an earlier chapter I have shown that this is in accordance with my scheme of their origin. I have now to ask how far this proposition is true of the Bismarck Archipelago. One feature

1 Rickard, Proc. Roy. Soc. Viet. 1891, ill, 70.

Melanesian Society

of distribution in this region distinctly supports the general¬ isation. The Dukduk is highly developed in Duke of York Island, and there is some reason to suppose that the secret organisations also flourish in small islands near the coast, such as Matupi. Moreover, we know that the secret organisations, at any rate the Dukduk , have been present on the larger land mass of the southern end of New Ireland but have dis¬ appeared. Though the generalisation that secret societies flourish especially on small islands does not hold good so definitely as in southern Melanesia, there are yet facts which lend it support.

Nevertheless, it is clear that the organisations have flourished on the larger islands, and I have connected the greater importance of “ magic ” in the functions of the Ingiet with this fact. The nature of the Dukduk and Ingiet suggests that the indigenous people had more influence on the ritual of the organisations than in the Banks Islands. The cultures of immigrants and indigenes do not seem to have remained so distinct from one another as in southern Melanesia, and it is probably to the less definite character of the barrier between the two cultures that we may ascribe the totemic character of the moieties. The detailed study of the secret organisations has led to the most striking confirmation of the view that Melanesian totemism is of immigrant origin, and it therefore becomes highly probable that the totemic character of the dual organisation is only another indication of the mutual influence of the two peoples. It supports the view that the cultures of the dual and kava-peoples have blended more intimately in the Bismarck Archipelago than in southern Melanesia.

Before I pass to other aspects of the culture of the dual region, I must consider briefly a set of features which raise a difficulty for my general scheme. I have mentioned a number of facts which show the importance of women in the history of both public and secret social organisations. Thus, the generic name for the birds and other objects connected with the moieties is hintubuhet , and the first syllable of this word seems to show the female character of the ancestry which the word otherwise indicates. Since the hintubuhet include the objects I have regarded as totems, there is suggested a con¬ nection between women and totems which is hardly to be expected on the lines of my scheme of the origin of Melanesian totemism. Again, the female character of the tubuan and

Influence of JVomen 527

the fact that old women sometimes take a part in the ceremonial of the Dukduk hardly seem to be in accordance with my scheme of the origin of the secret organisations of Melanesia. In this connection I may note that women take an important place in the social life of the Gazelle Peninsula. Kleintitschen1 states that at Livuan the old women have so great a knowledge of social customs that they largely regulate social life. The people trust them so greatly that by a word they are able to prevent marriage, which suggests that they are the repositories of the genea¬ logical knowledge which probably here, as elsewhere in Melanesia, takes so great a part in the regulation of social life. It is possible that this importance of women in the public and secret organisations is only another indication that indigenous influence has played a greater part in the history of these organisations than in southern Melanesia. It may be that the indigenous wives of the immigrants obtained greater power and influence here than would seem to have been the case elsewhere in Melanesia. It is also possible, however, that the importance of women is to be connected with the presence of a certain number of their own women among the immigrants. It would be fruitless to speculate on the matter; it must be sufficient to acknowledge that we have here a feature of the culture of the dual region which does not fit as readily into my scheme as most of the other customs of this region.

Money.

The shell-money of the Bismarck Archipelago is so inti¬ mately associated with the Dukduk and Ingiet organisations that it may be considered here. Its use has certain details which bring it so closely into relation with the shell-money of the Banks Islands as to leave no doubt that both have been derived from one source.

The money of the Bismarck Archipelago resembles that of the Banks Islands in being made from shells, but these are not ground down, and the shell used, Nassa callosa var. camelus , is different from that used in the Banks Islands. As in these islands, however, the money is made by women who knock off a hump of the shell and thus produce a perforated

1 Op. cit. pp. 191-2 ; elsewhere (p. 202) Kleintitschen speaks of the low position of women.

disc1. As in the Banks Islands, the shells are collected by men, and in New Britain there is a definite reason why this part should be assigned to them, for the shells are only obtained by a prolonged journey to the district of Nakanai whence, as we have seen, the material for the stone images of the Ingiet is also obtained2. Not only is there this close similarity in the details of manufacture in the two places, but there are equally striking similarities in the details of the use of the shells as money. As in the Banks Islands, it is the custom that a young man shall distribute his possessions to his relatives and receive his gifts back again after several months with cent, per cent, interest3. I was told of this custom in the Banks Islands especially as a preliminary to entrance into the secret organisation (see 1, 64) ; we are not told that this is so in the Bismarck Archipelago, but the Dukduk and Ingiet form such obvious motives for the acqui¬ sition of wealth by a young man, that there can be little doubt about the association of the practice with the secret organisa¬ tions here also.

Still another striking point of resemblance in detail is that in New Britain, as in the Banks Islands, it is the custom to speak of transactions in numbers which are only the halves of the amounts which really pass from person to person. This custom obtains of shell-money and of shell-money only, and has certain features which make it necessary to revise an opinion expressed earlier on the probable meaning of the custom. It is the practice in New Britain to use individual shells in business transactions. Thus, eight shells may be given for a bag of lime, but it is said that only four are given4. I have suggested (1, 169) that the custom of giving twice as much as is stated in the Banks Islands is connected with the method of measuring shell-money, but the existence of the custom when lengths are not in question makes this explana¬ tion improbable. The existence of the custom in these two widely separated places must be referred to some feature of the interaction to which I suppose the use of money to have been due, of the nature of which no conclusion seems at present possible.

One feature of shell-money which I have already noted

1 Willey, Zoological Results , Cambridge, 1902, p. 693.

2 Rickard, Proc. Roy. Soc. Victoria , 1891, N.S. Hi, 46-

3 Geo. Brown, op. cit. p. 94.

4 Rickard, loc. cit.

Disposal of the Dead 529

elsewhere is even more definite in New Britain than in the more southern parts of Melanesia, viz., its sacred character (see 11, 390). In parts of New Britain the shell-money is called tambu , a word which, here as elsewhere in Melanesia, can be translated “sacred.” We have thus confirmatory evidence of the sacred character of an object which, ac¬ cording to my scheme, is especially to be associated with the immigrants whose religious rites became the centre of the organisations with which even now the object is most closely associated.

In spite of the sacred character indicated by its name, it would seem that the shell-money is used in the transactions of every-day life more freely than in the Banks Islands. We have here another indication of the more intimate blending between the indigenous and immigrant populations in the northern islands. The shell-money introduced by the immi¬ grants is not only used in ceremonial, and especially in that initiated by the immigrants, but passes freely from person to person in payment for food or other objects.

Death.

Three chief modes of disposing of the bodies of the dead are practised in the dual region of the Bismarck Archipelago; interment, throwing into the sea, and preservation above the ground followed by interment of the bones. Of these methods that which is practised most frequently is interment which appears to be the general method, at any rate in New Britain. Among the Barriai the bodies of dead men are interred in the mens house, those of women in the dwelling-house, and in each case the house continues to be used by the living as before1. Chiefs are distinguished by the use of part of a canoe as a coffin. In the Gazelle Peninsula the body is interred, sometimes in a canoe as a coffin, and it may also be placed in a canoe for a time before interment. The body is placed in the extended position, but the thumbs and great toes are tied together, suggesting the existence of the idea of restrain¬ ing the movements of the deceased2.

In Duke of York Island the dead may also be interred in the house, though a more usual method is to throw the body into the sea with the feet weighted so that it assumes the

1 Friederici, op. cit. p. 165. 2 Parkinson, op . tit. p. 75.

upright position. Rarely the body of a chief is interred in this position1.

Both in New Britain and Duke of York Island preserva¬ tion on platforms is also practised, but only in the case of chiefs. Parkinson saw a dead man laid out in a canoe which had been placed on a stage four metres high2, and full accounts of this mode of burial have been given by Danks3 and Brown4. In the funeral observed by Danks the dead man was a prominent member of the Dukduk society, and his body was put in the sacred canoe of the Dukduk which was

then hoisted into the air between poles.

Danks described fights on this occasion ; one, when the body reached the place where it was to be left, and another, just before the body was placed in the canoe. Danks gives no indication of the meaning of these fights, but Brown, who witnessed a similar occurrence when a body was placed on a platform, states explicitly that one party tried to prevent the other from putting the body on the platform. When the body had decayed in this case, the skull was preserved to be put later with ceremonies on a platform, while the rest of the

bones were buried in the house.

These accounts make it clear that preservation is a method of treating the bodies of the dead later than inhumation. Not only is it the body of a chief which is thus treated, but the fights point to a social struggle between two funeral customs. The fact that the object of the fight is to prevent the body from being placed on the platform is definitely in favour of this being an innovation which is still opposed ceremonially.

The skulls of the dead are often preserved in the Gazelle Peninsula and may be used as the basis of masks, but it seems that in many cases they are not treated with any special honour or reverence.

These modes of disposal of the dead fall into line with those of other parts of Melanesia. With one exception, we are not told in what position the body is interred, but the frequency of interment is such as we should expect from the strength in this region of the culture of the dual people. Similarly, the preservation of the bodies of chiefs is thoroughly in harmony with my scheme, and the ceremonial fight to prevent this practice from being carried out may be taken as

1 G. Brown, op. tit. p. 386. 2 Op. cit. p. 7&*

3 Journ. Anth. Inst., 1892, XXI, 348. 4 Loc. tit.

Upright position of Dead and Sun-cult 531

another indication of the strength of indigenous culture in this region. The interment of the dead in the house which the survivors continue to inhabit suggests a blend between the practices of interment and preservation in the house.

One feature of the culture of New Ireland suggests that throwing into water may formerly have had a wider distribu¬ tion than at present. The places called paga connected with the sub-groups of the moieties, and supposed to be the abode of ghosts (see 11, 504), are characterised by the presence of rivers or ponds. It may be suggested that these are places where the bodies of the dead were thrown into the rivers or ponds, just as seems once to have happened in the Shortland Islands. It may be that we have here a relic of the mode of disposal I suppose (see 11, 289 and 343) to have existed in the Shortland Islands before the introduction of cremation. If the sub-groups of the moieties of New Ireland have arisen through the mechanism I suppose to have been in action in other parts of Melanesia, they should have been totemic. It is possible that in the streams or ponds connected with these sub-groups, we have evidence of such a totemic character of the ritual of death as is still present in the Shortland Islands.

The last mode of treating the dead, that of interment or disposal in the sea in the upright position, is one of great interest, for it enables me to take a definite step forward in the scheme of this book. It will be remembered that the only place where the upright position has been recorded in other parts of Melanesia is the island of Ureparapara, though it may also be present at the southern end of Malaita. I have sug¬ gested (see 11, 425) that the presence of this mode of disposal in an island which seems to have been the special home of the Tamate tiwoa points to the association of the use of the upright position with the cult of the sun which I suppose to be embodied in the ritual of this society. It is therefore a remarkable fact that Duke of York Island, where the upright position also occurs, is especially the home of the Dukduk which, according to my scheme, also embodies a cult of the sun. We thus obtain further evidence that this cult of the sun was not a part of the general culture of the kavapeople, but was brought into Melanesia by a distinct and relatively late migration, the migration of a people who placed their dead in the upright position after death. If there is

anything in this view, it might be expected that the upright position would also be found in the Society an Marquesa Islands, but we have at present no evidence of such a mode of disposal. It is, however, fully in accordance with what I believe to be the general result of migration that attractive features of culture, such as the rites and amusements associated with the cult of the sun, should have spread more widely than a mode of disposal of the dead, the execution of which would be rendered difficult by the imperfect implements and appliances of Oceania.

One further remark may be made. If there be the association of a cult of the sun with the use of the upright position which is suggested by the practices of Ureparapara and Duke of York Island, we should expect to find the use of the upright position in that district of New Britain and the adjacent islands where the cult of the sun is still in full practice. At present, however, we have no information on

this point. .

The beliefs of the Gazelle Peninsula concerning the home

of the dead stand in an interesting relation to certain other features of culture. It has been seen that both the stone images of the Ingiet and the shell-money have come from Nakanai and some tribes place their home of the dead in this locality , thus providing a good example from Melanesia of the asso¬ ciation between the home of the dead and the place of origin which is found elsewhere2.

Incision.

This custom is carried out by the Barriai and neighbouring peoples and also at Nakanai, but there is no evidence of its occurrence in the Gazelle Peninsula or New Ireland3. Among the Barriai and Kilenge peoples, a garment of barkcloth is worn in such a way as to suggest that the practice of incision may have been combined with an objection to the part exposed by the operation being seen4. If this be so, this region shows a striking resemblance to Polynesia and the southern New Hebrides. It is also a remarkable point of resemblance with southern Melanesia that incision should be

Kleintitschen, op. cit. p. 225. „ _ , , , , A

See W. J. Perry, Myths of Origin and the Home of the Dead, to be published

shortly in Folk-Lore.

3 Friederici, op. cit. p. 46.

4 Ibid. p. 152.

Shell-money and Kava

absent in the regions where the secret societies are especially developed. The condition of the dual region lends a general support to the hypothesis concerning incision I have advanced in Chapter xxxiv, but we need to know far more of the culture of the north coast of New Britain before we can expect to understand why the customs should only be present among the Barriai and other peoples of this district.

Material culture .

The foregoing survey of the social structure, secret organisations and ritual of death in the dual region of New Britain, Duke of York Island and New Ireland has brought out results in agreement with the view that the kava-people, whom I suppose to have founded the ghost societies and initiated the ancestral cult of the more southern parts of Melanesia, also founded the similar organisations and cult of the Bismarck Archipelago. If this be so, we should expect to find signs of the material culture of this people, and I have now to inquire how far this is the case.

The chief material objects which I have been led to ascribe to the kava-people are the following : — kava, shellmoney, the pig and fowl, the bow and arrow, the wooden gong, the conch-shell, the fillet and the cycas tree. I have now to inquire whether these objects are used in the dual region, and especially whether they have such a connection with the Dukduk and Ingiet as we should expect if they were introduced by the people who founded these organisations.

I have already fully considered the subject of shell-money and found it to have just that importance which we should expect if the secret organisations of the two parts of Melanesia have had a common origin. Of the presence of kava, on the other hand, we have no evidence whatever, but I have already fully considered the factors which may have led to the dis¬ appearance of the practice of drinking this substance. It may be noted in passing that the leaf used in betel-chewing in the archipelago is probably that of Piper methysticum, showing that the kava-plant is present. Further, as we shall see shortly, kava is still used in another part of the Bismarck Archipelago.

The pig and the fowl are both present in the Bismarck Archipelago, and I have already considered the importance of

the pig in connection with the Ingiet societies. Difficult as it may be to explain the abstinence of members of the Ingiet from the flesh of this animal, the abstinence would alone be sufficient to show its ceremonial importance.

The bow and arrow is still used in the central part of New Ireland, and there is evidence that it formerly had a wider distribution1, but it is a difficulty that it does not appear to be used in any way in the ritual of the Dnkduk or the Ingiet .

The next object to be considered is used in a way thoroughly in consonance with my scheme. The wooden gong with a slit, exactly comparable in form with that of southern Melanesia, is of the greatest importance in the ritual of the Dukduk and Ingiet and in connection with death. Its distribution within the region now under consideration is just as it should be if it is especially connected with the secret societies. Its use is general in the Gazelle Peninsula where the societies are strong, but it is now only occasionally to be seen in the southernmost part of New Ireland where the Dukduk and Ingiet have disappeared2. In the Gazelle Peninsula, the gong is especially used in dances connected with the Tubuan and Dukduk , while membrane-drums are used in dances of the more ordinary kind3.

Another indication of the importance of the wooden gong in connection with the secret organisations is that it is one of the objects of which stone representations are made in the Ingiet society4. These images are believed to embody the ghosts of their makers, so that the gong is thus brought into direct relation with the ancestral cult which I suppose to have been derived from the kava-people. The gong is used in the Tubuan dance on the occasion of a death, and it is also beaten throughout the night following interment, with the object of assisting the passage of the ghost to its future home in the east6, being thus used in connection with a belief which must certainly be of immigrant origin. One feature which appears to distinguish the use of the gong in the Bismarck Archi¬ pelago and the Solomons from that of southern Melanesia and Polynesia is that it is a means of transmitting news, messages of complicated character being sent from place to place by

1 Behrens, Reise durch die Sud- Lander, 1737, p. 15 1 ; Lesson in Duperrey, Voyage autonr du Monde , 1826, I, 981.

2 Stephan and Graebner, op. cit. p. 129. 3 Kleintitschen, op. cit. p. 147.

4 Meier, Anthropos , 1911, VI, 842 and 849. 5 Parkinson, op. cit. p. 79.

The Conch and Fillet

means of certain rhythms and variations of the sound1. The instrument has thus a definite utilitarian purpose as well as a ceremonial use, and we know of no such purpose in southern Melanesia or Polynesia. If future research should fail to find such a purpose, it will become probable that it was this useful function which led to its wide introduction throughout Mela* nesia and Polynesia by the kava-people, but that this use has disappeared in southern Melanesia and Polynesia, the instru¬ ment having persisted only in religious ritual.

The conch made of the shell of the Triton is not only definitely present in New Britain and New Ireland, but it has that place in the ritual of the secret organisations which we should expect if it were introduced by the kava-people. When the members of the Ingiet take one of their stone images from one place to another, its approach is heralded by the sound of the conch which warns all uninitiated persons to get out of the way2. When an uninitiated person hears the conch, he says, “ Here comes an image from Nakanai,” thus associating the instrument with one of the more sacred images. Another indication of the importance of the conch in the Ingiet is that it may be shown to an initiate in place of a stone image if one of these is not available3, thus suggesting that the conch may once have formed one of the mysteries of the society, com¬ parable with the werewere or meretang of the Banks Islands or the bullroarer of the Matambala and Rukruk.

We have no evidence for the use of the fillet in the ritual of the Dukduk or Ingiet , but the Barriai wear a cylindrical mask in the dance which seems to be a relic of the Dukduk , and the Rukruk of northern Bougainville, evidently closely allied to the Dukduk , wear a special head-dress, sometimes of globular and sometimes of cylindrical form. These may be variants of the cylindrical head-covering of which I suppose the fillet of the Banks Islands to have been a survival (see ii, 446).

Of another object used in the secret ritual of the Banks Islands, the cycas, we have at present no evidence in the Dukduk or Ingiet societies.

Of the objects which the ritual of the Banks Islands leads me to ascribe to the kava-people, most are thus not only pre¬ sent in the Dukduk and Ingiet , but are used in such a way as

1 Eberlein, Anthropos , 1910, V, 635, and Kleintitschen, op. cit. p. 52.

2 J. Meier, Anthropos , 1911, VI, 860. 3 Ibid. p. 844.

to show their close connection with the essential purpose of the societies. We have here striking evidence, not only in favour of the common source of the organisations of the two widely separated places, but also evidence that these objects are used in the secret ritual because they had a definite place in the religious beliefs and practices of the founders of the societies.

Only one other element of the material culture need be considered here. The dual region of the Bismarck Archi¬ pelago possesses two kinds of canoe, the dug-out with outrigger which is in general use throughout the region and the plank-built canoe, called mon , which is only found at the southern end of New Ireland. I have already suggested that the disappearance of the secret organisations at the southern end of New Ireland and the presence in this district of true hereditary chieftainship have been due to the influence of the betel-people ; it is thoroughly in accordance with this view that the plank-built canoe, which seems to have been especi¬ ally developed among the betel-people, should be found in this district.

Decorative art.

I have so far considered only elements of culture which bring the institutions of the dual region of the Bismarck Archipelago into line with those of southern Melanesia, thus pointing to the influence of the peoples I suppose to have reached the latter region. I need hardly say that these resemblances are complicated by many differences, but it must be left for the future to discover whether these differ¬ ences are due to the presence of some additional influence distinct from any of those which have reached southern Melanesia or whether they are to be explained by different modes of interaction between the same peoples. I can only stay here to point out one feature of the culture of the dual region which suggests the former alternative.

Nowhere in southern Melanesia, nor with the exception of New Zealand in Polynesia, have we evidence that any im¬ portant part is taken in decorative art by the spiral or other curvilinear designs. In the Bismarck Archipelago, however, such designs are present, and they occur in the decoration of objects used in the secret organisations. Spirals occur on the

Curvilinear Art

masks of the Dukdukx and on the wooden gongs1 2 which we have seen to be so closely associated with this institution.

The occurrence of this form of decoration on the masks of the Dukduk suggests that it is a manifestation of the art of the people who introduced the cult of the sun. If so, however, we should expect to have found this form of art in the Banks Islands and more widely distributed in Poly¬ nesia. We have only to pass, however, from New Britain to New Guinea to find a region where curvilinear art prevails ; it is probable that such curvilinear designs as occur in the dual region are due to secondary movements from the Massim or other people of New Guinea, or are manifestations of the art of some people who form a predominant element in the Massim and other peoples of New Guinea, but failed to influence in any appreciable measure the main body of Melanesia.

The Sulka and Baining.

The Sulka possess the dual organisation of society, and it might seem that I ought therefore to have dealt with their culture in the earlier part of this chapter. They differ, how¬ ever, from the peoples I have so far considered in speaking a language which does not belong to the Melanesian family, and this and certain other features of their culture differentiate them so definitely from the other peoples with the dual system as to justify their separate treatment. The Sulka are probably only one of a number of peoples of New Britain a knowledge of whose culture will go far to settle many problems of Melanesian history which are at present very obscure.

The Sulka form with the Mengen and the Tumuip a group of three peoples living in friendly relations with one another in the neighbourhood of Cape Orford to the south of the isthmus joining the Gazelle Peninsula to the main body of New Britain. They inhabit the coast and also spread up into the valleys of the southern side of Wide Bay, having probably not long ago lived more to the north. The Mengen occupy the coast south of Cape Orford, while the Tumuip live in the hills behind the other two peoples. All three peoples are

1 See Parkinson, op. cit. Fig. 104, p. 575 and Hesse-Wartegg, Samoa , Bismarck Archipel. z/. Neuguinea , Leipzig, 1902, p. 152.

2 See Eberlein, Anthropos , 1910, V, 635.

continually at warfare with the Gaktai, a mountain people occupying the hills between Wide and Open Bays, together with the country immediately to the south of this isthmus. We know practically nothing about the Gaktai except their warlike propensities and that they have the reputation of being purely bush-people, neither possessing canoes nor being able to swim.

The Sulka and the Tumuip speak languages wholly different from those of the Melanesian family, while the language of the Mengen seems to be an extremely aberrant member of the Melanesian family, the result probably of mixture between an immigrant Austronesian language and an indigenous language of a wholly different kind1 2. Of these three peoples, it is about the Sulka alone that we have any definite knowledge.

The other people I have included in the title of this section, the Baining, probably afford an example of a wholly different culture. We know, however, even less of them than of the Sulka. I consider them here chiefly in order to raise a problem which we have not met elsewhere in Melanesia, the possibility that they may be a people whose culture represents in its essential features a social condition earlier than the dual organisation.

The Sulka1.

The Sulka are divided into two main groups which corre¬ spond definitely to the moieties of the dual organisation ; a member of one group has to marry into the other, and the children belong to the group of the mother. The moieties resemble those of New Ireland, and probably of the dual region of New Britain, in that each is subdivided into sub¬ sidiary groups, each moiety having nine such groups. There is no evidence that birds, or totems of any kind, are connected either with the moieties or their subdivisions. The only restriction on food of which we know is that certain men and women may not eat the flesh of the pig, but this practice does not appear to be hereditary, a mother settling whether her child shall or shall not observe the restriction. There is a special men’s house which women are not allowed to

1 H. Miiller, Anthroposy 1907, II, 80 and 241.

2 This section is based on the accounts of Rascher {Arch. f. Anthropy I9°4> XXIX, 209) and of Parkinson, op. cit. p. 177.

The Sulka

approach. Masks kept in this house are used in dances, and young men, regarded as the children of these masks, often destroy property and behave in other ways like the members of the secret societies of other parts of Melanesia. We have no evidence that the masks are connected with definite societies, though further knowledge will perhaps show this to be the case. The masks are believed to be descended from an old woman who also made the wooden gongs.

About the time of puberty boys are circumcised in the men’s house ; since it is definitely stated that the foreskin is buried or burnt, we can be confident that this is an example of true circumcision. The nose is bored afterwards, and there is a later ceremony when the teeth are first blackened. The usual mode of treating the dead is to bury them within the house in the sitting position with the upper part of the body above the ground. The hole is filled with leaves so that the body is not in contact with the earth, and a small tower-like structure covered with banana leaves is placed over the head. Stones are laid round the little tower and a fire is kept burn¬ ing close at hand. When the flesh has decayed, the bones are wrapped in leaves and hung in the house ; if the occupants move to a new house, the bones go with them.

It is evident that if the sitting position is a relic of the culture of the dual people, there have been later influences which have led to the preservation of the bones and other features of the death-rites. The men’s house, the masks and the wooden gong suggest the presence of the kava-people, and the use of betel and the evident importance of blackening the teeth1 show the influence of the betel-people. It may be that one or other of these peoples were responsible for the intro¬ duction of the preservation of the bones.

There are features of the disposal of the dead which suggest still another influence. For the first time in Melanesia we find evidence that special care is taken to protect the body from con¬ tact with the earth, and the tower-like structure placed over the body is a wholly new feature. The placing of stones round the tower and the use of a fire are other noteworthy features of the death-rites. The nearest parallel to the use of the tower occurs in the kinao ceremony of the Ingiet. We do not know how close is the resemblance between the structures

1 This practice is followed in the Western Solomon Islands where I suppose the influence of the betel-people to have been predominant.

called towers in these two cases, but it is noteworthy that it is only among two neighbouring peoples of New Britain that we know of any structures to which this name has been applied in Melanesia. I have suggested that the tower of the Ingiet may be the representative of the pyramid of the Polynesian marae and the Fijian nanga, and it is possible that the tower of the Sulka may be another mode of imitation of these megalithic structures. In this connection, it is signifi¬ cant that the Sulka should place stones round the tower, while the use of a fire may also be an associated feature, for a fire is kept burning near the grave in Ysabel, one of the places where we have evidence of megalithic structures in Melanesia. It seems possible that the tower, the care taken to prevent earth from touching the dead, the stones, and the fire may have been derived from the people I suppose to have introduced the cult of the sun and the construction of monuments of stone into Oceania. It thus becomes possible that the main body of the kava-people failed to reach the Sulka, the apparent traces of their presence being due to secondary transmission. The absence of the kava-people may explain the retention of the indigenous language by the Sulka; it may be that the preservation of the bones and other features of the death-rites were introduced by a secondary migration which later failed to influence the language.

This view is strengthened by the other special feature of the culture of the Sulka to which I have referred. I have supposed (u, 436) that the dual people practised true circum¬ cision and that the practice of incision came into being as the result of a compromise between the practice of the dual people and certain ideas of the kava-people. It is, therefore, a remarkable fact that we should find true circumcision still practised by a people whom the kava-people may not have reached.

Further, I have supposed that the practice of circumcision was derived from the element of the dual people formed by those who interred their dead in the sitting position, and we find among the Sulka exactly such an association between true circumcision and the use of the sitting position in burial to which I have been led by the comparison of Melanesian culture with that of Polynesia. It would seem as if the Sulka provide us with an example of the culture of the dual people in a purer form than we have found anywhere else in Melanesia.

54i

The B aining

They seem to have escaped an influence which has had a profound effect on Melanesian culture elsewhere, or to have . received one branch of this influence so indirectly, or through the intermediation of so few persons, that they still retain elements of the. original culture of the dual people which else¬ where in Melanesia have disappeared or have been profoundly modified.

The Baining' . These people live in the hills of the western part of the Gazelle Peninsula. Physically they resemble the inhabitants of the more eastern part of the peninsula from whom, however, they differ in speaking a non- Melanesian language. They are wandering agriculturalists who live in the neighbourhood of the land they cultivate and move elsewhere when it is exhausted. We know nothing of their social organisation, though there is one feature of their marriage customs which suggests that it may be widely differ¬ ent from that of the coastal peoples of this region. Among most peoples of Melanesia, including the Sulka, it is the rule for the initiative in marriage to come from the woman, but we are definitely told that among the Baining the man chooses his wife. The next step, however, comes more into line with Melanesian practice elsewhere, for there seems to be a semblance of marriage by capture in which a friend of the bridegroom seizes the girl and takes her to the hut of her future husband. There are said to be no chiefs.

The dances of the Baining have many features which suggest that they are allied to the ceremonial of the secret organisations of this and other parts of Melanesia, but there is no evidence that the dances are connected with definite societies, and the active part taken by women shows that, if there be such societies, they must have a less mysterious and secret character than the Dukduk or the Ingiet. At the chief ceremony a large structure is erected which may possibly be allied to the climbing tower of the Ingiet , and after the women have danced, men perform a dance in which they are adorned in such a way as to suggest that they represent cockatoos ; the character of the movements seems also to show that the dance represents the action of birds.

After this follow dances in which conical masks or hats

1 The following information concerning this people is taken from Parkinson,

Dreissig Jahre . , pp. 155 and 613 ; much of it was obtained by Parkinson from

Father Rascher.

are worn, but the most striking feature of the ceremony is ,the use of enormous objects, it may be as much as 45 metres in length, which are held over the heads of the chief actors. The people fast for several days before the ceremony takes place, so that it would appear to have a definitely religious character, and Father Rascher, to whom we owe Parkinson’s description of this ceremony, believed that the object was to commemorate the dead. It may be noted that the wooden gong takes a prominent place in the ceremonial.

The death-rites of the Baining show perhaps better than anything else how greatly their culture must differ from that of their neighbours. The body of a dead person is laid in the ground and may either be covered with earth or the grave may be left open ; it is said that it is a matter of in¬ difference to the people if, in the latter case, the body is devoured by dogs or swine. There is no belief in any special place to which the dead go after death. They are believed to be among the living but are not feared ; the only being feared by the Baining is a snake-like “spirit” whose children live in gnarled trees and resemble their parent in their harm¬ fulness to man.

The dances are sufficiently like those connected with the secret organisations of Melanesia to show that both must own a common source, but the imperfect condition of our know¬ ledge makes it impossible to decide whether the Baining have received these dances through secondary movements or whether they depend upon a settlement of the kava-people. If Father Rascher is right in supposing that the dances com¬ memorate the dead, it will become probable that they are due to the settlement of a body of the kava-people, or their near descendants, who failed altogether to introduce their language and the idea of preservation of the bodies of the dead. The ideas of the Baining concerning death make it more probable, however, that the dances have been derived from some later movement, and were adopted with little appreciation of their real meaning.

The Siara District of New Ireland.

Siara is a district on the east coast of New Ireland which shares with Caen and St John’s Islands a culture which differs

The People of Star a 543

decidedly from that of the dual region1. The people form a number of exogamous totemic clans with matrilineal descent. Their totems are mainly birds, including the i7ianlam or sea-eagle, the tagau (a sea-bird), the pigeon, flycatchers and parrots ; the dog and pig are also totems. These animals are not especially honoured and may even be eaten.

Marriage is regulated by the clan-mechanism, and accord¬ ing to rules which bear some resemblance to the custom of Pentecost (1, 190). A man of a given clan may not marry a woman of any other clan, as is the general custom in Mela¬ nesian exogamy, but his choice is restricted to one or more clans. Thus, a man whose totem is the tagaii bird must marry a woman of the manlam clan, and a man who has the angkzka parrot as his totem must marry a manlam woman. A pigeon-man may, however, marry with any other totems, and a dog-man may marry into any clan except that which has the manlam as its totem. This peculiar regulation of marriage is accompanied by payment for a wife.

It is believed that the members of different totems can be distinguished by certain physical characteristics. The Tagaii are said to begin to walk with the left foot and the Manlam with the right; the Angkika have thick thighs and slender ankles, while the dog-people are believed to be able to run swiftly and for a long time.

The chieftainship of this region appears to be distinctly more definite than in the dual region.

After death the body is first placed on a platform in the house and is then buried ; the body is not covered with earth, but a wooden roof is placed over the grave, the method of burial thus resembling that found among the Sulka. There is the further resemblance with this people that after a time the skull is removed and becomes the object of a ceremony, after which it is again buried. The arm-bones are removed at the same time, however, and are kept to be made part of a special kind of spear, only used by relatives of the deceased and believed by them to bring the assistance of the ghost of the deceased in battle.

The Siara people perform ceremonies in which masks are used, but these are said to have nothing to do with a cult of the dead. It is probable that the connection of the masks with the dead once existed but has disappeared, just as

1 Parkinson, op. cit. p. 652.

we must suppose the sacred character of the totems to have disappeared.

The social organisation of Siara must be regarded as an anomalous form of totemism, departing from the typical condition in that the totems may be eaten. Further, it is evident that two of the totems are the birds which are connected with the moieties of the dual region ; the manlam and tagau evidently correspond to the malaba and taragau of other parts of New Ireland. The connection of these birds with the moieties is more definite in New Ireland than in New Britain or Duke of York Island, and it may be that the influence by means of which birds have come to be associated with the moieties reached the Bismarck Archipelago by way of the Siara district.

On my general scheme we must suppose that the people of the Siara district are representatives of settlements of descendants of the kava-people. I have suggested that the mode of burial practised by the Sulka may be in part a survival of practices belonging to a megalithic culture ; the similar character of the Siara rites suggests that the immi¬ grants into this region belonged to that section of the kavapeople who constructed the stone monuments of Oceania.

Northern New Ireland and New Hanover.

The Siara district considered in the last section probably forms an intermediate link between the dual region and the northern part of New Ireland and New Hanover, together with Sandwich, Fisher, Gardner and Gerrit Denys Islands.

As in Siara, there is no evidence of any dual system, but the people form a number of totemic clans which differ from those of Siara in that the totems are exclusively birds1. Ac¬ cording to Parkinson, descent in New Ireland and the adjacent islands is matrilineal ; in New Hanover it is said to be patri¬ lineal2, but it may be that this statement is due to the confusion of descent with succession.

The complicated masks and carvings which form such striking objects in our museums come from this part of the Bismarck Archipelago, but at present we know very little concerning the nature of the ceremonies in which these

1 Parkinson, op. cit. 649 and Willey, Zoolog. Results , 702.

2 Kuthe, MSS. quoted by Graebner, Zeitsch.f Socialwiss. 1908, xi, 666.

Masks and Totemism

objects are used. It is clear, however, in the first place, that they are connected with a cult of dead ancestors and, in the second place, that the rites have not the secret character of the cult of the dead in the dual region, but that the masks are used in ceremonial in which the whole people take part1.

Many of the carvings represent incidents in a large collection of tales about birds and other animals, and, as Par¬ kinson remarks, only when these tales are fully before us shall we be able to understand these representations. Parkinson2 tells us, however, of one feature of the carvings which is of the greatest interest in connection with my theory of Melanesian totemism. Birds are not the only animals represented in the carvings, but while the birds represent beneficent ancestral ghosts, the other animals, such as the snake, lizard, shark, dolphin and pig, represent malignant beings. The general motive of the tales appears to be the guardianship of man by birds. The birds protect their human adherents from misfor¬ tunes with which they are threatened by the evil beings whom the other animals represent. The tales portray a struggle between the two kinds of animal in which the birds obtain the mastery. This suggests that the animals belong to two peoples, one of which had birds as totems, while the totems of the other were aquatic animals, together with lizards, snakes and the pig. If so, the triumph of the birds over the other animals and the present predominance of the birds in the social system suggest that the bird-totemists were the later comers.

If we examine other features of the culture of this region, we find that even the scanty information available provides other evidence of its complex character. The prevailing mode of disposal of the dead is cremation, but there are differences in the ritual preceding cremation in different dis¬ tricts which show that it has been superposed on older practices. In the extreme north of New Ireland and in New Hanover, the body is laid on a platform which, at the death of chiefs or other important persons, may be as much as two metres in height. Southwards in New Ireland this custom changes ; in some places, the body is placed in the sitting position in a canoe within the house, and may either be in¬ terred in this position or burnt ; in other places, the body is placed in the sitting position and then packed in coral-chalk and hung under the roof of the house where it may be kept 1 Parkinson, 641. 2 Op. cit. 650.

for many years. This method is evidently to be brought into relation with mummification, and is a definite example of preservation.

The relation of these different practices to cremation points clearly to the conclusion that cremation is a later practice which has been added to preservation on a platform or in the house, or to interment in the sitting position. If cremation is the latest mode of disposal of the dead, and bird-totemism the later form of totemism, it becomes proba¬ ble that bird-totemism and cremation belong to one culture.

I propose now to inquire how far we have evidence of this

association in other parts of Melanesia.

Another region where cremation is the chief mode of disposal of the dead is Bougainville and the Shortland Islands, and it will be evident at once how exactly the con¬ ditions in this region fit in with the hypothesis I have just J have supposed that cremation is the latest mode of disposal of the dead in the Shortland Islands, and that the bird-totemism of these islands is later than the form in which aquatic animals and lizards are the totems. The correspon¬ dence between the two regions is so close as to leave little doubt about the community of culture between the two places. We may conclude that in both places a people practising cre¬ mation and having birds as totems settled among, and imposed their customs upon, a people who preserved or interred their dead and had aquatic animals as totems. Bird-totemism, however, is not limited to these regions, and I have now to consider whether it is possible to associate the bird-totemism of San Cristoval and the prominence of birds in the secret societies of Melanesia with the practice of cremation.

It is only when the religious rites of San Cristoval have been more fully recorded that we shall be able to decide whether its people have ever known the custom of cremation. It may be noted, however, when a pig is sacrificed in this island, a bit of the flesh is burnt upon a stone, and the blood of the pig is poured upon the fire1, and burnt-offerings also occur in other parts of the Solomons. Such burnt-offerings would be natural if the ancestors to whom they are offered were, or should have been, sent to their future home by burn¬ ing. If burnt-offerings are a survival of the disposal of the dead by cremation, there would be evidence of the influence

. 1 Codrington, M., 129.

Cremation 247

of this mode of disposing of the dead in San Cristoval and other islands of the British Solomons.

It remains to inquire how far there is evidence of relics of cremation in the secret societies of Melanesia. In this inquiry must first return to New Ireland. In the central rep-ion of this island several of the masks and other objects used in ceremonial are burnt, and the motive for burning takes so important a place in the religious sentiments of the people that masks for which Kramer offered large sums of money were nevertheless burnt before his eyes1. We seem to have

GIje u ass°ciation between the practice of cremation

and the burning of masks after they have been used in ceremomal It is, therefore, significant that the masks of the Dukduk are burnt at the time of the “ death ” of the Dukduk, and that the tindalo were also burnt at the end of the celebra- °fthe Matambala of Florida. In the Tamate societies o the Banks Islands also, we know of one case in which a

tamate an image of the dragon fly, is burnt when the tamate is said to die.

In Duke of York Island the burning of the Dukduk masks does not stand alone as evidence of an ancient practice of cremation ; when a person is buried in this island, some of the property of the deceased is burnt, and in such a way as to suggest that the custom is a survival of cremation. Shells are taken from the coils of shell-money and dropped on a

fire, and beads taken from a necklace may be treated in the same way2.

If burnt-offerings and the burning of masks and other objects used in secret rites are survivals of the former practice of cremation by the immigrants who introduced bird-totemism and the representations of birds in the secret rituals of Melanesia, we have to suppose that the influence oi this people has been widespread in Melanesia, but that it was only in a few places that they succeeded in introducing t eir mode of disposing of the dead. We must suppose that only in New Hanover, northern New Ireland, southern Bougainville, the Shortland Islands and southern Malaita did they succeed in establishing the practice of cremation, and in some cases only succeeded in transmitting the custom to their own descendants and failed to influence the people as a

• Zeitschr. d. Ges.f. Erdkunde zu Berlin , 1911, p. 21.

Brown, Afelanesians and Polynesians, p. 192.

35—2

whole. Cremation is not a mode of disposal of the dead which it would be easy to introduce into a new home. It is only where immigrants acquired great power that we should expect them to succeed. It is, however, part of my general scheme that it is only where the immigrants became predomi¬ nant that they were able to establish genuine totemism. It is therefore in harmony with this scheme that the places where typical bird-totemism occurs are also places where cre¬ mation is practised. Further, it is part of my general scheme that secret societies indicate the inferior numbers or power of the immigrants, and it is therefore in accordance with this scheme that where the bird-cult of the immigrants was in¬ corporated in the secret ritual, there should have been a failure to introduce cremation, and that this practice should show itself only in the burning of masks or other objects.

I suggest, therefore, that a people practising cremation and having birds as totems reached many parts of Melanesia, but that only in a few places did they succeed in implanting the mode of disposal of the dead which was peculiar to their own culture. It remains to inquire whether it is possible to identify this people with any of those I have already supposed to have settled in Melanesia, or whether we have here a new element, still another branch of the kava-people.

It will not be possible to reach any decisive conclusion on this matter ; I must be content to present a problem which is suggested by certain facts. I have supposed that the annual death of the Dukduk represents the annual changes of the sun ; since the masks of the Dukduk are burnt on this occa¬ sion, the possibility is suggested that the cult of the sun is to be associated with cremation and bird-totemism ; it becomes possible that the people who practised cremation also intro¬ duced the cult of the sun. This idea is supported by the fact that the object called oara which represents the sun in New Ireland is burnt at the end of the ceremonial in which it is used, together with the skull of a dead man1.

Another fact indirectly connecting cremation and birdtotemism with a cult of the sun comes from Florida in the Solomons2. Each of the kema or clans of this island has a ghostly tindalo who is regarded as an ancestor. In the case of the Manukama clan, this tindalo is called Manoga, and when this being is invoked, the offering is first raised towards

1 Kramer, loc. cit. 2 Codrington, M., 1 31.

Cremation and Sun-cult

the east where the sun rises and to the west where it sets. We are not told definitely that the offering to Manoga is burnt, but this may be inferred from the general nature of the account. It is therefore significant that this ceremony should be especially connected with the Manukama clan, which takes its name from a bird, perhaps to be identified with one of the two eponymous birds of the New Ireland moieties.

There are thus facts which suggest that the people who practised cremation and were responsible for the introduction of bird-totemism were those whom I suppose to have intro¬ duced the cult of the sun into Melanesia. This view, however, is beset by many difficulties. If the introducers of the suncult practised cremation, we have to account for the absence of cremation in Polynesia. The only part of Polynesia where the dead are burnt is New Zealand, and even there it is only practised in some districts and in special circumstances1. Further, I have associated the cult of the sun with the building of megalithic structures, and in the parts of Oceania where these structures are present, not only is there no evidence for cremation, but there are definite modes of disposal of the dead of an altogether different kind.

It would only seem possible to reconcile the view I am now considering with the conclusions reached in Chapter xxxiv, if we suppose that there have been immigrations into Oceania of two peoples who made monuments of stone ; one, who con¬ structed the more dolmen-like buildings of Tonga and Samoa and interred their dead in the extended position, while the stone structures of the other tended to take the form of pyramids and were associated with cremation and a cult of the sun. We must suppose that the second body of migrants failed to establish their mode of disposal of the dead in Poly¬ nesia and many parts of Melanesia.

There would still remain, however, an apparent contra¬ diction. In an earlier part of this chapter, I have ascribed the practice of interment or disposal in water in the upright position to the people who introduced the cult of the sun. The view I now suggest ascribes the practice of cremation to this people, and I have to inquire how far it is possible to reconcile these conflicting views. In the first place, it may be noted that there is one place in the Solomons where

1 See Elsdon Best, Man, July, 1914.

55° Melanesian Society

cremation and the use of the upright position are alternative practices. At Saa in Malaita the corpse of a chief may be burnt if he so desires, though measures are taken to keep the head from the fire1. An alternative mode of disposal is to sink the body in the sea with a bag of sand attached to the feet, a measure which would have the effect of maintaining the body in the upright position. In the cremation of Saa we have a clear case of a blend between two modes of dis¬ posal, the keeping of the skull from the fire being evidently due to the practice, probably earlier than cremation, of preserving this part of the body. The question arises whether the use of the upright position may not be another result of the interaction between the cremationists and the earlier inhabitants, by means of which the former hoped to effect a purpose otherwise accomplished by cremation.

This leads me to inquire whether it is possible to formulate any view concerning the ideas which underlie the practice of cremation. We have seen that there is some reason to associate the practice of interment with the belief that the dead inhabit a home beneath the ground (see n, 274), and that the practices of placing the dead in canoes and of throw¬ ing into the sea are associated with the belief in a home of the dead which can only be reached by water (see 11, 270). This suggests that cremation may be associated with a belief that the dead go to the sun or to some other part of the sky, to a home which can only be reached by air. If, therefore, the orientation of the dead stands in a definite relation to the belief in the direction of their future home2, the upright position would be a mode of orientation adapted to a home in the sky. I suggest, therefore, that the use of the upright position in interment or disposal in water is the result of the interaction between two peoples, one of whom practised cre¬ mation and believed that the dead go to the sky, while the other either interred or threw their dead into the water. I suggest that in some of the places where the cremationpeople failed to introduce their practice of cremation, they succeeded in modifying the indigenous orientation of the corpse so as to direct the dead towards the home in the sky whither they would have been sent by the practice of cremation.

1 Codrington, M., 262 — 3.

2 See W. J. Perry in a paper to appear shortly in Journ. Roy. Anth. Inst.

55i

Horne of Dead in Sky

It remains to inquire whether there is any evidence of a belief in the home of the dead in the sky to which I have been led by the foregoing argument. Of the various places where cremation is now practised in Melanesia, it is only in Bougainville and the Shortland Islands that we have any evidence concerning the home of the dead, and in these places there is no evidence of the belief in question. We have no information from Ureparapara, and in Duke of York Island we are only told that the ideas of the people concern¬ ing the home of the dead are extremely vague. There is thus at present no evidence that the dead are believed to go to the sky in those parts of Melanesia where cremation and the use of the upright position are found. In eastern Poly¬ nesia, on the other hand, there is definite evidence of the belief (see ii, 263). Both in the Marquesas and the Society Islands the dead are said to go to the sky, though there is some doubt whether the Rohoutou noanoa of the Tahitians was actually in the sky or on a high mountain. Similarly, the dead are believed to go to the sky in New Zealand.

It must be acknowledged that there is thus only scanty evidence for the presence of the belief in a home in the sky which we should expect to have found if cremation and the use of the upright position of the dead depend on the belief that the dead go to the sky. I must be content to put forward the hypothesis, which it will only be possible fully to test when we know far more about the culture of the places where the customs in question are found.

The Admiralty Islands1.

The special interest of these islands is derived from the fact that there are three elements in the population, dis¬ tinguished from one another by name, each of which has certain customs peculiar to itself, while other features of culture are common to all. According to the recent Hamburg Expedition2, the three peoples are not to be regarded as different peoples, but only as economic groupings of the popu¬ lation, but their exact political or economical relation to one another at the present time is a matter of no great importance

1 When not otherwise stated, this section is based on the account given by Parkinson, Dreissig Jahre in der Siidsee, 1907, pp. 349 — 410.

2 Globus, 1909, XCV, 193.

if it is possible to show that the customs peculiar to the three peoples have been derived from different cultures.

The three peoples are called Moanus, Matankor, and Usiai. Some islands or districts are inhabited more or less exclusively by one people, while in others two peoples live side by side or have mingled with one another. Intermarriage takes place between all, and in consequence there is little to distinguish the three peoples from one another in physical appearance, though in the southerly islands the Matankor are said to be lighter in colour and to have straighter hair and thinner noses than the Moanus. The social organisation of all three peoples is said to be on a totemic basis, with matrilineal descent, and with exogamy which is more strictly observed by the Moanus than by the other two peoples.

I propose here to consider only those features of culture in which the three peoples differ from one another. The main differences as they appear to a native have been recorded by Parkinson1. This man described his own people, the Moanus, as living in houses on the sea, understanding various means of navigating the canoe and the use of the great fish¬ net, understanding also the moon and the stars and those kinds of magic in which betel and lime are used. The Matankor also understand the canoe and the fish-net, but they do not know the moon and stars nor the magic of betel and lime. They have their houses on the shore. The Usiai live in the bush and grow taro and sago. They are cannibals and snake-eaters, and do not understand the canoe, the fish-net or the moon and stars. They have a great variety of speech.

The account of the Usiai agrees with other records which show them to be bush-agriculturalists, divided up into small independent bands, speaking different languages, and always fighting with one another. They seem to have no social cohesion, so that, in spite of their being greatly superior in numbers to the Moanus, they are kept in a state of subservi¬ ence to them. The Usiai seem to be in just such a condition as I have ascribed to the indigenous population of Melanesia, but until we have a more exact account of their social organi¬ sation, it is impossible to say whether they are to be regarded as representatives of the dual people or of such people as the Baining.

All accounts of the Moanus, on the other hand, point to . 1 Op. cit. p. 376.

The Matankor

their being relatively recent immigrants who are still conquer¬ ing and displacing the other peoples, several instances being given by Parkinson in which they now occupy islands or villages formerly inhabited by the Matankor. The Moanus are head-hunters and the special ascription to them of the knowledge of magic in which betel and lime are concerned suggests that they were responsible for the introduction of betel-chewing. The probabilities are greatly in favour of their presence being due to a secondary migration from New Guinea, from a population which had been greatly influenced by the betel-people.

The Matankor must be considered more fully. Their knowledge of the canoe has already been mentioned ; they are the most expert canoe-makers of the islands, but their ignorance of the stars suggests that they form an earlier immigrant population which has lost the art of navigation which would have brought them from any great distance. The Matankor are expert house-builders, and they are also the chief, if not the only, makers of the wooden vessels in animal form and other objects used both by the Moanus and themselves. It is probable that they are representatives of a migration earlier than that of the betel-people who seem to have so largely influenced the Moanus, and I propose now to consider how far there is any evidence which would lead us to identify their culture with that of the kava-people.

In entering upon this topic, it will be natural to begin with kava-drinking. This practice occurs in the Admiralty Islands, and as in other parts of Melanesia, its use has gene¬ rally been ascribed to relatively recent Polynesian influence. The juice of the root, however, is expressed between stones and is drunk by men, the mode of preparation being thus of the kind which I suppose to have been practised by the kava-people in Melanesia. If the practice was introduced from Polynesia, it must have been at some remote time before chewing had become the Polynesian practice. According to Parkinson the method is like that of Ponape, so that rela¬ tively recent introduction from Micronesia must be regarded as a possibility, but it may be noted that the only place in the Admiralty Islands where we know definitely of the use of kava is Lou, which is one of the seats of the Matankor. This suggests that there still lingers in this island one of the

original customs of the kava-people which has disappeared everywhere else in northern Melanesia.

There is also reason to connect the Matankor with the shell-money which is used in these islands. This money is used by all three peoples, but it is made by women in the island of Sori which is again one of the seats of the Matankor. Both the place and mode of manufacture are thus consistent with its ascription to the people I suppose to have introduced this kind of money into Melanesia.

Another fact pointing to the Matankor as the represen¬ tatives of the kava-people is that they alone of the three peoples wear a fillet on the head as a sign of mourning. This is covered with something which gives it a shining black surface, thus resembling the pei ta vava of the Banks Islands (see i, 92), while its use in mourning connects it, not only with the fillet of Tikopia, but also with the head-cover¬ ings of the Rukruk of Bougainville.

The wooden gong or slit-drum is apparently used by all three peoples, and we are not expressly told that it is made by the Matankor, but since they make most of the other wooden objects, it is probable that they make this, and if so, we should have another feature which I have ascribed to the kava-people.

The bow and arrow occurs in the islands, but is now only used in hunting, though an old bow used in war was seen by the Hamburg Expedition1. This is quite in accordance with the ascription of the bow to the kava-people, and to this weapon having been displaced in warfare by the spears and lances with obsidian points which are now the most important weapons.

Another custom practised by the Matankor which has been ascribed to the kava-people is incision. Parkinson states that boys are “ beschnitten” in Loniu, Pak and Tong, three seats of the Matankor2, and Friederici believes that the operation thus referred to is incision and not circum¬ cision3. Parkinson records that this rite is succeeded by another called kalou in which the boys are secluded for nine days after being given coconuts to eat, but we are not told whether this proceeding is also confined to places inhabited by the Matankor.

It is a striking fact that several objects and practices 1 Loc. cit. 2 Op. cit. p. 399. 3 Op. cit. p. 46.

Totemism of Admiralty Islands 555

which the general scheme of this volume has led me to connect definitely with the kava-people should be either an exclusive feature of the culture of the Matankor, or should occur in places inhabited by this people. This presence of differences of culture among peoples who seem to represent, directly or indirectly, the chief immigrant influences which I suppose to have come into Melanesia, suggests that the mode of settlement of the Admiralty Islands has been different from that of most other parts of Melanesia. The existence of peculiar customs among the Moanus might be ascribed to the arrival of this people having been so recent that the process of fusion is only now in progress, but this will not explain the separation of the Matankor from the Usiai, which seems to point to a special mode of settlement of the kava-people. It would seem as if these islands present an especially favourable means of studying the nature of the contributions of the kava-people to Melanesian culture.

With our present knowledge any definite conclusions are impossible, but I cannot leave the subject without a brief reference to the difficulty presented by the diffusion of totem¬ ism through all three peoples. According to my general scheme, the Matankor should be totemic, and I have only to consider the totemism of the Moanus and Usiai. It is very unlikely that the totemism of the Moanus has been taken over from the Matankor, for they are said to observe totemic exogamy the more strictly of the two peoples. Parkinson mentions one fact pointing in this direction, viz. that the people of Pak, one of the seats of the Matankor, claim to be the originators of the institution, but in spite of this claim, it is more probable that the Moanus brought their totemism with them from New Guinea. I have supposed that the general role of the betel-people in Melanesia has been to abolish totemism, but until we know far more of the region of New Guinea from which the Moanus have come, we shall not be justified in concluding that the interaction between betel-people and the earlier inhabitants of New Guinea was of the same nature as that which took place in Melanesia.

The totemism of the Usiai is a greater difficulty, but we know practically nothing about its nature ; it may be found that this totemism is nothing more than some such modi¬ fied form as is associated with the dual organisation in other parts of Melanesia.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

THE DUAL ORGANISATION

Until now I have assumed the dual organisation to have been the earliest form of Melanesian society. The scheme of development formulated in the early chapters of this volume rests on the assumption that, at the earliest stage to which the evidence takes us, Melanesian society was organised in two exogamous moieties with matrilineal descent. In the earlier part of the formulation of my historical scheme, I assumed that there had come into the midst of this dual organisation a people, whom I named after their use of kava, who founded the secret societies and introduced into Melanesia many ol its characteristic institutions. It was only when I came to deal with the ceremonies connected with death that evidence ap¬ peared for the presence of immigrants into Melanesia who had preceded the kava-people and introduced the practice of interment in the sitting position. Then, when the subject of decorative art was reached, it was found that the rectilinear geometrical art of southern Melanesia and Polynesia could be most naturally explained if it belonged to a people common to these two areas who reached Oceania earlier than the kavapeople. In a later chapter I was led to assign the belief in the spirits called vui to these earlier immigrants, and then the study of the practice of incision made it probable that this custom is a modification of circumcision practised by the same earlier people. Elements of the material culture, such as forms of the bow and the outrigger canoe have also been ascribed to this people. Lastly, the existence of certain archaic forms of Melanesian language seemed to be most naturally explained if a people speaking a language of the Austronesian family had settled in Melanesia before the arrival of the kava-people.

Origin of Dual Organisation

The study of the Bismarck Archipelago in the last chapter has only served to confirm these conclusions. Thus, the presence of circumcision and the use of the sitting position in burial among the Sulka, who speak a non-Melanesian language, gives us in one people two customs whose combination had only been inferred in Melanesia as the result of comparison with Polynesia. We thus have a considerable body of evidence showing that the kava-people were not the first immigrants to settle in Melanesia, but that there had previously arrived a people speaking an Austronesian language who interred their dead in the sitting position, believed in the influence of beings who have now become the “spirits” of southern Melanesia, practised circumcision, and used the bow and arrow and the outrigger canoe. I have now to inquire whether it is possible to discover the influence of this people on the social organisation, and to trace out the process whereby they blended with those who inhabited the islands before their arrival.

I have so far made no attempt to explain the dual organi¬ sation of Melanesia, but have accepted it as a fact whereon to found my scheme of the history of Melanesian society. I have now to consider this fundamental problem, to inquire whether it may have been the outcome of a process of fusion between an aboriginal population and the people who interred their dead in the sitting position.

At the present time students of sociology are almost unanimous in ascribing the dual organisation of society to a process of fission whereby a single social group, came to be divided into two moieties. The opposite opinion that the dual organisation came into being by a process of fusion has been put forward, but has few, if any, adherents. It has been my task in this book to show that many of the social institu¬ tions of Melanesia have come into being as the result of the interaction of peoples, and it will be quite in accordance with the rest of my argument that I should now attempt to. show that the dual organisation may have had a similar origin. I have to inquire whether the fusion of two peoples is able to account for the chief features of this form of organisation as we now find it in Melanesia.

Among the most remarkable features of the dual system of the Banks Islands are the condition of hostility between the two moieties and the ascription of different characters to

55^ Melanesian Society

their members in Mota. The Takwong or people of the night are reputed to be ignorant and unimportant, always quarrelling and unable to manage their affairs properly, while the Tatalai or people of the giant clam are capable of govern¬ ing themselves and others, versed in social lore and living peaceably with one another. Such differences of character are just such as might be expected if the moieties were originally two peoples ; one, of low culture, ignorant and divided up into small hostile bands, just as are the Usiai of the Admiralty Islands now, while the other moiety was formed by an immigrant people of higher culture, with a greater power of social cohesion, able by the superiority of their mental and material equipment to live in harmony with one another and to influence and govern those among whom they had settled. Further, if the two moieties had such an origin, we have still another motive for the obligation of mutual helpfulness associated with the hostility between the two moieties. There are thus some striking features of the culture of the Banks Islands which suggest that the process whereby the dual system came into being was one of fusion rather than of fission, and that the two moieties are descended from two peoples, one aboriginal and the other immigrant.

Much evidence from the dual region of the Bismarck Archipelago points in the same direction. Fhere is definite evidence from New Ireland of hostility between the two moieties (see n, 500) and there are believed to be physical and mental differences between their members. Some of these may have been derived from ideas of resemblance to the eponymous birds of the social groups, but some of them are just such as might characterise two different peoples.

It would afford striking confirmation of the view that the moieties are descended from two peoples if they should be found to show linguistic differences. At present we know of only one such difference, the fathers sister being called rahat by one moiety ol the Namatanai people and tent by the other.

It is unlikely that this difference stands alone ,* it is probably only one example of extensive differences of vocabulary which has come to light through the exact investigation of the Na¬ matanai terms of relationship by Peekel.

Important evidence is provided by the mythology. The people of the dual region relate a number of tales which centre round two personages who in the Gazelle Peninsula

Evidence from Mythology 550

axe called To Kambinana and To Kovuvuru or Karvuvu. In all these tales To Kambinana appears as a wise and clever, if somewhat unscrupulous person, while To Karvuvu is ignorant and foolish, ready to undertake any ridiculous or even dan¬ gerous task suggested by the other. These two persons give their names to the two moieties in one part of the Gazelle Peninsula, and their association with the moieties probably exists in other parts of this district.

Cox has recently recorded a feature of the moieties of New Ireland which brings them into line with those of the Gazelle Peninsula. The Maramara moiety with the taragau bird as its totem has a person named Soi as its head, and since Soi always acts wisely though unscrupulously, he is evidently the representative of To Kambinana. The head of the Pikalaba moiety, with the Malabo, or minigulai as its totem, has as its head Tamono, a fool who is always fallino" an easy victim to the deceptions of Soi.

In New Ireland, and probably the same holds good else¬ where, the difference in character between the two heroes of the tales is reflected in the nature of the eponymous birds. The taragau is a fisher, clever and capable in its calling, while the minigulai obtains its food by stealing from the taragau and is classed as a kaloata or one who does not go to sea.

These differences in character between the heroes and totemic animals connected with the two moieties are of exactly the same order as those believed to exist between the members of the two moieties in the. Banks Islands. They are just such beliefs as would be natural if there has lingered on in these narratives a record of physical and mental differences between the members of the two moieties due to the origin of these groups in two different peoples. It is especially significant in this respect that the bird of one moiety should be a capable fisher, while that of the other should be classed with those who do not go to sea, this being just such a distinction as we should expect if one bird is the representative of immigrants who came by sea, while the other represents the bush-people of other parts of Melanesia.

I suggest, therefore, that these narratives of the Bismarck Archipelago reveal a tradition of differences in physical and mental character between two peoples. The behaviour of To Karvuvu or Tamono is exactly such as would be natural

1 Man, , 1913, p. 195.

to an ignorant bush-people brought into contact with immi¬ grants of superior culture who have come by sea. Still other evidence comes from the Gazelle Peninsula, in some parts of which the moieties are associated with the light and dark coconut respectively, and are believed to be descended from two women, also different in colour, into whom these coconuts were transformed1. The descendants of the light coloured woman form the moiety of To Kambinana and those of the dark woman the moiety of To Karvuvu. In the narrative the light coloured men were to marry the dark coloured women, while the dark men would take home the light coloured women. In a variant of this tale2, the women pro¬ duced from the coconut of To Karvuvu had crushed noses suggesting those of a negroid people. The light and dark nuts have been connected by Schmidt3 with the light and dark phases of the moon, but in so far as these incidents of the tales are mythical, they would far more naturally represent two peoples, one of dark aboriginal stock, while the other were wholly or partly descended from light coloured immigrants.

There are thus a number of beliefs and legendary tales in both the regions of Melanesia in which the dual system is still flourishing which point to a difference in character between the members of the two moieties such as might be expected if the moieties were descended from two peoples, differing in colour and other physical characters, as well as in mental disposition. Most striking of all the traditional differences is the belief in the wisdom and unscrupulousness of the one and the ignorance and confiding character of the other, features exactly such as might be expected if one moiety represents an immigrant people who made up for their fewness in number by their mental superiority and by the address with which they made use of this advantage, while the other represents aborigines of lowly culture who were quite unable to cope with the wiles and stratagems of a people who had settled among them.

According to this scheme the Maramara, with the taragau or light coconut as totem and To Kambinana or Soi as legendary hero, represent the immigrants, while the Pakilaba, with the malaba or dark coconut as totem and To Karvuvu

1 Meier, My then u. Erzahlungen ..., p. 21.

2 Ibid. p. 16.

3 Denkschriften d. k. Acad, in Wien , Phil. Hist. Kl., 1 9 1 LUI, 104.

Physical Characters of Moieties

or Tamono as head, represent the aborigines. Several features of the beliefs about the two moieties fit in neatly with this scheme. Thus Pakilaba means “great land,” and is therefore a natural term if it originally denoted the aboriginal inhabi¬ tants of one or both of the larger islands, and was first used by immigrants who had settled on smaller islands in their neighbourhood, a mode of settlement which seems to be very general in Melanesia. 3

Another feature pointing in the same direction is the greater variety in the nomenclature connected with the moiety

1 S"Pp0?.y° rfPresent the aborigines. Thus, Maramara is a widely diffused term occurring, for instance, in the Marrmarr of the southern end of New Ireland, while the Pakilaba are also called Pikalaba1 and Baumbaum. Similarly, the chief totem of the Maramara is everywhere called by some variant of the word taragau, while the totem of the other moiety is sometimes called malaba and sometimes manigulai. Both these words mean “great bird,” but their different forms may

be a record of the linguistic diversity I suppose to have been characteristic of the aborigines.

Another point of interest is the association of the Maramara with male, and of the Pakilaba with female, objects (see

lr’. l°u ' m S SU¥e?tS tlla,: £^e ass°ciation of the moieties with butterflies and the heavenly bodies came into existence

in a state of society in which the process of fusion between

two peoples began through the union of immigrant men with aboriginal women.

These records of the original character of the two moieties thus preserved in mythology point to the widely different physical characters of the two peoples I suppose to have fused together to form one community. The dark coconuts, the dark colour and _ flattened noses of the women produced

y ;h,eirutrManSf?rmat1^ and the ProJecting eyebrows of the malaba bird and its adherents seem to be records in the mytho¬ logy the negroid or Australoid character of the aboricbnal population, while the light coconut changing into a Tin-fit coloured woman seems to have preserved a tradition of the lght colour of the immigrants. The narratives which give an account of the origin of the two moieties are such as

1 The occurrence of this example of metathesis in the name of the moietv I suppose to be aboriginal suggests that this process may be the result of the interaction between two peoples. Metathesis might be expected to occur when foreign words imperfectly understood are used by an indigenous people

would be the natural result of the social condition produced by the union of a light coloured with a negroid people.

I have now to formulate a scheme of the process by which the fusion of two such peoples could have produced the social conditions I suppose to have characterised the dual people. If the people who practised interment in the sitting position were the first settlers in Polynesia and the first ancestors of the Polynesian people, they must have been a body of immi¬ grants who differed from the kava-people in having been accompanied by a large proportion of their own women. The high degree of physical uniformity of the Polynesians as well as the uniformity of their language only become possible to understand if their first progenitors were people who were able to intermarry with one another and were not driven to mate with women of some other race and speech. From this it follows that the mode of interaction between the people who interred their dead in the sitting position and the true aborigines of Melanesia must have been of a kind very different from that I have formulated in the case of the kavapeople. I have to inquire whether the assumption that the sitting-interment people were accompanied by their women will help us to understand the coming into being of the dual organisation of society.

The whole of my scheme of the events which followed the arrival of the kava-people has been founded on the supposi¬ tion that this people were accompanied by none of their women, or by so few that unions between immigrant men and indigenous women were frequent and habitual, while marriages between indigenous men and immigrant women were un¬ known, or so rare as to have no appreciable influence on the course of social development. Anything of the nature of exchange of women between the two peoples would have been out of the question. I have supposed that it was owing to the absence of any women to be given by the immigrants in exchange for those taken from the indigenous people that there came into existence the practice of buying wives, which in its turn acted as the starting-point of the institution of money and fostered, if it was not largely responsible for bring¬ ing into existence, the institution of individual property.

If the immigrants had brought their women with them, the whole nature of the interaction between the two peoples would have been entirely different. There would have been

Exchange of JVomen 563

no need for either people to obtain women from the other unless one or other or both held beliefs or sentiments which would lead them to prefer women from outside their own community. There is no reason to suppose that the indigenous people would have had any such belief or sentiment, and I propose therefore to inquire whether any reason can be found why the immigrants should have desired to take women from without their own number. There can be little doubt that any bodies of immigrants reaching so remote a part of the world as Melanesia would be small, and they would probably include a large proportion of persons connected by definite family relationships. If this were so, and if the immigrants objected to marry near relatives, there would be a definite need for aboriginal women as wives in spite of the presence of their own women. Similarly, some of their women would have to take their husbands from among the aborigines. If the question arose of recompense for the aboriginal women taken by the immigrant men, the obvious and natural means of providing such recompense would be to give immigrant women in exchange.

There would thus come into existence a community con¬ sisting of two peoples with different physical and mental characters and different customs who obtained their wives by exchange between the two sections of the community. I have now to consider how these two peoples could have fused in such a way as to make them one people consisting of two exogamous moieties. It is evident that the practice of exchange of women would after a time lead to community of physical characters and of language, and there is no difficulty in seeing how any customs of the one may have been adopted by the other.

A special feature of the dual organisation of Melanesia is that it is common to large groups of peoples who possess few other signs of social cohesion. The dual organisation acts as a link between peoples differing widely from one another in general culture and language. Thus, a native of the Banks Islands who goes to the New Hebrides or to the Torres Islands finds that he is assigned his niche in the social system of those among whom he has settled, so that it is known whom he can marry and with whom sexual relations are permitted. Similarly, in the Bismarck Archipelago, a man who goes from the Gazelle Peninsula to Laur or to Duke of

36—2

York Island will find everywhere a mechanism by means of which his social conduct will be regulated.

Such a condition becomes intelligible if the original con¬ dition of the region was one in which the people were broken up into a number of independent bands, speaking different languages and having perhaps different customs, into which there came a unifying agency provided by the settlement of an alien people. The mechanism I suggest enables us to understand the local differences of custom, language, and even of physical appearance, which separate peoples who own, not merely a common form of social organisation, but one capable of co-ordinating them into a whole so far as marriage is con¬ cerned.

The general character of the dual organisation of Melanesia is thus such as would be natural if it was the result of inter¬ action between two peoples. It remains to inquire whether this interaction will account for other characteristics which I have ascribed to the early dual system of Melanesia, viz., its communism in women and goods, and its government by a gerontocracy.

I will begin with the latter. I have put forward the view in the earlier part of this volume that the primary factor pro¬ ducing the gerontocracy of Melanesia was the belief in the magical powers of the old men. Later in this volume, I have been led to suppose that magic, as it now exists in certain parts of Melanesia, has been largely a result of the interaction between the peoples out of which I suppose the population of Melanesia to be composed. It is, therefore, not wholly satisfactory to ascribe so important a function to magic at the extremely remote time at which we must suppose the geron¬ tocracy of the dual people to have come into existence. It will be more satisfactory if it is possible to show how the fusion of two peoples to form the dual system would promote a dominance of the old men.

If, as we seem driven to assume, the immigrants were few in number, they could only have had so profound an effect on the fortunes of the people among whom they settled if they obtained great power and influence, such as would enable them to choose their wives from the younger indigenous women. If, as they became old, they needed more wives and again chose them from among the young women of the aborigines, they would now have no women of their own to

Origin of Communism 565

give in exchange and would have to give their daughters. The marriages of old immigrants with young aboriginal women would thus have as their necessary consequence the marriage of aboriginal men with the young daughters of the immigrants by their aboriginal wives. We have only to suppose that the daughters of the immigrants were, in imitation, taken by the old aboriginal men, and we have a social condition which would form a natural starting-point for the monopoly of young women by the old men.

Moreover, if each old man, both immigrant and abori¬ ginal, took many wives, not many generations would be necessary to produce the complete monopoly of the young women which I suppose to have been the characteristic feature of the Melanesian gerontocracy, the feature which produced the peculiar forms of marriage which characterised the culture of the dual people.

I turn next to the sexual communism of the dual people. I have put forward the possibility in Chapter xxi that the sexual communism of Melanesia may have been the secondary consequence of the monopoly of the young women by the old men, the scarcity of women thus produced having driven the young men into communistic relations. It is, however, im¬ probable that the communism of Melanesia was of the limited kind which would be so produced, and I have now to con¬ sider whether the fact of migration may not bring with it consequences which would tend to produce a condition of communism.

It is, of course, possible that the aboriginal people, divided as I have supposed into small groups, were communistic and that the communism of the dual people was derived from them. Sexual communism within a small group is, however, extremely improbable, and I propose therefore to look for its cause elsewhere and to inquire whether there is any reason to suppose that the immigrants may have been communistic, or may have possessed certain characters which led to communism as a feature of the society which resulted from their fusion with the aborigines. I have already pointed out the prob¬ ability (11, 295) that, in any migration reaching so remote a part of the world as Melanesia, the women would have been fewer in number than the men. As one consequence of this, the immigrant men would have been forced into polyandrous unions by the circumstances of their environment. There

would thus be produced a general slackening of the moral tone and a tendency towards communistic relations, even if such tendencies had been completely absent in their former home.

Even apart from any inferiority in the number of their women, another factor would work in the same direction. There is nothing which has a greater tendency to interfere with conventional morality than travel, and especially travel among peoples with manners and customs widely different from one’s own. It is the change of attitude towards the conventions of one’s own society which produces the broaden¬ ing of ideas and the tolerance which travel brings in its train, but these good effects are often accompanied by bad. The behaviour of the Englishman in Paris or Cairo, Kipling s “ there aren’t no Ten Commandments ” east of Suez, the laxity in observance of the Hindu or Mahommedan when away from his own people, are only familiar examples of .a general tendency of human nature. There are thus two distinct sets of factors which might produce a movement towards com¬ munistic relations among the immigrants, even if they had been purely monogamous in their former home. If such immi¬ grants settled among a people of more lowly culture and fused with them so intimately as to produce the dual organisation, we should have all the materials necessary for the production of a communistic condition only tempered by the objection to sexual relations between persons near akin to one another, just such a condition as I suppose to have characterised the dual people.

It is evident that a tendency towards communism due to the lowered moral standards of the immigrants would be assisted by, and in its turn would assist, the monopoly of the young women by the old men. The lowered moral standards of the immigrants would help to produce the polygynous form taken by the monopoly, while the monopoly would give a reasonable excuse for the exercise of communistic practices by the young. The two sets of conditions would work together to produce a society in which communistic practices would be limited only by restrictions dependent on kinship. The communism must always have been subject to limitations which removed it very widely from a condition of general promiscuity, limitations due to the recognition of ties of re¬ lationship possessed either by aborigines or immigrants, more probably by both.

Social System of Aborigines 567

This raises the question of the form of social organisation possessed by the aborigines, for this would constitute an im¬ portant factor determining the ideas of relationship which would have limited the communism. If the social organi¬ sation of the aborigines was based on the clan, the ideas of relationship derived from the clan would be carried over into the dual system. On this supposition, the dual organisation would be only a form of the clan-organisation possessing the features of gerontocracy and communism due to its special mode of formation. In this case the recognition of kinship might have been already present among the aborigines or it may have been brought in by the immigrants. If, on the other hand, the aborigines were organised on the basis of the family, it would have been ideas derived from the family which would have limited the communism, and have been modified by means of this communism so as to take the classificatory form proper to the social organisation in moieties. On this second supposition, we should be confronted with the problem of the origin of the classificatory system of relationship.

I do not propose to deal with this problem here, and for a good reason. I have supposed in the last chapter that such people as the Baining may be representatives of a stage of Melanesian history earlier than the dual system. If so, it becomes probable that they represent, though of course in a modified form, the aboriginal element of the dual people. Until we know something of the social organisation of the Baining and allied peoples, it will be unprofitable to con¬ sider the matter further. When we know the nature of the social organisation and system of relationship of the Baining, it will be time to consider how this organisation and system could have determined the special form taken by the dual organisation.

Some features which have been ascribed to the culture of the dual people are, however, so important that they cannot be passed over in silence.

According to my scheme, the dual people were not only communistic in their sexual relations, but also held their property in common. There can be little doubt that the conditions of the journey necessary to reach Melanesia would have tended to break down any fixed ideas concerning private property which the immigrants may have possessed in their

former home, but it is not possible to formulate so definitely as in the case of sexual relations the conditions which would have led the immigrants towards communism of property, nor to see why they should have gone so far in this direction. If, however, sexual communism became a fully organised system, communism in goods would inevitably follow, and it seems probable that the communism in property of Melanesia is a secondary consequence of its sexual communism.

It is possible, however, that this communism may have been assisted by communistic practices of the aborigines. At present we know nothing about the institution of property among the Baining or other peoples who may represent in large measure the earlier culture of Melanesia. Only if the Baining were found to be strictly individualistic in respect of property, should we have to suppose that the communism of goods of Melanesia has been wholly a consequence of its sexual communism.

A second subject which must be considered is the matrilineal descent of the dual people. Here, again, we must know more about the social systems of such peoples as the Baining before we can tell how far the matrilineal descent of the dual people must be regarded as a result of the process of interaction between two peoples by which I suppose this form of organisation to have come into being. It is not difficult, however, to see how matrilineal descent would have been a result of this interaction, even if both immigrants and aborigines had possessed patrilineal institutions. Matrilineal descent is an inevitable result of sexual communism. If the individual family does not exist, and if the only form of social grouping is the clan or moiety, it is inevitable that member¬ ship of these groups should be determined by motherhood which is known, and not by fatherhood which is unknown. Patrilineal descent would only be possible if fatherhood were recognised. I have supposed that fatherhood was recognised when the two peoples fused to form the dual system, and there must have been a gradual loss of the social recognition which probably took a very long time. It would be only when the loss of this social recognition was complete that a purely communistic dual system would be present, but directly the two sections of the community came to be recognised as definite social groups, the matrilineal descent of those groups would be inevitable. This line of descent would in itself go

Language of Dual People 569

far to make the communistic condition more definite, and would assist the loss of the recognition of the social rela¬ tion between father and child, if this recognition formerly existed.

The third topic I have to consider is the fear of the dead to which I suppose the dual people were subject. Since I have also been led to ascribe this fear to the people who interred their dead in the sitting position, it will be natural to suppose that its presence among the dual people was due to their influence, and this is in har¬ mony with the evidence provided by the Baining. I have suggested that the Baining represent the aboriginal element of the dual people, and it is therefore of great interest that they are said to be completely devoid of any fear of the dead. The attitude of the Baining towards their dead at the present time combines with the facts on which I have based the presence of such fear among the sitting-interment people to support the view that the fear of the dead in Melanesia is due to this people.

Lastly, I must consider briefly how the production of the dual organisation by the fusion of two peoples led to the lin¬ guistic condition which I suppose to have been present in Melanesia before the arrival of the kava-people. I have assumed that this people found a high degree of linguistic diversity, but I have left it an open question to what extent this diversity depended on the changes suffered by the Austronesian language of the sitting-interment people during the process of its introduction, and to what extent it depended on the persistence in many places of the aboriginal forms of speech. The mechanism I suggest for the production of the dual culture would probably have produced a great variety of language. We should expect that the intimate fusion of two peoples, such as I suppose to have taken place, would often have been accompanied by much fusion of language, thus producing such great modifications of Austronesian lan¬ guage as seem to be present in some parts of Melanesia. Elsewhere the aboriginal language may have persisted in an almost pure form, and the non-Melanesian character of the Sulka language suggests that the failure to introduce their speech may have been a frequent feature of the pro¬ cess whereby the sitting-interment people fused with the earlier inhabitants.

If, as I have assumed, the people who buried their dead in the sitting position were the first settlers in Polynesia, so that they found no earlier inhabitants with whom to fuse, the absence of the dual organisation in Polynesia becomes natural. The main problem considered in this chapter does not arise in Polynesia, but I may take this opportunity of considering how far the scheme I have formulated to explain the com¬ munism of Melanesia is capable of accounting for the presence of communism in Polynesia.

I have suggested that the communism of Melanesia is chiefly due to certain factors arising out of the conditions of a long migration. These conditions would not only be present in the case of the earlier settlers in Polynesia, but they would continue after their settlement in an even more pronounced form than in Melanesia. If the immigrants were forced into polyandrous unions by the fewness of their women on the journey, this cause would continue, and might even become accentuated, after their settlement. Moreover, the com¬ munism thus set up would bring in its train the community of property we must suppose to have characterised Polynesia before the arrival of the kava-people.

One difficulty in the scheme of the origin of communism which I have formulated must be considered. I have ascribed the communism of Oceania largely to the effects of migration, and it may be asked why this influence of migration should have failed to affect the kava-people and later immigrants to whom I have ascribed the monogamy and individualism of Melanesia.

In the first place, it must be pointed out that the chief factor I have advanced as the starting-point of communism arose out of relations which came into existence between immigrant men and women during their migration. If, as is essential to my scheme, the kava-people had no women, this factor would be absent. Secondly, it is probable that the migrations of the kava-people and of later immigrants were much less gradual and lengthy processes than that by which the earlier immigrants reached and spread throughout Oceania. It may safely be assumed that human migrations have gradually become more rapid. Improvement in vessels and in the means of navigation have enabled migrating peoples to reach distant parts of the earth more and more quickly. The time taken by the kava-people in passing from one place of

V arieties of Dual Grouping 57 1

settlement to another may not have been sufficient to interfere with the individualism I suppose to have characterised the culture whence they sprang.

There is, however, another possibility. The easy course would have been to assume that the earlier settlers came from a communistic, and the later from an individualistic, culture.

I have not adopted this simple way of disposing of the matter, because it has been my object throughout this book to try to show how the social institutions of Melanesia may have come into being as the result of the interaction of peoples. It has been my object to explain Melanesian insti¬ tutions by conditions which were present in Melanesia or would have influenced immigrants on their way. If, as I believe the evidence shows, the communism of Melanesia * is a tact, this fact has to be explained. The comparison of Melanesia and Polynesia makes it probable that this com¬ munism is mainly due to the influence of the earlier immi¬ grants, and I have tried to show how these people may have acquired the practice as a result of their migration. It must be left for a wider comparative study to determine whether this explanation is sufficient or whether the factors I have suggested may only have accentuated a tendency which the immigrants already possessed in the home from which they came.

The view I have advanced in this chapter enables us to see in a new light certain features of Oceanic culture which might seem to be survivals of such a dual organisation as we find in the Banks Islands and the Bismarck Archipelago. The fusion of two peoples may produce dual organisations very different from that with which I have dealt in this chapter. Dual systems may be composed of very different elements and arise through modes of interaction widely different from that which has produced the dual systems of the Banks Islands or the Bismarck Archipelago.

Thus, there is evidence of a dual arrangement of society in Tikopia1 and in Tanna2. The dual character of Tikopian culture may be due to the successive migrations of one people, perhaps, for instance, to two migrations from Tonga which settled in two different parts of the island, each composed of one or more of the four social groups which make up the

1 See 1, 334.

2 Gray, Rep. Austral. Ass. 1892, p. 648.

existing population of Tikopia. The dual character in Tikopia would not only be far later than the dual organisa¬ tions of Melanesia, but it would have arisen through a wholly different kind of interaction between peoples very different from those I suppose to have produced the Melanesian insti¬ tutions.

The same may hold good of the dual character of Tannese social organisation and of dual features which may be found in other parts of Oceania. Even in the case of dual systems so alike as those of the Banks Islands and New Britain, we are not justified in assuming with confidence that they represent exactly the same kind of interaction between the same elements. The likeness may be the result of conver¬ gence, and be due to the influence of one people having been common to the two societies.

CHAPTER XXXIX

CONCLUSIONS

I will begin the concluding chapter with a brief summary of the argument of this volume.

The purely evolutionary treatment of the early chapters led me to the view that the dual organisation with matrilineal descent which is now found only here and there in Melanesia once had a far wider distribution, and was accompanied by a condition of communism, together with a state of dominance of the old men so pronounced that they were able to monopo¬ lise all the young women of the community. The study of the varieties of social organisation and of marriage at present existing in Melanesia showed that the early dual system had developed into a number of complex forms, all of a kind which would be produced if the institution of individual marriage and the social recognition of the relation between father and child had arisen in this society. The argument had so far been founded mainly on the comparison of the forms of systems of relationship. The linguistic comparison of the terms of these systems then showed that they fell into two definite groups : — one group widely diffused throughout Melanesia and common to Polynesia and Melanesia, while the second group was limited to Melanesia and within that area showed a high degree of diversity. The widely diffused terms of Melanesia were found to be used for just those relationships which would have been profoundly affected by the course of social evolution I had traced. I concluded, therefore, that this evolution had come about under the influ¬ ence of an external people whose language had supplied terms for the relatives whose status and functions had been so greatly affected.

I then turned to other elements of Melanesian culture in

order to discover whether it was possible to detect further evidence of this external influence, and I began my quest by examining the secret societies of Melanesia. It was found that these societies are now present in those parts of Melanesia where the dual organisation of society still flourishes, but the examination of their essential character revealed a cult closely resembling the open religious practices of other parts of Melanesia. I concluded that the religion of an immigrant people which had become the basis of the open religious cult in the parts of Melanesia where the immigrants were dominant, had been embodied in the ritual of the secret societies in those places where their numbers or other condi¬ tions did not allow them to alter the ancient mode of social organisation. I had been able in the first volume to give an account of the culture of Tikopia, one of the Polynesian settlements on the borders of Melanesia; the comparison of this island with Polynesia in general, and with Tonga in particular, then suggested that it had preserved in many respects the characters of early Polynesian culture. When, therefore, comparison with Melanesia showed a close resem¬ blance with the culture I supposed to have been embedded in the secret ritual, it followed that these immigrants must have formed part of the people responsible for the leading features of Polynesian culture.

I then turned to inquire whether there had been only one immigration into Melanesia or a larger number. The distribution of the use of kava and betel suggested that there must have been at least two such migrations, an earlier common to Melanesia and Polynesia which introduced the use of kava, and a later limited to northern Melanesia which brought with it the practice of chewing betel. A study of the beliefs and practices connected with death then showed that Oceanic culture was still more complex. It was found that Polynesian culture was made up of at least two elements, an earlier associated with the practice of interring the dead in the sitting position, and a later which practised preservation of the dead. It was evidently the latter people who had been the founders of the secret societies of Melanesia, while the presence of interment in the sitting position in Melanesia showed that the earlier inhabitants of Polynesia must also have settled in Melanesia, thus adding another element to the complexity of Melanesian society.

Summary of Argument 575

The study of secret societies, Tikopian culture, the distri¬ bution of kava and betel, and the modes of disposal of the dead in Melanesia and Polynesia thus led to the formula¬ tion of a scheme according to which Polynesian culture is a compound of two elements, while Melanesian culture is more complex, having arisen through the settlement of two immi¬ grant peoples, named after their use of kava and betel, among an earlier population possessing the dual system of society. The later stratum of Polynesian culture was held to corres¬ pond with the earlier of the two Melanesian immigrations, and according to the scheme, the earlier Polynesian stratum entered into the composition of the dual people, but since the problem was already of sufficient complexity, the part played in Melanesia by the people who interred their dead in the sitting position was reserved for treatment at a later stage of the inquiry.

The following chapters were then devoted to testing this scheme by a study of various elements of the existing culture of Melanesia and Polynesia, this treatment being prefaced by a chapter in which several general problems connected with the results of immigrant settlement were considered. The subjects thus used to test the scheme were social organisation including totemism, decorative art, money, religion and magic, sun-cult, stone-work, incision, and language, while certain elements of the material culture which came into relation with these subjects were also considered.

The general result of this inquiry was to show that the scheme put forward served as a means of bringing these various subjects into a consistent relation to one another. Here and there customs, such as tattooing, were considered which did not fit readily with the scheme, and evidence was also found which pointed to Oceanic culture being even more complex than had been supposed. The varieties of Melanesian totemism suggested the presence of more than one body of kava-people, and then a study of certain elements of Oceanic culture in conjunction with the distribution of stone-monuments sug¬ gested the presence of a special migration which practised extended interment. It seemed probable that this was due to a body of the kava-people who believed in the preserva¬ tion of the dead, but put the idea into execution in a manner somewhat different from that of the general body of the carriers of the kava-culture.

So far I had confined my attention to that part of Melanesia about which my own work had provided new material. I then turned my attention to the Bismarck Archipelago to see how far the conditions in this area were capable of being fitted into the scheme I had been led to formulate. I attended first to a region possessing the dual organisation of society, together with secret societies having many points of similarity to those of southern Melanesia. The detailed examination of those features of culture with which this book is especially concerned showed so close a resemblance as to leave little doubt that they depend on the presence of the same immi¬ grant influences as those I supposed to have reached southern Melanesia, the differences being due to variations in the mode of interaction due to local conditions. Especially striking was the result of the detailed examination of a number of features of the secret organisations which seemed at first sight to separate them widely from the ‘ghost’ societies of southern Melanesia, for the peculiar features of the northern organi¬ sations were found to be only different manifestations of the culture which I had found to be embodied in the societies of other regions.

A brief study of another part of the Bismarck Archi¬ pelago then gave me the opportunity of inquiring more closely than had hitherto been possible into the practice of cremation. It was found that this mode of treating the dead may have had far more influence in Oceania than superficial observation would indicate, and it was suggested that it might be con¬ nected with the cult of the sun, thus pointing to the megalithic culture of Oceania having reached this part of the world in two separate movements, one practising interment in the extended position and the other the cremation of the dead. Though the existing evidence is not sufficient to allow any definite conclusions, it is sufficient to show that the culture of Oceania is even more complex than had been supposed,

The Admiraltv Islands derive their interest from the

probability that they furnish an example of a special mode of settlement of the kava-people which has preserved their culture in greater purity than elsewhere, but here again the available evidence is so scanty that it is only possible to point to this probability and leave it to be tested by later research.

The concluding topic of this volume has been the dual organisation of society. Certain features of this mode of

Relation to Indonesian Culture 577

organisation in the Banks Islands long ago suggested to me its complex character1, and that it had arisen out of the fusion between two peoples, but it was only the much larger body of evidence derived from the Bismarck Archipelago which allowed me to use this view as a legitimate working hypothesis. An attempt was then maae to show how the dual culture of Melanesia might have arisen through the fusion of the people who interred their dead in the sitting position with an aboriginal people, and the possibility was pointed out that the Baining of New Britain may be representatives of these aboriginal inhabitants of Melanesia.

It has been one of the leading aims of this book to see how far it is possible through an examination and analysis of the culture of a given area to reach any conclusions concern¬ ing its past history. The area thus studied consists of two main parts, Melanesia and Polynesia, the combined study of these two areas being justified by the many features of culture which are common to both, their language being the most striking and important of these common features. I propose now to consider briefly how far it is possible to bring this Oceanic culture into relation with that of other parts of the world.

I have already dealt with certain points involving the affinity of Melanesian and Polynesian culture with that of Indonesia. I have supposed that the languages of all the immigrants into Oceania belonged to the Austronesian family; this community of language points to all these immigrant peoples, betel-people, kava-people and those who interred their dead in the sitting position, having reached Oceania by way of the Malay Archipelago.

If the cultures which have been introduced into Melanesia and Polynesia are thus offshoots of Indonesian culture, the next step in the argument must be the working out of their relation to the different strata of Indonesian culture. Only when the history of this area has been studied will it be profitable, or even possible, to study the relations of the cultures of Oceania to those of more distant parts of the

world. A few general problems may, however, be briefly considered.

1 This view was embodied in a paper read before the Folk-Lore Society as long ago as 1909, but was omitted from the published paper (. Folk-Lore , 1910, XXI, 42) on account of the scantiness of the evidence then available.

In the first place, it must be pointed out that the various movements which I have regarded as primary migrations when looked at from the point of Oceania, may only become secondary movements when looked at from the wider stand¬ point of Austronesian culture as a whole.

This way of looking at the matter enables me to be more explicit than hitherto concerning the relations of the different immigrant cultures of Oceania to one another. Thus, I have supposed that the kava- and betel-cultures are closely related, and that the latter represents only a further development of the kava-culture. If it be assumed that both came from the Malay Archipelago, it becomes possible that the kava-people may form part of a primary migration into Indonesia which passed on at once into Melanesia and Polynesia, while the betel-people represent a later secondary, movement within Austronesia of a culture which had come into being through the interaction between the kava-people and the indigenous

inhabitants of the Malay Archipelago.

Another possibility is that the kava-people represent the culture of Indonesia produced through the interaction between some immigrant people and the indigenous population, and that the betel-people represent the population of Indonesia after it had been still further influenced by another people from without. The process thus suggested may be illustrated by reference to the Hindu invasion of the Malay Archipelago which is a well established feature of its history. If one emigration eastwards had taken place before this invasion and another after it, the cultures carried by the two migrations would have been very different in character. Both migrating peoples would probably have spoken languages of the Austro¬ nesian family, and there would probably have been no great differences in the physical characters of the two peoples, but their religious ideas, their modes of disposal of the dead, their weapons and other elements of their material culture would probably have been very different. It is just such a difference which may have distinguished the kava-people from those who interred their dead in the sitting position, and the betelpeople from the kava-people. The three peoples may be regarded as samples taken from the culture of Indonesia at

three different stages of its history.

The nature of the relation between the elements out of which Oceanic culture is composed and those of other parts

Megalithic Culture 579

of the world may be put in another way. If the movements which carried the kava- and betel-cultures to Melanesia are only examples of secondary migrations when looked at from the point of view of Austronesian culture as a whole, it follows that we must not expect to find any close relation between these cultures and those of other parts of the world. In the present state of our knowledge, the terms “ kava-people ” and . betel-people can only be used appropriately when speaking of Oceania. If I am right in supposing that these peoples came from Indonesia, we should expect to find evidence of their presence in that area by the analysis of Indonesian culture, but these cultures, as carried to Oceania, may only have come into existence in Indonesia. Though we may expect to find evidence of some of the chief com¬ ponent elements of these cultures in other parts of the world, we cannot expect to find them in the same form and with the same accompanying features as in Oceania. It is only by taking a very crude and simplicist view of the way in which human customs and institutions have diffused over the world that the culture-complexes of Melanesia can be expected to be found in other parts of the world.

The difficulties accompanying the study of the relation of Oceanic culture to that of the world in general may be illus¬ trated by reference to an Oceanic art which one is especially tempted to connect with other parts of the world, viz., that of building rude monuments of large stones. The close simi¬ larity of the megalithic monuments of the world suggests that they belong to one people whose culture has been carried, directly or indirectly, widely over the earth. The megaliths of Oceania have been one of the chief obstacles to the accept¬ ance of this common origin. There are many who are ready to accept the common character of the megaliths of Europe and Africa, and may be prepared to accept extensions to India, whose imagination does not allow them to contemplate, even as a possibility, their spread into a region so remote as the islands of the Pacific. The evidence brought forward in this volume showing that the megaliths of Oceania were associated with a sun-cult, an association known to exist in other parts of the world, affords definite support to the idea that the monuments have spread from some common source, and thus raises hopes that at least one of the cultures I suppose to have been carried into Oceania may be brought

into relation with other parts of the world, including our own islands.

My present purpose, however, is not to attempt any full discussion of this problem, but to point out certain considera¬ tions which must be taken into account in dealing with the relation of Oceanic megaliths to those of Japan, India, Europe, Africa and America. The evidence brought forward in this volume points, though it must be confessed rather vaguely, to the megalithic culture having reached Oceania in two streams ; one associated with interment in the extended position in a stone-structure representing a house ; the other, probably the later, associated with the practice ol cremation and with a developed cult ol the sun. The point on which I wish now to insist is that if this double character of the megalithic culture of Oceania were established, it would not necessarily involve a double character of this culture all the world over. It is possible that a people coming from the west, possessing the art of building rude monuments of stone, may have settled in two different parts of the Malay Archi¬ pelago where different modes of disposal of the dead were practised, so that when the movements eastward were con¬ tinued, the megalithic culture had acquired two different forms. Still more probable, however, is it that the two megalithic invasions of Melanesia and Polynesia were sepa¬ rated widely in time, and that the adoption of the practice of cremation by the later migrants was the result of some influence which had come into the archipelago during the interval which had followed the setting out of the earlier migration. It is even possible that this influence which thus added the practice of cremation to the megalithic culture was the Hindu invasion to which I have already referred.

I must be content with these examples of the kind of inquiry which will be necessary before it will be possible to link the component cultures of Oceania with those of other parts of the world. They illustrate how gradually such problems must be approached and with what caution any attempt should be made to discover the path by which the immigrants into Oceania travelled and the home from which they were derived. At the same time, these examples show how great an importance the study of Melanesia and Poly¬ nesia may have in the task of tracing out the movements of peoples over the earths surface. If the scheme of this

Oceania and the Analysis of Culture 581

volume is even approximately correct, it is evident that several influences have reached Oceania from other parts of the world. It will be the task of the science of ethnology to trace these influences to their ultimate source or sources. Even in such a region as Indonesia, however, it is evident that the cultures which furnished the immediate sources of the influences transmitted to Oceania have been overlain by other later elements. There can be little doubt that the analysis of Indonesian culture will be found an even more difficult task than the analysis of Oceanic culture. It is possible even that the detection of the earlier strata of Indo¬ nesian culture would be impossible from the study of Indonesia alone, and that it will be only through the light shed on these earlier cultures by the samples of them still to be found in Oceania that this analysis will become possible.

If now we pass from Indonesia to other parts of the world, to India, China and Japan, we find the earlier strata of culture even more overlain and obscured, not merely by the advent of later influences, but still more by these countries having become the seats of vast and complicated civilisations. Here again, without the light given by the analysis of Indo¬ nesian culture, it might be impossible to detect the earlier strata upon which the later influences have been imposed, and on which the civilisations have been founded. If therefore the analysis of Indian, Chinese or Japanese culture rests upon that of Indonesian culture, and if this in its turn rests upon the analysis of the cultures of Melanesia and Polynesia, it will be evident how great is the importance of Oceania to the science of ethnology. There can be little doubt that the importance which I thus claim for Oceania, and especially for Melanesia, as providing a basis for the analysis of human culture over a vast part of the earth’s surface is the direct result of its insular character. It is only through the isolation due to this character that there have been preserved, often apparently in a wonderfully pure form, samples of cultures which have con¬ tributed to the building of some, perhaps all, of the great historical civilisations of the earth.

One possible complexity must be mentioned. The fore¬ going argument presupposes that all the peoples who have contributed to Melanesian culture have come from the west and north-west, and that the only influences which have come from the east have been through the relatively recent

movements of Polynesians since Polynesian culture acquired its distinctive characters. The possibility must be borne in mind, however, that influences from America may have reached Polynesia and spread thence to Melanesia. It is indeed probable that elements of culture have passed from America to parts of Polynesia1, but it is most unlikely that American influence has been of a kind which could have penetrated, directly or indirectly, as far as Melanesia. For the present, by far the most probable working hypothesis is that the direction of movement has been from west to east, and that with the exception of relatively recent movements from Polynesia, all the peoples who have influenced Melanesian culture have come from the islands south and east of Asia or from the mainland of that continent.

Until now I have left almost entirely on one side the phy¬ sical characters and racial affinities of the peoples by whom I suppose the existing population of Oceania to have been formed. The peoples of whom I have so far spoken have been merely hypothetical carriers of culture, and it is now necessary to see whether it is possible to tell what manner of people they were. I may begin by pointing out the great variety of the physical characters of the Melanesian people. It is no exaggeration to say that, in so far as such characters as colour of skin, nature of hair and form of feature are concerned, the Melanesians show a greater variety than the peoples of Europe. It must be evident to the most super¬ ficial observer that the Melanesians are a result of mixture between peoples differing widely from one another in physical character.

If the three chief immigrant peoples I suppose to have come into Melanesia are to be regarded as samples of the population of Indonesia at different stages of its history, they may not have differed very greatly from one another in physical appearance. More or less pure representatives of the different peoples are perhaps even now to be found in the Malay Archipelago. Such people, for instance, as the inhabitants of Sumba or Flores may represent more or less closely the kava-people or the blend of this people with those who interred the dead in the sitting position.

1 See W. Muller, Baessler-Arch’v, 1912, II, 243.

Physical Characters 583

I have already referred (it, 378) to the evidence con¬ cerning the physical characters of the kava-people which is provided by the representations of the human form in the decorative art of the Sukwe , evidence which is in harmony with the presence of representatives of this people in the present population of Polynesia and Indonesia.

The physical character of the dual people presents a more difficult problem. In some parts of Melanesia there are strik¬ ing physical resemblances with the Australian, and it would seem that these resemblances are especially pronounced in the New Hebrides which I suppose to represent the culture of the dual people most closely. The legends of New Britain and New Ireland suggest the negroid or Australoid character of the aboriginal element of the dual people, at any rate in that part of Melanesia. The presence of a pygmy population in New Guinea and the small stature of such peoples as the Baining suggest that the pre-dual people may have been pygmies, but there must also be remembered the extremely dolichocephalous and negro-like skulls which have been obtained from Fiji.

It is beyond my province to consider these problems here. My hope is that the scheme of this volume may furnish a working hypothesis to assist the investigation of Melanesian somatology. Certainly, this scheme will only become complete when it has been brought into harmony with the results of such an investigation.

I do not propose to attempt any full comparison of my scheme of Melanesian history with others which have been put forward. Some of these schemes are based mainly or entirely on linguistic evidence, and it may be possible to bring two of these schemes into line with my own. I have already used (11, 449) one item of the large mass of linguistic evidence collected by Friederici1 in such a way as to suggest that one of his two currents of migration corresponds with the sittinginterment people and the other with the kava-people, but it must be left for further inquiry to ascertain whether this is correct or whether Friederici’s two currents are to be ascribed to the kava-people and some later migration.

1 Op. cit . and Untersuchungen iiber eine melanesische Wanderstrasse, 1913, p. 78.

584 Melanesia n Society

The other scheme recently put forward by W. Churchill1 has many points of resemblance with my own. Churchill deals especially with Polynesia and with Polynesian influence on Melanesia, and his general conception of the double nature of Polynesian culture, of the nature of the interaction between the two elements and of the mechanism by which the Poly¬ nesian influenced the languages of Melanesia has many striking similarities with my own scheme. In one important respect, however, there is a profound difference. Churchill supposes the population of Polynesia to have been formed by the inter¬ action between two peoples, whom he calls the Proto-Samoans and the Tonga-fiti. If there is any correspondence between his scheme and mine, the Proto-Samoans should correspond with the people who interred their dead in the sitting position and the Tonga-fiti with the kava-people. Churchill is unable, however, to find any evidence for the influence of the Tonga-fiti upon Melanesian language. I can only hope that the scheme of this volume may act as a guide in the search for the influence of this Polynesian element in Melanesia. It may be noted that Churchill’s treatment is largely based on a study of the language of Efate which, according to my scheme, is shown by its plant-totemism to occupy a peculiar position in Melanesian culture. If the Tonga-fiti are to be equated with the kava-people, it is rather in places such as the matrilineal region of the Solomons and the Banks Islands that their influence should be sought.

One conclusion of Churchill, which differs profoundly from generally accepted views, may be mentioned, because I hope that the scheme of this book may provide a means of recon¬ ciling the conflicting views. Churchill denies the close relation between the Polynesian and Indonesian families of language which we are accustomed to regard as one of the most cer¬ tain accomplishments of philology. He denies the relation on the ground of the differences in syntax and vocabulary which separate the two. I should like to ask whether my hypothesis that Polynesian language arose out of a pidgin Indonesian may not provide a means of explaining these differences, if at the same time there be taken into account those influences which have reached Indonesia since it gave

1 The Polynesian Wanderings , 1911, and Easter Island, 1912 (Publications of the Carnegie Institution of Washington).

The Scheme of Graebner 585

forth the migrants who were to become the ancestors of the Polynesians ?

Of schemes of Melanesian history based on a 9reneral analysis of culture only one need be mentioned. Graebner1 has formulated an elaborate scheme, according to which Mela¬ nesian culture is the result of the mixture of as many com¬ ponent elements as have been assumed by myself. There is some degree of correspondence between the two schemes ; thus, Graebner s Bogeu-kultuv corresponds fairly closely with my betel-culture, both cultures using betel, practising head¬ hunting, and having skull-shrines and pile-dwellings, though I differ from Graebner in finding no evidence for the ascription to this people of the bow and arrow which he regards as so important that it has become in his hands the leading characteristic of the culture. There is much less corre¬ spondence in other parts of our schemes, and the great difference between them is due to the wholly different principles upon which the analysis has been founded and the widely different methods by which it has been carried out.

I have already referred (11, 300) to the unsatisfactory character of the chief criterion upon which Graebner relies in arranging his cultures in order of time, and I need only con¬ sider here one other difference, probably the most important. The chief aim of this book has been to show how social institutions and customs have arisen as the result of the inter¬ action between peoples, the resulting compound resembling that produced by a chemical mixture in that it requires a process of analysis to discover its composition. To Graebner, on the other hand, the process of blending of cultures resembles rather a physical mixture in which the component elements exist side by side readily distinguishable from one another. This is probably due to the fact that Graebner began his investigation by the study of material culture, and he assumes that social institutions and religious practices can be carried about the world and transplanted into new homes as easily, and with as little modification, as weapons or implements. As I have pointed out elsewhere2, such an assumption is im¬ possible to anyone who appreciates the far more vital and essential character of the less material elements of culture.

1 See especially Zeitsch . f. Ethnol., 1905, xxxvii, 28 and Anthropos , 1909, iv,

726 and 998. ’

2 Rep. Brit. Ass. for 1911, p. 496.

It is not difficult to see how great has been the influence of a mechanical conception of human intercourse upon Graebner’s scheme. Thus, the association of secret societies with the dual organisation in Melanesia is quite sufficient to lead him to ascribe them to one culture, and not only secret societies, but features, such as masks, which are associated with these societies are at once assigned to the people by whom the dual organisation is supposed to have been introduced into Melanesia. Again, the dual organisation having been located in the Eastern Solomons, any element of culture, such as the plank-built canoe, which is especially well developed in this

region is ascribed to the dual people.

I do not propose to deal here with the differences in method between Graebner and myself more closely, but I may ta.ke this opportunity of considering briefly the logical method which has been used throughout this volume. This method has been the formulation ol a working hypothetical scheme to form a framework into which the facts are fitted, and the scheme is regarded as satisfactory only if the facts can thus be fitted so as to form a coherent whole, all parts of which are consistent

with one another.

As I have pointed out elsewhere1, the use of such a scheme exposes its advocates to the charge of arguing in a circle ; and if only certain constituent parts of my scheme are considered, it might seem that this fallacy has not been avoided. Thus, one of the supports of the view that the dual people of Melanesia were communistic is derived from the ascription of the use of money to immigrants who settled among them, but some of the arguments for this ascription involve the assumption of the communism of the earlier inhabitants. If the ascription of money to the immigrants depended solely on such reasoning, and if this reasoning were isolated and not part of a much more comprehensive scheme, the argument would have to be condemned as an example of the circular fallacy. The real force of the argument con¬ cerning money and communism is that the communism of the dual people and the introduction of money by the kavapeople form an interrelated and interdependent couple which forms only one element in a complex structure no part of which in any way contradicts, or is inconsistent with, this

1 Rep. Brit. Ass. for 1911, p. 49s*

Danger of Circular Argument 587

couple. If one element of the couple has to go, the other will have to go with it, or will be so weakened as greatly to impair the stability of the whole structure.

Again, one of the main arguments of this book is based on the two assumptions that the kava-people founded the secret societies of Melanesia and that the cult of these societies represents the culture of the kava-people. When, therefore, in dealing with material culture, I ascribe the introduction of the dog and fowl to the kava-people on the ground of their connection with the secret organisations, the argument would be a conspicuous example of the circular variety if this were all. It is, however, part of my general argument that the belief of the kava-people in the incarna¬ tion of their dead in animal form was the starting-point of totemism. We should therefore expect that animals brought by this people would become totems, and the fact that both the dog and the fowl are totems in Melanesia thus fits into the general scheme. Further, the fact that dogs’ teeth and fowls’ feathers are used as money in places which, according to my scheme, represent the culture of the same people brings into line another quite different part of the scheme according to which the use of money was also introduced by the kava-people. Three different lines of argument con¬ nected with secret societies, money and totemism, all converge and blend in a coherent whole if the dog and the fowl were introduced by the kava-people.

Similarly, the ascription of the bow and arrow to the kava-people might be regarded as an example of the circular fallacy if the sacred character of the sport of archery in Polynesia and the especial connection of this sport with the chiefs did not bring the ascription of the bow to the kavapeople into harmony with several other parts of my general scheme.

It is essential, however, that such a hypothetical scheme as that of this volume shall be capable of accounting for all the known facts, and a useful test of its truth is that it shall be found capable of accounting for new facts discovered after the scheme has been fully formulated. My own confidence in making use of the scheme of this volume as a working hypothesis to guide the study of Oceanic history has been greatly enhanced by its having served to account for facts which only came to my knowledge as the work proceeded.

I may illustrate this by reference to the Bismarck Archi¬ pelago. At the beginning of my task it was open to me to make use of the material from this area in the formulation of my scheme, but it seemed to me that it would be more instructive to neglect it entirely until I had studied as fully as possible the part of Melanesia where I had myself worked, and then to test this scheme by means of the culture of the Bismarck Archipelago. For two or three years I withheld from myself as far as possible all knowledge of the culture of this region, and it was then a great encouragement to me to find, not only a number of examples of culture which fitted as closely into my schematic framework as could be expected, but conditions were found in actual existence which had only been inferred in my own area of Melanesia. Thus, the descent from certain male ancestors as the tie giving cohesion to the sub-groups of the moieties of the dual organisation, which was a pure assumption in southern Melanesia, was found to be definitely present in the traditions of the people of New Ireland. Again, the ascription of the combination of circumcision and interment in the sitting position to the dual people of Melanesia, which was reached on purely hypothetical grounds from my study of southern Melanesia and Polynesia, was found to be in actual existence among the Sulka, whose non-Melanesian language and dual organisation leave little doubt that they form one of the nearest living representatives of the dual people.

Such facts, however, were only unknown to myself at the time that the scheme was formulated; the value of the scheme will become more apparent if it serves to account for, and might have been used to predict, facts only discovered after the scheme was formulated. This has already happened. It was only after I had been led to assume that the dual system had once been present in Fiji and the Solomon Islands that this form of social organisation was found by Mr Hocart in Fiji and by Mr Fox in the Solomons, and the close relation recorded by Mr Hocart1 between a man and the totem of his father in the dual organisation of the Fijian island of Vanua Levu is a quite new fact which is thoroughly in harmony with my scheme of the history of Melanesian totemism.

It will be in the capacity of my scheme for thus fitting

1 Man , 1914, p. 2.

Predictions

into itself new facts discovered by future ethnographical research that the test of its truth will lie, and it may not be out of place here to mention one or two of the future dis¬ coveries which may be expected on the basis of my scheme. We may expect, for instance, that the marriage with the granddaughter of the brother will be found in the central islands of the New Hebrides and in the northern parts of Bougainville, or if the marriage itself is not found, there should be signs of its presence in the systems of relationship of these regions. Again, we should expect that future excavations will show that interment in the sitting position was formerly a widely diffused Melanesian practice, and striking evidence in favour of my ascription of the vui of the Banks Islands to the dual people would be gained if excavation of the localities especially connected with these vui should show the presence of such ancient interments.

I am very far from expecting, however, that my scheme will be fully confirmed by future work. Its main outlines may have to be considerably altered and its details will certainly have to suffer great modification. The facts now at our disposal are so few compared with those which have still to be collected that such a scheme as I have ventured to put forward cannot expect to be more than a rough approximation to the truth. It may be of interest, however, to attempt to distinguish certain features of my scheme which seem to rest on an especially firm foundation from others of a less stable character. There are certain features of my scheme which are so essential that if they are proved to be wrong, the whole will have to go. Such are the substitution of patri¬ lineal for matrilineal institutions, the immigrant character of the secret cults, and the relative lateness of chieftainship. Less essential, but still very necessary to the completeness of the scheme, are the communism of the earlier inhabitants of Melanesia and Polynesia and the priority of sitting interment to preservation and interment in the extended position.

Other features which rest on a less secure basis, whose disproof will only involve modifications of the scheme of minor importance, are the exclusive ascription of totemism to the kava-people, the withholding of the men’s house from the dual people, and the origin of incision as the result of interaction between the kava-people and the earlier

inhabitants. Still less essential to my general scheme is the origin of the dual organisation in the fusion of two peoples. The greater part of my scheme takes the dual organisation as its starting-point, and will hold good if my evidence for fusion is illusory and if the dual system is the result of fission.

I have been obliged to leave the connections of some elements of culture, such as the round house and the practice of tattooing, in almost complete uncertainty. The scanty available evidence suggests that the round house may have been connected with the people who interred their dead in the sitting position, but its rarity at present makes this very uncertain, while the connection of the round house with chiefs in New Caledonia has suggested that it may form part of some quite different culture which has perhaps left few other traces of its presence in the part of Melanesia which forms the especial subject of this book. Again, the practice of curvilinear art has suggested the presence of another culture in the Bismarck Archipelago. I have suggested that this kind of art is due to influence from New Guinea, but that is only postponing its consideration until that island is dealt with.

Another element of culture which I have not attempted to assign to any of the peoples I suppose to have come into Melanesia is the cult of trees. I have left this topic on one side because there has been so little evidence for it in the regions of Oceania especially considered in this volume, but there is definite evidence for the ancient sanctity of trees in the Western Solomon Islands, and this subject will be dealt with when the culture of those islands has been fully described by Mr Hocart and myself. All that I need do here is to refer to the possibility that the people with whom this treecult was connected may have been responsible for the tree- totemism which occurs here and there in Melanesia. It is possible that the cult of trees, the round house and the curvi¬ linear form of art may form only constituent parts of a culture which has had pronounced effects in New Guinea, New Caledonia and possibly New Zealand, but has had relatively little influence in the part of Melanesia with which this volume is especially concerned (see n, 299).

I may take this opportunity again to call attention to the fact that I have dealt in this book especially with the cultures of the kava-people and their predecessors in the settlement

Principles 59 1

of Melanesia. I have said far less about the betel-people because it is only when our full account of the Western Solomons has been published that it will be possible to deal adequately with the culture of this people. 1 may say here, however, that it is in connection with the role of this people that I see the probability of important modifications of my scheme. The complexity of the culture of the Bismarck Archipelago and the evidence for the former wide distribution of cremation have introduced a large element of uncertainty into the adequacy of my scheme to account for the nature of the betel-culture, and the matter is still further complicated by the evident presence of influences from Micronesia which I have left almost completely on one side in this volume. Only when the analysis of the culture of northern Melanesia has been carried much further, will it be possible to tell how far I am right in my supposition that the betel-culture entirely failed to reach southern Melanesia and Polynesia. There are certain features of the culture of such islands as Espiritu Santo in Melanesia, and the Marquesas in Polynesia which suggest that some of the influences I have ascribed to the betel-people in this volume may have had a wider distribution than I suppose.

The correctness of the scheme of this volume, both in its general character and in its details, seems to me, however, a matter of relatively small importance if its discussion has been the means of formulating any principles of ethnological inquiry which will be found to be of universal, or even of wide, application. Ethnology is now in the inchoate and embryo condition in which the discovery of principles and methods forms its first and essential need. The scheme I have put forward may fail, and yet the principles used in the methods by which it has been formulated may be found of value. I conclude by considering briefly some of the prin¬ ciples which seem to be most firmly established by the discussion of this volume.

First and foremost, I place the fundamental and essential character of social structure. Changes in social organisation set up by external influence take place so slowly that it is possible by the study of these gradual changes to determine the direction in which development has taken place, thus affording a secure criterion of the order in which external influences have been exerted. An especially important element

of the social structure is relationship, and one of the most important lessons taught by this book is the value of this subject to the ethnologist. I have elsewhere dealt with the importance of relationship as a guide to the past history of social institutions1, and it must be sufficient here to call atten¬ tion to the value of the lessons to be learnt from the combination of morphological with linguistic comparison. This comparison would be sufficient to demonstrate the existence of external influence in Melanesia, and would go far to determine the extent and nature of its incidence, even if there were no other evidence. There is no doubt that the application of a similar method to other parts of the world will have fruitful results, though in most cases the first step towards these results has yet to be taken in the collection of the materials for comparison.

Other lessons which may be learnt from the study of Oceanic culture have been the importance attached to such factors as the influence which small numbers of immigrants may exert on the culture of those among whom they settle ; the wide and far-reaching results which may follow from a lack of women among immigrants ; and the way in which features of the environment, such as the vegetation and size of islands, may influence the results of the interaction between immigrant and indigenous populations. In this last factor, there is to be found a means of reconciling conflicting views concerning the influence of geographical factors upon human culture. According to one school, these factors are so important that many of the varieties of human culture have been referred to their influence, but schemes of such influence have usually taken a crude form quite incompatible with well ascertained facts, such as the presence of widely different cultures in similar geographical environments and of closely similar cultures in environments of the utmost diversity. According to the scheme of this volume, the influence of geographical factors has been indirect and has had a far more complicated course than has hitherto been supposed, but nevertheless it has been an influence of a most potent and far-reaching kind.

Another lesson taught by the study of this book is the great value of secret societies and secret cults as repositories of ancient cultures. The scheme of this volume rests largely

1 Kinship and Social Organisation , London, 1914.

Language and Race

upon the fidelity with which the secret societies of Melanesia have preserved the features of an immigrant culture. Else¬ where, it may be that the cultures which have thus been preserved are those of the indigenous inhabitants of the countries where the societies are found, but whether the culture thus preserved be indigenous or immigrant, I hope that the discussions of this volume have been sufficient to show how great may be the value of a knowledge of such secret cults as a record of the past.

Still another lesson which I hope may be learnt from this volume is the great value of language as an instrument in the study of human culture. In recent years the study of language by the ethnologist has suffered from his adherence to an unduly simple conception of human society, and from language having once been placed on too high a pedestal as the chief test of race. A few facts were sufficient to cast down this idol. People with physical characters so different that they could not by any stretch of the imagination be regarded as of one race were found to speak similar languages, while people closely similar in physical character were found to speak languages with hardly a common element. In consequence of these facts, the value of language as a test of race has been put on one side, with the result that the subject has been left to specialists who treat language as if it were an isolated element of human culture, having little interest in relation to this culture as a whole, or perhaps more often, this relation is recognised, but leads to speculations in which no account is taken of other elements of human culture. The value of P. W. Schmidt’s great generalisation of an Austronesian family of languages has been widely doubted because of the supposed difficulty presented by the diverse physical and cultural characters of those who speak the languages thus grouped together. The scheme of this book not only furnishes the clue to the solution of this special difficulty, but it also shows how the complexity of human culture elsewhere may serve to explain the diversity of tongues which may coexist with similarity of physical character, or the similarity of speech which may be found with widely different forms of physical structure. I have supposed that the allied languages accompanying the physical diversity of Polynesian and Melanesian are due to the language of the Melanesian having arisen through the

influence of an immigrant people so few in number as compared with the indigenous population that they had relatively little effect on the physical appearance of those among whom they settled. In the case of Melanesia, I have put forward a special social mechanism whereby the few thus succeeded in imposing their language, but elsewhere the mechanism may have been widely different, and may yet have had a similar result in producing a want of correspondence between somatological and linguistic characters. The argu¬ ment of this volume will do little to rehabilitate language as a test of race, if “race” be taken to denote physical character alone, but it shows how immense is the importance of language in the history of human culture.

This reference to the importance of language may serve as an introduction to yet another lesson which may, I hope, be taught by the discussion of this book. This book shows how hopeless it is to expect to understand human culture if we limit our attention to any one of its component elements. In the more complicated examples of human culture, special¬ ism may be inevitable, though even here it needs to be assisted by the work of those who may lack the complete¬ ness and exactness of the specialist, but yet understand the principles of more than one science. In the study of the ruder varieties of human culture, such specialism is far less needed and is far more prohibitive of progress. The con¬ stituent elements of such cultures as those of the Melanesian, Australian or African are so closely interwoven with one another, it is so difficult or impossible to disentangle these elements, that the work of the specialist in social organisa¬ tion, religion, language or technology must be unfruitful and soulless. It is only necessary to consider for a moment what would have been my chance of understanding the course of Melanesian culture if I had regarded a linguistic survey of certain elements of vocabulary as beyond my province or had eschewed all study of art and material culture. I n such departments as language and technology, specialism is inevitable and has its uses, but it must be recognised that it is not by such specialism that we can hope to understand human culture, nor can we hope by its means to trace out a history in which different aspects have not followed independent and self-sufficient courses, but have developed in conjunction with, and under the mutual influence of, one another.

The Contact of Peoples 595

In conclusion, the assumption which underlies the whole construction of this book is the importance of the contact of peoples in the history of human culture. It has been the main task of this volume to show how all the chief social institutions of Melanesia, its dual organisation, its secret societies, its totemism, its cult of the dead, and many of its less essential customs, such as its use of money, its decorative art, its practice of incision and its square houses, have been the direct outcome of the interaction between different and sometimes conflicting cultures. The chief aim of the book has been to show the importance of this interaction and conflict in the production of human culture. The Oceanic evidence points unmistakably to degradation and even to disappearance as the result of isolation, and suggests that the mixture of peoples will have to be taken much more into account by the historians of human culture than it has been in the past. Indeed, the study of this part of the world suggests that the contact and interaction of peoples have furnished the starting-points of all the great movements in human history which we are accustomed to regard as Progress.

It must not be thought, however, that because I have thus been led to treat the development of society through the contact of peoples as the main theme of this book, and thus to emphasise the historical aspect of human culture, that I am therefore regardless of the psychological aspect of this culture as it must exist at any stage of its history. Human beings do not pursue the course of their daily lives and perform the complicated actions of social life merely as automata conforming to the institutions and customs into which they have been born. There remains a vast field for study in the ideas, beliefs, emotions and sentiments which act as the immediate motives of their actions. It is possible, indeed probable, that some of the customs which I suppose to have been brought to Oceania from elsewhere, or to have been the direct product of immigrant ideas, may have arisen much later out of ideas which did not belong to any one culture, but are natural to mankind. Thus, I have supposed the tuitonga or sacred chief of Tonga was neither incised nor tattooed because these practices did not belong to the culture of the kava-people of whom I suppose the tuitonga to be the representative. The fact, however, that the tuitonga might

38 — 2

not inflict those signs of mourning which lead to the loss of blood (see 11, 437) suggests that both this custom and his exemption from the operations of incision and tattooing may have been the result of his great sanctity, which made the idea of the effusion of his blood abhorrent to the people. It is, however, very unlikely that the tuitonga would have been exempt from so general and important a custom as incision if this operation had formed part of the culture of the kavapeople. The exemption may have arisen out of the belief in his sanctity, and may yet be evidence of the presence or absence of a cultural influence.

It is only when our knowledge is far more extensive and exact than at present that we can hope to disentangle the exact part which motives of different kinds have taken in the genesis of social customs, but one of the most important means by which we can hope to gain this increased know¬ ledge is the study of the ways in which the contact of peo¬ ples has contributed to form the varieties of human culture. Because it has been the special aim of this book to attempt to trace the past history of Oceanic society, and the vast part which external influences have taken in this history, it must not be thought that we need take no account of the mental states which underlie the social activities of the people. Indeed, as I have already said (11, 6), it is because we can only hope to understand the present of any society through a knowledge of its past that such historical studies as those of which this book is an example are necessary steps towards the construction of a science of social psychology.