Part 22

From I. L. Mahan, United States Indian agent for the Chippewas of Lake Superior, Red Cliff, Wisconsin, the following detailed account of mourning has been received:

There is probably no people that exhibit more sorrow and grief for their dead than they. The young widow mourns the loss of her husband; by day as by night she is heard silently sobbing; she is a constant visitor to the place of rest; with the greatest reluctance will she follow the raised camp. The friends and relatives of the young mourner will incessantly devise methods to distract her mind from the thought of her lost husband. She refuses nourishment, but as nature is exhausted she is prevailed upon to partake of food; the supply is scant, but on every occasion the best and largest proportion is deposited upon the grave of her husband. In the mean time the female relatives of the deceased have, according to custom, submitted to her charge a parcel made up of different cloths ornamented with bead-work and eagle’s feathers, which she is charged to keep by her side--the place made vacant by the demise of her husband--a reminder of her widowhood. She is therefore for a term of twelve moons not permitted to wear any finery, neither is she permitted to slicken up and comb her head; this to avoid attracting attention. Once in a while a female relative of deceased, commiserating with her grief and sorrow, will visit her and voluntarily proceed to comb out the long-neglected and matted hair. With a jealous eye a vigilant watch is kept over her conduct during the term of her widowhood, yet she is allowed the privilege to marry, any time during her widowhood, an unmarried brother or cousin, or a person of the same Dodem [sic] (family mark) of her husband.

At the expiration of her term, the vows having been faithfully performed and kept, the female relatives of deceased assemble and, with greetings commensurate to the occasion, proceed to wash her face, comb her hair, and attire her person with new apparel, and otherwise demonstrating the release from her vow and restraint. Still she has not her entire freedom. If she will still refuse to marry a relative of the deceased and will marry another, she then has to purchase her freedom by giving a certain amount of goods and whatever else she might have manufactured during her widowhood in anticipation of the future now at hand. Frequently, though, during widowhood the vows are disregarded and an inclination to flirt and play courtship or form an alliance of marriage outside of the relatives of the deceased is being indulged, and when discovered the widow is set upon by the female relatives, her slick braided hair is shorn close up to the back of her neck, all her apparel and trinkets are torn from her person, and a quarrel frequently results fatally to some member of one or the other side.

Thomas L. McKenney gives a description of the Chippewa widow which differs slightly from the one above:

I have noticed several women here carrying with them rolls of clothing. On inquiring what these imported, I learn that they are widows who carry them, and that these are badges of mourning. It is indispensable, when a woman of the Chippeway Nation loses her husband, for her to take of her best apparel--and the whole of it is not worth a dollar--and roll it up, and confine it by means of her husband’s sashes; and if he had ornaments, these are generally put on the top of the roll, and around it is wrapped a piece of cloth. This bundle is called her husband, and it is expected that she is never to be seen without it. If she walks out she takes it with her; if she sits down in her lodge, she places it by her side. This badge of widowhood and of mourning the widow is compelled to carry with her until some of her late husband’s family shall call and take it away, which is done when they think she has mourned long enough, and which is generally at the expiration of a year. She is then, but not before, released from her mourning, and at liberty to marry again. She has the privilege to take this husband to the family of the deceased and leave it, but this is considered indecorous, and is seldom done. Sometimes a brother of the deceased takes the widow for his wife at the grave of her husband, which is done by a ceremony of walking her over it. And this he has a right to do; and when this is done she is not required to go into mourning; or, if she chooses, she has the right to go to him, and he is bound to support her.

I visited a lodge to-day, where I saw one of these badges. The size varies according to the quantity of clothing which the widow may happen to have. It is expected of her to put up her best and wear her worst. The “husband” I saw just now was 30 inches high and 18 inches in circumference.

I was told by the interpreter that he knew a woman who had been left to mourn after this fashion for years, none of her husband’s family calling for the badge or token of her grief. At a certain time it was told her that some of her husband’s family were passing, and she was advised to speak to them on the subject. She did so, and told them she had mourned long and was poor; that she had no means to buy clothes, and her’s being all in the mourning badge, and sacred, could not be touched. She expressed a hope that her request might not be interpreted into a wish to marry; it was only made that she might be placed in a situation to get some clothes. She got for answer, that “they were going to Mackinac, and would think of it.” They left her in this state of uncertainty, but on returning, and finding her faithful still, they took her “husband” and presented her with clothing of various kinds. Thus was she rewarded for her constancy and made comfortable.

The Choctaw widows mourn by never combing their hair for the term of their grief, which is generally about a year. The Chippeway men mourn by painting their faces black.

I omitted to mention that when presents are going round, the badge of mourning, this “husband” comes in for an equal share, as if it were the living husband.

A Chippeway mother, on losing her child, prepares an image of it in the best manner she is able, and dresses it as she did her living child, and fixes it in the kind of cradle I have referred to, and goes through the ceremonies of nursing it as if it were alive, by dropping little particles of food in the direction of its mouth, and giving it of whatever the living child partook. This ceremony also is generally observed for a year.

Figure 32 represents the Chippewa widow holding in her arms the substitute for the dead husband.

The substitution of a reminder for the dead husband, made from rags, furs, and other articles, is not confined alone to the Chippewas, other tribes having the same custom. In some instances the widows are obliged to carry around with them, for a variable period, a bundle containing the bones of the deceased consort.

Similar observances, according to Bancroft, were followed by some of the Central American tribes of Indians, those of the Sambos and Mosquitos being as follows:

The widow was bound to supply the grave of her husband for a year, after which she took up the bones and carried them with her for another year, at last placing them upon the roof of her house, and then only was she allowed to marry again.

On returning from the grave the property of the deceased is destroyed, the cocoa palms being cut down, and all who have taken part in the funeral undergo a lustration in the river. Relatives cut off the hair, the men leaving a ridge along the middle from the nape of the neck to the forehead. Widows, according to some old writers, after supplying the grave with food for a year take up the bones and carry them on the back in the daytime, sleeping with them at night for another year, after which they are placed at the door or upon the house-top. On the anniversary of deaths, friends of the deceased hold a feast, called seekroe, at which large quantities of liquor are drained to his memory. Squier, who witnessed the ceremonies on an occasion of this kind, says that males and females were dressed in ule cloaks fantastically painted black and white, while their faces were correspondingly streaked with red and yellow, and they performed a slow walk around, prostrating themselves at intervals and calling loudly upon the dead and tearing the ground with their hands. At no other time is the departed referred to, the very mention of his name being superstitiously avoided. Some tribes extend a thread from the house of death to the grave, carrying it in a straight line over every obstacle. Fröebel states that among the Woolwas all property of the deceased is buried with him, and that both husband and wife cut the hair and burn the hut on the death of either, placing a gruel of maize upon the grave for a certain time.

Benson gives the following account of the Choctaws’ funeral ceremonies, embracing the disposition of the body, mourning feast and dance:

Their funeral is styled by them “the last cry.”

When the husband dies the friends assemble, prepare the grave, and place the corpse in it, but do not fill it up. The gun, bow and arrows, hatchet, and knife are deposited in the grave. Poles are planted at the head and the foot, upon which flags are placed; the grave is then inclosed by pickets driven in the ground. The funeral ceremonies now begin, the widow being the chief mourner. At night and morning she will go to the grave and pour forth the most piteous cries and wailings. It is not important that any other member of the family should take any very active part in the “cry,” though they do participate to some extent.

The widow wholly neglects her toilet, while she daily goes to the grave during one entire moon from the date when the death occurred. On the evening of the last day of the moon the friends all assemble at the cabin of the disconsolate widow, bringing provisions for a sumptuous feast, which consists of corn and jerked beef boiled together in a kettle. While the supper is preparing the bereaved wife goes to the grave and pours out, with unusual vehemence, her bitter wailings and lamentations. When the food is thoroughly cooked the kettle is taken from the fire and placed in the center of the cabin, and the friends gather around it, passing the buffalo-horn spoon from hand to hand and from mouth to mouth till all have been bountifully supplied. While supper is being served, two of the oldest men of the company quietly withdraw and go to the grave and fill it up, taking down the flags. All then join in a dance, which not unfrequently is continued till morning; the widow does not fail to unite in the dance, and to contribute her part to the festivities of the occasion. This is the “last cry,” the days of mourning are ended, and the widow is now ready to form another matrimonial alliance. The ceremonies are precisely the same when a man has lost his wife, and they are only slightly varied when any other member of the family has died. (Slaves were buried without ceremonies.)

SACRIFICE.

Some examples of human sacrifice have already been given in connection with another subject, but it is thought others might prove interesting. The first relates to the Natchez of Louisiana.

When their sovereign died he was accompanied in the grave by his wives and by several of his subjects. The lesser Suns took care to follow the same custom. The law likewise condemned every Natchez to death who had married a girl of the blood of the Suns as soon as she was expired. On this occasion I must tell you the history of an Indian who was noways willing to submit to this law. His name was Elteacteal; he contracted an alliance with the Suns, but the consequences which this honor brought along with it had like to have proved very unfortunate to him. His wife fell sick; as soon as he saw her at the point of death he fled, embarked in a piragua on the Mississippi, and came to New Orleans. He put himself under the protection of M. de Bienville, the then governor, and offered to be his huntsman. The governor accepted his services, and interested himself for him with the Natchez, who declared that he had nothing more to fear, because the ceremony was past, and he was accordingly no longer a lawful prize.

Elteacteal, being thus assured, ventured to return to his nation, and, without settling among them, he made several voyages thither. He happened to be there when the Sun called the Stung Serpent, brother to the Great Sun, died. He was a relative of the late wife of Elteacteal, and they resolved to make him pay his debt. M. de Bienville had been recalled to France, and the sovereign of the Natchez thought that the protector’s absence had annulled the reprieve granted to the protected person, and accordingly he caused him to be arrested. As soon as the poor fellow found himself in the hut of the grand chief of war, together with the other victims destined to be sacrificed to the Stung Serpent, he gave vent to the excess of his grief. The favorite wife of the late Son, who was likewise to be sacrificed, and who saw the preparations for her death with firmness, and seemed impatient to rejoin her husband, hearing Elteacteal’s complaints and groans, said to him: “Art thou no warrior?” He answered, “Yes: I am one.” “However,” said she, “thou cryest; life is dear to thee, and as that is the case, it is not good that thou shouldst go along with us; go with the women.” Elteacteal replied: “True; life is dear to me. It would be well if I walked yet on earth till to the death of the Great Sun, and I would die with him.” “Go thy way,” said the favorite, “it is not fit thou shouldst go with us, and that thy heart should remain behind on earth. Once more, get away, and let me see thee no more.”

Elteacteal did not stay to hear this order repeated to him; he disappeared like lightning; three old women, two of which were his relatives, offered to pay his debt; their age and their infirmities had disgusted them of life; none of them had been able to use their legs for a great while. The hair of the two that were related to Elteacteal was no more gray than those of women of fifty-five years in France. The other old woman was a hundred and twenty years old, and had very white hair, which is a very uncommon thing among the Indians. None of the three had a quite wrinkled skin. They were dispatched in the evening, one at the door of the Stung Serpent, and the other two upon the place before the temple. * * * A cord is fastened round their necks with a slip-knot, and eight men of their relations strangle them by drawing, four one way and four the other. So many are not necessary, but as they acquire nobility by such executions, there are always more than are wanting, and the operation is performed in an instant. The generosity of these women gave Elteacteal life again, acquired him the degree of considered, and cleared his honor, which he had sullied by fearing death. He remained quiet after that time, and taking advantage of what he had learned during his stay among the French, he became a juggler and made use of his knowledge to impose upon his countrymen.

The morning after this execution they made everything ready for the convoy, and the hour being come, the great master of the ceremonies appeared at the door of the hut, adorned suitably to his quality. The victims who were to accompany the deceased prince into the mansion of the spirits came forth; they consisted of the favorite wife of the deceased, of his second wife, his chancellor, his physician, his hired man, that is, his first servant, and of some old women.

The favorite went to the Great Sun, with whom there were several Frenchmen, to take leave of him; she gave orders for the Suns of both sexes that were her children to appear, and spoke to the following effect:

“Children, this is the day on which I am to tear myself from you (sic) arms and to follow your father’s steps, who waits for me in the country of the spirits; if I were to yield to your tears I would injure my love and fail in my duty. I have done enough for you by bearing you next to my heart, and by suckling you with my breasts. You that are descended of his blood and fed by my milk, ought you to shed tears? Rejoice rather that you are Suns and warriors; you are bound to give examples of firmness and valor to the whole nation: go, my children, I have provided for all your wants, by procuring you friends; my friends and those of your father are yours too; I leave you amidst them; they are the French; they are tender-hearted and generous; make yourselves worthy of their esteem by not degenerating from your race; always act openly with them and never implore them with meanness.

“And you, Frenchmen,” added she, turning herself towards our officers, “I recommend my orphan children to you; they will know no other fathers than you; you ought to protect them.”