barrier of fire or water between the living and the dead, and that the conceptions of pollution and purification are merely the fictions of a later age, invented to explain the purpose of a ceremony of which the original intention was forgotten. Time forbids me to enter into the wider question whether all forms of so-called ceremonial purification may not admit of a similar explanation. I may say, however, that there is evidence that some at least of these forms are best explained on this hypothesis. To one of the most important of these forms of purification—that of mothers after childbirth—reference will be made in the course of this paper.
Such, then, are some of the modes adopted for the purpose of excluding or barring the ghost. Before quitting the subject, however, I wish to observe that, as the essence of these proceedings was simply the erection of a barrier against the disembodied spirit, they might be, and actually were, employed for barring spirits in other connections. Thus, for example, since to early man death means the departure of the soul out of the body, it is obvious that the very same proceedings which serve to exclude the soul after it has left the body—i. e., to bar the ghost, may equally well be employed to bar the soul in the body—i. e., to prevent it escaping; in other words, they may be employed to prevent a sick man from dying—in fact, they may be used as cures. Thus the Chinese attempt to frighten back the soul of a dying man into his body by the utterance of wild cries and the explosion of crackers, while they rush about with extended arms to arrest its progress.[1] The use of water as a means of intercepting the flying soul is perhaps best illustrated by the Circassian treatment of the sick. It is well known that according to primitive man the soul of a sleeper departs from his body to wander far away in dreamland; in fact, the only distinction which early man makes between sleep and death is that sleep is a temporary, while death is a permanent, absence of the soul. Obviously, then, on this view, sleep is highly dangerous to a sick man, for if in sleep his soul departs, how can we be sure that it will come back again? Hence, in order to insure the recovery of a sick man, one of the first requisites is to keep him from sleeping. With this intention the Circassians will dance, sing, play, and tell stories to a sick man by the hour. Fifteen to twenty young fellows, naturally selected for the strength of their lungs, will seat themselves round his bed and make night hideous by singing in chorus at the top of their voices, while from time to time one of their number will create an agreeable variety by banging with a hammer on a plowshare which has been thoughtfully placed for the purpose by the sick man's bed. But if, in spite of these unremitting attentions, the sick man should have the misfortune to fall asleep—mark what follows—they immediately dash
- ↑ Hue, "L'Empire Chinois," ii, p. 241.
