BURIAL CEREMONIES AT PITT RIVER.
The following vivid description of a last sickness and burial by the Pitt River Indians, is taken from the letter of a lady eye-witness to her son in San Francisco:—
It was evening. We seated ourselves upon a log, your father, Bertie, and I, near the fire round which the natives had congregated to sing for old Gesnip, the chief's wife. Presently Sootim, the doctor, appeared, dressed in a low-necked, loose, white muslin, sleeveless waist fastened to a breech-cloth, and red buck-skin cap fringed and ornamented with beads; the face painted with white stripes down to the chin, the arms from wrist to shoulder, in black, red, and white circles, which by the lurid camp-fire looked like bracelets, and the legs in white and black stripes,—presenting altogether a merry-Andrew appearance. Creeping softly along, singing in a low, gradually-increasing voice, Sootim approached the invalid and poised his hands over her as in the act of blessing. The one nearest him took up the song, singing low at first, then the next until the circle was completed; after this the pipe went round; then the doctor taking a sip of water, partly uncovered the patient and commenced sucking the left side; last of all he took a pinch of dirt and blew it over her. This is their curative process, continued night after night, and long into the night, until the patient recovers or dies.
Next day the doctor came to see me, and I determined if possible to ascertain his own ideas of these things. Giving him some muck-a-muck,[499] I asked him, "What do you say when you talk over old Gesnip?" "I talk to the trees, and to the springs, and birds, and sky, and rocks," replied Sootim, "to the wind, and rain, and leaves, I beg them all to help me." Iofalet, the doctor's companion on this occasion, volunteered the remark: "When Indian die, doctor very shamed, all same Boston doctor;[500] when Indian get well, doctor very smart, all same Boston doctor." Gesnip said she wanted after death to be put in a box and buried in the ground, and not burned. That same day the poor old woman breathed her last—the last spark of that wonderful thing called life flickered and went out; there remained in that rude camp the shriveled dusky carcass, the low dim intelligence that so lately animated it having fled—whither? When I heard of it I went to the camp and found them dressing the body. First they put on Gesnip her best white clothes, then the next best, placing all the while whatever was most valuable, beads, belts, and necklaces, next the body. Money they put into the mouth, her daughter contributing about five dollars. The knees were then pressed up against the chest, and after all of her own clothing was put on, the body was rolled up in the best family bear-skin, and tied with strips of buckskin.
Then Soomut, the chief and husband, threw the bundle over his shoulders, and started off for the cave where they deposit their dead, accompanied by the whole band crying and singing, and throwing ashes from the camp-fire into the air. And thus the old barbarian mourns: "Soomut had two wives—one good, one bad; but she that was good was taken away, while she that is bad remains. O Gesnip gone, gone, gone!" And the mournful procession take up the refrain: "O Gesnip gone, gone, gone!" Again the ancient chief: "Soomut has a little boy, Soomut has a little girl, but no one is left to cook their food, no one to dig them roots. O Gesnip gone, gone, gone!" followed by the chorus. Then again Soomut: "White woman knows that Gesnip was strong to work; she told me her sorrow when Gesnip died. O Gesnip gone, gone, gone!" and this was kept up during the entire march, the dead wife's virtues sung and chorused by the whole tribe, accompanied by the scattering of ashes and lamentations which now had become very noisy. The lady further states that the scene at the grave was so impressive that she was unable to restrain her tears. No wonder then that these impulsive children of nature carry their joy and sorrow to excess, even so far as in this instance, where the affectionate daughter of the old crone had to be held by her companions from throwing herself into the grave of her dead mother. After all, how slight the shades of difference in hearts human, whether barbaric or cultured!
As before mentioned, the ruling passion of the savage seems to be love of wealth; having it, he is respected, without it he is despised; consequently he is treacherous when it profits him to be so, thievish when he can steal without danger, cunning when gain is at stake, brave in defense of his lares and penates. Next to his excessive venality, abject superstition forms the most prominent feature of his character. He seems to believe that everything instinct with animal life—with some, as with the Siahs, it extends to vegetable life also—is possessed by evil spirits; horrible fancies fill his imagination. The rattling of acorns on the roof, the rustling of leaves in the deep stillness of the forest is sufficient to excite terror. His wicked spirit is the very incarnation of fiendishness; a monster who falls suddenly upon the unwary traveler in solitary places and rends him in pieces, and whose imps are ghouls that exhume the dead to devour them.[501]
Were it not for the diabolic view he takes of nature, his life would be a comparatively easy one. His wants are few, and such as they are, he has the means of supplying them. He is somewhat of a stoic, his motto being never do to-day what can be put off until to-morrow, and he concerns himself little with the glories of peace or war. Now and then we find him daubing himself with great stripes of paint, and looking ferocious, but ordinarily he prefers the calm of the peaceful temescal to the din of battle. The task of collecting a winter store of food he converts into a kind of summer picnic, and altogether is inclined to make the best of things, in spite of the annoyance given him in the way of reservations and other benefits of civilization. Taken as a whole, the Northern Californian is not such a bad specimen of a savage, as savages go, but filthiness and greed are not enviable qualities, and he has a full share of both.[502]
THE CENTRAL CALIFORNIANS.
The Central Californians occupy a yet larger extent of territory, comprising the whole of that portion of California extending, north and south, from about 40° 30´ to 35°, and, east and west, from the Pacific Ocean to the Californian boundary.
NATIONS OF CENTRAL CALIFORNIA.