Art. V.—A Phase of Hypnotism.

Transactions and Proceedings of the Royal Society of New Zealand, Volume 29, 1896, Page 83

Art. V.—A Phase of Hypnotism. By Edward Tregear. [Read before the Wellington Philosophical Society, 26th August, 1896.] While lately trying to trace the relationship of words in the Pacific and Malayan Islands, I found one word of a peculiarly interesting character, interesting because beyond the boundaries of Polynesia proper it seemed to put on a veil of mystery. In one well-investigated Malay dialect it eluded translation, and in others the significations seemed to imply conditions for which the European has no equivalent in terms. The word in question is the Polynesian rata or lata. It signifies in New Zealand “tame, quiet”; also “familiar, friendly.” It enters into the composition of many of our place-names, such as that of Whangarata, “quiet beach.” In Samoa it means “tame, domesticated; at home in a place; to be near”; fa'a-lata is “to cause to come near,” and fa'a-latalata “a coquette.” Another Samoan signification of lata is “my,” the possessive pronoun. This is curious, because it has no affinity with other Polynesian pronouns. In the same dialect la'u, “my,” is also used, this latter form being comparable with the Maori taku, “my,” &c., and is on the regular formation of other Samoan pronouns, while lata is not. In Tahiti rata means “tame, docile, familiar”; faarata “to tame, to make a person or animal familiar.” In Futuna lata is “tame, familiar”; and the corresponding word in Hawaii is used for domesticated animals, and for taming wild ones. One of the Hawaiian compound words—viz, palaka—means “to be inattentive; inefficient; to live without thought or care; to be dull or stupid; stupidity; hard-hearted-ness.” In Mangareva, while the simple verb rata means “to do often” and “to be of good appearance,” the causative, aka-rata, signifies “to pretend inspiration; to assume to be the mouthpiece of a deity; a prophet, a sorcerer; a man possessed of an evil spirit.” These interpretations only confirm the immense value of the Mangarevan dialect as a treasure-hoard of old Maori, for in these Mangarevan Islands alone, almost the most easterly of the whole of the Pacific groups, do we find meanings similar to those to be discovered close up to the mainland of Asia, eight thousand miles to the westward. Be it noted also that the intermediate groups appear to know nothing of the hidden meaning of the word, for the conception of “tame, gentle, familiar” has nothing in it of

relationship (directly) to that of “under supernatural influence.” Another puzzle: the Paumotuan Archipelago, of which the Mangarevan or Gambier Islands form a small part, is inhabited by natives who only know “tame, familiar” as the signification of rata. Outside the area of the true Polynesian we find in Fiji a related word—viz., lasa, “to be easy; contented to be at home; tame.” In the true Melanesian groups the word appears to be unknown or not recorded, with the exception perhaps of the Sinangolo dialect of New Guinea, in which lata means “milk.” The reason for supposing a possible alliance is that the idea of tameness and of domestic animals might be further applied to the food obtained from animals that can be milked, such as the cow and goat. It is a very doubtful point, however, since it is probable that the inhabitants of New Guinea did not possess such domestic animals before the advent of Europeans. There is no proof that they did not. New Guinea was much too well known to voyagers from the Malay Archipelago and the Philippine Islands for the knowledge of domesticated animals to be entirely shut off. There is strong evidence for considering that cattle were known in former years as far east as Fiji, since the Fijians at once applied to the introduced animals the name by which buffaloes are known in the Malay Islands. It would seem much more probable that the word lata for “milk” was brought to New Guinea by the Spanish or Portuguese explorers, or by some people speaking a language derived from Latin, in which lacta means “milk.” The Dutch would have called milk “melk,” or some such word. It is not likely to have been the Spaniards, because their word for milk, “leche,” would hardly have become lata; far more likely was the Portuguese “leite” to have been introduced along with the milk-producing creatures. At all events, this word can be set aside for the present as not requiring full consideration. Invading the Malay district proper, we find in the Matu district of North Borneo that rata means “even, level,” as it does in the true Malay of the mainland. But in the continental Malay we come for the first time in our journey upon a people who distinguish between the sound of r and l, and we find in Malay both rata and lata. To rata has been assigned the meaning “even, level,” which agrees in substance with the Polynesian “tame, quiet, stupid.” But in lata, or latah, we are met with a new and baffling sense to the word. Crawfurd, in his Malay dictionary, says that lata is “a peculiar morbid nervous excitability in women,” and then gives a second lata as “to crawl or creep,” marking the latter with S to show that it is of Sanscrit derivation. In Bima, a bay of the Island of Sumbawa, there dwells a people whose interesting speech has

been a source of delighted study to me for the last few months, for in Bima there seems to have been left behind among the Malays a belated colony of Polynesians as they moved eastward in the great migration. Mynheer J. G. J. Jonker, of Batavia, has lately published a Bima-Dutch dictionary, and in this work, under the head of lata, he writes as follows (I translate): “Lata is only used in the expression batu lata ro batu nggende, ‘to follow without thought; to keep following as if begging,’ and is used as the translation of the Arabic taqlid. In Makassar lata signifies ‘to repeat one's words scornfully; to imitate.’” So far M. Jonker. I cannot discover in Makassarese precisely the meaning he gives, but it will be well to remember M. Jonker's information as to “repeating and imitating,” and the Bima idea of following some one about, in the light of other references. In Bima the word as well as the sense is evidently obsolete, but we have the idea of a tame animal following like a dog, and also that it is applied to men as well as quadrupeds. In Dr. R. F. Mathes's magnificent Makassar-Dutch dictionary he says that lata is applied to a person who starts at the slightest noise and begins to say and do all kinds of crazy things. This applies only to women. In the Bugis dialect (Celebes) the word has the same signification. Lata-lata is, Dr. Mathes tells us, “a certain nervous indisposition of women, who under its influence blab out everything that comes to their lips, and mimic everything that others do.” He derives it from the Sanscrit lata, “childish.” Sunda, the western portion of the Island of Java, has a very fine dictionary, prepared by Mr. Rigg. He says that in Sunda lata means “a person who is half-mad; often a woman who labours under aberration of mind, and has extraordinary fancies. It is known at Batavia and Bali. Gericke gives—to laugh without interruption, which is a sign of people who are lata.” Since, then, Dr. Mathes, in Makassar, and Mr. Crawfurd, in Malay, both refer the word lata to Sanscrit, it will be well to see what foundation there is for supposing the word to be continental, and, if of Sanscrit origin, allied to our own group of languages;* The Sanscrit lata, “childish,” which in Malay becomes “to creep, to crawl,” and in Polynesian “tame, stupid,” is probably represented in the Teutonic branch by lat, “slow, tardy.” It is in Icelandic lata, “to be slow,” and in English “late,” &c. also, if it be Sanscrit, whether the original word showed any tendency of meaning towards “hysterical disorder.” The greatest authority (in a dictionary sense) as regards Sanscrit is Professor Monier Williams. In his Sanscrit dictionary he gives us the meaning of lata as follows: “One who speaks like a child, a blockhead, a

fool; a fault, a defect. Latya, to speak foolishly.” I think that this ends the matter so far as going north and west is concerned. The Sanscrit meaning appears to be a general term for any sort of foolish conduct, not for any particular sort, such as hysteria, &c., and the conclusion, therefore, appears to be that there is no radical sense of “hysteria” in lata, and that this is at once foreign and of later growth. The matter would be hardly worth consideration if we could get no better light on the subject than the above remarks. Hysteria is not confined to the Malay Archipelago or mainland, and is of little interest except to specialists. Luckily, however, a book has recently been brought to my notice that puts a most interesting stock of knowledge in our hands. It is a book by the very distinguished Malay scholar Frank Athelstane Swettenham, C.M.G., British Resident-General of the Federated Malay States, and is entitled “Malay Sketches.” Most of the sketches are written in a pleasant, readable manner, and pretend to no more scientific footing than that which must always be commanded by any words of one who shows intimate acquaintance with his subject. This is the reason why I dare to extract a chapter of his book—viz., the fear lest the book might be mistaken for an ordinary series of travelling notes and observations only worthy to wile away an idle hour, whereas they contain many points of deep interest to the student of ethnology, and in this case a particularly well-lighted picture of the sufferers by lata, showing at once that lata is a distinct mental affection, and that it is by no means either hysteria or peculiar to women only. “In the spring of 1892 I was privileged, by the kindness of a friend and the courtesy of Dr. Luys, to visit the Hospital de la Charité in Paris, where I witnessed some very remarkable and interesting experiments in suggestion. There were patients undergoing successful treatment for nervous disorders, where the disease was an process of gradual relief by passing from the afflicted person to a medium without injury to the latter. There was the strange power of hypnotising, influencing, and awakening certain sujets whose nervous organizations Seem to be specially susceptible; and there was the astonishing influence of the magnet over these same sujets when already hypnotised. There is something more than unusually uncanny in the sight of a person filled with an inexplicable and unnatural delight in the contemplation of the positive end of a magnet, and, when the negative end is suddenly turned towards him, to see him instantly fall down unconscious as though struck by lightning. “The sujets (there were two of them, a man and a woman) described the appearance of the positive end of the magnet as producing a beautiful blue flame about a foot high, so

exquisite in colour and beauty that it transported them with delight. As to the negative end, they reluctantly explained, in hesitating words and with every appearance of dread, that there was also a flame, but a red one of fearful and sinister import. “I was deeply interested in these ‘manifestations,’ both for their own strangeness and because I had in the Malay Peninsula seen equally extraordinary proceedings of a somewhat similar kind. “Amongst Malays there is a well-known disease (I use the word for want of a better) called lâtah; it is far more common at certain places than others, and among certain divisions of the great Malay family. Thus, while there is generally One or more orang lâtah to be found in every kampong in Krian, where the Malays are mostly from Kedah, in other parts of Perak it is rare to ever meet a lâtah person. Again, speaking generally, the disease seems to be more common amongst the people of Amboina, in Netherlands India, than those of Java, Sumatra, or the Malay Peninsula. In both cases heredity is probably accountable for the result, whatever may have been the original cause to produce the affliction in certain places more than others. I can only speak of my own experience, and what I have personally seen, for no English authority appears to have studied the matter or attempted to either observe lâtah people, diagnose the disease (if it is one), search for its cause, or attempt to cure it. I can vouch for facts, but nothing more. “In 1874 I was sent in H.M.S. ‘Hart’ to reside with the Sultan of Selangor. Though His Highness's personal record was one of which he might be proud, for he was said to have killed ninety-nine men (sa' râtus kûrang sâtu) with his own hand, his State was not altogether a happy one, for it had been the fighting-ground of several ambitious young Rajas for some years. An unusually hideous piracy, personally conducted by one of the Sultan's own sons, and committed on a Malacca training-vessel, had necessitated a visit from the China fleet, and when the perpetrators, or those who after due inquiry appeared to be the perpetrators, had been executed, (the Sultan lending his own kris for the ceremony), I was sent to see that these ‘boyish amusements,’ as His Highness called them, were not repeated. The place where the Sultan then lived was hardly a desirable residence, even from a Malay point of view, and it has for years now been almost deserted. ‘Bandar Termâsa,’ as it was grandiloquently styled, was a collection of huts on a mud-flat enclosed between the Langat and Jugra Rivers. It was only seven miles from the sea, and at high tide most of the place was under water. “With me there went twenty-five Malay police from Ma-

lacca, and we lived all together in an old stockade on the bank of the Langat River. Whether it was the mosquitos, which for numbers and venom could not be matched, or whether it was the evil reputation of the place for deeds of violence is needless to inquire, but the police were seized with panic, and had to be replaced by another batch from Singapore, selected not so much on account of their virtues as their so-called vices. The exchange was satisfactory, for whatever sins they committed they showed no signs of panic. “Later on I was encouraged by the statement that Bandar Termâsa, for all its unpromising appearance, was a place for men, where those who had a difference settled it promptly with the kris, and cowards who came there either found their courage or departed. A story that amused the gossips was that, as a badly-wounded man was carried from the duelling-field past the palisade which enclosed the Sultan's house, His Highness had asked, through the bars, what was the matter, and, being told, had laconically remarked, ‘If he is wounded, doctor him; if he is dead, bury him.’ “During my residence in the place a lady, for jealousy, stabbed a man of considerable note thirteen times with his own dagger, and sent the next morning to know whether I would like to purchase it, as she did not much fancy the weapon. The man was not killed, and made no complaint. Another lady, for a similar reason, visited our stockade one night, pushed the sentry on one side, and, finding the man she wanted, attempted to stab him with a long kris she had brought for the purpose. That was then the state of society in Bandar Termâsa. “I have said that we lived all together in a stockade. It was a very rude structure, with log walls about 6ft. thick and 8ft. high, a mud floor, a thatch roof, and no doors. Outside it was a high watch-tower of the same materials, but the ladder to it had fallen down. Of roads there were none, but a mud path ran through the stockade from river-bank to village, distant some 300 yards. My own accommodation was a cot borrowed from the ‘Hart’ and slung between two posts, while the men slept on the walls of the stockade. “The place had drawbacks other than mosquitos, for the public path ran through it, the tide at high-water completely covered the floor, and the log walls were full of snakes. The state of the surroundings will best be understood when I say that during the many months I lived there I did not wear boots outside the stockade, because there was nothing to walk upon but deep mud, and that the only water fit to use was contained in a well or pond a quarter of a mile off, to which I walked every day to bathe. “With the second batch of police had come a European

inspector, and he and I were the only white men in the country. “Amongst the twenty-five police were two men of the name of Kâsim; they were both natives of Amboina, but very different in disposition, and they were known among their comrades as Kâsim besar and Kâsim kěchil—that is, Kâsim major and Kâsim minor. Kâsim major was a quiet, reserved, silent man of about twenty-five, and I afterwards realised that he had a somewhat violent temper when roused. Kâsim minor, on the contrary, was a smiling, talkative, happy, and pleasant-looking young fellow of about twenty. They were not related to each other in any way. “I used often to be away on the coast and up river, and on my return from one of these expeditions I noticed the men teasing Kâsim minor, and saw at once that he was lâtah. I questioned the inspector, and he told me that during my absence he had one day been away on duty for some hours, and when he returned, about 4 p.m., he saw Kâsim minor up a coco-nut tree just outside the stockade. On asking him what he was doing there, he replied that he could not come down because there was a snake at the bottom of the tree. In reality there was a bit of rattan tied round the tree, and, this being removed, Kâsim came down. “Now, it is no easy matter to climb a coco-nut tree; it requires a special training to do it at all, and Kâsim did not possess it. But the inspector ascertained that the other police had found out by accident that their comrade was lâtah, that they had ordered him to climb the tree, which he had at once done, and that then, out of sheer devilry, some one had taken a bit of rattan, said, ‘Do you see this snake? I will tie it round the tree, and then you can't come down’; and so left him from 10 a.m. till the afternoon, when the inspector returned and released him. The time of Kâsim's penance was probably greatly exaggerated, but that is how the story was told to me, and of all that follows I was an eye-witness. I made Kâsim minor my orderly, and, as he was constantly with me, I had better opportunities of studying his peculiarities. About this time also I learnt that Kâsim major was also lâtah. “Speaking generally, it was only necessary for any one to attract the attention of either of these men by the simplest means—holding up a finger, calling them by name in a rather pointed way, touching them, or even, when close by, to look them hard in the face—and instantly they appeared to lose all control of themselves, and would do not only what they were told to do, but whatever was suggested by a sign. “I have seen many lâtah people, male and female, but never any quite like these two—none so susceptible to outside influence, so ready to blindly obey a word or sign. The kindly

disposition of Kâsim minor made him quite harmless, but the other Kâsim was rather a dangerous subject to play tricks with, as I will presently explain. “The lâtah man or woman usually met with, if suddenly startled by a touch, a noise, or the sight of something unexpected, will not only show all the signs of a very nervous person, but almost invariably will fire off a volley of expressions more or less obscene, having no reference at all to the circumstance which has suddenly aroused attention. As a rule, it is necessary to startle these people before they will say or do anything to show that they are differently constituted to their neighbours, and when they have betrayed themselves either by word or deed their instinct is to get away as quickly as possible. Children, and even grown-up people, cannot always resist the pleasure of ‘baiting’ a lâtah person, for one reason because it is so exceedingly easy, for another because they are inclined on the spur of the moment to do ludicrous things or say something they would under ordinary circumstances be ashamed of. Almost invariably lâtah persons of this class (and it is by far the most common one) are very good-humoured, and never seem to think of resenting the liberty taken with their infirmity. If by word or deed they commit themselves (and that is not uncommon), they either run away, or appear to be unconscious of having said or done anything unusual (this, however, is rare), or they simply say, ‘I am lâtah,’ as a full explanation and excuse. If any one present accidentally drops something on the floor, if a lizard falls from the roof on to or near a lâtah person, if the wind blows the shutter of a window to with a bang, a lâtah person of the class I speak of will probably find it necessary to at least say something not usually heard in polite society. Of this class by far the majority are women. I have never seen a lâtah boy or girl, but I know they are to be found, though the disease certainly becomes more evident as the subject grows older. It must be understood that, except when under influence, when actually showing the evidences of this strange peculiarity, lâtah people are undistinguishable from others. It is sufficient proof of this that amongst my twenty-five police there should have, been two men more completely lâtah than any I have seen before or since. “I took occasion to carefully-observe the two Kâsims. It was impossible to always prevent their companions teasing them, especially in a place where there was absolutely no form of amusement, and all the conditions of life were as unpleasant as they well could be; but no harm was ever done, and I am satisfied that while influence was in any way exercised over the lâtah man he was not conscious of his own actions, and directly it was removed he became his reasoning other self,

and the utmost that remained on his mind or came to him with the recovery of his own will was that he might have done something foolish. If the attention of either of these men was arrested, as I have said, by word, sign, or a meaning glance, from that moment until the influence was removed the lâtah man would do whatever he was told or signed to do without hesitation, whether the act signified was difficult, dangerous, or painful. When once under this influence any one present could give the order and the lâtah man would instantly obey it; not only that, but even at some distance (as in the coco-tree incident) he appeared to be equally subject to the will imposed on his actions. “A curious thing about both these men was that, having attracted the attention of either, if you said ‘Kâsim, go and hit that man,’ he would invariably repeat “what was said word for word, including his own name, while he carried out the order. When the person hit turned on him, Kâsim would say, ‘It was not I who hit you, but that man who ordered me.’ I have seen Kâsim the younger, when the man influencing him put his own finger in. his mouth and pretended to bite it, imitate the action, but really bite his finger hard. Similarly I have seen him, in imitation, and without a word being said, take a lighted brand from the fire, and he would have put it in his mouth if the experiment had been carried so far. Some one told him one day to jump into the river, and he did not get out again till he had swum nearly 200 yards, for the stream was both broad and deep, with a terrible current, and infested by crocodiles. If at any moment you called out ‘Tolong ! Kâsim’ (Help! Kâsim), the instant he heard it he would jump up, and, crying ‘Tolong ! Kâsim,’ dash straight to you over all obstacles. If then you had put a weapon in his hand and told him to slay any one within reach, I have not the slightest doubt he would have done it without hesitation. “I have said there was a ladderless watch-tower outside the stockade. The police wanted firewood; they were not allowed to burn the logs forming our walls, trot at the top or the watch-tower there were also log walls that they were told they could burn. They were lazy, however, and did not see how they were going to get up, so they ordered Kâsim the younger to climb up, which he did, as he had climbed the coco-nut tree, and when once there they told him to throw down logs until they thought they had enough. I watched that operation, and the feverish haste with which the man swarmed up one of the supports, gained the platform of the tower, and threw down huge logs as though his life depended on it was rather remarkable. I gave orders that the man's infirmity was not to be used for this purpose again, but in my absence I know that when more firewood was wanted Kâsim

went up to the watch-tower for it until that supply was exhausted. “The path from the stockade to the village was in sight of the stockade throughout its length, and one day I noticed Kâsim minor, as he leisurely wandered down this mud embankment, stop every now and then and behave in a peculiar fashion, as though he were having conversation with the frogs, snakes, and other denizens of the ditches that bordered the path. When he had gone half-way he stopped and peeped up into the branches of a small tree on the roadside; then he seemed to be striking blows at an invisible enemy, ran to the ditch, and began throwing lump after lump of hard mud into the tree. I had not seen this phase of his peculiarities before, and could not make it out, but suddenly his arms went about his head like the sails of a windmill, and I realised that his enemies were bees or hornets, and that he was getting a good deal the worst of an unequal fight. I sent some of the men to fetch him back, and found he had been rather badly stung, and, when I asked him why he attacked the nest, he said his attention was caught by things flying out of the tree, and he was impelled to throw at them. I understood that the hornets flying out of the nest appeared to be thrown at him, and he could not help imitating what he saw in the best way he could, and so he took what was nearest his hand and sent it flying back. “Kâsim the elder was quite as susceptible as his namesake, but his comrades were a little shy of provoking him, as they soon realised that his temper made the amusement dangerous. One day they must have been teasing him, and when he was allowed to recover his own will I suppose their laughter made it evident to him that he had made himself ridiculous, for he suddenly ran to the arm-rack, and, seizing a sword-bayonet, made for his tormentors with such evident intention to use it that they precipitately fled, and in a few seconds were making very good time across the swamp with Kâsim and the drawn sword far too close to be pleasant. I had some difficulty in persuading him to abandon his purpose, but after that, and a lecture, his comrades did not greatly bother him. I remember, however, that on another occasion we had secured and erected a long thin spar to serve as a flag-staff, but the halyard jammed, and it seemed necessary to lower the spar, when some one called out to Kâsim the elder to climb up it. Before I could interfere he had gone up two-thirds of the height, and he only came down reluctantly. Had he gone a few feet higher the pole would inevitably have snapped, and he would have had a severe fall. “About this time a friend came and shared my loneliness for a fortnight. He had had experience of lâtah people before,

but the two Kâsims were rather a revelation, and he was, perhaps, inclined to doubt what I told him they could be made to do. One morning we were bathing as usual at the pond, and Kâsim the younger was in attendance carrying the towels, &c. The bath was over, and we were all three standing on the bank, when my friend said to Kâsim, ‘Mari, kita terjun’ (come, let us jump in), at the same time feigning to jump. Kâsim instantly jumped, into the pond, disappeared, came up spluttering, and, having scrambled out, said, ‘Itu tîdak baik, Túan’ (That is not good of you, sir). My friend said, ‘Why, I did nothing; I only said, Let us jump in, and went like this,’ repeating his previous action, when Kâsim immediately repeated his plunge, and we dragged him from the water looking like a retriever. “When I was first ordered to Selangor I thought it possible that some sort of furniture might be useful, and I took up a few chairs and other things, including a large roll of what is known as Calcutta matting. The things were useless in a place where the mud floor was often under water twice during twenty-four hours, and they lay piled in a corner of the stockade, and whenever a Malay of distinction came to see me, for whom it was necessary to find a chair, it was advisable to see that the seat was not already occupied by a snake. The roll of matting, about 4ft. high and 2½ft. in diameter, naturally remained unopened. Every night, owing to the myriads of mosquitos, a large bonfire was lit in the middle of the stockade, for only in the smoke of that fire was it possible to eat one's dinner. One night some Malays from the village had come in, and the police were trying to amuse them and forget their own miseries by dancing and singing round the fire. Under such circumstances Malays have a happy knack of making the best of things; they laugh happily and. often, and, as I have said elsewhere, they have a very strong sense of humour, if not always of a very refined description. Borne one had introduced one of the Kâsims in his character of an orang lâtah for the benefit of the strangers, and one of the men was inspired to fetch the roll of matting, and, solemnly presenting it to Kâsim the younger, said, ‘Kâsim, here is your wife.’ Even now I do not forget the smile of beatitude and satisfaction with which Kâsim minor regarded that undesirable and figureless bargain. Breathing the words in a low voice, almost sighing to himself, ‘Kâsim, here is your wife,’ he embraced the matting with great fervour, constantly repeating ‘My wife! my wife!’ Some one said, ‘Kiss her,’ and he kissed her, repeatedly kissed her. Then, by another inspiration (I do not say from whence), some one brought up the other Kâsim, and, introducing him to the other side of the roll of matting, said also very quietly, ‘Kâsim, this is your

wife,’ and Kâsim the elder accepted the providential appearance of his greatly-desired spouse, and embraced her with not less fervour than his namesake and rival. It was evident that neither intended to give up the lady to the other, and, as each tried to monopolize her charms, a struggle began between them to obtain complete possession, during which the audience, almost frantic with delight, urged the actors in this drama to manifest their affection to the lady of their choice. In the midst of this clamour the Kâsims and their joint spouse fell down, and, as they nearly rolled into the fire, and seemed disinclined even then to abandon the lady, she was taken away and put back in her corner with the chairs and snakes. It is a detail, which I only add because some readers hunger for detail, that neither of the Kâsims possessed a wife. “I do not pretend to offer any explanation of the cause of this state of mind which the Malays call lâtah. I imagine it is a nervous disease affecting the brain, but not the body. I have never met a medical man who has interested himself in the matter, and I cannot say if the disease, if it be one, is curable or not. I should doubt it. I have somewhere read that individuals similarly affected are found amongst the Canadian lumber-men.” Thus the long quotation. I have ventured to bring it before you in the hope that perhaps some information may be got on this side of the world. Since the word is so well known in one of its senses in the Pacific, there may be some knowledge of it as “hypnotism” yet to be gathered. How far did the priests of the South Sea temples or religions exercise the mesmeric power? It has been used by priests in all ages; but, so far, I have not been able to find direct mesmeric agency used in Oceania. It is most remarkable that in Mangareva we should find the word rata applied to a sorcerer, or one under the influence of a deity, which is always, among savages, a variety of madness or the imitation of it. What was this power-that “tamed” persons, made them like domestic animals, or following as a dog follows, or crawling like a child? Surely it was some mental influence, some power of hypnosis, that could make men depart so much from their usual habits. Even the Samoan fa'a-latalata (“to act the coquette”) seems to give a hint of nervous susceptibility, because it wars with the general sense of “tame, flat, level.” In any case I trust that the unusual subject of this paper may excite some interest among students of mental phenomena.