Lang Andrew
Modern Mythology
Mr. Frazer on Animals in Greek Religion
In The Golden Bough (ii. 37) Mr. Frazer, whose superior knowledge and acuteness I am pleased to confess, has a theory different from that which I (following McLennan) propounded before The Golden Bough appeared. Greece had a bull-shaped Dionysus. 83 ‘There is left no room to doubt that in rending and devouring a live bull at his festival, his worshippers believed that they were killing the god, eating his flesh, and drinking his blood.’ 84 Mr. Frazer concludes that there are two possible explanations of Dionysus in his bull aspect. (1) This was an expression of his character as a deity of vegetation, ‘especially as the bull is a common embodiment of the corn-spirit in Northern Europe.’ 85 (2) The other possible explanation ‘appears to be the view taken by Mr. Lang, who suggests that the bull-formed Dionysus “had either been developed out of, or had succeeded to, the worship of a bull-totem.”’ 86
Now, anthropologists are generally agreed, I think, that occasional sacrifices of and communion in the flesh of the totem or other sacred animals do occur among totemists. 87 But Mr. Frazer and I both admit, and indeed are eager to state publicly, that the evidence for sacrifice of the totem, and communion in eating him, is very scanty. The fact is rather inferred from rites among peoples just emerging from totemism (see the case of the Californian buzzard, in Bancroft) than derived from actual observation. On this head too much has been taken for granted by anthropologists. But I learn that direct evidence has been obtained, and is on the point of publication. The facts I may not anticipate here, but the evidence will be properly sifted, and bias of theory discounted.
To return to my theory of the development of Dionysus into a totem, or of his inheritance of the rites of a totem, Mr. Frazer says, ‘Of course this is possible, but it is not yet certain that Aryans ever had totemism.’ 88 Now, in writing of the mouse, I had taken care to observe that, in origin, the mouse as a totem need not have been Aryan, but adopted. People who think that the Aryans did not pass through a stage of totemism, female kin, and so forth, can always fall back (to account for apparent survivals of such things among Aryans) on ‘Pre-Aryan conquered peoples,’ such as the Picts. Aryans may be enticed by these bad races and become Pictis ipsis Pictiores.
Aryan Totems (?)
Generally speaking (and how delightfully characteristic of us all is this!), I see totems in Greek sacred beasts, where Mr. Frazer sees the corn-spirit embodied in a beast, and where Mr. Max Müller sees (in the case of Indra, called the bull) ‘words meaning simply male, manly, strong,’ an ‘animal simile.’ 89 Here, of course, Mr. Max Müller is wholly in the right, when a Vedic poet calls Indra ‘strong bull,’ or the like. Such poetic epithets do not afford the shadow of a presumption for Vedic totemism, even as a survival. Mr. Frazer agrees with me and Mr. Max Müller in this certainty. I myself say, ‘If in the shape of Indra there be traces of fur and feather, they are not very numerous nor very distinct, but we give them for what they may be worth.’ I then give them. 90 To prove that I do not force the evidence, I take the Vedic text. 91 ‘His mother, a cow, bore Indra, an unlicked calf.’ I then give Sayana’s explanation. Indra entered into the body of Dakshina, and was reborn of her. She also bore a cow. But this legend, I say, ‘has rather the air of being an invention, après coup, to account for the Vedic text of calf Indra, born from a cow, than of being a genuine ancient myth.’ The Vedic myth of Indra’s amours in shape of a ram, I say ‘will doubtless be explained away as metaphorical.’ Nay, I will go further. It is perfectly conceivable to me that in certain cases a poetic epithet applied by a poet to a god (say bull, ram, or snake) might be misconceived, and might give rise to the worship of a god as a bull, or snake, or ram. Further, if civilised ideas perished, and if a race retained a bull-god, born of their degradation and confusion of mind, they might eat him in a ritual sacrifice. But that all totemistic races are totemistic, because they all first metaphorically applied animal names to gods, and then forgot what they had meant, and worshipped these animals, sans phrase, appears to me to be, if not incredible, still greatly in want of evidence.
Mr. Frazer and I
It is plain that where a people claim no connection by descent and blood from a sacred animal, are neither of his name nor kin, the essential feature of totemism is absent. I do not see that eaters of the bull Dionysus or cultivators of the pig Demeter 92 made any claim to kindred with either god. Their towns were not allied in name with pig or bull. If traces of such a belief existed, they have been sloughed off. Thus Mr. Frazer’s explanation of Greek pigs and bulls and all their odd rites, as connected with the beast in which the corn-spirit is incarnate, holds its ground better than my totemistic suggestion. But I am not sure that the corn-spirit accounts for the Sminthian mouse in all his aspects, nor for the Arcadian and Attic bear-rites and myths of Artemis. Mouse and bear do appear in Mr. Frazer’s catalogue of forms of the corn-spirits, taken from Mannhardt. 93 But the Arcadians, as we shall see, claimed descent from a bear, and the mouse place-names and badges of the Troad yield a hint of the same idea. The many Greek family claims to descent from gods as dogs, bulls, ants, serpents, and so on, may spring from gratitude to the corn-spirit. Does Mr. Frazer think so? Nobody knows so well as he that similar claims of descent from dogs and snakes are made by many savage kindreds who have no agriculture, no corn, and, of course, no corn-spirits. These remarks, I trust, are not undiscriminating, and naturally I yield the bull Dionysus and the pig Demeter to the corn-spirit, vice totem, superseded. But I do hanker after the Arcadian bear as, at least, a possible survival of totemism. The Scottish school inspector removed a picture of Behemoth, as a fabulous animal, from the wall of a school room. But, not being sure of the natural history of the unicorn, ‘he just let him bide, and gave the puir beast the benefit o’ the doubt.’
Will Mr. Frazer give the Arcadian bear ‘the benefit of the doubt’?
I am not at all bigoted in the opinion that the Greeks may have once been totemists. The strongest presumption in favour of the hypothesis is the many claims of descent from a god disguised as a beast. But the institution, if ever it did exist among the ancestors of the Greeks, had died out very long before Homer. We cannot expect to find traces of the prohibition to marry a woman of the same totem. In Rome we do find traces of exogamy, as among totemists. ‘Formerly they did not marry women connected with them by blood.’ 94 But we do not find, and would not expect to find, that the ‘blood’ was indicated by the common totem.
Mr. Frazer on Origin of Totemism
Mr. Frazer has introduced the term ‘sex-totems,’ in application to Australia. This is connected with his theory of the Origin of Totemism. I cannot quite approve of the term sex-totems.
If in Australia each sex has a protecting animal – the men a bat, the women an owl – if the slaying of a bat by a woman menaces the death of a man, if the slaying of an owl by a woman may cause the decease of a man, all that is very unlike totemism in other countries. Therefore, I ask Mr. Frazer whether, in the interests of definite terminology, he had not better give some other name than ‘totem’ to his Australian sex protecting animals? He might take for a local fact, a local name, and say ‘Sex-kobong.’
Once more, for even we anthropologists have our bickerings, I would ‘hesitate dislike’ of this passage in Mr. Frazer’s work: 95
‘When a savage names himself after an animal, calls it his brother, and refuses to kill it, the animal is said to be his totem.’ Distinguo! A savage does not name himself after his totem, any more than Mr. Frazer named himself by his clan-name, originally Norman. It was not as when Miss Betty Amory named herself ‘Blanche,’ by her own will and fantasy. A savage inherits his totem name, usually through the mother’s side. The special animal which protects an individual savage (Zapotec, tona; Guatemalan, nagual; North America, Manitou, ‘medicine’) is not that savage’s totem. 96 The nagual, tona, or manitou is selected for each particular savage, at birth or puberty, in various ways: in America, North and Central, by a dream in a fast, or after a dream. (‘Post-hypnotic suggestion.’) But a savage is born to his kin-totem. A man is born a wolf of the Delawares, his totem is the wolf, he cannot help himself. But after, or in, his medicine fast and sleep, he may choose a dormouse or a squirrel for his manitou (tona, nagual) or private protecting animal. These are quite separate from totems, as Mr. Max Müller also points out.
Of totems, I, for one, must always write in the sense of Mr. McLennan, who introduced totemism to science. Thus, to speak of ‘sex-totems,’ or to call the protecting animal of each individual a ‘totem,’ is, I fear, to bring in confusion, and to justify Mr. Max Müller’s hard opinion that ‘totemism’ is ill-defined. For myself, I use the term in the strict sense which I have given, and in no other.
Mr. McLennan did not profess, as we saw, to know the origin of totems. He once made a guess in conversation with me, but he abandoned it. Professor Robertson Smith did not know the origin of totems. ‘The origin of totems is as much a problem as the origin of local gods.’ 97 Mr. Max Müller knows the origin: sign-boards are the origin, or one origin. But what was the origin of sign-boards? ‘We carry the pictures of saints on our banners because we worship them; we don’t worship them because we carry them as banners,’ says De Brosses, an acute man. Did the Indians worship totems because they carved them on sign-boards (if they all did so), or did they carve them on sign-boards because they worshipped them?
Mr. Frazer’s Theory
The Australian respects his ‘sex-totem’ because the life of his sex is bound up in its life. He speaks of it as his brother, and calls himself (as distinguished by his sex) by its name. As a man he is a bat, as a woman his wife is an owl. As a member of a given human kin he may be a kangaroo, perhaps his wife may be an emu. But Mr. Frazer derives totemism, all the world over, from the same origin as he assigns to ‘sex-totems.’ In these the life of each sex is bound up, therefore they are by each sex revered. Therefore totemism must have the same origin, substituting ‘kin’ or ‘tribe’ for sex. He gives examples from Australia, in which killing a man’s totem killed the man. 98
I would respectfully demur or suggest delay. Can we explain an American institution, a fairly world-wide institution, totemism, by the local peculiarities of belief in isolated Australia? If, in America, to kill a wolf was to kill Uncas or Chingachgook, I would incline to agree with Mr. Frazer. But no such evidence is adduced. Nor does it help Mr. Frazer to plead that the killing of an American’s nagual or of a Zulu’s Ihlozi kills that Zulu or American. For a nagual, as I have shown, is one thing and a totem is another; nor am I aware that Zulus are totemists. The argument of Mr. Frazer is based on analogy and on a special instance. That instance of the Australians is so archaic that it may show totemism in an early form. Mr. Frazer’s may be a correct hypothesis, but it needs corroboration. However, Mr. Frazer concludes: ‘The totem, if I am right, is simply the receptacle in which a man keeps his life.’ Yet he never shows that a Choctaw does keep his life in his totem. Perhaps the Choctaw is afraid to let out so vital a secret. The less reticent Australian blurts it forth. Suppose the hypothesis correct. Men and women keep their lives in their naguals, private sacred beasts. But why, on this score, should a man be afraid to make love to a woman of the same nagual? Have Red Indian women any naguals? I never heard of them.
Since writing this I have read Miss Kingsley’s Travels in West Africa. There the ‘bush-souls’ which she mentions (p. 459) bear analogies to totems, being inherited sacred animals, connected with the life of members of families. The evidence, though vaguely stated, favours Mr. Frazer’s hypothesis, to which Miss Kingsley makes no allusion.
THE VALIDITY OF ANTHROPOLOGICAL EVIDENCE
Anthropological Evidence
In all that we say of totemism, as, later, of fetishism, we rely on an enormous mass of evidence from geographers, historians, travellers, settlers, missionaries, explorers, traders, Civil Servants, and European officers of native police in Australia and Burmah. Our witnesses are of all ages, from Herodotus to our day, of many nations, of many creeds, of different theoretical opinions. This evidence, so world-wide, so diversified in source, so old, and so new, Mr. Max Müller impugns. But, before meeting his case, let us clear up a personal question.
‘Positions one never held’
‘It is not pleasant [writes our author] to have to defend positions which one never held, nor wishes to hold, and I am therefore all the more grateful to those who have pointed out the audacious misrepresentations of my real opinion in comparative mythology, and have rebuked the flippant tone of some of my eager critics’ [i. 26, 27].
I must here confess to the belief that no gentleman or honest man ever consciously misrepresents the ideas of an opponent. If it is not too flippant an illustration, I would say that no bowler ever throws consciously and wilfully; his action, however, may unconsciously develop into a throw. There would be no pleasure in argument, cricket, or any other sport if we knowingly cheated. Thus it is always unconsciously that adversaries pervert, garble, and misrepresent each other’s opinions; unconsciously, not ‘audaciously.’ If people would start from the major premise that misrepresentations, if such exist, are unconscious errors, much trouble would be spared.
Positions which I never held
Thus Mr. Max Müller never dreamed of ‘audaciously misrepresenting’ me when, in four lines, he made two statements about my opinions and my materials which are at the opposite pole from the accurate (i. 12): ‘When I speak of the Vedic Rishis as primitive, I do not mean what Mr. A. Lang means when he calls his savages primitive.’ But I have stated again and again that I don’t call my savages ‘primitive.’ Thus ‘contemporary savages may be degraded, they certainly are not primitive.’ 99 ‘One thing about the past of [contemporary] savages we do know: it must have been a long past.’ 100 ‘We do not wish to call savages primitive.’ 101 All this was written in reply to the very proper caution of Dr. Fairbairn that ‘savages are not primitive.’ Of course they are not; that is of the essence of my theory. I regret the use of the word ‘primitive’ even in Primitive Culture. Savages, as a rule, are earlier, more backward than civilised races, as, of course, Mr. Max Müller admits, where language is concerned. 102 Now, after devoting several pages to showing in detail how very far from primitive even the Australian tribes are, might I (if I were ill-natured) not say that Mr. Max Müller ‘audaciously misrepresents’ me when he avers that I ‘call my savages primitive’? But he never dreamed of misrepresenting me; he only happened not to understand my position. However, as he complains in his own case, ‘it is not pleasant to have to defend positions which one never held’ (i. 26), and, indeed, I shall defend no such position.
My adversary next says that my ‘savages are of the nineteenth century.’ It is of the essence of my theory that my savages are of many different centuries. Those described by Herodotus, Strabo, Dio Cassius, Christoval de Moluna, Sahagun, Cieza de Leon, Brébeuf, Garoilasso de la Vega, Lafitau, Nicholas Damascenus, Leo Africanus, and a hundred others, are not of the nineteenth century. This fact is essential, because the evidence of old writers, from Herodotus to Egede, corroborates the evidence of travellers, Indian Civil Servants, and missionaries of today, by what Dr. Tylor, when defending our materials, calls ‘the test of recurrence.’ Professor Millar used the same argument in his Origin of Rank, in the last century. Thus Mr. Max Müller unconsciously misrepresents me (and my savages) when he says that my ‘savages are of the nineteenth century.’ The fact is the reverse. They are of many centuries. These two unconscious misrepresentations occur in four consecutive lines.
Anthropological Evidence
In connection with this topic (the nature of anthropological evidence), Mr. Max Müller (i. 205-207) repeats what he has often said before. Thus he cites Dr. Codrington’s remarks, most valuable remarks, on the difficulty of reporting correctly about the ideas and ways of savages. I had cited the same judicious writer to the same effect, 103 and had compiled a number of instances in which the errors of travellers were exposed, and their habitual fallacies were detected. Fifteen closely printed pages were devoted by me to a criterion of evidence, and a reply to Mr. Max Müller’s oft-repeated objections.
‘When [I said] we find Dr. Codrington taking the same precautions in Melanesia as Mr. Sproat took among the Ahts, and when his account of Melanesian myths reads like a close copy of Mr. Sproat’s account of Aht legends, and when both are corroborated [as to the existence of analogous savage myths] by the collections of Bleek, and Hahn, and Gill, and Castren, and Rink, in far different corners of the world; while the modern testimony of these scholarly men is in harmony with that of the old Jesuit missionaries, and of untaught adventurers who have lived for many years with savages, surely it will be admitted that the difficulty of ascertaining savage opinion has been, to a great extent, overcome.’
I also cited at length Dr. Tylor’s masterly argument to the same effect, an argument offered by him to ‘a great historian,’ apparently.
Mr. Max Müller’s Method of Controversy
Now no member of the reading public, perusing Mr. Max Müller on anthropological evidence (i. 24-26, 205-207), could guess that his cautions about evidence are not absolutely new to us. He could not guess that Dr. Tylor replied to them ‘before they were made’ by our present critic (I think), and that I did the same with great elaboration. Our defence of our evidence is not noticed by Mr. Max Müller. He merely repeats what he has often said before on the subject, exactly as if anthropologists were ignorant of it, and had not carefully studied, assimilated, profited by it, and answered it. Our critic and monitor might have said, ‘I have examined your test of recurrences, and what else you have to urge, and, for such and such reasons, I must reject it.’ Then we could reconsider our position in this new light. But Mr. Max Müller does not oblige us in this way.
Mr. Max Müller on our Evidence
In an earlier work, The Gifford Lectures for 1891, 104 our author had devoted more space to a criticism of our evidence. To this, then, we turn (pp. 169-180, 413-436). Passing Mr. Max Müller’s own difficulties in understanding a Mohawk (which the Mohawk no doubt also felt in understanding Mr. Max Müller), we reach (p. 172) the fables about godless savages. These, it is admitted, are exploded among scholars in anthropology. So we do, at least, examine evidence. Mr. Max Müller now fixes on a flagrant case, some fables about the godless Mincopies of the Andaman Islands. But he relies on the evidence of Mr. Man. So do I, as far as it seems beyond doubt. 105 Mr. Man is ‘a careful observer, a student of language, and perfectly trustworthy.’ These are the reasons for which I trust him. But when Mr. Man says that the Mincopies have a god, Puluga, who inhabits ‘a stone house in the sky,’ I remark, ‘Here the idea of the stone house is necessarily borrowed from our stone houses at Port Blair.’ 106 When Mr. Man talks of Puluga’s only-begotten son, ‘a sort of archangel,’ medium between Puluga and the angels, I ‘hesitate a doubt.’ Did not this idea reach the Mincopie mind from the same quarter as the stone house, especially as Puluga’s wife is ‘a green shrimp or an eel’? At all events, it is right to bear in mind that, as the stone house of the Mincopie heaven is almost undeniably of European origin, the only-begotten mediating son of Puluga and the green shrimp may bear traces of Christian teaching. Caution is indicated.
Does Mr. Max Müller, so strict about evidence, boggle at the stone house, the only son, the shrimp? Not he; he never hints at the shrimp! Does he point out that one anthropologist has asked for caution in weighing what the Mincopies told Mr. Man? Very far from that, he complains that ‘the old story is repeated again and again’ about the godless Andamans. 107 The intelligent Glasgow audience could hardly guess that anthropologists were watchful, and knew pretty well what to believe about the Mincopies. Perhaps in Glasgow they do not read us anthropologists much.
On p. 413 our author returns to the charge. He observes (as I have also observed) the often contradictory nature of our evidence. Here I may offer an anecdote. The most celebrated of living English philosophers heard that I was at one time writing a book on the ‘ghostly’ in history, anthropology, and society, old or new, savage or civilised. He kindly dictated a letter to me asking how I could give time and pains to any such marvels. For, he argued, the most unveracious fables were occasionally told about himself in newspapers and social gossip. If evidence cannot be trusted about a living and distinguished British subject, how can it be accepted about hallucinations?
I replied, with respect, that on this principle nothing could be investigated at all. History, justice, trade, everything would be impossible. We must weigh and criticise evidence. As my friendly adviser had written much on savage customs and creeds, he best knew that conflicting testimony, even on his own chosen theme, is not peculiar to ghost stories. In a world of conflicting testimony we live by criticising it. Thus, when Mr. Max Müller says that I call my savages ‘primitive,’ and when I, on the other hand, quote passages in which I explicitly decline to do so, the evidence as to my views is contradictory. Yet the truth can be discovered by careful research.
The application is obvious. We must not despair of truth! As our monitor says, ‘we ought to discard all evidence that does not come to us either from a man who was able himself to converse with native races, or who was at least an eye-witness of what he relates.’ Precisely, that is our method. I, for one, do not take even a ghost story at second hand, much less anything so startling as a savage rite. And we discount and allow for every bias and prejudice of our witnesses. I have made a list of these idola in M. R. R. ii. 334-344.
Mr. Max Müller now gives a list of inconsistencies in descriptions of Australian Blacks. They are not Blacks, they have a dash of copper colour! Well, I never said that they had ‘the sooty tinge of the African negro.’ Did anybody?
Mr. Ridley thinks that all natives are called ‘Murri.’ Mr. Curr says ‘No.’ Important. We must reserve our judgment.
Missionaries say the Blacks are ‘devoid of moral ideas.’ What missionaries? What anthropologist believes such nonsense? There are differences of opinion about landed property, communal or private. The difference rages among historians of civilised races. So, also, as to portable property. Mr. Curr (Mr. Max Müller’s witness) agrees here with those whose works I chiefly rely on.
‘Mr. McLennan has built a whole social theory on the statement’ (a single statement) ‘made by Sir George Grey, and contradicted by Mr. Curr.’ Mr. McLennan would be, I think, rather surprised at this remark; but what would he do? Why, he would re-examine the whole question, decide by the balance of evidence, and reject, modify, or retain his theory accordingly.
All sciences have to act in this way; therefore almost all scientific theories are fluctuating. Nothing here is peculiar to anthropology. A single word, or two or three, will prove or disprove a theory of phonetic laws. Even phonetics are disputable ground.
In defence of my late friend Mr. McLennan, I must point out that if he built a whole social theory on a single statement of Sir George Grey’s, and if Mr. Curr denies the truth of the statement, Mr. Frazer has produced six or seven witnesses to the truth of that very statement in other parts of the world than Australia. 108 To this circumstance we may return.
Mr. Max Müller next produces Mr. Curr’s opinions about the belief in a god and morality among Australians. ‘Here he really contradicts himself.’ The disputable evidence about Australian marriage laws is next shown to be disputable. That is precisely why Dr. Tylor is applying to it his unrivalled diligence in accurate examination. We await his results. Finally, the contradictory evidence as to Tasmanian religion is exposed. We have no Codrington or Bleek for Tasmania. The Tasmanians are extinct, and Science should leave the evidence as to their religion out of her accounts. We cannot cross-examine defunct Tasmanians.
From all this it follows that anthropologists must sift and winnow their evidence, like men employed in every other branch of science. And who denies it? What anthropologist of mark accepts as gospel any casual traveller’s tale?
The Test of Recurrences
Even for travellers’ tales we have a use, we can apply to them Dr. Tylor’s ‘Test of Recurrences.’
‘If two independent visitors to different countries, say a mediæval Mahommedan in Tartary and a modern Englishman in Dahomey, or a Jesuit missionary in Brazil and a Wesley an in the Fiji Islands, agree in describing some analogous art, or rite, or myth among the people they have visited, it becomes difficult or impossible to set down such correspondence to accident or wilful fraud. A story by a bushranger in Australia may perhaps be objected to as a mistake or an invention, but did a Methodist minister in Guinea conspire with him to cheat the public by telling the same story there?’
The whole passage should be read: it was anticipated by Professor Millar in his Origin of Rank, and has been restated by myself. 109 Thus I wrote (in 1887) ‘it is to be regretted that Mr. Max Müller entirely omits to mention.. the corroboration which is derived from the undesigned coincidence of independent testimony.’
In 1891-1892 he still entirely omits to mention, to his Glasgow audience, the strength of his opponents’ case. He would serve us better if he would criticise the test of recurrences, and show us its weak points.
Bias of Theory
Yes, our critic may reply, ‘but Mr. Curr thinks that there is a strong tendency in observers abroad, if they have become acquainted with a new and startling theory that has become popular at home, to see confirmations of it everywhere.’ So I had explicitly stated in commenting on Dr. Tylor’s test of recurrences. 110 ‘Travellers and missionaries have begun to read anthropological books, and their evidence is, therefore, much more likely to be biassed now by anthropological theories than it was of old.’ So Mr. McLennan, in the very earliest of all writings on totemism, said: ‘As the totem has not till now got itself mixed up with speculations the observers have been unbiassed.’ Mr. McLennan finally declined to admit any evidence as to the savage marriage laws collected after his own theory, and other theories born from it, had begun to bias observers of barbaric tribes.
It does not quite seem to me that Mr. Max Müller makes his audience acquainted with these precautions of anthropologists, with their sedulous sifting of evidence, and watchfulness against the theoretical bias of observers. Thus he assails the faible, not the fort of our argument, and may even seem not to be aware that we have removed the faible by careful discrimination.
What opinion must his readers, who know not Mr. McLennan’s works, entertain about that acute and intrepid pioneer, a man of warm temper, I admit, a man who threw out his daringly original theory at a heat, using at first such untrustworthy materials as lay at hand, but a man whom disease could not daunt, and whom only death prevented from building a stately edifice on the soil which he was the first to explore?
Our author often returns to the weakness of the evidence of travellers and missionaries.
Concerning Missionaries
Here is an example of a vivacité in our censor. ‘With regard to ghosts and spirits among the Melanesians, our authorities, whether missionaries, traders, or writers on ethnology, are troubled by no difficulties’ (i. 207). Yet on this very page Mr. Max Müller has been citing the ‘difficulties’ which do ‘trouble’ a ‘missionary,’ Dr. Codrington. And, for my own part, when I want information about Melanesian beliefs, it is to Dr. Codrington’s work that I go. 111 The doctor, himself a missionary, ex hypothesi ‘untroubled by difficulties,’ has just been quoted by Mr. Max Müller, and by myself, as a witness to the difficulties which trouble himself and us. What can Mr. Max Müller possibly mean? Am I wrong? Was Dr. Codrington not a missionary? At all events, he is the authority on Melanesia, a ‘high’ authority (i. 206).
