Possession, Demoniacal And Other

by T K Oesterreich

  The existence of prophets who vaticinated in an abnormal state of excitement can also be demonstrated in Egypt. A case is even known in which a prophet fell dead in the midst of an access of prophetic frenzy.3 But so far as I am aware it cannot be shown that real states of possession occurred; the expression is inadequate for this purpose.

  (ii.) IN THE PRESENT

  We still encounter artificial possession amongst the higher civilizations of to-day, principally in Asia, and more especially in India and China.

  In India it is not really found amongst the educated classes, but is by no means unknown amongst followers of the Hindu religion. In this connection I may quote from a document which the missionary, Herr Fröhlich, has been kind enough to send me at my request as supplementing his work on the popular religion of the Tamils:4

  I have not myself observed any cases of possession amongst the Hindus, but have heard of them times without number. They always concerned women or priests of the “village gods.”

  The manifestations in question amongst Hindu women of every caste are, according to all that I remember to have heard of them, entirely similar (except for the discourses) to those of Christian women (already described on p. 213). The priests, on the other hand, are as it were the official mediums through whom the village gods speak, make known their will, and reply to questions. One of these priests, who later became a Christian, related when questioned that he had always felt that “something came over him,” and after his conversion was still persuaded that in the states referred to “a devil” had taken possession of him. The worshippers of the village gods (particularly Kali, Mari, and Murugen) believe that through their priests they are in direct communication with their gods—through these very utterances of the priest when in a state of possession. They sometimes point a frank contrast with the Christians: “Your God never talks to you, but we have a god who converses with us.”

  As regards manifestations by the priests or others of the god’s adorers during these states I have only observed a staggering and reeling gait like that of a drunken man when they went towards the temple of their god or goddess. What then occurred in the temple itself and how they comported themselves outwardly when delivering the oracle, I have not been able to observe. The tenor of the “divine sayings” may be typified by the following examples: “Last year you brought us no offerings, therefore I have made your child sick; vow to offer me a hen and the child shall grow well” (reply to a question in a case of sickness). “I shall take many more from this village” (oracle of Kali on the outbreak of a cholera epidemic). “I am Mari; here will I live, build me a temple here.” “Have we no music, no flowers, no lemons?” (oracle on the occasion of a festival when nothing in the way of music, etc., had been provided). “Bring the child to my temple, then it will be cured.”

  This account depicts for us the primitive form of the oracle, such as may once have formed the basis of the Hellenic one. The most characteristic feature is the complete lack of moral superiority on the part of the divinity; it is only the egotism of the Hindu peasant which speaks through the visiting gods, who generally demand offerings before they will give their help. It should be observed that even at this early stage the impression is produced of a strange objectivity intruding upon the consciousness, and those who believe that this takes place in the higher stages of inspiration will hardly be able to deny it here. It is naturally an assumption extraordinarily fertile in consequences to admit that there is not only a divine and transcendental power able to enter the human consciousness, but also lesser powers—it brings us perilously near to belief in the devil. It is also noteworthy that according to these declarations of the priests there is, at least in general, no somnambulistic possession, otherwise they would not remember these states at all.

  In Southern India and Ceylon possession is found particularly in the so-called devil-dances. These are religious dances which by their whole character recall the dervish-dances of Islam. Emil Schmidt writes in the account of his travels:

  If the altars of the higher demons are poor enough, those of the inferior spirits, the Bey-kovils or temples of the devil, are still more so. They often consist of a roof of leaves resting on four bamboostems, or are even uncovered; a red painted stone or a tree-stump, a pyramid of earth flattened at the top and painted with red and white bands, then constitutes the whole place of worship. There are no special priests; the chief of the village or family or any other person who fills the vocation, be he man or woman, accomplishes the sacrifices and ceremonies pleasing to the spirits. These ceremonies are of the same kind as for the superior demons; it is rare that the blood of a cock is not shed. But there are certain particularly efficacious ecstatic states, the devil-dances, which bear the strongest resemblance to the shamanistic dances of Northern Asia. Bishop Caldwell has given a suggestive description of them.

  Fantastically dressed, amidst the din of rattles, drums and flutes, the conjuror of spirits begins his dance. “… the music is at first comparatively slow, and the dancer seems impassive and sullen; and either he stands still or moves about in gloomy silence. Gradually, as the music becomes quicker and louder, his excitement begins to rise. Sometimes to help him to work himself up into a frenzy he uses medicated draughts; cuts and lacerates his flesh till the blood flows; lashes himself with a huge whip; presses a burning torch to his breast; drinks the blood which flows from his own wounds; or drinks the blood of the sacrifice, putting the throat of the decapitated goat to his mouth. Then, as if he had acquired new life, he begins to brandish his staff of bells, and dance with a quick, but wild, unsteady step. Suddenly the afflatus descends. There is no mistaking that glare, or those frantic leaps. He snorts, he stares, he gyrates. The demon has now taken bodily possession of him; and though he retains the power of utterance and of motion, both are under the demon’s control, and his separate consciousness is in abeyance. The bystanders signalize the event by raising a long shout attended with a peculiar vibratory noise.

  “The devil-dancer is now worshipped as a present deity; and every bystander consults him respecting his disease, his wants, the welfare of his absent relations, and the offerings which are to be made for the accomplishment of his wishes.

  “As the devil-dancer acts to admiration the part of a maniac, it requires some experience to enable a person to interpret his dubious or unmeaning replies, his muttered voices and uncouth gestures; but the wishes of the parties who consult him, help them greatly to interpret his meaning.”1

  As regards Eastern Asia we are indebted to Bastian for several accounts. This indefatigable researcher whose importance to scholarship is still underrated owing to the mediocre and confused literary style of his publications, (he is not merely important as collector and organizer of the Berlin Ethnographical Museum), recognized the great importance of states of possession and understood their psychological nature. His accounts, which relate to Siam, Burmah and China, are for the most part all too short.1

  Declarations made by Indian spirit-dancers themselves to the missionaries are not without interest, showing as they do the violently compulsive character of these states and how even converted natives are once more suddenly seized by them against their will.

  The spirit-dancer (amongst the Arayer) is gripped not so much by the arak which he has drunk during the dance as by an external influence (on the entry into him of the Pisachi) or so the converts explained their state and the pricks which are felt by those passing the holy places, and also afterwards, in hands and feet. A native leaning towards conversion gave to Mr. Painter the missionary the figures which are worn, the dress hung with bells, the belt adorned with pictures, etc. (without consenting to take any money for them), but nevertheless as on his return he passed the shrine which he had theretofore regarded as sacred he was seized with a sudden fit which caused him to leap high into the air and then drove him to flee into the jungle (in order to be reconciled with the offended Pisachi).

  A converted Bhuta-dancer admitted, moreover, to the
missionary Herr Götze (in Mangalora) that the Brahman communicated in advance what was to be said, so that at the instant when the Bhuta seized him all these things might come vividly into his memory (and control him).2

  In a Burmese town a native spoke to Bastian of the “witches (Dzon) who wandered about at night spitting fire from their mouths, and put something into people’s food so that they fell ill. In a town where a witch dwelt her example was often epidemic; in his quarter almost every week women or girls danced in the street. A Mo-Zea (doctor or medicineman) was then sent for who caused her head to be hidden in a tamein (woman’s robe) and beat her soundly with a stick. The patient, however, felt nothing of the trouncing but only the demon (Nat) within her.”3

  Another Burman related that the exorcist showed the possessed a stick and threatened her with it.

  The witch who is within her then grows anxious and adores her master with joined hands. She must tell everything exactly and in minute detail: what she is called, where she lives, who are her relations or friends, etc. On further examination she generally admits that she has caused this misfortune through hatred or vengeance. The exorcist could then slay the witch by his magic mantras, but the patients’ families generally beg him not to do so, for they dread the sinful consequences which might drag them down into hell. When gifts are added to these prayers the doctor allows himself to be moved and merely administers to the witch as a reminder a sound correction with his stick for so long as she remains in the patient’s body. Then he commands her to go and return no more. Generally the witchmaster (from considerations of good-fellowship) persuades the relatives not to molest the witch further when she has had her punishment.

  These narratives are the more interesting since we find in them a possessing spirit of the feminine, not masculine, sex. Such cases are extremely rare. It seems, moreover, that at least in the case referred to in one of these accounts, the possessing spirit is regarded as that of a living person, since it is stated that in the street where a witch lives choreographic possession not seldom occurs. In this connection the case related on p. 27 where a girl was possessed by the spirit of a hunter’s boy should be borne in mind.

  Bastian’s work also gives cases of possession in Siam.1 It may be multiple in character. There are cases in which the possessing spirits are demons,2 in some they are the souls of ancestors,3 in yet others certain crocodile spirits4 which make their way into men. The criterion of the last-named form of possession is insensibility to pain and alleged invulnerability.5 It must, however, be remarked that in Siam, just as in the Germany of Kerner’s time,6 possession is first “diagnosed” from purely physical signs and true psychic possession subsequently brought on by exorcism.7

  Possession takes the following course:

  When the Chao or demon lord is invited to enter into the possessed (Xön Chao) the chorus of bystanders sings: “King and god (Phra Ongk) we invoke thee. We adjure thee to descend, dweller in heaven (Thevada), and to reveal thyself in all thy might. Come down into his body, come to abide in the Khon Song (the person of majesty).1 Richly adorned, in pomp and splendour stands the vessel waiting to be taken by thee. The Khon Song makes for thee a worthy dwelling, gleaming in beauty like the angels. Look within thyself, thou royally endowed, enter into him and abide there. We adore thee, we pray to thee from the dust. We desire to receive from thee thy revelation, the unveiling of thy celestial home. Have pity on us

  When the Chao is obliged by the conjurations to descend into the body of the Khon Song2 the latter remains invulnerable so long as he is there and cannot be touched by any kind of weapon. Through this evidence is manifested the marvellous power (Sakrith) of the demon. Chinese familiar with these arts give displays in which they seat themselves with impunity on lances and swords.

  It is rather by way of diversion that possession by Meh Suh (the Mother of Colours) is sought and the people amuse themselves in this way on festival nights by moonlight, especially at the new year. The company places someone blindfolded and with stopped ears in the middle and intones incantations. This does not generally last long before the Mother of Colours manifests her presence by twitching in one or other of the person’s limbs. Soon the possessed moans with increasing agitation, and dances more and more furiously until at length he rolls on the ground, exhausted and out of breath. It is then possible to question the spirit and know whence he comes. The various demon-temples are enunciated until the possessed makes an affirmative sign, when the right name has been found. A hymn is sung to the “Lady radiant with Colours” inviting her to descend.3

  When the Chao enters into a person (Chao Khao) the latter flings himself to the ground in the most violent convulsions and foaming at the mouth, because he must struggle with a great lord of potent strength. Nevertheless it is possible in such an event to snatch hints, precious because emanating from the Beyond, as to suitable medicines.4

  There is also possession by other male spirits similarly evoked by the artifice of drums and noise in order to obtain information about an illness or ascertain the whereabouts of a wandering son.5

  In Siam possession is frankly provoked as a dramatic spectacle, or at least was so in the middle of the nineteenth century when Bastian travelled in that country.

  At the Lakhon Phi (theatre of the demons) a person, man or woman, is requisitioned, who becomes possessed by the Chaon Phi (chief of the demons) and by the Thepharak (the guardian angel) who, when invoked, enters into him. The other onlookers beat the drum or clap the hands.1

  This possession by a phi (another sort of spirit) is rather a jovial farce to entertain the onlookers by the marvellous leaps of the dancer. A poor devil of this kind has hardly the strength to bring his opponent to his knees, unless the latter is paralyzed by dislocation of the hips.2

  Here is a long extract from a native Siamese work published in English, Siamese Customs, which Bastian, as unhappily so often occurs with him, has reproduced without particulars as to place and year of publication:

  The Siamese, the inhabitants of towns as well as the dwellers in mountains and forests, hold the opinion that there exist male and female Chao (a Lao word, meaning a noble lord and entering as Phra-Chao in the name of God; with a slight modification it is used for the pronoun of the second person in the familiar style). Phi, the word for demon, means also a corpse; the Siamese of Ligor call them shuet (ancestors or ancestral spirits). During life they have been great men and lords, and after death they are deified. There are some persons who understand the art of possession, and they suppose that they may invite them to enter their bodies if they observe certain rules. Those who hold to this opinion are of the low classes of people, ignorant and stupid, and therefore not able to distinguish between false and true. If one of their relatives has fallen sick, if property has been lost, or if some other misfortune has come upon them, they go to an old witch, well versed in sorcery, and beg from her to invite the deified lord or a demon to take up his temporary abode in her body, so that they may be able to put questions to him. Then the necessary preparations are made to celebrate the spirit dance. They build a shed of wood, and put a round roof, like a haystack, on it, which is sometimes overlaid with straw, sometimes with reed grass, sometimes with cloth. In this shed are placed the different articles for offerings, as eatables of all kinds, arrack, rice, ducks, fowls, curried fish, and chiefly a pig’s head, which is never wanting. Fruits are added, as soft cocoanuts, bananas, sugar-cane, ripe oranges, and whatever other kind they can get, according to the season. If the preparations are finished, they beat the drum and play the flute, to invite the demon to come down to the dance. The sorceress then takes a bath, and having rubbed herself with scented curcuma-flour, dresses out in a red waistcloth, and a silken jacket, of the dark shining colour of the xomphu fruit (sambossa). Then the music increases; they blow the flute, they strike the drum, they beat the clappers and sing the verses of incantation for the demon to keep himself in readiness. When the deified lord or the demon has entered the body of the magician,
the person possessed begins to tremble, and her body shakes all over, she shuts her eyes and laughs out loud; she yawns and belches; she has her clothes (which were tied up after the manner of working people) float down (as worn by nobles), and puts flowers behind the ears. At that time the old woman assumes the manners and behaviour of a great personage conducting herself as far superior to all the rest of the people around her.3

  The relatives and bystanders do homage, and sometimes she threatens to take vengeance on their children for the slight respect they have paid to the noble lord who is in her, etc. As may be seen, there is nothing new in principle in the Siamese narrative.

  Possession is of more importance in the Chinese world than in India. The spiritualist doctrine which in Europe and North America exercises no influence outside a very restricted sphere, there reigns supreme; amongst civilized countries China is that par excellence of belief in spirits. Of J. J. M. de Groot’s great work1 in six volumes on Chinese religion, exactly half is devoted to belief in spirits and ghosts, and this book creates a really alarming impression of the point to which a country of such high achievement in the realm of art and perhaps in that of politico-economics is dominated in the religious domain by ideas identical with those of primitive peoples.2

  This reign of spiritualism in China is very ancient. It does not arise from subsequent reaction against the negations of a period of enlightenment, as at the end of classical antiquity and again in present-day Europe. Given the excessively conservative character of Chinese civilization we are much more likely to discover it in an immediate genetic connection with general Asiatic Shamanism. The priesthood of the Wu, which is still to-day the repository of possession, is originally no other than the Chinese branch of Asiatic Shamanism, a fact still clearly recognizable at the present time.3

  The old primitive religio-metaphysical conceptions, as also the autosuggestive states of consciousness, have remained quite unchanged for thousands of years, not as cultural foundations—as such they have lived on throughout the ages in all countries including Europe up to the present day—but as the general outlook, widely disseminated and essentially undisputed. It is noteworthy that in some quarters there has been a well-defined tendency towards Confucianism which professes an enlightened and sceptical rationalism as regards the Wu-priesthood, so that it has been subject to severe persecutions.