THE GAME OF PELICAN, AND ITS CLOSE RESEMBLANCE TO HOCKEY — AVAS, OR THE EIGHT BEANS GAME — MANUFACTURES — MAKING BROTHERHOOD, AND EXCHANGING NAMES — AN IRRUPTION OF NEW RELATIVES — STATE OF THE HEALING ART — THE MACHIS OR DOCTORS — THEIR MODE OF WORKING CURES — A WEIRD-LIKE SCENE — THE FEMALE DOCTOR AT HER INCANTATION — FEAR OF ALLOWING THE NAME TO BE KNOWN — BELIEF IN OMENS — THE LUCKY BIRDS — HUMAN SACRIFICE — FUNERAL OF A CHIEF.

The games of the Araucanians are tolerably numerous, and one or two of them resemble some of our own games. There is one, for example, called Pelican, which is almost identical with the well-known game of hockey. An animated description of this game is given by Mr. E. R. Smith:—

“Early in the morning we saw a number of boys engaged upon the fine lawn in front of the house in planting out twigs at short intervals, thus forming an alley about forty feet wide, and some three hundred long. They were preparing for a game of Pelican. Others were blowing a long horn (formed by the insertion of a cow’s horn in a hollow cane), to the tones of which came back answering notes, as though a rival band were approaching over the hills. The night before, we had heard the same challenge to the neighboring youths, and the same echoing reply, but more faint and distant. At last the enemy were seen emerging from the woods; a shout of welcome arose; there were many salutations, a ‘big talk,’ and all put themselves in readiness for the great trial of skill.

“The game of Pelican ... is played with a small wooden ball, propelled along the ground by sticks curved at the lower end. The two sides have their bases at opposite extremities of the alley. The ball is placed in a hole half-way between the bases, and over it two boys are stationed, while the other players are scattered along the alley, each armed with a stick. When all is ready, the two boys strike their sticks together in the air, and commence a struggle for the ball, each striving to knock it toward the opposite party.

“The object of every one is to drive the ball through his opponent’s base, or, in defence of his own, to knock it sideways beyond the bordering line of twigs, in which case the trial is put down as drawn, and recommences. Each game is duly notched on a stick, and the party first tallying a certain number gains the victory.

“There was much shouting and shuffling, many a cracked shin and an occasional tumble, but the greatest goodwill reigned throughout. Some thirty players were engaged in the game, mostly naked, with the exception of a poncho about the loins. I was much disappointed with their physical development, which was not as I expected to see. They struck me as inferior to the laboring classes in Chili, both in muscle and symmetry, though possessing the same general features. Neither was their playing remarkable either for skill or activity; and if they were a fair sample, it would be an easy matter to select from many of our schools or colleges a party of young men more than a match for the same number of picked Araucanians, even at their own national game of Pelican.”

When the sun is too high to allow this game to proceed, the players generally abandon it in favor of another game called Avas. This is purely a game of chance. It is played with eight beans, each having a mark on one side, and ten sticks, which are used in reckoning the game. Spreading a poncho on the ground, the players sit at opposite sides, and each in turn takes the beans, shakes them in his hands, and flings them on the poncho. For each bean that falls with the marked side upward one point is scored, a hundred completing the game.

The interest displayed in this game is extraordinary. The players shout to the beans, talk to them, kiss them, press them to their breasts, and rub them on the ground, imploring them to send good luck to themselves, and evil fortune to their antagonists, and treating them exactly as if they were living creatures. At this game they stake all the property that they can muster, and ponchos, bolas, lassos, knives, ornaments, and dollars when they can be got, change hands with great rapidity amid the excited yells of the players and spectators. At this game the Araucanians frequently lose every article of property which they possess, and it is not at all uncommon to see a well-dressed and well-armed player go disconsolately home without his weapons, his ornaments, and his clothes, except a ragged cheripa.

The fate of prisoners of war often depends on the turn of a bean, and sometimes, when the national council have been unable to decide on a subject, they have settled the point by the result of a game at avas. Even the pelican game has sometimes been entrusted with the decision of a knotty point of policy.

The manufactures of the Araucanians are but few. The art of the silversmith has already been described, as has also that of the bolas maker, while the manufacture of the lasso will be described in another place. The native cloths are made of cotton or wool, and are woven in very rude looms. The principal dye employed by the Araucanians is indigo, and the bright scarlet patterns which are introduced into the best cloths are obtained by interweaving threads unravelled from European manufactures.

Among their social customs, the mode of making brotherhood ought to be mentioned, inasmuch as it resembles in some respects that which has already been described as practised in the Malay Archipelago and in Africa, and in others. The ceremony is called Lacu, and is performed after the following manner.

One individual is selected from the family into which the honored guest is to be received, and to him a present is made. He then fetches a lamb, kills it, cuts it into two pieces, and boils one-half of the animal. The meat is then placed in a huge wooden bowl, and brought to the new brother in Lacu, who is supposed to eat the whole of it, and if he should leave a single mouthful would grievously insult the family into which he was to be received.

Fortunately, he is allowed by the laws of etiquette to take advantage of the adage, qui facit per alium facit per se; and though he cannot by any possibility consume half a lamb, he is allowed to eat as much as he can manage and to distribute the remainder among the family, who are only too happy to take their share in fulfilling the required conditions. From that time the two Lacus exchange names.

Mr. E. R. Smith went through the ceremony of Lacu, and became a member of the Mapuché tribe, under the name of Nam-culan, an abbreviation of Namcu-Lanquen, i. e. Eaglet of the Sea. Sometime afterward he found that his relations were strangely numerous.

“After the usual meal, the usual distribution of presents was made, and as the family was small we were just congratulating ourselves on escaping cheaply, when in sauntered a neighbor, who was presented as my brother. He had hardly settled down to the enjoyment of his share of the booty, when in dropped a blear-eyed old woman, who proved to be my aunt. Next followed a stately dowager, fair, fat, and forty, radiant with paint and silver ornaments, looking as innocent as though she had dropped in by the merest accident in the world. She was my sister, and so it went on until we began to think that our host’s relations were innumerable.”

The Araucanians know a little about medicine, and much more about surgery, though the mixture of superstition with practice lessens the former, and the absence of a written language hinders the latter. Their medicines are almost entirely vegetable, the chief of which is the well-known sarsaparilla root. Bleeding is performed by means of sharp flakes of obsidian, which are sharper than any knife of native manufacture, and blisters are in great favor.

The Mapuché mode of blistering is the very simple one of the actual cautery, and is performed by means of a moxa made of dried pith. This material is rolled up in little balls and applied to the skin, where it is allowed to remain until entirely consumed, being pressed down so as to ensure its full effect. This is horribly painful, but in spite of that drawback—perhaps in consequence of it—is very much in favor with the people.

Beside these material medicines they have others of a different character, which are employed when the disease is beyond the reach of their simple medicines. The wise men who practise this advanced system of healing are but few in number, and are called by the title of Machi, their mode of practice receiving the name of machilun.

Going on the principle that a disease which cannot be expelled by medicine must be caused by an evil spirit, the Machi proceeds to drive it out after his own fashion. The hut is cleared of inhabitants, and the patient laid on his back in the middle of the floor. The Machi, having in the meanwhile removed nearly the whole of his clothes, and made himself as horrible as he can by paint, enters the dwelling, taking with him his magic drum, i. e. a wooden bowl with a cover of sheepskin strained tightly over it. After examining the patient, the Machi begins a long-drawn monotonous incantation, accompanied by continual beating of the drum, until he has worked himself up to a pitch of frenzy, and falls backward on the ground, with breast jerking convulsively, eyes rolling, and mouth foaming.

As soon as he falls, a number of young men, who have been waiting close to the hut, leap on their horses, and dash at full speed round the house, yelling defiantly, waving lighted torches over their heads, and brandishing their long lances by way of frightening the evil spirit, and warning him not to come near the place again. Like the Machi, they are all nearly naked, and painted in the most hideous fashion, so as to strike terror, not only into the spirit that has possession of the man, but into those who are hovering round the house, and trying to gain admission. In the first engraving on the next page the artist has furnished a strange, weird scene, illustrating the Mapuché mode of healing the sick.

After a while the Machi recovers from his trance, and then announces the seat and immediate cause of the malady. For the latter he carefully searches the patient, and after a time produces it in the shape of a spider, a toad, a stone, an arrow head, or similar object. Were he to do more than this, no harm would accrue, and if the patient should recover no harm is done.

But, should he die, the Machi is forced by public opinion to declare that the evil spirit has been sent to the dead man by means of witchcraft.

The body is opened, the gall removed, and placed in the wooden bowl of the magic drum, where it undergoes a series of incantations. After they are over, it is put into a closely covered pot and placed on the fire until it is dried up. The sign of witchcraft is a stone found at the bottom of the pot, and it is needless to say that such a stone is never wanting. By means of this proof of witchcraft, the Machi again throws himself into a trance, in the course of which he designates the culprit who has caused the illness of the deceased.

No one ever disbelieves a Machi, and the relatives of the dead man seek out the accused and murder him. It naturally follows that the Machis are too prone to abuse this terrible power of their position by accusing persons against whom they have enmity, or whom they have been bribed to condemn. No counter proof is admitted in the face of a Machi’s accusation; and if the alleged culprit should be in another district, the cacique is requested to deliver him up to justice. The unfortunate wretch is sure to suffer torture for the sake of extracting a confession of his guilt, and, whether he confess or not, he is sure to be killed; so that a wise man admits his guilt at once, and thereby escapes the tortures which he would otherwise have suffered.

Sometimes, though rarely, the Machi is a woman. In this case she assumes the male dress, mimics as far as she can the masculine tone of voice and mode of walking, and is always a very disagreeable individual, being mostly crabbed, ill-tempered, petulant, and irritable.

As the Machi always operates at night, the scene is most wild and picturesque, as may be seen from the account of Mr. E. R. Smith, who witnessed (at a distance) the operations of a female Machi.

“One of the neighbors was dangerously ill, and during the night there was a grand machilun performed by the grand exorcist, the medicine woman of Boroa herself. I wished to be present, but Sancho would not listen to the proposal, insisting that we might expose ourselves to violence by appearing to interfere with this witch, whose hatred of the whites and influence over the natives were alike unbounded.

“The night was black and threatening, well suited to her machinations. We could plainly hear the monotonous tap of the Indian drum, and the discordant song occasionally rising with the frenzy of the moment into a shrill scream, then sinking to a low, guttural cadence, while all else was hushed for very dread of the unhallowed rites. Suddenly the singing stopped, and there was a long silence, broken by the eruption of a troop of naked savages rushing round the house on horse and afoot, brandishing fiercely lance, and sword, and burning fagot and blazing torch, and making night hideous with their demoniac cries. The frightened dogs howled in dismal concert, and again all was still. The evil spirit had been cast out and driven away. It only remained for the sick man to recover or die.”

The witch who presided over this extraordinary scene was a mestizo, i. e. a half-breed between the negro and the native. She was a singularly unprepossessing personage, hideously ugly, and turning her ugliness of features to account by her shrewdness of intellect. Ugliness is not, however, a necessary accompaniment of this particular caste. There is now before me a photograph of a young mestizo woman, whose features, although they partake somewhat of the negro character, are good and intelligent, her color is comparatively pale, and her hair retains the length and thickness of the Araucanian, together with a crispness which has been inherited from the negro race.

Like many other uncivilized nations, the Araucanians have a great objection to allow a stranger to learn their names, thinking that by means of such knowledge the wizards may be able to practise upon them. When they are brought into contact with the white man, and are asked their names, the Araucanians flatly deny that they have any. They will take service under him, and allow him to call them by any name that he likes, but their own name they will never tell, nor do they like even to invent one on the spur of the moment. The reader will doubtless recall many similar instances that have been recorded in the course of this work. They have a similar objection to their portraits being taken, thinking that the possessor will be able to exercise magical influence upon them by means of the simulated features.

This terror has been increased by the use of books by the white travellers. Nothing is more inexplicable to an Araucanian than to see a white man, evidently ignorant of the language, refer to a book and then say the word which he wants. How such a mystery can be achieved is beyond his comprehension, and he regards the book and its owner as equally supernatural beings.

In one case, an Indian of more than usually inquisitive mind pointed to various objects, in order to see whether his white visitor could find out their names by looking at a book. Being convinced that the feat really was performed, he peered into the book, vainly trying to detect some resemblance between the word and the object which it signified. As he did not gain much information from his eyes, his white friend pointed out the word, on which he laid his hand as if to feel it. Just at that moment, a slight breeze ruffled the leaves of the book. The man drew back as if a snake had bitten him. The mysterious voice of the white man’s oracle had spoken to him, and, what was worse, upon his left hand. He said nothing, but silently withdrew, and, wrapping his poncho round his head, sat for several hours without speaking a word.

In consequence of this superstition, a traveller dares not use his note book openly. He is obliged to write his remarks surreptitiously, and, so great is the fear inspired by the very fact of writing, that even if the traveller be out of sight for any lengthened time, the people are nervous and suspicious.

The Araucanians have a firm belief in omens, and will address prayers after their own fashion to any of the creatures that are supposed to have supernatural power. On one occasion, when Mr. E. R. Smith was travelling with his native friends, one of the mules fell and broke its back. This was a sinister omen, and the Araucanians were correspondingly depressed at it. Fortunately, an omen so good followed it that their fears were dispelled and confidence restored.

The reader may remember that Mr. Smith had just exchanged names with a Mapuché lad, and was called Namcu-lanquen, i. e. Eaglet of the Sea. Just after the unlucky mule had injured itself, a sea eagle rose suddenly from its perch, circled around the party, and sailed off southward. This was indeed a fortunate omen. In the first place, the bird was the emblem of the white man who had recently become a Mapuché, and in the next, the eagle was on the right hand of the travellers.

The native guide Trauque put spurs to his horse, dashed forward at full gallop, shouting and yelling with excitement at the piece of good fortune that had befallen them. Presently he halted, and addressed a prayer to the eagle: “O Namcu! Great being! Look not upon us with thy left but with thy right eye, for thou knowest that we are poor! Watch over our children and brothers; and grant us happiness, and allow us to return in safety from our journey.”

Every circumstance combined to make the omen propitious. The Namcu is the being most venerated by the Araucanians, who think that it is a sort of heavenly messenger in direct communication with the Superior Being. The reader will doubtless be struck with the coincidence between the bird divinations of the Araucanians and those of the Dyaks of Borneo, as well as by their identity with the auguries of ancient Greece and Rome.

With the exception of the wise men above mentioned, the Araucanians have no priests, and as a necessary consequence they have no temples and no religious ceremonies. There is a general though vague belief in a good and evil principle, which may be manifested by a host of inferior deities or demons. They have not even an idol, nor is there any definite system of worship, the only prayers which a native makes being invocations such as that which has just been described as made to the eagle.

Sacrifices are made at their great national councils. An animal is killed, its blood is poured on the ground as a libation, and the heart, laid on a green branch, is borne round the assembly, accompanied with dances and songs. The flesh is then cooked and eaten, and the bones collected and thrown into the nearest river, so that they shall not be polluted by being eaten by the dogs.

Sometimes in war time, a prisoner is sacrificed. He is placed on a horse whose tail and ears have been cropped by way of deriding the rider, and is thus taken to the place of execution. Here he dismounts, and is forced to dig a hole, into which he throws a number of sticks, calling each after the name of some celebrated warrior of his tribe. He is then made to fill up the hole, thus symbolically burying the fame of his countrymen, and as soon as he has done so, his brains are dashed out with a club, care being taken to inflict as little damage as possible on the skull.

As soon as he falls, the heart is torn from the breast and handed to the Toqui, who sucks a few drops of the blood, and passes it to his officers, who follow his example. The large bones of the arms and legs are made into flutes, the head is placed on a spear and carried round in triumph, and the skull is made into a drinking-cup to be used at the principal feasts. Such a sacrifice, however, is not to be considered as an act of worship, but merely as a mode of propitiating the manes of deceased warriors.

The similitude between the bird omens of the ancient Greeks and Romans and those of modern Araucanians has already been mentioned. There is another semi-religious practice which also recalls the customs of classic times, namely, the making of libations and offerings of food at every meal. When the Araucanian takes his broth or wine, he pours a few drops upon the ground as a thank offering to the higher powers, and with the same motive he scatters around a few morsels of food.

The mode of burial differs slightly according to the locality and the tribe.

When a Mapuché chief dies, the body is exposed on an open bier for several days, during which time the friends and neighbors pay their respects and offer their condolence to the family. On the day of the funeral a procession is formed, led by a company of young men on horseback, who dash forward at full speed to the place of interment. After them the body, borne by the principal relatives, and behind them come the women, who wail aloud and fill the air with their cries of sorrow. Last of all comes a woman who scatters ashes on the ground, so that the deceased may not return by the path along which he was borne. The illustration No. 2, on page 1207, represents this part of a Mapuché funeral.

The body is then bound with the knees to the breast, and lowered into the grave, with the face toward the west, the direction of the Mapuché spirit-land. The saddle, bit, spurs, and stirrups of the deceased are laid by his side, together with some provisions for the journey, a few beads, and a piece of money, and the grave is then filled up. As, however, the horse accoutrements of a chief are of silver, and exceedingly valuable, they are represented by wooden copies, which are supposed to serve the purposes of the deceased as well as the more costly articles, which become the property of his successors.

At the head of the grave is planted the dead man’s lance, the steel head of which is replaced by a wooden imitation. It is also necessary that a horse should be provided for the dead chief, and this is done by sacrificing his favorite steed, and hanging its skin over the grave by means of a pole placed across two forked props. Mr. E. R. Smith shrewdly remarks that in all probability the deceased would be put off with a wooden horse to ride, were it not that the Mapuchés are exceedingly fond of horseflesh, and take the opportunity of holding a great banquet on the flesh of the slaughtered animal, the skin and spirit going to the share of the dead man.

Such ceremonies as these are only for a chief, a common man not being supposed to need a horse, and consequently being buried with slight and simple ceremonies. For the funerals of women the rites are of a similar character, the chief distinction being that, instead of the saddle and weapons, some cooking vessels, a distaff, and similar objects are laid in the grave.

Some travellers have asserted that when a powerful chief dies, his favorite wife is also killed and placed in the tomb with him. This statement is, however, very doubtful, and was flatly contradicted by every one of whom Mr. Smith inquired. The Mapuchés seem to have a vague notion that the dead are able to return to earth and watch over the living; and when the dark thunder-clouds lower over the distant Cordilleras, they imagine that the deceased warriors of their tribe are chasing away the invisible foes of their country, and utter loud shouts of encouragement to the supernatural warriors.

In some parts of the Mapuché territory the graves are surrounded with a rude fence of upright boards, from the midst of which rises the long quivering lance with its slight pennon fluttering in the wind. (See background of illustration).

The Huilyichés, however, have a much more elaborate mode of decorating the graves of their chiefs, resembling in some degree that which is employed by the New Zealanders. Figures supposed to represent the deceased chief and his wives are set round the grave, just as the New Zealanders plant their “tikis” round the graves of their friends. (See page 861.)

One such memorial, seen by Mr. Smith, had a very singular, not to say ludicrous, appearance. Each figure was cut out of a huge log of wood, some ten or twelve feet in height. In the middle stood the chief himself, wearing no clothing, but having a hat on his head and a sword in his hand. Round him were stationed his wives, equally without clothing, the great object of the artist being to leave no doubt which is the chief and which are his wives, without troubling himself as to details of drapery. Rude as these figures are, only very few natives can carve them, and these sculptors make a large income by the exercise of their skill. Each figure is purchased with a fat ox, or even at a higher price, according to its size and the amount of labor bestowed upon it, and no grandee can be considered as buried respectably unless the grave be decorated with a figure of the deceased.