The chief instrument used is a comb of thorns,—not a single thorn, as is generally stated,—but a tier or row of them set comb-fashion. These thorns are the spines of the “murumuru,” or “pupunha” palm (Gullielmia speciosa). Humboldt states that this palm is smooth and spineless, but in this the great, good man was in error. Its trunk is so covered with thorns or spines, that when the Indians require to climb it—for the purpose of procuring the valuable fruits, which they eat variously prepared—they have to erect a staging, or rude sort of ladder, to be able to get at them.
The comb, then, is pressed down upon the skin of the “tatooee,” till all the points have penetrated the flesh, and a row of holes is laid open, from which the blood flows profusely. As soon as this can be wiped off, ashes of a burnt gum or pitch are rubbed into the wounds, which, when healed, appear like so many dots of a deep bluish or black colour. In this way the young Mundrucus, both boys and girls, get those regular rows of dotted lines, which traverse their forehead and cheeks, their arms and limbs, breasts, and bodies in such eccentric fashion. It has often been asked how these lines of dots were carried over the skin in such straight and symmetrical rows, forming regular parallel lines, or other geometrical patterns. The “comb” will explain the mystery.
The tatoo, with a few strings of shell-beads or necklaces, and bracelets of monkey and jaguar teeth, is all the dress which is permitted to the Mundrucu belle. In Mundrucu-land it is the reverse of what is practised among civilised people: the men are the exponents of the fashions, and keep exclusively to themselves the cosmetics and bijouterie. Not contented with being tatooed, these also paint their bodies, by way of “overcoat,” and also adorn themselves with the bright feathers of birds. They wear on their heads the beautiful circlet of macaw-plumes, and on grand occasions appear in the magnificent “feather dress,” so long celebrated as the peculiar costume of the tropical-forest Indian. These dresses their women weave and border, at a sacrifice of much tedious labour. They also ornament their arms and legs with rows of feathers around them, the tips turned upward and backward.
The tatooing is confined to the Mundrucus proper,—their allies, the Mahües not following the practice, but contenting themselves with a simple “coat” of paint.
It is difficult to say what motive first inducted human beings into this singular and barbarous custom. It is easier to tell why it is still followed, and the “why” is answered by saying that the Mundrucus “scarify” themselves, because their fathers did so before them. Many a custom among civilised nations, but little less ridiculous, if we could only think so, rests upon a similar basis. Perhaps our modern abominable hat—though it has a different origin—is not less ludicrous than the tatooed patterns of the savage. Certainly it is quite equal to it in ugliness, and is likely to rival it in permanence,—to our sorrow be it said. But even we deal slightly in the tatoo. Our jolly Jack would be nobody in the forecastle without “Polly,” in blue, upon his weather-beaten breast, and the foul anchor upon his arm.
But the Mundrucu baptises his unfortunate offspring in a still more savage fashion. The tattoo may be termed the baptism in blood, performed at the tender age of ten. When the youth—fortunately it does not extend to the weaker sex—has attained to the age of eighteen, he has then to undergo the tocandeira, which deserves to be called the baptism of fire!
This too merits description. When the Mundrucu youth would become a candidate for manhood, a pair of “gloves” is prepared for him. These consist of two pieces of a palm-tree bark, with the pith hollowed out, but left in at one end. The hollow part is of sufficient diameter to draw over the hands loosely, and so long as to reach up to mid-arm, after the fashion of gauntlets.
The “gloves” being got ready, are nearly filled with ants, not only the venomous red ants, but all other species, large or small, that can either bite or sting, of which tropical South America possesses an endless variety. With this “lining” the “mittens” are ready for use, and the “novice” is compelled to draw them on. Should he refuse, or even exhibit a disposition to shrink from the fiery trial, he is a lost man. From that hour he need never hold up his head, much less offer his hand and heart, for there is not a maiden in all Mundrucu-land that would listen to his softest speech. He is forever debarred from the pleasure of becoming a benedict. Of course he does not refuse, but plunging his hands into the “mittens,” into the very midst of the crawling host, he sets about the ceremony.
He must keep on the gloves till he has danced before every door in the village. He must sing as if from very joy; and there is plenty of music to accompany him, drums and fifes, and human voices,—for his parents and relatives are by his side encouraging him with their songs and gestures. He is in pain,—in positive agony,—for these venomous ants both sting and bite, and have been busy at both from the very first moment. Each moment his agony grows more intense, his sufferings more acute, for the poison is thrilling through his veins,—he turns pale,—his eyes become blood-cast,—his breast quivers with emotion and his limbs tremble beneath him; but despite all this, woe to him if he utter a cry of weakness! It would brand him with an eternal stigma,—he would never be suffered to carry the Mundrucu lance to battle,—to poise upon its point the ghastly trophy of the Beheaders. On, on, through the howling throng, amidst friends and relatives with faces anxious as his own; on to the sound of the shrill-piping reed and the hoarse booming of the Indian drum; on till he stands in front of the cabin of the chief! There again the song is sung, the “jig” is danced, both proudly prolonged till the strength of the performer becomes completely exhausted. Then, and not till then, the gloves are thrown aside, and the wearer falls back, into the arms of his friends, “sufficiently punished!”
This is the hour of congratulation. Girls gather round him, and fling their tatooed arms about his neck. They cluster and cling upon him, singing his song of triumph; but just at that crisis he is not in the mood for soft caresses; and, escaping from their blandishments, he makes a rush towards the river. On reaching its bank he plunges bodily in, and there remains up to his neck in the water, till the cooling fluid has to some extent eased his aching arms, and tranquillised the current of his boiling blood. When he emerges from the water, he is a man, fit stuff for a Mundrucu warrior, and eligible to the hand of a Mundrucu maiden.