The Child and Childhood in Folk-Thought, Alexander F. Chamberlain [first color ebook reader .TXT] 📗

Cushing offers the following explanation of this custom, which finds analogies in various parts of the world: “The matriarchal grandmother, or matron of the household deities, is the fire. It is considered the guardian, as it is also, being used for cooking, the principal ‘source of life’ of the family. The little children being considered unable to care for themselves, were placed, literally, under the protection of the family fire that their soul-life might be nourished, sustained, and increased” (501. 149). Boecler tells us that the Esthonian bride “consecrates her new home and hearth by an offering of money cast into the fire, or laid on the oven, for Tule-ema, [the] Fire Mother” (545. II. 285). In a Mongolian wedding-song there is an invocation of “Mother Ut, Queen of Fire,” who is said to have come forth “when heaven and earth divided,” and to have issued “from the footsteps of Mother-Earth.” She is further said to have “a manly son, a beauteous daughter-in-law, bright daughters” (484. 38).

 

Mother-Water.

The poet Homer and the philosopher Thales of Miletus agreed in regarding water as the primal element, the original of all existences, and their theory has supporters among many primitive peoples. At the baptism festivals of their children, the ancient Mexicans recognized the goddess of the waters. At sunrise the midwife addressed the child, saying, among other things: “Be cleansed with thy mother, Chalchihuitlicue, the goddess of water.” Then, placing her dripping finger upon the child’s lips, she continued: “Take this, for on it thou must live, grow, become strong, and flourish. Through it we receive all our needs. Take it.” And, again, “We are all in the hands of Chalchihuitlicue, our mother”; as she washed the child she uttered the formula: “Bad, whatever thou art, depart, vanish, for the child lives anew and is born again; it is once more cleansed, once more renewed through our mother Chalchihuitlicue.” As she lifted the child up into the air, she prayed, “O Goddess, Mother of Water, fill this child with thy power and virtue” (326. I. 263).

In their invocation for the restoration of the spirit to the body, the Nagualists,—a native American mystic sect,—of Mexico and Central America, make appeal to “Mother mine, whose robe is of precious gems,” i.e. water, regarded as “the universal mother.” The “robe of precious stones” refers to “the green or vegetable life” resembling the green of precious stones. Another of her names is the “Green Woman,”—a term drawn from “the greenness which follows moisture” (413. 52-54).

The idea of water as the source of all things appears also in the cosmology of the Indie Aryans. In one of the Vedic hymns it is stated that water existed before even the gods came into being, and the Rig-veda tells us that “the waters contained a germ from which everything else sprang forth.” This is plainly a myth of the motherhood of the waters, for in the Brâhmanas we are told that from the water arose an egg, from which came forth after a year Pragâpati, the creator (510. 248). Variants of this myth of the cosmic egg are found in other quarters of the globe.

 

Mother-Ocean.

The Chinchas of Peru looked upon the sea as the chief deity and the mother of all things, and the Peruvians worshipped Mama-Cocha, “mother sea” (509. 368), from which had come forth everything, even animals, giants, and the Indians themselves. Associated with Mama-Cocha was the god Vira-Cocha, “sea-foam.” In Peru water was revered everywhere,—rivers and canals, fountains and wells,—and many sacrifices were made to them, especially of certain sea-shells which were thought to be “daughters of the sea, the mother of all waters.” The traditions of the Incas point to an origin from Lake Titicaca, and other tribes fabled their descent from fountains and streams (412. 204). Here belong, doubtless, some of the myths of the sea-born deities of classical mythology as well as those of the water-origin of the first of the human race, together with kindred conceits of other primitive peoples.

In the Bengalese tale of “The Boy with the Moon on his Forehead,” recorded by Day, the hero pleads: “O mother Ocean, please make way for me, or else I die” (426. 250), and passes on in safety. The poet Swinburne calls the sea “fair, white mother,” “green-girdled mother,” “great, sweet mother, mother and lover of men, the sea.”

 

Mother-River.

According to Russian legend “the Dnieper, Volga, and Dvina used once to be living people. The Dnieper was a boy, and the Volga and Dvina his sisters.” The Russians call their great river “Mother Volga,” and it is said that, in the seventeenth century, a chief of the Don Cossacks, inflamed with wine, sacrificed to the mighty stream a Persian princess, accompanying his action with these words: “O Mother Volga, thou great River! much hast thou given me of gold and of silver, and of all good things; thou hast nursed me and nourished me, and covered me with glory and honor. But I have in no way shown thee my gratitude. Here is somewhat for thee; take it!” (520. 217-220).

In the Mahábhárata, the great Sanskrit epic, King Sántanu is said to have walked by the side of the river one day, where “he met and fell in love with a beautiful girl, who told him that she was the river Ganges, and could only marry him on condition he never questioned her conduct. To this he, with a truly royal gallantry, agreed; and she bore him several children, all of whom she threw into the river as soon as they were born. At last she bore him a boy, Bhíshma; and her husband begged her to spare his life, whereupon she instantly changed into the river Ganges and flowed away” (258. 317). Similar folktales are to be met with in other parts of the world, and the list of water-sprites and river-goddesses is almost endless. Greater than “Mother Volga,” is “Mother Ganges,” to whom countless sacrifices have been made. In the language of the Caddo Indians, the Mississippi is called báhat sássin, “mother of rivers.”

 

Mother-Plant.

The ancient Peruvians had their “Mother Maize,” Mama Cora, which they worshipped with a sort of harvest-home having, as Andrew Lang points out, something in common with the children’s last sheaf, in the north-country (English and Scotch) “kernaby,” as well as with the “Demeter of the threshing-floor,” of whom Theocritus speaks (484. 18).

An interesting legend of the Indians of the Pueblos of Arizona and New Mexico is recorded by Muller (509. 60). Ages ago there dwelt on the green plains a beautiful woman, who refused all wooers, though they brought many precious gifts. It came to pass that the land was sore distressed by dearth and famine, and when the people appealed to the woman she gave them maize in plenty. One day, she lay asleep naked; a rain-drop falling upon her breast, she conceived and bore a son, from whom are descended the people who built the “Casas Grandes.” Dr. Fewkes cites a like myth of the Hopi or Tusayan Indians in which appears kó-kyan-wüq-ti, “the spider woman,” a character possessing certain attributes of the Earth-Mother. Speaking of certain ceremonies in which Cá-li-ko, the corn-goddess, figures, he calls attention to the fact that “in initiations an ear of corn is given to the novice as a symbolic representation of mother. The corn is the mother of all initiated persons of the tribe” (389 (1894). 48).

Mr. Lummis also speaks of “Mother Corn” among the Pueblos Indians: “A flawless ear of pure white corn (type of fertility and motherhood) is decked out with a downy mass of snow-white feathers, and hung with ornaments of silver, coral, and the precious turquoise” (302. 72).

Concerning the Pawnee Indians, Mr. Grinnell tells us that after the separation of the peoples, the boy (medicine-man) who was with the few who still remained at the place from which the others had departed, going their different ways, found in the sacred bundle—the Shekinah of the tribe—an ear of corn. To the people he said: “We are to live by this, this is our Mother.” And from “Mother Corn” the Indians learned how to make bows and arrows. When these Indians separated into three bands (according to the legend), the boy broke off the nub of the ear and gave it to the Mandans, the big end he gave to the Pawnees, and the middle to the Rees. This is why, at the present time, the Pawnees have the best and largest corn, the Rees somewhat inferior, and the Mandans the shortest of all—since they planted the pieces originally given them

(480 (1893). 125).

 

The old Mexicans had in Cinteotl a corn-goddess and deity of fertility in whose honour even human sacrifices were made. She was looked upon as “the producer,” especially of children, and sometimes represented with a child in her arms (509. 491).

In India there is a regular cult of the holy basil (_Ocymum sanetum_), or Tulasî, as it is called, which appears to be a transformation of the goddess Lakshmî. It may be gathered for pious purposes only, and in so doing the following prayer is offered: “Mother Tulasî, be thou propitious. If I gather thee with care, be merciful unto me. O Tulasî, mother of the world, I beseech thee.” This plant is worshipped as a deity,—the wife of Vishnu, whom the breaking of even a little twig grieves and torments,—and “the pious Hindus invoke the divine herb for the protection of every part of the body, for life and for death, and in every action of life; but above all, in its capacity of ensuring children to those who desire to have them.” To him who thoughtlessly or wilfully pulls up the plant “no happiness, no health, no children.” The Tulasî opens the gates of heaven; hence on the breast of the pious dead is placed a leaf of basil, and the Hindu “who has religiously planted and cultivated the Tulasî, obtains the privilege of ascending to the palace of Vishnu, surrounded by ten millions of parents” (448. 244).

In Denmark, there is a popular belief that in the elder (_Sambucus_) there lives a spirit or being known as the “elder-mother” (_hylde-moer_), or “elder-woman” (_hilde-qvinde_), and before elder-branches may be cut this petition is uttered: “Elder-mother, elder-mother, allow me to cut thy branches.” In Lower Saxony the peasant repeats, on bended knees, with hands folded, three times the words: “Lady Elder, give me some of thy wood; then will I also give thee some of mine, when it grows in the forest” (448. 318-320). In Huntingdonshire, England, the belief in the “elder-mother” is found, and it is thought dangerous to pluck the flowers, while elder-wood, in a room, or used for a cradle, is apt to work evil for children. In some parts of England, it is believed that boys beaten with an elder stick will be retarded in their growth; in Sweden, women who are about to become mothers kiss the elder. In Germany, a somewhat similar personification of the juniper, “Frau Wachholder,” exists. And here we come into touch with the dryads and forest-sprites of all ages, familiar to us in the myths of classic antiquity and the tales of the nursery (448. 396).

In a Bengalese tale, the hero, on coming to a forest, cries: “O mother kachiri, please make way for me, or else I die,” and the wood opens to let him pass through (426. 250).

Perhaps the best and sweetest story of plant mythology under this head is Hans Christian Andersen’s beautiful tale of “The Elder-Tree Mother,”—the Dryad whose name is Remembrance (393. 215).

 

Mother-Thumb.

Our word thumb signifies literally “thick or big finger,” and the same idea occurs in other languages. With not a few primitive