myth is exceedingly flexible and readily adapts itself to changes in the consciousness of primitive groups, while even in the more advanced culture the mythopæic faculty is active, and, by the personification of powers, qualities, or attributes, may create a new ritual or even a new group of deities.
When, therefore, we insist upon the vitality of ritual we must not forget that its efficacy varies with the intent accompanying it; that in some cases it has become merely automatical, and is practised when its original significance has been forgotten, and, though in form it may persist unchanged, the intent may vary among unrelated groups. It is as dangerous to discuss rites torn up by the roots from the environment to which they belong, as to compare a series of myths similar in outward form but reflecting different primary conceptions.
The rites connected with the dead are especially persistent, because they are adapted to meet some of the most urgent necessities, the placating of the friendly, the scaring of the malignant, ghost. Our attention has recently been called to a remarkable series of rites performed at the funeral of a gypsy named Isaac Heron, who died at Sutton-on-Trent about a year ago.[1] We observe with a shock of surprise that a distinctly savage ritual was performed in our midst. It includes the belief in the infective taboo of the corpse; the destruction of the movable property of the dead man by fire or by immersion in water; the light kept burning near the corpse; the taboo of all food in contact with it, and the refusal to cook in its neighbourhood; the funeral feast preceded by a fast and eaten at a distance from the scene of death. One remarkable custom, that connected with the dressing of the body, needs further examination before it can be described or discussed.
- ↑ The Journal of the Gypsy Lore Society (N.S.), vol. v., pp. 37-53; and paper by Mr. T. W. Thompson, read before the Folk-Lore Society on Jan. 17th, 1912.
