-Caveat Lector-

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Sir James George Frazer (1854�1941).  The Golden Bough.  1922.

XXIV.  The Killing of the Divine King

� 1. The Mortality of the Gods

MAN has created gods in his own likeness and being himself mortal he has
naturally supposed his creatures to be in the same sad predicament. Thus the
Greenlanders believed that a wind could kill their most powerful god, and
that he would certainly die if he touched a dog. When they heard of the
Christian God, they kept asking if he never died, and being informed that he
did not, they were much surprised, and said that he must be a very great god
indeed. In answer to the enquiries of Colonel Dodge, a North American Indian
stated that the world was made by the Great Spirit. Being asked which Great
Spirit he meant, the good one or the bad one, �Oh, neither of them,� replied
he, �the Great Spirit that made the world is dead long ago. He could not
possibly have lived as long as this.� A tribe in the Philippine Islands told
the Spanish conquerors that the grave of the Creator was upon the top of
Mount Cabunian. Heitsi-eibib, a god or divine hero of the Hottentots, died
several times and came to life again. His graves are generally to be met with
in narrow defiles between mountains. When the Hottentots pass one of them,
they throw a stone on it for good luck, sometimes muttering, �Give us plenty
of cattle.� The grave of Zeus, the great god of Greece, was shown to visitors
in Crete as late as about the beginning of our era. The body of Dionysus was
buried at Delphi beside the golden statue of Apollo, and his tomb bore the
inscription, �Here lies Dionysus dead, the son of Semele.� According to one
account, Apollo himself was buried at Delphi; for Pythagoras is said to have
carved an inscription on his tomb, setting forth how the god had been killed
by the python and buried under the tripod.     1
  The great gods of Egypt themselves were not exempt from the common lot.
They too grew old and died. But when at a later time the discovery of the art
of embalming gave a new lease of life to the souls of the dead by preserving
their bodies for an indefinite time from corruption, the deities were
permitted to share the benefit of an invention which held out to gods as well
as to men a reasonable hope of immortality. Every province then had the tomb
and mummy of its dead god. The mummy of Osiris was to be seen at Mendes;
Thinis boasted of the mummy of Anhouri; and Heliopolis rejoiced in the
possession of that of Toumou. The high gods of Babylon also, though they
appeared to their worshippers only in dreams and visions, were conceived to
be human in their bodily shape, human in their passions, and human in their
fate; for like men they were born into the world, and like men they loved and
fought and died.       2
=====
� 2. Kings killed when their Strength fails

IF THE HIGH gods, who dwell remote from the fret and fever of this earthly
life, are yet believed to die at last, it is not to be expected that a god
who lodges in a frail tabernacle of flesh should escape the same fate, though
we hear of African kings who have imagined themselves immortal by virtue of
their sorceries. Now primitive peoples, as we have seen, sometimes believe
that their safety and even that of the world is bound up with the life of one
of these god-men or human incarnations of the divinity. Naturally, therefore,
they take the utmost care of his life, out of a regard for their own. But no
amount of care and precaution will prevent the man-god from growing old and
feeble and at last dying. His worshippers have to lay their account with this
sad necessity and to meet it as best they can. The danger is a formidable
one; for if the course of nature is dependent on the man-god�s life, what
catastrophes may not be expected from the gradual enfeeblement of his powers
and their final extinction in death? There is only one way of averting these
dangers. The man-god must be killed as soon as he shows symptoms that his
powers are beginning to fail, and his soul must be transferred to a vigorous
successor before it has been seriously impaired by the threatened decay. The
advantages of thus putting the man-god to death instead of allowing him to
die of old age and disease are, to the savage, obvious enough. For if the
man-god dies what we call a natural death, it means, according to the savage,
that his soul has either voluntarily departed from his body and refuses to
return, or more commonly that it has been extracted, or at least detained in
its wanderings, by a demon or sorcerer. In any of these cases the soul of the
man-god is lost to his worshippers, and with it their prosperity is gone and
their very existence endangered. Even if they could arrange to catch the soul
of the dying god as it left his lips or his nostrils and so transfer it to a
successor, this would not effect their purpose; for, dying of disease, his
soul would necessarily leave his body in the last stage of weakness and
exhaustion, and so enfeebled it would continue to drag out a languid, inert
existence in any body to which it might be transferred. Whereas by slaying
him his worshippers could, in the first place, make sure of catching his soul
as it escaped and transferring it to a suitable successor; and, in the second
place, by putting him to death before his natural force was abated, they
would secure that the world should not fall into decay with the decay of the
man-god. Every purpose, therefore, was answered, and all dangers averted by
thus killing the man-god and transferring his soul, while yet at its prime,
to a vigorous successor.       1
  The mystic kings of Fire and Water in Cambodia are not allowed to die a
natural death. Hence when one of them is seriously ill and the elders think
that he cannot recover, they stab him to death. The people of Congo believed,
as we have seen, that if their pontiff the Chitom� were to die a natural
death, the world would perish, and the earth, which he alone sustained by his
power and merit, would immediately be annihilated. Accordingly when he fell
ill and seemed likely to die, the man who was destined to be his successor
entered the pontiff�s house with a rope or a club and strangled or clubbed
him to death. The Ethiopian kings of Meroe were worshipped as gods; but
whenever the priests chose, they sent a messenger to the king, ordering him
to die, and alleging an oracle of the gods as their authority for the
command. This command the kings always obeyed down to the reign of Ergamenes,
a contemporary of Ptolemy II., King of Egypt. Having received a Greek
education which emancipated him from the superstitions of his countrymen,
Ergamenes ventured to disregard the command of the priests, and, entering the
Golden Temple with a body of soldiers, put the priests to the sword.       2
  Customs of the same sort appear to have prevailed in this part of Africa
down to modern times. In some tribes of Fazoql the king had to administer
justice daily under a certain tree. If from sickness or any other cause he
was unable to discharge this duty for three whole days, he was hanged on the
tree in a noose, which contained two razors so arranged that when the noose
was drawn tight by the weight of the king�s body they cut his throat.      3
  A custom of putting their divine kings to death at the first symptoms of
infirmity or old age prevailed until lately, if indeed it is even now extinct
and not merely dormant, among the Shilluk of the White Nile, and in recent
years it has been carefully investigated by Dr. C. G. Seligman. The reverence
which the Shilluk pay to their king appears to arise chiefly from the
conviction that he is a reincarnation of the spirit of Nyakang, the
semi-divine hero who founded the dynasty and settled the tribe in their
present territory. It is a fundamental article of the Shilluk creed that the
spirit of the divine or semi-divine Nyakang is incarnate in the reigning
king, who is accordingly himself invested to some extent with the character
of a divinity. But while the Shilluk hold their kings in high, indeed
religious reverence and take every precaution against their accidental death,
nevertheless they cherish �the conviction that the king must not be allowed
to become ill or senile, lest with his diminishing vigour the cattle should
sicken and fail to bear their increase, the crops should rot in the fields,
and man, stricken with disease, should die in ever-increasing numbers.� To
prevent these calamities it used to be the regular custom with the Shilluk to
put the king to death whenever he showed signs of ill-health or failing
strength. One of the fatal symptoms of decay was taken to be an incapacity to
satisfy the sexual passions of his wives, of whom he has very many,
distributed in a large number of houses at Fashoda. When this ominous
weakness manifested itself, the wives reported it to the chiefs, who are
popularly said to have intimated to the king his doom by spreading a white
cloth over his face and knees as he lay slumbering in the heat of the sultry
afternoon. Execution soon followed the sentence of death. A hut was specially
built for the occasion: the king was led into it and lay down with his head
resting on the lap of a nubile virgin: the door of the hut was then walled
up; and the couple were left without food, water, or fire to die of hunger
and suffocation. This was the old custom, but it was abolished some five
generations ago on account of the excessive sufferings of one of the kings
who perished in this way. It is said that the chiefs announce his fate to the
king, and that afterwards he is strangled in a hut which has been specially
built for the occasion.    4
  From Dr. Seligman�s enquiries it appears that not only was the Shilluk king
liable to be killed with due ceremony at the first symptoms of incipient
decay, but even while he was yet in the prime of health and strength he might
be attacked at any time by a rival and have to defend his crown in a combat
to the death. According to the common Shilluk tradition any son of a king had
the right thus to fight the king in possession and, if he succeeded in
killing him, to reign in his stead. As every king had a large harem and many
sons, the number of possible candidates for the throne at any time may well
have been not inconsiderable, and the reigning monarch must have carried his
life in his hand. But the attack on him could only take place with any
prospect of success at night; for during the day the king surrounded himself
with his friends and bodyguards, and an aspirant to the throne could hardly
hope to cut his way through them and strike home. It was otherwise at night.
For then the guards were dismissed and the king was alone in his enclosure
with his favourite wives, and there was no man near to defend him except a
few herdsmen, whose huts stood a little way off. The hours of darkness were
therefore the season of peril for the king. It is said that he used to pass
them in constant watchfulness, prowling round his huts fully armed, peering
into the blackest shadows, or himself standing silent and alert, like a
sentinel on duty, in some dark corner. When at last his rival appeared, the
fight would take place in grim silence, broken only by the clash of spears
and shields, for it was a point of honour with the king not to call the
herdsmen to his assistance.    5
  Like Nyakang himself, their founder, each of the Shilluk kings after death
is worshipped at a shrine, which is erected over his grave, and the grave of
a king is always in the village where he was born. The tomb-shrine of a king
resembles the shrine of Nyakang, consisting of a few huts enclosed by a
fence; one of the huts is built over the king�s grave, the others are
occupied by the guardians of the shrine. Indeed the shrines of Nyakang and
the shrines of the kings are scarcely to be distinguished from each other,
and the religious rituals observed at all of them are identical in form and
vary only in matters of detail, the variations being due apparently to the
far greater sanctity attributed to the shrines of Nyakang. The grave-shrines
of the kings are tended by certain old men or women, who correspond to the
guardians of the shrines of Nyakang. They are usually widows or old
men-servants of the deceased king, and when they die they are succeeded in
their office by their descendants. Moreover, cattle are dedicated to the
grave-shrines of the kings and sacrifices are offered at them just as at the
shrines of Nyakang.    6
  In general the principal element in the religion of the Shilluk would seem
to be the worship which they pay to their sacred or divine kings, whether
dead or alive. These are believed to be animated by a single divine spirit,
which has been transmitted from the semi-mythical, but probably in substance
historical, founder of the dynasty through all his successors to the present
day. Hence, regarding their kings as incarnate divinities on whom the welfare
of men, of cattle, and of the corn implicitly depends, the Shilluk naturally
pay them the greatest respect and take every care of them; and however
strange it may seem to us, their custom of putting the divine king to death
as soon as he shows signs of ill-health or failing strength springs directly
from their profound veneration for him and from their anxiety to preserve
him, or rather the divine spirit by which he is animated, in the most perfect
state of efficiency: nay, we may go further and say that their practice of
regicide is the best proof they can give of the high regard in which they
hold their kings. For they believe, as we have seen, that the king�s life or
spirit is so sympathetically bound up with the prosperity of the whole
country, that if he fell ill or grew senile the cattle would sicken and cease
to multiply, the crops would rot in the fields, and men would perish of
widespread disease. Hence, in their opinion, the only way of averting these
calamities is to put the king to death while he is still hale and hearty, in
order that the divine spirit which he has inherited from his predecessors may
be transmitted in turn by him to his successor while it is still in full
vigour and has not yet been impaired by the weakness of disease and old age.
In this connexion the particular symptom which is commonly said to seal the
king�s death-warrant is highly significant; when he can no longer satisfy the
passions of his numerous wives, in other words, when he has ceased, whether
partially or wholly, to be able to reproduce his kind, it is time for him to d
ie and to make room for a more vigorous successor. Taken along with the other
reasons which are alleged for putting the king to death, this one suggests
that the fertility of men, of cattle, and of the crops is believed to depend
sympathetically on the generative power of the king, so that the complete
failure of that power in him would involve a corresponding failure in men,
animals, and plants, and would thereby entail at no distant date the entire
extinction of all life, whether human, animal, or vegetable. No wonder, that
with such a danger before their eyes the Shilluk should be most careful not
to let the king die what we should call a natural death of sickness or old
age. It is characteristic of their attitude towards the death of the kings
that they refrain from speaking of it as death: they do not say that a king
has died but simply that he has �gone away� like his divine ancestors Nyakang
and Dag, the two first kings of the dynasty, both of whom are reported not to
have died but to have disappeared. The similar legends of the mysterious
disappearance of early kings in other lands, for example at Rome and in
Uganda, may well point to a similar custom of putting them to death for the
purpose of preserving their life.      7
  On the whole the theory and practice of the divine kings of the Shilluk
correspond very nearly to the theory and practice of the priests of Nemi, the
Kings of the Wood, if my view of the latter is correct. In both we see a
series of divine kings on whose life the fertility of men, of cattle, and of
vegetation is believed to depend, and who are put to death, whether in single
combat or otherwise, in order that their divine spirit may be transmitted to
their successors in full vigour, uncontaminated by the weakness and decay of
sickness or old age, because any such degeneration on the part of the king
would, in the opinion of his worshippers, entail a corresponding degeneration
on manking, on cattle, and on the crops. Some points in this explanation of
the custom of putting divine kings to death, particularly the method of
transmitting their divine souls to their successors, will be dealt with more
fully in the sequel. Meantime we pass to other examples of the general
practice.      8
  The Dinka are a congeries of independent tribes in the valley of the White
Nile. They are essentially a pastoral people, passionately devoted to the
care of their numerous herds of oxen, though they also keep sheep and goats,
and the women cultivate small quantities of millet and sesame. For their
crops and above all for their pastures they depend on the regularity of the
rains: in seasons of prolonged drought they are said to be reduced to great
extremities. Hence the rain-maker is a very important personage among them to
this day; indeed the men in authority whom travellers dub chiefs or sheikhs
are in fact the actual or potential rain-makers of the tribe or community.
Each of them is believed to be animated by the spirit of a great rain-maker,
which has come down to him through a succession of rain-makers; and in virtue
of this inspiration a successful rain-maker enjoys very great power and is
consulted on all important matters. Yet in spite, or rather in virtue, of the
high honour in which he is held, no Dinka rain-maker is allowed to die a
natural death of sickness or old age; for the Dinka believe that if such an
untoward event were to happen, the tribe would suffer from disease and
famine, and the herds would not yield their increase. So when a rain-maker
feels that he is growing old and infirm, he tells his children that he wishes
to die. Among the Agar Dinka a large grave is dug and the rain-maker lies
down in it, surrounded by his friends and relatives. From time to time he
speaks to the people, recalling the past history of the tribe, reminding them
how he has ruled and advised them, and instructing them how they are to act
in the future. Then, when he has concluded his admonition, he bids them cover
him up. So the earth is thrown down on him as he lies in the grave, and he
soon dies of suffocation. Such, with minor variations, appears to be the
regular end of the honourable career of a rain-maker in all the Dinka tribes.
The Khor-Adar Dinka told Dr. Seligman that when they have dug the grave for
their rain-maker they strangle him in his house. The father and paternal
uncle of one of Dr. Seligman�s informants had both been rain-makers and both
had been killed in the most regular and orthodox fashion. Even if a
rain-maker is quite young he will be put to death should he seem likely to
perish of disease. Further, every precaution is taken to prevent a rain-maker
from dying an accidental death, for such an end, though not nearly so serious
a matter as death from illness or old age, would be sure to entail sickness
on the tribe. As soon as a rain-maker is killed, his valuable spirit is
supposed to pass to a suitable successor, whether a son or other near blood
relation.      9
  In the Central African kingdom of Bunyoro down to recent years custom
required that as soon as the king fell seriously ill or began to break up
from age, he should die by his own hand; for, according to an old prophecy,
the throne would pass away from the dynasty if ever the king were to die a
natural death. He killed himself by draining a poisoned cup. If he faltered
or were too ill to ask for the cup, it was his wife�s duty to administer the
poison. When the king of Kibanga, on the Upper Congo, seems near his end, the
sorcerers put a rope round his neck, which they draw gradually tighter till
he dies. If the king of Gingiro happens to be wounded in war, he is put to
death by his comrades, or, if they fail to kill him, by his kinsfolk, however
hard he may beg for mercy. They say they do it that he may not die by the
hands of his enemies. The Jukos are a heathen tribe of the Benue River, a
great tributary of the Niger. In their country �the town of Gatri is ruled by
a king who is elected by the big men of the town as follows. When in the
opinion of the big men the king has reigned long enough, they give out that
�the king is sick��a formula understood by all to mean that they are going to
kill him, though the intention is never put more plainly. They then decide
who is to be the next king. How long he is to reign is settled by the
influential men at a meeting; the question is put and answered by each man
throwing on the ground a little piece of stick for each year he thinks the
new king should rule. The king is then told, and a great feast prepared, at
which the king gets drunk on guinea-corn beer. After that he is speared, and
the man who was chosen becomes king. Thus each Juko king knows that he cannot
have very many more years to live, and that he is certain of his
predecessor�s fate. This, however, does not seem to frighten candidates. The
same custom of king-killing is said to prevail at Quonde and Wukari as well
as at Gatri.� In the three Hausa kingdoms of Gobir, Katsina, and Daura, in
Northern Nigeria, as soon as a king showed signs of failing health or growing
infirmity, an official who bore the title of Killer of the Elephant appeared
and throttled him.     10
  The Matiamvo is a great king or emperor in the interior of Angola. One of
the inferior kings of the country, by name Challa, gave to a Portuguese
expedition the following account of the manner in which the Matiamvo comes by
his end. �It has been customary,� he said, �for our Matiamvos to die either
in war or by a violent death, and the present Matiamvo must meet this last
fate, as, in consequence of his great exactions, he has lived long enough.
When we come to this understanding, and decide that he should be killed, we
invite him to make war with our enemies, on which occasion we all accompany
him and his family to the war, when we lose some of our people. If he escapes
unhurt, we return to the war again and fight for three or four days. We then
suddenly abandon him and his family to their fate, leaving him in the enemy�s
hands. Seeing himself thus deserted, he causes his throne to be erected, and,
sitting down, calls his family around him. He then orders his mother to
approach; she kneels at his feet; he first cuts off her head, then
decapitates his sons in succession, next his wives and relatives, and, last
of all, his most beloved wife, called Anacullo. This slaughter being
accomplished, the Matiamvo, dressed in all his pomp, awaits his own death,
which immediately follows, by an officer sent by the powerful neighbouring
chiefs, Caniquinha and Canica. This officer first cuts off his legs and arms
at the joints, and lastly he cuts off his head; after which the head of the
officer is struck off. All the potentates retire from the encampment, in
order not to witness his death. It is my duty to remain and witness his
death, and to mark the place where the head and arms have been deposited by
the two great chiefs, the enemies of the Matiamvo. They also take possession
of all the property belonging to the deceased monarch and his family, which
they convey to their own residence. I then provide for the funeral of the
mutilated remains of the late Matiamvo, after which I retire to his capital
and proclaim the new government. I then return to where the head, legs, and
arms have been deposited, and, for forty slaves, I ransom them, together with
the merchandise and other property belonging to the deceased, which I give up
to the new Matiamvo, who has been proclaimed. This is what has happened to
many Matiamvos, and what must happen to the present one.�      11
  It appears to have been a Zulu custom to put the king to death as soon as
he began to have wrinkles or grey hairs. At least this seems implied in the
following passage written by one who resided for some time at the court of
the notorious Zulu tyrant Chaka, in the early part of the nineteenth century:
�The extraordinary violence of the king�s rage with me was mainly occasioned
by that absurd nostrum, the hair oil, with the notion of which Mr. Farewell
had impressed him as being a specific for removing all indications of age.
>From the first moment of his having heard that such a preparation was
attainable, he evinced a solicitude to procure it, and on every occasion
never forgot to remind us of his anxiety respecting it; more especially on
our departure on the mission his injunctions were particularly directed to
this object. It will be seen that it is one of the barbarous customs of the
Zoolas in their choice or election of their kings that he must neither have
wrinkles nor grey hairs, as they are both distinguishing marks of
disqualification for becoming a monarch of a warlike people. It is also
equally indispensable that their king should never exhibit those proofs of
having become unfit and incompetent to reign; it is therefore important that
they should conceal these indications so long as they possibly can. Chaka had
become greatly apprehensive of the approach of grey hairs; which would at
once be the signal for him to prepare to make his exit from this sublunary
world, it being always followed by the death of the monarch.� The writer to
whom we are indebted for this instructive anecdote of the hair oil omits to
specify the mode in which a grey-haired and wrinkled Zulu chief used �to make
his exit from this sublunary world�; but on analogy we may conjecture that he
was killed.    12
  The custom of putting kings to death as soon as they suffered from any
personal defect prevailed two centuries ago in the Caffre kingdom of Sofala.
We have seen that these kings of Sofala were regarded as gods by their
people, being entreated to give rain or sunshine, according as each might be
wanted. Nevertheless a slight bodily blemish, such as the loss of a tooth,
was considered a sufficient cause for putting one of these god-men to death,
as we learn from the following passage of an old Portuguese historian: �It
was formerly the custom of the kings of this land to commit suicide by taking
poison when any disaster or natural physical defect fell upon them, such as
impotence, infectious disease, the loss of their front teeth, by which they
were disfigured, or any other deformity or affliction. To put an end to such
defects they killed themselves, saying that the king should be free from any
blemish, and if not, it was better for his honour that he should die and seek
another life where he would be made whole, for there everything was perfect.
But the Quiteve (king) who reigned when I was in those parts would not
imitate his predecessors in this, being discreet and dreaded as he was; for
having lost a front tooth he caused it to be proclaimed throughout the
kingdom that all should be aware that he had lost a tooth and should
recognise him when they saw him without it, and if his predecessors killed
themselves for such things they were very foolish, and he would not do so; on
the contrary, he would be very sorry when the time came for him to die a
natural death, for his life was very necessary to preserve his kingdom and
defend it from his enemies; and he recommended his successors to follow his
example.�      13
  The king of Sofala who dared to survive the loss of his front tooth was
thus a bold reformer like Ergamenes, king of Ethiopia. We may conjecture that
the ground for putting the Ethiopian kings to death was, as in the case of
the Zulu and Sofala kings, the appearance on their person of any bodily
defect or sign of decay; and that the oracle which the priests alleged as the
authority for the royal execution was to the effect that great calamities
would result from the reign of a king who had any blemish on his body; just
as an oracle warned Sparta against a �lame reign,� that is, the reign of a
lame king. It is some confirmation of this conjecture that the kings of
Ethiopia were chosen for their size, strength, and beauty long before the
custom of killing them was abolished. To this day the Sultan of Wadai must
have no obvious bodily defect, and the king of Angoy cannot be crowned if he
has a single blemish, such as a broken or a filed tooth or the scar of an old
wound. According to the Book of Acaill and many other authorities no king who
was afflicted with a personal blemish might reign over Ireland at Tara.
Hence, when the great King Cormac Mac Art lost one eye by an accident, he at
once abdicated.    14
  Many days� journey to the north-east of Abomey, the old capital of Dahomey,
lies the kingdom of Eyeo. �The Eyeos are governed by a king, no less absolute
than the king of Dahomey, yet subject to a regulation of state, at once
humiliating and extraordinary. When the people have conceived an opinion of
his ill-government, which is sometimes insidiously infused into them by the
artifice of his discontented ministers, they send a deputation to him with a
present of parrots� eggs, as a mark of its authenticity, to represent to him
that the burden of government must have so far fatigued him that they
consider it full time for him to repose from his cares and indulge himself
with a little sleep. He thanks his subjects for their attention to his ease,
retires to his own apartment as if to sleep, and there gives directions to
his women to strangle him. This is immediately executed, and his son quietly
ascends the throne upon the usual terms of holding the reins of government no
longer than whilst he merits the approbation of the people.� About the year
1774, a king of Eyeo, whom his ministers attempted to remove in the customary
manner, positively refused to accept the proffered parrots� eggs at their
hands, telling them that he had no mind to take a nap, but on the contrary
was resolved to watch for the benefit of his subjects. The ministers,
surprised and indignant at his recalcitrancy, raised a rebellion, but were
defeated with great slaughter, and thus by his spirited conduct the king
freed himself from the tyranny of his councillors and established a new
precedent for the guidance of his successors. However, the old custom seems
to have revived and persisted until late in the nineteenth century, for a
Catholic missionary, writing in 1884, speaks of the practice as if it were
still in vogue. Another missionary, writing in 1881, thus describes the usage
of the Egbas and the Yorubas of West Africa: �Among the customs of the
country one of the most curious is unquestionably that of judging, and
punishing the king. Should he have earned the hatred of his people by
exceeding his rights, one of his councillors, on whom the heavy duty is laid,
requires of the prince that he shall �go to sleep,� which means simply �take
poison and die.� If his courage fails him at the supreme moment, a friend
renders him this last service, and quietly, without betraying the secret,
they prepare the people for the news of the king�s death. In Yoruba the thing
is managed a little differently. When a son is born to the king of Oyo, they
make a model of the infant�s right foot in clay and keep it in the house of
the elders (ogboni). If the king fails to observe the customs of the country,
a messenger, without speaking a word, shows him his child�s foot. The king
knows what that means. He takes poison and goes to sleep.� The old Prussians
acknowledged as their supreme lord a ruler who governed them in the name of
the gods, and was known as �God�s Mouth.� When he felt himself weak and ill,
if he wished to leave a good name behind him, he had a great heap made of
thorn-bushes and straw, on which he mounted and delivered a long sermon to
the people, exhorting them to serve the gods and promising to go to the gods
and speak for the people. Then he took some of the perpetual fire which
burned in front of the holy oak-tree, and lighting the pile with it burned
himself to death.      15
=====
� 3. Kings killed at the End of a Fixed Term

IN THE CASES hitherto described, the divine king or priest is suffered by his
people to retain office until some outward defect, some visible symptom of
failing health or advancing age, warns them that he is no longer equal to the
discharge of his divine duties; but not until such symptoms have made their
appearance is he put to death. Some peoples, however, appear to have thought
it unsafe to wait for even the slightest symptom of decay and have preferred
to kill the king while he was still in the full vigour of life. Accordingly,
they have fixed a term beyond which he might not reign, and at the close of
which he must die, the term fixed upon being short enough to exclude the
probability of his degenerating physically in the interval. In some parts of
Southern India the period fixed was twelve years. Thus, according to an old
traveller, in the province of Quilacare, �there is a Gentile house of prayer,
in which there is an idol which they hold in great account, and every twelve
years they celebrate a great feast to it, whither all the Gentiles go as to a
jubilee. This temple possesses many lands and much revenue: it is a very
great affair. This province has a king over it, who has not more than twelve
years to reign from jubilee to jubilee. His manner of living is in this wise,
that is to say: when the twelve years are completed, on the day of this feast
there assemble together innumerable people, and much money is spent in giving
food to Bramans. The king has a wooden scaffolding made, spread over with
silken hangings: and on that day he goes to bathe at a tank with great
ceremonies and sound of music, after that he comes to the idol and prays to
it, and mounts on to the scaffolding, and there before all the people he
takes some very sharp knives, and begins to cut off his nose, and then his
ears, and his lips, and all his members, and as much flesh off himself as he
can; and he throws it away very hurriedly until so much of his blood is
spilled that he begins to faint, and then he cuts his throat himself. And he
performs this sacrifice to the idol, and whoever desires to reign another
twelve years and undertake this martyrdom for love of the idol, has to be
present looking on at this: and from that place they raise him up as king.�
   1
  The king of Calicut, on the Malabar coast, bears the title of Samorin or
Samory. He �pretends to be of a higher rank than the Brahmans, and to be
inferior only to the invisible gods; a pretention that was acknowledged by
his subjects, but which is held as absurd and abominable by the Brahmans, by
whom he is only treated as a Sudra.� Formerly the Samorin had to cut his
throat in public at the end of a twelve years� reign. But towards the end of
the seventeenth century the rule had been modified as follows: �Many strange
customs were observed in this country in former times, and some very odd ones
are still continued. It was an ancient custom for the Samorin to reign but
twelve years, and no longer. If he died before his term was expired, it saved
him a troublesome ceremony of cutting his own throat, on a publick scaffold
erected for the purpose. He first made a feast for all his nobility and
gentry, who are very numerous. After the feast he saluted his guests, and
went on the scaffold, and very decently cut his own throat in the view of the
assembly, and his body was, a little while after, burned with great pomp and
ceremony, and the grandees elected a new Samorin. Whether that custom was a
religious or a civil ceremony, I know not, but it is now laid aside. And a
new custom is followed by the modern Samorins, that jubilee is proclaimed
throughout his dominions, at the end of twelve years, and a tent is pitched
for him in a spacious plain, and a great feast is celebrated for ten or
twelve days, with mirth and jollity, guns firing night and day, so at the end
of the feast any four of the guests that have a mind to gain a crown by a
desperate action, in fighting their way through 30 or 40,000 of his guards,
and kill the Samorin in his tent, he that kills him succeeds him in his
empire. In anno 1695, one of those jubilees happened, and the tent pitched
near Pennany, a seaport of his, about fifteen leagues to the southward of
Calicut. There were but three men that would venture on that desperate
action, who fell in, with sword and target, among the guard, and, after they
had killed and wounded many, were themselves killed. One of the desperados
had a nephew of fifteen or sixteen years of age, that kept close by his uncle
in the attack on the guards, and, when he saw him fall, the youth got through
the guards into the tent, and made a stroke at his Majesty�s head, and had
certainly despatched him if a large brass lamp which was burning over his
head had not marred the blow; but, before he could make another, he was
killed by the guards; and, I believe, the same Samorin reigns yet. I chanced
to come that time along the coast and heard the guns for two or three days
and nights successively.�      2
  The English traveller, whose account I have quoted, did not himself witness
the festival he describes, though he heard the sound of the firing in the
distance. Fortunately, exact records of these festivals and of the number of
men who perished at them have been preserved in the archives of the royal
family at Calicut. In the latter part of the nineteenth century they were
examined by Mr. W. Logan, with the personal assistance of the reigning king,
and from his work it is possible to gain an accurate conception both of the
tragedy and of the scene where it was periodically enacted down to 1743, when
the ceremony took place for the last time.     3
  The festival at which the king of Calicut staked his crown and his life on
the issue of battle was known as the �Great Sacrifice.� It fell every twelfth
year, when the planet Jupiter was in retrograde motion in the sign of the
Crab, and it lasted twenty-eight days, culminating at the time of the eighth
lunar asterism in the month of Makaram. As the date of the festival was
determined by the position of Jupiter in the sky, and the interval between
two festivals was twelve years, which is roughly Jupiter�s period of
revolution round the sun, we may conjecture that the splendid planet was
supposed to be in a special sense the king�s star and to rule his destiny,
the period of its revolution in heaven corresponding to the period of his
reign on earth. However that may be, the ceremony was observed with great
pomp at the Tirunavayi temple, on the north bank of the Ponnani River. The
spot is close to the present railway line. As the train rushes by, you can
just catch a glimpse of the temple, almost hidden behind a clump of trees on
the river bank. From the western gateway of the temple a perfectly straight
road, hardly raised above the level of the surrounding rice-fields and shaded
by a fine avenue, runs for half a mile to a high ridge with a precipitous
bank, on which the outlines of three or four terraces can still be traced. On
the topmost of these terraces the king took his stand on the eventful day.
The view which it commands is a fine one. Across the flat expanse of the
rice-fields, with the broad placid river winding through them, the eye ranges
eastward to high tablelands, their lower slopes embowered in woods, while
afar off looms the great chain of the western Ghauts, and in the furthest
distance the Neilgherries or Blue Mountains, hardly distinguishable from the
azure of the sky above.    4
  But it was not to the distant prospect that the king�s eyes naturally
turned at this crisis of his fate. His attention was arrested by a spectacle
nearer at hand. For all the plain below was alive with troops, their banners
waving gaily in the sun, the white tents of their many camps standing sharply
out against the green and gold of the ricefields. Forty thousand fighting men
or more were gathered there to defend the king. But if the plain swarmed with
soldiers, the road that cuts across it from the temple to the king�s stand
was clear of them. Not a soul was stirring on it. Each side of the way was
barred by palisades, and from the palisades on either hand a long hedge of
spears, held by strong arms, projected into the empty road, their blades
meeting in the middle and forming a glittering arch of steel. All was now
ready. The king waved his sword. At the same moment a great chain of massy
gold, enriched with bosses, was placed on an elephant at his side. That was
the signal. On the instant a stir might be seen half a mile away at the gate
of the temple. A group of swordsmen, decked with flowers and smeared with
ashes, has stepped out from the crowd. They have just partaken of their last
meal on earth, and they now receive the last blessings and farewells of their
friends. A moment more and they are coming down the lane of spears, hewing
and stabbing right and left at the spearmen, winding and turning and writhing
among the blades as if they had no bones in their bodies. It is all in vain.
One after the other they fall, some nearer the king, some farther off,
content to die, not for the shadow of a crown, but for the mere sake of
approving their dauntless valour and swordsmanship to the world. On the last
days of the festival the same magnificent display of gallantry, the same
useless sacrifice of life was repeated again and again. Yet perhaps no
sacrifice is wholly useless which proves that there are men who prefer honour
to life.       5
   �It is a singular custom in Bengal,� says an old native historian of
India, �that there is little of hereditary descent in succession to the
sovereignty� . Whoever kills the king, and succeeds in placing himself on
that throne, is immediately acknowledged as king; all the amirs, wazirs,
soldiers, and peasants instantly obey and submit to him, and consider him as
being as much their sovereign as they did their former prince, and obey his
orders implicitly. The people of Bengal say, �We are faithful to the throne;
whoever fills the throne we are obedient and true to it.�� A custom of the
same sort formerly prevailed in the little kingdom of Passier, on the
northern coast of Sumatra. The old Portuguese historian De Barros, who
informs us of it, remarks with surprise that no wise man would wish to be
king of Passier, since the monarch was not allowed by his subjects to live
long. From time to time a sort of fury seized the people, and they marched
through the streets of the city chanting with loud voices the fatal words,
�The king must die!� When the king heard that song of death he knew that his
hour had come. The man who struck the fatal blow was of the royal lineage,
and as soon as he had done the deed of blood and seated himself on the throne
he was regarded as the legitimate king, provided that he contrived to
maintain his seat peaceably for a single day. This, however, the regicide did
not always succeed in doing. When Fern�o Peres d�Andrade, on a voyage to
China, put in at Passier for a cargo of spices, two kings were massacred, and
that in the most peaceable and orderly manner, without the smallest sign of
tumult or sedition in the city, where everything went on in its usual course,
as if the murder or execution of a king were a matter of everyday occurrence.
Indeed, on one occasion three kings were raised to the dangerous elevation
and followed each other in the dusty road of death in a single day. The
people defended the custom, which they esteemed very laudable and even of
divine institution, by saying that God would never allow so high and mighty a
being as a king, who reigned as his vicegerent on earth, to perish by
violence unless for his sins he thoroughly deserved it. Far away from the
tropical island of Sumatra a rule of the same sort appears to have obtained
among the old Slavs. When the captives Gunn and Jarmerik contrived to slay
the king and queen of the Slavs and made their escape, they were pursued by
the barbarians, who shouted after them that if they would only come back they
would reign instead of the murdered monarch, since by a public statute of the
ancients the succession to the throne fell to the king�s assassin. But the
flying regicides turned a deaf ear to promises which they regarded as mere
baits to lure them back to destruction; they continued their flight, and the
shouts and clamour of the barbarians gradually died away in the distance.
   6
  When kings were bound to suffer death, whether at their own hands or at the
hands of others, on the expiration of a fixed term of years, it was natural
that they should seek to delegate the painful duty, along with some of the
privileges of sovereignty, to a substitute who should suffer vicariously in
their stead. This expedient appears to have been resorted to by some of the
princes of Malabar. Thus we are informed by a native authority on that
country that �in some places all powers both executive and judicial were
delegated for a fixed period to natives by the sovereign. This institution
was styled Thalavettiparothiam or authority obtained by decapitation�. It was
an office tenable for five years during which its bearer was invested with
supreme despotic powers within his jurisdiction. On the expiry of the five
years the man�s head was cut off and thrown up in the air amongst a large
concourse of villagers, each of whom vied with the other in trying to catch
it in its course down. He who succeeded was nominated to the post for the
next five years.�      7
  When once kings, who had hitherto been bound to die a violent death at the
end of a term of years, conceived the happy thought of dying by deputy in the
persons of others, they would very naturally put it in practice; and
accordingly we need not wonder at finding so popular an expedient, or traces
of it, in many lands. Scandinavian traditions contain some hints that of old
the Swedish kings reigned only for periods of nine years, after which they
were put to death or had to find a substitute to die in their stead. Thus Aun
or On, king of Sweden, is said to have sacrificed to Odin for length of days
and to have been answered by the god that he should live so long as he
sacrificed one of his sons every ninth year. He sacrificed nine of them in
this manner, and would have sacrificed the tenth and last, but the Swedes
would not allow him. So he died and was buried in a mound at Upsala. Another
indication of a similar tenure of the crown occurs in a curious legend of the
deposition and banishment of Odin. Offended at his misdeeds, the other gods
outlawed and exiled him, but set up in his place a substitute, Oller by name,
a cunning wizard, to whom they accorded the symbols both of royalty and of
godhead. The deputy bore the name of Odin, and reigned for nearly ten years,
when he was driven from the throne, while the real Odin came to his own
again. His discomfited rival retired to Sweden and was afterwards slain in an
attempt to repair his shattered fortunes. As gods are often merely men who
loom large through the mists of tradition, we may conjecture that this Norse
legend preserves a confused reminiscence of ancient Swedish kings who reigned
for nine or ten years together, then abdicated, delegating to others the
privilege of dying for their country. The great festival which was held at
Upsala every nine years may have been the occasion on which the king or his
deputy was put to death. We know that human sacrifices formed part of the
rites.     8
  There are some grounds for believing that the reign of many ancient Greek
kings was limited to eight years, or at least that at the end of every period
of eight years a new consecration, a fresh outpouring of the divine grace,
was regarded as necessary in order to enable them to discharge their civil
and religious duties. Thus it was a rule of the Spartan constitution that
every eighth year the ephors should choose a clear and moonless night and
sitting down observe the sky in silence. If during their vigil they saw a
meteor or shooting star, they inferred that the king had sinned against the
deity, and they suspended him from his functions until the Delphic or Olympic
oracle should reinstate him in them. This custom, which has all the air of
great antiquity, was not suffered to remain a dead letter even in the last
period of the Spartan monarchy; for in the third century before our era a
king, who had rendered himself obnoxious to the reforming party, was actually
deposed on various trumped-up charges, among which the allegation that the
ominous sign had been seen in the sky took a prominent place.      9
  If the tenure of the regal office was formerly limited among the Spartans
to eight years, we may naturally ask, why was that precise period selected as
the measure of a king�s reign? The reason is probably to be found in those
astronomical considerations which determined the early Greek calendar. The
difficulty of reconciling lunar with solar time is one of the standing
puzzles which has taxed the ingenuity of men who are emerging from barbarism.
Now an octennial cycle is the shortest period at the end of which sun and
moon really mark time together after overlapping, so to say, throughout the
whole of the interval. Thus, for example, it is only once in every eight
years that the full moon coincides with the longest or shortest day; and as
this coincidence can be observed with the aid of a simple dial, the
observation is naturally one of the first to furnish a base for a calendar
which shall bring lunar and solar times into tolerable, though not exact,
harmony. But in early days the proper adjustment of the calendar is a matter
of religious concern, since on it depends a knowledge of the right seasons
for propitiating the deities whose favour is indispensable to the welfare of
the community. No wonder, therefore, that the king, as the chief priest of
the state, or as himself a god, should be liable to deposition or death at
the end of an astronomical period. When the great luminaries had run their
course on high, and were about to renew the heavenly race, it might well be
thought that the king should renew his divine energies, or prove them
unabated, under pain of making room for a more vigorous successor. In
Southern India, as we have seen, the king�s reign and life terminated with
the revolution of the planet Jupiter round the sun. In Greece, on the other
hand, the king�s fate seems to have hung in the balance at the end of every
eight years, ready to fly up and kick the beam as soon as the opposite scale
was loaded with a falling star.    10
  Whatever its origin may have been, the cycle of eight years appears to have
coincided with the normal length of the king�s reign in other parts of Greece
besides Sparta. Thus Minos, king of Cnossus in Crete, whose great palace has
been unearthed in recent years, is said to have held office for periods of
eight years together. At the end of each period he retired for a season to
the oracular cave on Mount Ida, and there communed with his divine father
Zeus, giving him an account of his kingship in the years that were past, and
receiving from him instructions for his guidance in those which were to come.
The tradition plainly implies that at the end of every eight years the king�s
sacred powers needed to be renewed by intercourse with the godhead, and that
without such a renewal he would have forfeited his right to the throne.    11
  Without being unduly rash we may surmise that the tribute of seven youths
and seven maidens whom the Athenians were bound to send to Minos every eight
years had some connexion with the renewal of the king�s power for another
octennial cycle. Traditions varied as to the fate which awaited the lads and
damsels on their arrival in Crete; but the common view appears to have been
that they were shut up in the labyrinth, there to be devoured by the
Minotaur, or at least to be imprisoned for life. Perhaps they were sacrificed
by being roasted alive in a bronze image of a bull, or of a bull-headed man,
in order to renew the strength of the king and of the sun, whom he
personated. This at all events is suggested by the legend of Talos, a bronze
man who clutched people to his breast and leaped with them into the fire, so
that they were roasted alive. He is said to have been given by Zeus to
Europa, or by Hephaestus to Minos, to guard the island of Crete, which he
patrolled thrice daily. According to one account he was a bull, according to
another he was the sun. Probably he was identical with the Minotaur, and
stripped of his mythical features was nothing but a bronze image of the sun
represented as a man with a bull�s head. In order to renew the solar fires,
human victims may have been sacrificed to the idol by being roasted in its
hollow body or placed on its sloping hands and allowed to roll into a pit of
fire. It was in the latter fashion that the Carthaginians sacrificed their
offspring to Moloch. The children were laid on the hands of a calf-headed
image of bronze, from which they slid into a fiery oven, while the people
danced to the music of flutes and timbrels to drown the shrieks of the
burning victims. The resemblance which the Cretan traditions bear to the
Carthaginian practice suggests that the worship associated with the names of
Minos and the Minotaur may have been powerfully influenced by that of a
Semitic Baal. In the tradition of Phalaris, tyrant of Agrigentum, and his
brazen bull we may have an echo of similar rites in Sicily, where the
Carthaginian power struck deep roots.      12
  In the province of Lagos, the Ijebu tribe of the Yoruba race is divided
into two branches, which are known respectively as the Ijebu Ode and the
Ijebu Remon. The Ode branch of the tribe is ruled by a chief who bears the
title of Awujale and is surrounded by a great deal of mystery. Down to recent
times his face might not be seen even by his own subjects, and if
circumstances obliged him to communicate with them he did so through a screen
which hid him from view. The other or Remon branch of the Ijebu tribe is
governed by a chief, who ranks below the Awujale. Mr. John Parkinson was
informed that in former times this subordinate chief used to be killed with
ceremony after a rule of three years. As the country is now under British
protection the custom of putting the chief to death at the end of a three
years� reign has long been abolished, and Mr. Parkinson was unable to
ascertain any particulars on the subject.      13
  At Babylon, within historical times, the tenure of the kingly office was in
practice lifelong, yet in theory it would seem to have been merely annual.
For every year at the festival of Zagmuk the king had to renew his power by
seizing the hands of the image of Marduk in his great temple of Esagil at
Babylon. Even when Babylon passed under the power of Assyria, the monarchs of
that country were expected to legalise their claim to the throne every year
by coming to Babylon and performing the ancient ceremony at the New Year
festival, and some of them found the obligation so burdensome that rather
than discharge it they renounced the title of king altogether and contented
themselves with the humbler one of Governor. Further, it would appear that in
remote times, though not within the historical period, the kings of Babylon
or their barbarous predecessors forfeited not merely their crown but their
life at the end of a year�s tenure of office. At least this is the conclusion
to which the following evidence seems to point. According to the historian
Berosus, who as a Babylonian priest spoke with ample knowledge, there was
annually celebrated in Babylon a festival called the Sacaea. It began on the
sixteenth day of the month Lous, and lasted for five days, during which
masters and servants changed places, the servants giving orders and the
masters obeying them. A prisoner condemned to death was dressed in the king�s
robes, seated on the king�s throne, allowed to issue whatever commands he
pleased, to eat, drink, and enjoy himself, and to lie with the king�s
concubines. But at the end of the five days he was stripped of his royal
robes, scourged, and hanged or impaled. During his brief term of office he
bore the title of Zoganes. This custom might perhaps have been explained as
merely a grim jest perpetrated in a season of jollity at the expense of an
unhappy criminal. But one circumstance�the leave given to the mock king to
enjoy the king�s concubines�is decisive against this interpretation.
Considering the jealous seclusion of an oriental despot�s harem we may be
quite certain that permission to invade it would never have been granted by
the despot, least of all to a condemned criminal, except for the very gravest
cause. This cause could hardly be other than that the condemned man was about
to die in the king�s stead, and that to make the substitution perfect it was
necessary he should enjoy the full rights of royalty during his brief reign.
There is nothing surprising in this substitution. The rule that the king must
be put to death either on the appearance of any symptom of bodily decay or at
the end of a fixed period is certainly one which, sooner or later, the kings
would seek to abolish or modify. We have seen that in Ethiopia, Sofala, and
Eyeo the rule was boldly set aside by enlightened monarchs; and that in
Calicut the old custom of killing the king at the end of twelve years was
changed into a permission granted to any one at the end of the twelve years�
period to attack the king, and, in the event of killing him, to reign in his
stead; though, as the king took care at these times to be surrounded by his
guards, the permission was little more than a form. Another way of modifying
the stern old rule is seen in the Babylonian custom just described. When the
time drew near for the king to be put to death (in Babylon this appears to
have been at the end of a single year�s reign) he abdicated for a few days,
during which a temporary king reigned and suffered in his stead. At first the
temporary king may have been an innocent person, possibly a member of the
king�s own family; but with the growth of civilisation the sacrifice of an
innocent person would be revolting to the public sentiment, and accordingly a
condemned criminal would be invested with the brief and fatal sovereignty. In
the sequel we shall find other examples of a dying criminal representing a
dying god. For we must not forget that, as the case of the Shilluk kings
clearly shows, the king is slain in his character of a god or a demigod, his
death and resurrection, as the only means of perpetuating the divine life
unimpaired, being deemed necessary for the salvation of his people and the
world.     14
  A vestige of a practice of putting the king to death at the end of a year�s
reign appears to have survived in the festival called Macahity, which used to
be celebrated in Hawaii during the last month of the year. About a hundred
years ago a Russian voyager described the custom as follows: �The taboo
Macahity is not unlike to our festival of Christmas. It continues a whole
month, during which the people amuse themselves with dances, plays, and
sham-fights of every kind. The king must open this festival wherever he is.
On this occasion his majesty dresses himself in his richest cloak and helmet,
and is paddled in a canoe along the shore, followed sometimes by many of his
subjects. He embarks early, and must finish his excursion at sunrise. The
strongest and most expert of the warriors is chosen to receive him on his
landing. This warrior watches the canoe along the beach; and as soon as the
king lands, and has thrown off his cloak, he darts his spear at him, from a
distance of about thirty paces, and the king must either catch the spear in
his hand, or suffer from it: there is no jesting in the business. Having
caught it, he carries it under his arm, with the sharp end downwards, into
the temple or heavoo. On his entrance, the assembled multitude begin their
sham-fights, and immediately the air is obscured by clouds of spears, made
for the occasion with blunted ends. Hamamea [the king] has been frequently
advised to abolish this ridiculous ceremony, in which he risks his life every
year; but to no effect. His answer always is, that he is as able to catch a
spear as any one on the island is to throw it at him. During the Macahity,
all punishments are remitted throughout the country; and no person can leave
the place in which he commences these holidays, let the affair be ever so
important.�    15
  That a king should regularly have been put to death at the close of a
year�s reign will hardly appear improbable when we learn that to this day
there is still a kingdom in which the reign and the life of the sovereign are
limited to a single day. In Ngoio, a province of the ancient kingdom of
Congo, the rule obtains that the chief who assumes the cap of sovereignty is
always killed on the night after his coronation. The right of succession lies
with the chief of the Musurongo; but we need not wonder that he does not
exercise it, and that the throne stands vacant. �No one likes to lose his
life for a few hours� glory on the Ngoio throne.�      16
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