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SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 149
SYMPOSIUM ON LOCAL DIVERSITY IN IROQUOIS CULTURE
EDITED BY WILLIAM N. FENTON
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LETTER OF TRANSMITTAL
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION, Bureau or AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY, Washington, D. C., September 1, 1950.
Sir: I have the honor to transmit herewith a manuscript entitled “Symposium on Local Diversity in Iroquois Culture,” edited by William N. Fenton, and to recommend that it be published as a bulletin of the Bureau of American Ethnology.
Very respectfully yours, M. W. Sriruine, Director.
Dr. ALEXANDER WETMORE,
Secretary, Smithsonian Institution.
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CONTENTS
. 1. Introduction: The Concept of Locality and the Program of Iro-
quoi: Research, by William IN. Fenton_.- 222-2 20. ----<.---
. 2. Concepts of Land Ownership among the Iroquois and Their
Noiwhbors, by George 8, Shyderman: <2. 55-522... s¢-~- 2 =
. 3. Locality as a Basic Factor in the Development of Iroquois Social
Steactare) by William IN; Bentom...2-...2% 2 e222 S sees oS
. 4. Some Psychological Determinants of Culture Change in an Iro-
quoian Community, by Anthony F. C. Wallace__-.-.---------
. 5. The Religion of Handsome Lake: Its Origin and Development, by
Merlewhler iD Card Orie. 2 Ape ee ee ae, Sen eee pee
. 6. Local Diversity in Iroquois Music and Dance, by Gertrude P.
. 7. The Feast of the Dead, or Ghost Dance at Six Nations Reserve,
Canada, by William N. Fenton and Gertrude P. Kurath-_-_------
. 8. Iroquois Women, Then and Now, by Martha Champion Randle--
ILLUSTRATIONS
FIGURES
Dance of the Society of the Medicine Men and Mystic Animals--_--_-- ease TReeMUANCG sh. oS ee eee ae Re a Se ns oe DEBT TD Uae IS ee ge alae ie hx ca. bands a eli Af dah aly cela anne a
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Onondarartonenouse...- memeber
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. ’Ohgi’we third concluding song, number 66, for men and women---- . ’Ohgi’we final song, number 68, for men, with women’s shuffle step_- . Carry-out-the-Kettle, dance pattern and last song, number 10_----- oIoONe Beales and rhythmic motifs: .-..-2--- 225.2 s2 32225. sees ese
PAGE
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SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 149
Symposium on Local Diversity in Iroquois Culture
No. 1. Introduction: The Concept of Locality and the Program of Iroquois Research
By WILLIAM N. FENTON
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INTRODUCTION
THE CONCEPT OF LOCALITY AND THE PROGRAM OF IROQUOIS RESEARCH
By Wuu1am N. Fenton
The modern state, at all its levels, from the nation down to the community, is organized on the principle of where one lives, and neigh- bors seldom are related. At earlier times and in nonliterate societies neighbors are likely to be a group of kinsmen. If the modern state seizes the principle of coresidence, or local contiguity, and thus makes all its political and legal arrangements on a local or territorial basis, preliterate societies project the kinship units, which absorb local po- litical and legal functions, to the level of the tribe and state. Maine (1883, p. 124 ff.) discovered the two principles of kinship and ter- ritorial organization of politics, but overstated the case for an evo- lutionary sequence from the former to the latter. In earlier societies, he wrote, man fights for his kin, not his neighbors, but he neglected to state that they were often identical. According to Lowie (1948, pp. 10-11), Maine was wholly right in distinguishing the two principles of solidarity—kinship and coresidence—and he was also correct in stressing the predominance of kinship in simpler cultures, but he over- emphasized the point. In predominately kinship states like the Iro- quois, the local tie operated equally with kinship, and Iroquois society shows that a kinship group is fundamentally also a local group, and that both factors have been operative in the creation of a confederacy.
Morgan himself was aware of the localized character of much of Iroquois culture, and his description of the operation of the League indicated how certain matters were left to local autonomy. His mate- rials were derived mainly from the Tonawanda Band of Seneca, whom he befriended in their efforts to recover a reservation sold from under their feet by the Seneca council at Buffalo Creek, and his knowl- edge of the Seneca Nation, by that time resident at Cattaraugus and Allegany, derived from conversations with Nicholson Parker, the United States interpreter, and from correspondence with Rev. Asher Wright. So far as I know, Morgan never visited Allegany. The Onondaga at Syracuse were better known to him, and he went to
3
4 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B. A. EB. Bull. 149
Grand River collecting for the New York State Cabinet of Antiqui- ties (Fenton, 1941). Perhaps, without his intention, his writings be- came generalized for all the Iroquois.
Morgan’s intense interest and prodigious contribution to the study of kinship systems have all but obscured his own affirmation of Maine. The relation of kin to locality was sharply focused in Mor- gan’s thinking: that clans arise from clans by a process of local seg- mentation, that clans were formerly associated with villages, and that clans lived together and tended to segregate their dead in burial grounds. Such were the questions which he addressed to Rev. Asher Wright and to which partial answers may be found in Morgan’s writ- ings (Stern, 19383; Morgan, 1878, 1881).
With a few notable exceptions, succeeding generations of anthropol- ogists carried on studies of kinship and left community studies to the sociologists (Murdock, 1949, p. 79). My own interest in the organiza- tion of social groups on a local basis stems from several sources: from Sapir’s sending me as a student to see Speck before going to the field, from a 2-year residence at Tonawanda while community worker for the United States Indian Service; from reading and teaching Linton’s work (1936); from conversations with Steward (after joining the “Bureau”) while writing for the Swanton volume (Fenton, 1940). Finally, the stimulus to attempt integration of the disciplines working on various aspects of the Iroquois problem came from a war-time ex- perience of surveying foreign area-study programs in the universities (Fenton, 1947). There resulted four conferences on Iroquois Re- search, held annually 1945-48 at Red House, N. Y., and by extension the present symposium, to which the annual meetings of the American Anthropological Association devoted an afternoon session, New York City, November 17, 1949.
The Iroquois afford an opportunity to test the validity of the area- study approach to a culture which has local, tribal, and national levels.
1The Proceedings of the Conference on Iroquois Research have been prepared by participants and edited by me for publication in mimeograph and distributed to mem- bers of the Conference. Proceedings of the First Conference (11 pp.) were issued at the Administration Building, Allegany State Park, Red House, N. Y., and are now out of print. Proceedings of the Second Conference (6 pp.) were issued by Smithsonian Insti- tution, and notes appeared in the American Anthropologist (vol. 49, 1947, pp. 166-167) and in American Antiquity (vol. 12, 1947, p. 207). Proceedings of the Third Conference reached abundant proportions (24 pp.) and were issued for the Conference by the Pea- body Museum, Salem, Mass., following on Science (December 5, 1947, pp. 539-540) and the above professional journals. By 1948 the group had shifted from informal discussion to presentation of research papers and formal reports of field and museum investigations ; again Science (November 26, 1948, vol. 108, p. 611) carried a notice, and the Proceedings of the Fourth Conference, issued March 15, 1949, by the Smithsonian Institution, totaled 27 pages. (A limited number of copies of Proceedings 3—4 are available.) The meetings had reached such proportions and the topics so crowded the agenda of the Fourth Con- ference that it seemed advisable in 1949 to meet with all the anthropologists in New
York and devote a full 2-hour seminar in Ethnology to formal papers written around the theme of local diversity.
No. 1] CONCEPT OF LOCALITY—FENTON 5
Moreover, the long tradition of research in the Iroquoian field gives it rich materials for testing cultural historical depth. No ethnographic province in the Americas, indeed—if not the world—has a richer lode of published ethnological and historical literature than the Northeast, and the manuscript collections of historical materials bearing on the Iroquois alone in a number of libraries are rivaled only by the Hewitt papers in the Bureau of American Ethnology archives. These ma- terials present no challenge to the timid nor is the Iroquois problem a restricted area of inquiry. He who essays the Iroquoian problem tackles the history of northeastern North America from discovery to the present, for the Six Nations crop up near the center of every na- tional crisis down to 1840. Since 1851, when Morgan’s League appeared, they have become a classic people to ethnology.
The study of the local basis of Iroquois culture and the local organ- ization of Iroquois society has particular significance because the League isa kinship state. As opposed to a tradition of conquest states in Asia and Africa, in America north of the Rio Grande confederacies of related village bands prevailed. Quite the most famous of these, and justly so, was the democratic League of the Five Iroquois Nations, the so-called United Nations of the Iroquois. Its political history, in preparation (Fenton, 1949 b), shows how it grew out of what Franklin called a “League of ragged villagers.” Founded as a confederation of then village chiefs, its symbolisms were projected from a basic joint- household type of kinship structure to the Longhouse that was the League. Yet the Longhouse as a symbol for the state exhibited and tolerated a certain amount of local diversity at each of its five fires. Tribal languages have survived for study; tribal councils had locally different methods of counseling and sent different-sized delegations to confederate councils; and ceremonialism was a local concern. As may be expected, local folkways prevailed within the general framework of pan-Iroquois culture.
As if to augment local diversity, during the seventeenth century the Longhouse incorporated Iroquoian-speaking Erie, Neutral, Huron, and Conestoga captives—the Seneca alone gaining two whole villages in their role as Keepers of the Western Door; and a century later came the Tuscarora as the Sixth Nation, Siouan-speaking Catawba captives, the entire Tutelo and Saponi Tribes, and parts of the Algonquian- speaking Delaware and Nanticoke. All these tribal cultures found shelter within the Longhouse, a home in Iroquoia, and were gradually assimilated.
But Iroquois culture is not entirely a thing of the past. Much of it survives for study. Just how vigorous is the present-day culture may be judged from the symposium papers. They are based on
6 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B. A. E. Bull. 149
functional field work in the present communities, a viewpoint that we owe to the late Professor Speck, who first suggested it.
As early as 1933 Speck observed to me that each of the Rio Grande Pueblos has a distinctive local culture and that anthropology had progressed in the Southwest only after prolonged concentration by ethnologists working separately in each community. Speck’s own wide field experience, ranging from Labrador to the Southeast, which he brought over via Delaware to the study of Cayuga ceremonies at Sour Springs on Grand River (Speck, 1949), argued for community studies by ethnologists working independently on local Iroquois social organization and ceremonial life at each of the focal longhouse centers. While Speck continued at Sour Springs, I commenced among the Seneca, first at Allegany (Fenton, 1936), then at Tonawanda (1941). A wider range of field work became possible after coming to the Bureau in 1939.
Work with Hewitt’s materials on the League of the Iroquois took me to Grand River, where for a number of seasons down to 1945, only partly interrupted by the war, I pursued such topics as ethno- botany, the ceremonial cycle at Onondaga Longhouse, music, and social and political organization, which entailed translating the Deganawidah epic of the founding of the League (Fenton, 1944), ob- serving and describing its major institution, the Condolence Council (1946), and analyzing various mnemonic systems (Fenton and Hewitt, 1945, and Fenton, 1950).
Speck was responsible for directing a number of students to work in the area. John A. Noon spent the summer of 1941 on Six Nations Reserve exploring the law and government of the Grand River Iro- quois (Noon, 1949). Noon selected law and politics to exemplify the process of cultural change, showing how the institutions of the Con- federacy were adapted to the needs of local government in Canada. Another doctoral dissertation in the Iroquoian field at Pennsylvania was that of George S. Snyderman whose analysis of Iroquois warfare (1948) goes far beyond Hunt (1940) in supplementing economic de- terminism with an ethnohistorical perspective derived from field work among the Seneca.? Both E. S. Dodge, now director of the Peabody Museum at Salem, and John Witthoft, State anthropologist of Pennsylvania, were guided in their first Iroquoian field work by Professor Speck. Although Dodge is associated with northeastern Algonquian and Witthoft has worked most intensively on Cherokee, both have made important contributions, often in collaboration with Speck, to the ethnobiology of the eastern woodlands.
? A third doctoral dissertation thesis on the Warfare of the Iroquois and their northern neighbors by Raymond Scheele was submitted at Columbia in 1949.
No. 1] CONCEPT OF LOCALITY—FENTON cf
Two additional community studies may be directly ascribed to the influence on Speck of the Conferences on Iroquois Research. Out of the first two meetings came definite recommendations as to future needs. One was for a study of the Tuscarora problem; another was for a community study of the Onondaga at Nedrow, N. Y. Aside from their implications for archeology, the Tuscarora, who were driven out of the Southeast in the first quarter of the eighteenth century and migrated north to join the League as the Sixth Nation, left a rich historical literature; they speak a divergent Troquoian tongue, their society and politics resemble other Iroquois, and as second-class citizens of the League they present interesting problems of personality orientation. This problem Speck dumped in the lap of Anthony F. C. Wallace, son of a distinguished historical biographer, student of both Speck and Hallowell, and himself a historical biographer in his own right (Wallace, 1949). The Onon- daga problem fell to Augustus F. Brown. Pennsylvania parties have spent two seasons now at Tuscarora, N. Y., and Onondaga.
Work among the Oneida of Wisconsin was begun under the aegis of the University of Wisconsin during WPA, in acculturation by Harry W. Basehart, and in linguistics by Lounsbury. Since the war Lounsbury has extended the analysis of Oneida to a study of com- parative Iroquoian, conducting field work in 1948 at Onondaga, Tuscarora, and at Six Nations Reserve on Cayuga, adding another Yale Ph. D. to the roster of Iroquoianists.
Apropos of linguistics, the Conference stimulated the work of the Voegelins and W. D. Preston on Seneca language (Preston and Voegelin, 1949). At the Summer Linguistics Institute, University of Michigan, 1947, Seneca was the piéce de resistance, and the students of Prof. Zellig Harris at the University of Pennsylvania are at work on Onondaga and Cherokee in particular.
While Speck had students to direct into the Iroquoian field, the University of Pennsylvania shared the program with other univer- sities, and many of the projects funneled through the Bureau of American Ethnology. Yale, Columbia, Indiana, and Toronto Uni- versities have a stake in Iroquois studies.
Support has come from many sources—from participating insti- tutions, but principally from the American Council of Learned Societies, The Viking Fund, Inc., and the American Philosophical Society. The latter two, by grants to me, have contributed heavily to the Iroquois Research Fund at the Smithsonian Institution.
No over-all grants have been requested to finance a total program. Rather, the Iroquois Conference has avoided formal organization, taking the line that research foundations follow the policy of making
8 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B. A. E. Bull. 149
grants to individual working scholars, and the Conference has in- formally agreed to mutually endorse the applications of its partici- pants. Each scholar is responsible to his own institution, to the source of his research grants, and to himself to guarantee productive results. In this connection, members of the Conference have worked closely with the Committee on American Indian Linguistics, Eth- nology, and Archaeology of the American Philosophical Society.
While grants to predoctoral or postdoctoral fellows in universities have predominated, support has been managed for the nonprofessional scholar without institutional connection. Examples are the study of music, the dance, and ethnohistory. In 1936, while resident com- munity worker for the Indian Service at Tonawanda, I enlisted the cooperation of Martha Champian Huot,” then a graduate student at Columbia, to record Iroquois music. I rounded up the singers and took the texts; Mrs. Huot made the records. The Columbia collection of Iroquois records went to Indiana University with Prof. George Herzog and still awaits study. Mrs. Huot, however, in 1947 received a Viking grant and renewed an interest in Iroquois culture through intensive field work on acculturation in the Mohawk language (Huot, 1948) and personality development in children at Six Nations Re- serve. She has meanwhile made an analysis of Iroquois folklore, using the Waugh collection. The problem of Iroquois music has car- ried over to studies of the dance, to which it belongs by association.
It is fortunate, indeed, that Iroquois studies can claim two trained students of the dance. During the war Philippa Pollenz made a field study of Seneca dances, working almost exclusively with Cattaraugus informants. Her report, submitted first as an essay for the degree of master of arts in anthropology at Columbia University, is now await- ing publication as a monograph of the American Ethnological Society. Ethnologists are quite ill-equipped ordinarily to describe dances as part of ceremonialism. 'The need for an adequate choreographic tech- nique is quite as apparent as the need for musical annotation. Ger- trude Prokosch Kurath brings to the work an expert knowledge of music and the dance, and her symposium paper combines the techniques and methods of both fields of study. Her field study and analysis of the Fenton records in the Library of Congress collections were sup- ported by Viking grants and represent pioneering on new ground. She has worked intensively with Seneca at Allegany, thus comple- menting Pollenz’ work at Cattaraugus, and at Six Nations Reserve with Onondaga and Cayuga informants.
Topical studies are somewhat the antithesis of community studies, but need not be. Neither the dance, music, nor personality study has as yet brought forth an over-all picture of the Cattaraugus Seneca, but ethnohistory has done better by the Allegany and Cornplanter
2a Now Mrs. E. P. Randle.
No. 1] CONCEPT OF LOCALITY—FENTON 9
Seneca. Ethnohistory is, in last analysis, a kind of ethnography plus documentary research. History, moreover, has a tradition of glorious amateurism. It is natural, I suppose, that the local scholar, who first comes to notice as a correspondent of the Bureau of American Kthnology, as a critical reader of Smithsonian publications, may be induced to take up ethnology seriously. He has usually been attracted by his reading to cultivate Indian neighbors who are living descend- ants of deceased heroes of history. It is a natural transition from the border warfare of the Pennsylvania frontier and from such heroes as Cornplanter and Blacksnake to collecting Seneca folklore and cul- tivating such characters as the late Windsor Pierce and Chauncey Johnny John. The banker or lawyer in the small city near an Indian reservation has unusual opportunities for following ethnology as a hobby and combining with reading and writing systematic interviews of Indians who call on him daily. Such has been the growth of inter- est in the case of Merle H. Deardorff, who contributes the paper on the historical beginnings of the Handsome Lake Religion at Corn- planter, which is situated close to Warren, Pa., where Mr. Deardorff has been sometime superintendent of schools and banker for many years.
Ethnological studies at Allegany have received further stimulus from Hon. Charles E. Congdon of Salamanca who, like L. H. Morgan of Rochester, came out of the law. For many years Indians have been among his clients; they are daily callers at his law offices; and, as part of the local scene, they fall within a range of interests which embraces the history, fauna, and flora of southwestern New York. It is to Mr. Congdon, chairman of the Allegany State Park Commis- sion, that the Iroquois Conference owes its place of meeting annually at the Administration Building on Red House Lake. Every scholar who has worked at Allegany owes the Congdon family a debt of hos- pitality.
Viewed topically, the present symposium covers the land, language, society, personality, religion, and music. Every contribution starts from field work in a certain community; from there it moves out to comparative treatment of data from a second and third community; thence to generalized observations. We have avoided the temptation of overgeneralizing on single instances and insufficient data. To the extent that acute observations of local patterns of behavior may be observed to hold for several communities they may be considered pan-Iroequois culture norms. Thus the observation of Lawson for the eighteenth-century and Wallace for mid-twentieth-century Tuscarora that they evidently have no fear of high places is supported by the predilection of the Mohawk for work in “high steel,” and structural steel working is virtually an Iroquois national monopoly. Yet the
10 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B. A. B. Bull. 149
method of science requires that until parallel studies are made of other Iroquois communities the study of personality in the Tus- carora community be not generalized for all the Iroquois. ‘To the ex- tent that this study is sound, of which it gives every evidence, Wallace can generalize from later field work and the results of parallel studies by Doris West at Cattaraugus, A. F. Brown at Onondaga, and M. C. Randle at Six Nations.
Similarly, Kurath’s dance materials present every indication of be- ing generalized behavior. In the case of songs and dances which are widely diffused and participated in by several Iroquois communities, the general culture patterns stand out in sharp relief while local dif- ferences are niceties of which the Iroquois are acutely aware and the observer comes only gradually to distinguish.
Concepts of land ownership seem to be widely diffused among the Iroquois and their neighbors. One is struck by an over-all familiar- ity with a common philosophy toward the land by all Eastern In- dians, and the historical sources often fail to yield local distinctions no longer obtainable through field work. The changes in this phi- losophy owing to White contact have peculiar timeliness just now for assessing claims arising out of treaties. In fact, ethnohistory has already joined hands with the law and become a branch of applied anthropology, claiming the research time of several anthropologists.
Historical sources frequently deal with the Indians of a particular place at a given point of time. The village with its chief and council of old men is a recurring theme in Iroquois political mythology; and the chiefs of particular places who were the leaders of local vil- lage bands appear as signers of treaties. By constantly keeping local- ity in perspective and being on the alert for cultural differences that arise locally we can assess the documents and understand what hap- pened in history. We shall see that people who lived together in a certain place, and were thereby related according to structural princi- ples outlined below, retained an overriding sense of loyalty not shared for kinsmen who had moved away. And those who had left the long- house fireside to dwell outside its walls soon became kindred aliens. The time perspective for cultural history moves from the ethnological present to the historic past. Spatially, the method proceeds from the local community to tribe, nation, and confederacy. Recognizing that feuds and factions develop locally and are the frequent cause of band fission today, the same process can be seen at work in history to pro- duce splinter movements and the dismemberment of kinship states.
Focal factors, on the other hand, are language, village agriculture, the mutual-aid work party, the projection of kinship patterns of soli- darity to persons in other towns, tribes, and nations, implemented per- haps by ceremonial friendships, lacrosse leagues, intertribal political and religious councils, and the Condolence Council by which the
No. 1] CONCEPT OF LOCALITY—FENTON 5 ha |
chiefs of one set of towns installed candidates in another set of towns, and the current exchange of Handsome Lake preachers.
We have included in this symposium two other papers: a joint ac- count of the Feast of the Dead among two Grand River groups by Mrs. Kurath and myself, because it illustrates what kind of data the ethnologist can still collect among the Iroquois, and the paper illustrates a combination of ethnological reporting supplemented by transcription and analysis of recorded music and choreography ; and a discussion of the status of Iroquois women in the past and present by Martha Champion Randle.
There’s life in the Longhouse yet.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
FENTON, WILLIAM N. 1936. An outline of Seneca ceremonies at Coldspring Longhouse. Yale Univ. Publ. Anthrop. No. 9. New Haven. 1940. Problems arising from the historic northeastern position of the Iro- quois. Smithsonian Mise. Coll. vol. 100, pp. 159-251. 1941. Tonawanda Longhouse ceremonies: Ninety years after Lewis Henry Morgan. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 128, Anthrop. Pap. No. 15, pp. 139-165. 1944. Simeon Gibson: Iroquois informant, 1889-1948. Amer. Anthrop., vol. 46, pp. 231-234. 1946. An Iroquois Condolence Council for installing Cayuga chiefs in 1945. Journ. Wash. Acad. Sci., vol. 36, pp. 110-127. 1947. Area studies in American universities. Amer. Council on Education. 1949 a. Seth Newhouse’s traditional history and constitution of the Iroquois Confederacy. Proc. Amer. Phil. Soc., vol. 93, pp. 141-158. 1949 b. Collecting materials for a political history of the Six Nations. Proc. Amer. Phil. Soc., vol. 98, pp. 233-2388. 1950. The roll call of the Iroquois chiefs: A study of a mnemonic cane from the Six Nations Reserve. Smithsonian Misc. Coll., vol. 111, No. 15. FENTON, WILLIAM N., and HEewirt, J. N. B. 1945. Some mnemonic pictographs relating to the Iroquois Condolence Council. Journ. Wash. Acad. Sci., vol. 35, pp. 301-315. HUNT, GEORGE T. 1940. The wars of the Iroquois. Madison, Wis. Huot, MartHA CHAMPION. (See also RANDLE, this vol.) 1948. Some Mohawk words of acculturation. Int. Journ. Amer. Ling., vol. 14, No. 3, pp. 150-154. LINTON, RALPH. 1986. The study of Man. New York. Lowik, ROBERT H. 1948. Social organization. New York. Martins, H. S. 1883. Ancient law. New York. Morean, L. H. 1878. Ancient society. New York. 1881. Houses and house-life of the American aborigines. Contr. N. Amer. Ethnol., vol. 4.
905645—51
9
12 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.B. Bull. 149
Murpock, GEORGE PETER. 1949. Social sturucture. New York. Noon, JOHN A. 1949. Law and government of the Grand River Iroquois. Viking Fund Publ. in Anthrop., No. 12. New York. PRESTON, W. D., and VOEGELIN, C. F. 1949. Seneca lI. Int. Journ. Amer. Ling., vol. 15, pp. 23-44. SNYDERMAN, GEORGE §. 1948. Behind the tree of peace: A sociological analysis of Iroquois warfare. Bull. Soe. Pa. Archaeol., vol. 18, Nos. 3-4. Philadelphia. SPECK, F. G. 1949. Midwinter rites of the Cayuga Long House. Univ. Pa. Press. Phila- delphia. STERN, B. J., EDIToR. 1933. The letters of Asher Wright to Lewis Henry Morgan. Amer. Anthrop., vol. 35, pp. 188-145. WALLACE, ANTHONY F. C. 1949. King of the Delawares: Teedyuscung, 1700-1763. Univ. Pa. Press. Philadelphia.
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 149
Symposium on Local Diversity in Iroquois Culture
No. 2. Concepts of Land Ownership Among the Iroquois and Their Neighbors
By GEORGE S. SNYDERMAN
13
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4
CONCEPTS OF LAND OWNERSHIP AMONG THE IROQUOIS AND THEIR NEIGHBORS ?
By Grorcr S. SNYDERMAN
There are several valid reasons for an article dealing with concepts of landownership among the American Indians. First, it is highly desirable that the problem be reworked and restated in the light of ethnohistorical facts which may not have been fully utilized in the past. Second, it is important that the Indian be allowed some space to express his thoughts on the matter; and third, we should attempt to understand the so-called “primitive” feeling for the land and in- quire whether any of these feelings have survived.
It is impossible to exhaust either the source material or to answer with finality the many questions involved. I therefore quite arbi- trarily limit my discussion to exploration of the following:
(1) Basic Indian philosophy toward the land.
(2) The relationship of various segments of the society to landownership.
(8) Changes in philosophy wrought by White contact.
(4) Indian reactions to White conquest.
That land is neither an item of booty to be won or lost nor a com- modity to be bought or sold is still clearly seen at this date in the philosophy of Seneca informants at Coldspring on Allegany Reser- vation, New York. Land is viewed as a gift from the “Maker”—a gift which is necessary for survival. The earth itself is revered as the mother of man for she furnishes sustenance in the form of animals and plants. These plants and animals allow themselves to be taken so that man can continue to thrive and dwell on the earth. Out of the earth’s body come the pure springs from which man can refresh himself. Moreover, the earth supports man as he walks over her body—she does not allow him to fall. Man himself, although he may take what he needs to live, must give thanks to the “Maker” for the use of the plenty provided for him by the earth, and also to the plants and animals for letting him use them. The tobacco burned in the
11 gratefully acknowledge the many suggestions of the late Dr. F. G. Speck, Dr. W. N. Fenton, Dr. A. I. Hallowell, and M. H. Deardorff. Thanks are also due to the Coldspring Seneca, who extended themselves in my behalf. My wife was a constant source of encour- agement. Field work was made possible by a grant-in-aid from the Anthropology Depart- ment of the University of Pennsylvania.
15
16 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.BE. Bull. 149
ceremonies among the Seneca is the vehicle used to carry these thanks to the “Master of Life and All Spirit Things.”
This basic attitude was indicated in the Shawnee statement to the Governor of Pennsylvania on February 8, 1752:
... the God that gave us all the Beasts of the Field for our Food and the Water for our Drink and the Wood for our Fire, and threw.down Fire from Heaven to kindle our Wood ... [Prov. Council Pa., Minutes, vol. 5, p. 569.]
Black Hawk’s statement in his Autobiography is also quite clear on this point:
We thank the Great Spirit for all the benefit he has conferred upon us. For myself, I never take a drink of water from a spring, without being mindful of his goodness. [Black Hawk, 1982, p. 79.]
Similar statements are to be found in the speech of the Ottawa, Sioux, Iowa, Winnebago, Sac, Fox, Menominee, Kickapoo, and Chippewa at the Council at Drummond’s Island (1816) :
The Master of Life has given us hands for the support of our men, women, and children. He has given us fish, Deer, Buffaloe, and every kind of Birds and animals for our use; they abound in our lands.
When the Master of Life or Great Spirit put us on this Land, it was for the purpose of enjoying the use of the Animals and Fishes, but certain it never was intended that we should sell it or any part thereof which gives us Wood, grass, and everything. [Mich. Pioneer and Hist. Soc., Coll. and Res., 1888-93, vol. 16, p. 484.]
Since the Eastern Indians believed that land was a gift received from the “Great Spirit,” it followed that only he could take it away. Thus, the Shawnee Kickawapalathy denied “the power and right which the United States assumed” and asked “if the Great Spirit had given it to them to cut and portion in the manner proposed .. .” (Denny, 1860, p. 277).
A natural outgrowth of the philosophy that all blessings came from the “Master of Life” is the principle that these blessings are gifts which cannot be sold. Black Hawk expressed this principle simply and clearly:
My reason teaches me that land cannot be sold. The Great Spirit gave it to his children to live upon, and cultivate as far as necessary for their subsistence ; and so long as they occupy and cultivate it, they have the right to the soil—but if they voluntarily leave it, then any other people have the right to settle upon it. Nothing can be sold, but such things as can be carried away. [Black Hawk, 1932, p. 88—my emphasis. ]
It must be noted that Black Hawk in referring to transfer of land from one group to another was alluding to the Indians only. He, as did most Indians, viewed the Whites as interlopers who were entitled to no lands except those “given” to them. In exchange for these land gifts the Indians could receive presents, for this was reciprocity and not compensation. Thus, the grants of land were viewed as gifts which
No. 2] LAND OWNERSHIP—SNYDERMAN 17
could not be paid for in currency—in short, there could be no land sales as we know them. This, the late Dr. Speck told me in a con- versation held October 4, 1949, was the universal pattern among the agricultural Indians of the Northeast, the Ohio Valley, and the Old Northwest Territory.
The feeling of reverence toward the earth itself is also to be found behind some of the lingering reluctance to adopt the white man’s agri- cultural equipment. The “Old People” believe that since Mother Earth nurtured her children, they should not tear at her breasts with ploughs, but rather tickle them gently with a stick or hoe. Speck has indicated that this concept is to be found among all the agricultural Indians living in the Northeastern Woodlands, the Great Lakes, and the Ohio Valley.’
The belief that the land belonged not only to the present generation, but to all future generations was widely accepted. The present gener- ation, it was believed, had no power to sell lands, for obviously the future generations could not express their wishes in council. The present generation acted as custodians of the land for the unborn; they could only utilize the land during the period of their actual existence. This attitude is clearly discerned in the now famous speech of Cornplanter, Halftown, and Big Tree in 1790. In one of the open- ing paragraphs they stated quite dramatically that:
We will not conceal from you that the Great God and not men, has preserved the Cornplant from the hands of his nation. For they ask continually, where is the land on which our children and their children after them are to lie down upon? [Drake, S. G., 1834, p. 96.5]
The message of the “chiefs and principal leaders” of the Wyandot, Ottawa, Chippewa, and Potawatomie to the President dated July 26, 1807, presents this principle as an argument against further land sales. It also indicates that the Whites were not only cognizant of this prin- ciple, but originally accepted it. The Speaker for the Indians re- minded the Whites of the pledges made at the Treaty of Greenville wherein the Indians were promised that no more lands would be de- manded until the “unborn children were gray with age. Now these children had scarcely begun to lisp your name before we were again summoned to sell more land...” (Parker, Daniel, n. d—my emphasis. )
Now if the future generations had to be considered before any trans- actions involving land sales could be legalized, it follows that claims
?Lecture at University of Pennsylvania, 1947. Speck (1931, pp. 81, 101) points up the significance of the “Earth as Mother of Man” among the present-day Delaware. Tantaquidgeon (1942, p. 10) shows that since “Mother Earth” gave the Delaware medicine plants neither the earth nor the plants should be defiled by metal tools. Shawnee posses- sion of these beliefs can be seen in the article “Big Jim” (Hodge, ed., 1907, pt. 1, p. 146).
* This same philosophy is found in the protest message of the chiefs and principal leaders of the Ottawa, Potawatomie, and Wyandot dated July 26, 1807 (Parker, Daniel, n. d.).
Alpe: SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B. A.#. Bull. 149
to land could be based on the inheritance from distant ancestors. This reasoning may be noted in the speech of the United Nations at the Confederate Council near the mouth of the Detroit River on December 18, 1786. Here the Five Nations, the Wyandot, the Dela- ware, Shawnee, Ottawa, Chippewa, Potawatomie, Miami, Cherokee, and Wabash Confederates, in reiterating their opposition to further White encroachment stated:
It shall not be our fault if the plans which we have suggested to you should not be carried to execution; in that case the event will be very precarious, and if fresh ruptures ensue, we hope to be able to exculpate ourselves and shall most assuredly with our united force be obliged to defend the rights and privileges which have been transmitted to us by our ancestors; and if we should therefore be reduced to misfortunes, the world will pity us when they think of the amicable proposals we now make to prevent the unnecessary effusion of blood. [Lowrie and Clarke, 1882-34, vol. 1, p. 9.]
Cornplanter’s message to President Washington under the date December 1, 1790, also echoes this feeling. “The land we live on, our fathers received from God, and they transmitted it to us, for our children, and we cannot part with it” (Lowrie and Clarke, 1832-34, vol. 2, p. 142).
This concept of inheritance was a basic part of Indian philosophy toward the land, and was at times recognized by the Federal Authori- ties when it suited their purposes. The treaty with the Kickapoo of July 30, 1818, grants that large portions of their land were claimed as a result of “descent from their ancestors” (Lowrie and Clarke, 1832-34, vol. 2, p. 196).
Inextricably bound up with the deep concern for the welfare of the unborn and the belief that land was inherited from distant an- cestors, was the feeling of reverence for the earth which entombed the bones of ancestors. This attitude toward the earth was not a form of ancestor worship, but rather a feeling of love for the very ground which housed the departed “grandfathers” and “greatuncles.” The speech of the Wyandot in behalf of themselves and other Indians from the Upper and Lower Sandusky region, dated August 16, 1807, presents this clearly:
Father, Listen. We desire that our father would not ask us to sell this part of our country or send any of his white Children to buy it of us; for it is the place where our Ancestors lived and died; their graves are here; and we have lived here a great while, & many of us expect to die and have our graves here with our friends ... [Parker, Daniel, n. d.]
Coupled with the above concepts, we find the belief that the land belonged to all the people who inhabited it. No individual could enforce a personal claim to a specific piece of land. Neither could
No. 2] LAND OWNERSHIP—SNYDERMAN 19
any individual by his own right and desire legally “sell” lands. Joseph Brant’s complaint that “purchases were all made from men who had no right to sell and who are now to be thanked for the present difficulties” (Lowrie and Clarke, 1832-34, vol. 1, p. 254) stemmed from the violation of this principle because of the white man’s promptings.
Many of the Indian hostilities were the direct result of the maneu- verings of white men who knowingly dealt with unauthorized Indian groups or individuals for land cessions. The complaint of Hendrick in 1712 is very clear on this point. Rev. William Andrews, the mis- sionary to the Mohawk, notes:
Hendrick sayd further that he desired in ye name of said Sachims of the Mohawks that none of their land might be clandestinly bought of any of them for that would breed a faction & disturbance among them and would be an oceasion of leaving their country & oblige them to go over to the Ottawas or farr Indians. [O’Callaghan, 1849-51, vol. 3, p. 901.]
Hendrick was very cleverly using the English colonial need for Troquois aid against the French, who were combating the English for control of the Ohio Valley. He thereby hoped to preserve not only the integrity of Iroquois lands, but also the balance of power.
The Whites deliberately sought to provoke conflict with the Indians or to disrupt Indian unity. Such behavior is exemplified in the actions of William Henry Harrison, who dealt with five unauthorized Missouri Sac Chiefs for lands which belonged to Illinois, Wisconsin, and Iowa tribes, inducing these chiefs in 1804 to cede 51,000,000 acres of land which was not theirs. The consent of the defrauded Indians was not obtained until their defeat in the War of 1812 (Cole, 1940, pp. 67 ff.). The hostility created by this fraudulent cession was one of the major causes leading to the Black Hawk Wars. This cession also severed the harmonious relations which had previously existed between the Sac and Fox.
Since we have shown that individuals could not convey lands with- out violating Indian philosophy, the question follows logically, who could? Apparently anybody could sell a “gold brick.” Legalizing the sale and taking home the “bargain” was, however, a different matter, for this required the consent of the civil chiefs and the ex- change of wampum. Canassatego, when he spoke for the League on July 2, 1742, described one of the necessary technicalities:
Our people who pretended to sell the land demanded a belt of Wampum of the Buyers to carry to their chiefs, and on declaring they had no wampum, our war- riors said they would not answer that their chiefs would confirm this Bargain
since they never did anything without Wampum. [Proy. Council Pa., Minutes, vol. 4, p. 572.]
20 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
The method of legalizing a sale via the Council of Elders is seen in the following notation in the Journal of George Croghan for May 26, 1751:
A Dunkar from the Colony of Virginia came to the Log’s Town and requested Liberty of the Six Nations Chiefs to make on the River Yogh-yo-gaine . . ., to which the Indians made answer that it was not in their Power to dispose of Lands; that he must apply to the Council at Onondago. [Proy. Council Pa., Min- utes, vol. 5, pp. 581-532.]
Though the actual transactions were made by the Council of Elders, all segments of the tribe or tribes, as the case might be, had to be consulted. Colonel Proctor in 1791 was told in no uncertain terms that the women could not be left out of any such arrangements. Red Jacket speaking for the women said:
You ought to hear & listen to what we women shall speak, as well as the sachems, for we are the owners of the land & it is ours; for it is that we speak of things that concern us & our children & you must not think hard of us while our men shall say more to you for we have told them. [Pa. Archives, 2d Ser., vol. 4, p. 504. See also Randle, this vol. p. 172.]
The warriors also had to be considered in any transaction involving so important a matter as land. Scarouady’s statement implies the friction that at times did develop between the military and the civil:
Now Brother (sic) I let you know that our Kings having (sic) nothing to do with our Lands; for We, the Warriors fought for the Lands and so the right belongs to us & we will take Care of them. [Gipson, 1939, vol. 5, p. 284.*]
It appears that some of the Iroquois land was actually owned by the village, and not necessarily by the entire tribe, let alone the Confed- eracy. The legality of a land sale is questioned on these grounds by the Mohawk Speaker for a specific village at the Albany Conference in 1754:
We understand there are writings for all our lands, so that we shall have none left but the very spot we live upon, and hardly that. We have examined amongst the elderly people who are present if they had sold any of it; who deny they ever have: and we earnestly desire that you will take this into consideration, which will give us great satisfaction and convince us that you have a friendship for us. We don’t complain of those who have honestly bought the land they possess, or of those whom we have given them. We find we are very poor . . . We have embraced this opportunity of unbosoming ourselves with regard to our castle, and we are well assured that the other castle of the Mohawks will have complaints of the same nature when they come down. We have now declared our grievances and the Conajoharies will declare theirs: but that we shall leave to them. [Mass. Hist. Soe. Coll., Ser. 3, vol. 5, pp. 35-36. ]
Every Indian tribe included in this study adopted individuals and large segments of peoples. In some instances, the group adopted lost
“For a more detailed discussion of the influence of the warriors on civil policy, see Snyderman (1948, pp. 20-25).
No. 2] LAND OWNERSHIP—SNYDERMAN 21
its identity and became amalgamated with the “parent.” Elsewhere we listed examples of peoples adopted en masse by the various member tribes of the League and pointed out that this policy of adoption was a symbol of honorable peace, and as a social process was “in a large measure responsible for the dominance of the Iroquois. . .” (Snyderman, 1948, pp. 13-15.)
In some instances the people were not adopted into the tribe. They were permitted to live on designated lands as “perpetual guests” who would be protected by force of arms if necessary. Thus, Conrad Weiser notes in 1748 that a Seneca Speaker told the Wyandot that “.., we, the United Nations, receive you to our Council Fire and make you members thereof, and we will secure your dwelling place to you against all manner of change” (Thwaites, 1904-7, vol. 1, p. 35).
That the policy of protecting sheltered peoples might inevitably lead to war may be gathered from Captain Decker’s claim that the war with the Cherokee in 1765 resulted from a Cherokee attack on “some of the Western Indians in the Illinois country and the latter being leagued with the Senecas, or protected by them, the Seneca took up the matter and hence the war” (Draper, n. d.).
Refugee and displaced Indians were extended a welcoming hand and given places to live. Colonel Thomas Proctor’s Journal on May 7, 1791, records the generosity of the Seneca. Cornplanter and the other Seneca chiefs held a council to determine “where land should be selected for the accommodation of certain tribes and families who had put themselves under the protection of the Six Nations, being compelled to leave their former stations dreading the rage of the Shawnee and Miami Indians.” Snake and his Delawares were given a place to “plant in,” “near the village of Cattaraugus; to the families of Conon- dagtha, a chief of the Messasagoes and to the Bear Oil Chief and his family, who had fled from their settlement, Conyatt, all of the same nation, had their planting grounds assigned to them near the village of Buffalo” > (Lowrie and Clark, 1832-34, vol. 1, p. 158).
It is indeed ironic to find the Whites calling upon the Iroquois to give shelter to a tribe whom the Whites themselves had dispossessed. Ketchum cites the speech of Seschowane, a Seneca, wherein Sir Wil- liam Johnson was told on July 9, 1774:
Brother, you recommended to us, the Six Nations, last fall to consider the dis- tressed situation of the Montauk Indians, who being surrounded by white people of Long Island, were in a fair way of being dispossessed of all their lands by them, on which they requested that we would afford them a piece of land in our country to which they might retire and live peaceably hereafter. We have taken
your desire into consideration and agree to fix them at Canawaighae. We are glad of the opportunity of serving them in this respect, & shall with pleasure,
5 On the question of hospitality as a “cardinal principle’ among every Indian group, see Hodge, ed. (1907, vol. 1, pp. 571-572).
22 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B. A.B. Bull. 149
take them under our protection in the same manner that fond parents do their children, and hope they may prove deserving of it. [Ketchum, 1864-65, vol. 2, p. 189—my emphasis. ]
Note that nowhere, either in Colonel Proctor’s Journal or in Ses- chowane’s speech, do the Iroquois give the homeless Indians the com- plete control, or from a White point of view, the “title” to the land. They were merely taking the dispossessed Indians into their homes as long as they behaved. ‘Thus Seschowane can state that the relationship was that of “parents to children.” He is implying that parents have the right to regulate the affairs of their families and punish the recal- citrant members. This, in fact, is provided for in the Constitution of the League wherein we find a neat legal framework within which land
problems of alien peoples were expeditiously handled. One section states :
When any alien nation or individual is admitted into the Five Nations, the admission shall be understood only to be a temporary one. Should the person or nation create loss, do wrong, or cause sufferings of any kind, or endanger the peace of the Confederacy, the Confederate Lords shall order one of their chiefs to reprimand him or them & if a similar offense is again committed, the offend- ing party or parties shall be expelled from the territory of the Five Nations. [Parker, 1916, p. 50.]
It is therefore quite clear that land was given or loaned by the League or its members to alien people for their use during good behay- ior. Individuals or groups violating the peace were first reprimanded, but chronic offenders might be expelled from the territory of the Six Nations. This power was apparently being invoked when Petion- tonka, a Cayuga, exhorted the Delaware and Shawnee to behave in 1758. He declared:
Cousins, take notice of what I have to say ... We desire you would lay hold of the covenant we have made with our brethren the English and be strong. We likewise take the Tomahawk out of your hands, that you received from the white people, use it no longer; . . . it is the white people’s; let them use it among them- Selves; it is theirs & they are of one color; let them fight one another & do you be still and quiet at Kushkushking . . . we hear that you did not sit right & when I came I found you in a moving posture ready to jump toward the sunset; so we will set you at ease quietly down that you may sit well at Kushkushking ; we desire you to be strong; & if you will be strong, your women & children will see from day to day the light shining more over them, & your children and grand- children will see that there will be everlasting peace established. We desire you to be still; we do not know as yet what to do; towards the spring you will hear from your uncles what they conclude; in the meantime do you sit still by your fire at Kushkushking. [Craig, 1846, vol. 1, pp. 164-165.]
Canassatego propounded the same philosophy in his now famous speech which reminded the Delaware of their status as women. At the same time he announced that as “subject” nations they had no right to sell land without the permission of the Six Nations, who granted it only when they received a share of the proceeds or when
No. 2] LAND OWNERSHIP—SNYDERMAN 23
it was politically expedient. He also reiterated how land could be legally sold. He said in part:
Did you ever tell us that you have sold this land? Did we ever receive any part, even the value of a Pipe Shank from you for it? You have told us a blind story ... This is acting in the dark & very different from the Conduct our Six Nations observe in the Sales of Land. On such occasions they give Public Notice and invite all the Indians of their United Nations & give them a share of the Present they receive for their lands... You act a dishonest part not only in this but in other Matters ... We charge you to remove instantly. You are women; take the advice of a Wise man & remove immediately ... We... assign you two places to go... You may go to either of these Places and then we shall have you more under our Eye & shall see how you behave... This string of Wampum serves to forbid you, your Children & Grandchildren to the latest posterity, for ever meddling in Land affairs, neither you nor any who descend from you are ever hereafter to presume to sell any land, for which Purpose you are to preserve this string in Memory of what your Uncles have this Day given you in Charge. [Proy. Council Pa., Minutes, vol. 4, p. 580.]
The relationship between a band of Kickapoo and the Wea seems to fit into the general pattern propounded for the League and their dependents. This may be gathered from an entry in Gamelin’s Journal dated April 10, 1790: “ ... he and his tribe were pleased with my speech, and that I could go up without danger; but they could not presently give me an answer having some warriors absent, and without consulting the Ouiatenons, being Owners of their Lands.” (Lowrie and Clarke, 1832-34, vol. 1, p. 98—my emphasis).
The above statement also serves to substantiate the point that mere occupancy did not mean ownership in our sense. Furthermore, the various ranks of the tribe—i. e., civil and military—had to be con- sulted in order to make land transactions legal. This pattern embody- ing the principles enunciated thus far was formally codified by the Troquois and was apparently accepted by their neighbors and dependents.
The statement found in the Constitution of the League pointing out that “the soil of the earth from one end of the land to the other, is the property of the people who inhabit it” seems (at least after white contact) to have been most often interpreted in favor of the members of the Iroquois Confederacy and not their “guests,” “ten- ants,” or “dependents” (Parker, 1916, p. 50). Obviously then, the Ongwehonweh, or Original Beings, were the members of the five original Iroquois tribes—not the Delaware, Shawnee, Nanticoke, etc. As events proved, strict interpretation of this tenet was to be challenged by the “guests, tenants, and dependents.”
Hospitality was not restricted to the Iroquois. All Indians seemed willing to offer refuge to their homeless brethren, although the en- suing “host-guest” relationship did lead to unexpected complications. This is well illustrated in the Delaware-Miami controversy. When
24 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
the Delaware tried to exact “blood money” from the Miami to “cover the bones” of several of their people who had been murdered by the Miami, they were reminded firmly that they had been allowed to keep the money for the sales of Miami lands and that this should suffice. Joseph Richardville speaking for the Miami stated:
Grand Fathers: You must recollect when you passed over the great mountains, & came to our country, that you were poor and destitute; you placed yourselves under our protection; we gave you lands, & at the Treaty of St. Mary’s you sat in council with us. These we considered enough to satisfy you for all the injury our bad young men had done you; but it appears otherwise, for you con- tinue to beg for more nothwithstanding all that has been told to you by our old chief who now lies sick in his wigwam. [Tipton, 1942, p. 764.]
When it was politic, the Iroquois assumed responsibility for their “dependents” to the point of pressing their claims. Thus Canassatego speaking to Representatives of Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia at Lancaster on July 2, 1744, pressed the case of the Canoy who had been defrauded by the Whites (Lowrie and Clarke, 1832-34, vol. 1, pp. 724-725).
On July 1, 1749, the Iroquois Assuchquay spoke for the Canoy as follows:
As we were coming here the Canoy Indians gave us this string of Wampum, thereby putting their case into our Hands, which we undertook to Speak to. It seems when the Proprietories bought the Land between Delaware and Sus- quehanna from us, the Tract, as they told us, on which the Canoy Town stood was reserv’d out of the Grant on account of those Indians living there, & when they should quit it they were to have a Consideration paid them for it. This we think they are entitled to, as they have left the Land & Live among other Nations at Juniata; and as they tell us that they never receiv’d anything for their Land, we recommend it to you to see them paid. [Prov. Council Pa., Min- utes, vol. 5, p. 390.]
And when it suited their purposes, dependents were allowed to share the presents. There is on record an actual agreement between the chiefs of the Six Nations and the Commissioners of Pennsylvania dated January 1, 1789, which contains a clause noting that, “Two Mun- seys signed as being residenters on the land, but not owners” (Prov. Council Pa., Minutes, vol. 5, p. 512).
In the foregoing, we have described how the League functioned for its tenants, dependents, guests, and colonists. When the League began to sell the land from under dependent peoples, friction devel- oped which was not to be resolved by the dictates of Onondaga. The attempt of the League authorities to prevent the Iroquois on the Ohio from receiving “presents from the Governor of Virginia” by labeling them “Hunters and no Counselors or Chief Men” (ibid., p. 478) convinced neither the Governor of Virginia nor the Indian frontiers- men of the League’s power to enforce its decision. Likewise the state-
No. 2] LAND OWNERSHIP—SN YDERMAN 25
ment that these people “had no Right to receive Presents that were due to the Six Nations, although they might expect to have a Share, but that Share they must receive from the Six Nations’ Chief under whom they belong,” indicated the desire of the League authorities to maintain control in the face of changing conditions. The appointed League speaker could no longer tell a colonial gover- nor “to return to the white people who made the Bargain .. . the -Strouds” and advise them “that we shall not confirm such Bargains” _ (ibid., vol. 4, p. 561). The League’s inability to control the dissident Westerners, clearly indicates a loss of political prestige, and heralds the close of an era in which the Six Nations had been the political determinant. “Warriors and hunters” living on the Ohio were grad- ually transferring the real influence and power from Onondaga to west of the Ohio.
We therefore conclude that so long as the League, or for that mat- ter, any other “Landlord” tribe could by force of arms, or by diplo- matic maneuvering, or by White assistance, enforce their desires, it could control any sales involving land. As soon as the authority of the League was weakened, however, the so-called “dependents” de- manded payment for their rights. Thus Washington wrote in his Journal to Ohio in 1770:
The Indians who reside upon the Ohio . . . are composed of Shawnese, Dela- wares, and some Mingoes who getting but little part of the consideration that was given for the lands eastward of the Ohio, view the settlements of the peo- ple upon this river with an uneasy and jealous eye, and do not scruple to say that they must be compensated for their rights if the people settle thereon, notwithstanding the cession of the Six Nations. [Craig, 1846, vol. 1, p. 430.]
This was no new concept, for as early as 1750 the Iroquois living on the Ohio were voicing their complaints about the deals being made by the central authorities at Onondaga for the Ohio lands. Conna- gerwa speaking on behalf of the Six Nations resident on the Ohio Valley told Peters, “that he was sent down from the Ohio to enquire about the purchase they had heard the Governour had made on the east side of the Susquehanna the year before, from the Onondaga Council, & said they were entitled to part of goods paid for these lands as well as the Onondaga Council, but they had received no part” (O’Callaghan, 1849-51, vol. 1, p. 414).
In the same year Broken Kettle on behalf of the Six Nations living on the Ohio told Richard Peters:
The Six Nations come down every Year to sell Land, and we are Part of the Six Nations, live at Allegheny and hunt there. They sell Lands and give us no account of the Value; therefore we are sent by the Ohio Council to desire our Brother the Governor to recommend it to the Six Nations that when any Lands shall be sold, we may have Part of the Value. [Prov. Council Pa., Minutes, vol. 5, pp. 488-439.]
26 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.B. Bull. 149
We have already shown that the League did not succeed in meeting the challenge of the young and sometimes unruly warriors who paid lip service to the “Great Peace.” The Ohio Iroquois and their friends confidently notified the Pennsylvania authorities in 1750 that they had “now become a stronger Body . . . & have got many to join us, and are become a great Body and desire to be taken notice of as such.” These “warriors and hunters” expostulated that they would not sell lands unless empowered to do so by their own council (ibid. p. 439).
Proof of the deterioration of League authority in the west and indication that the “westerners” were ready and willing to establish their own government, was the offer to Conrad Weiser by “all the Indians on Lake Erie & around about them to a great distance... to come to that Fire,” and “lay their old people aside & take up the English hatchet against the French if the English furnished the materials necessary for war and the wampum belts necessary for governmental affairs” (Wallace, 1945, pp. 259-260).
A so-called dependent Shawnee dared even to flaunt the League openly. He replied to the Iroquois:
Our Eldest Brothers: We have heard what you have related ..., we con- sider it as if you delivered it from outside your lips; although you may consider us your younger brothers, your seats are not at such a distance, but what we can see your conduct plainly; there are reasons why we consider you to speak from outside of your lips; for whenever you hear the voice of the United States you immediately take your packs and attend their councils. [Lowrie and Clarke 1832-34, vol. 1, pp. 323-324.]
It is plain from this that the Shawnee no longer passively accepted the dictates of Onondaga. The basis for this failure to accept Iro- quois directives is to be found in the Indian’s attachment to the land. The League’s dictates were being rejected by its “marginal” members and farflung “dependents” because the League was violating the In- dian concept of man’s relationship to the land. Land was no longer a blessing given to mankind by the “Master of All Things” to be kindly used by the present generation and to be carefully preserved for future generations. Land had become a commodity—a salable asset to be bartered for annuities, liquor, etc. In accepting this new philosophy, the League violated the close relationship which the Indian had with nature. Translation of land into a salable, eco- nomic, expendable commodity, changed basic Indian customs, modified Indian social philosophy, shuffled the membership of Indian tribes, and scrambled geographic locations to a degree that it is now often impossible to map tribal boundaries accurately.®
6 Influence of Whites on Indian changes of locale are too numerous to cite here. See for example, Brodhead, 1853-87, vol. 6, pp. 593 ff.; vol. 7, p. 18; Mich. Pioneer and Hist. Soc., Coll. and Res., vol. 33, p. 446; Wis. Hist. Soc., Coll., vol. 18, p. 174; vol. 16, p. 370; Mcllwain, 1915, pp. 195 ff.
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The new and alien philosophy, however, soon spread to the neigh- bors of the Iroquois and caused these onetime “subjects” to adopt the white man’s vehicles and guarantees of ownership. The sorry experience of the Delaware beginning with the Walking Purchase induced them to demand a guarantee of title:
The Land which we now inhabit was granted by the Miamies and Potawato- mies which they have renewed last September in great council held at Fort Wayne in the presence of Captain Wells and the commanding officer of the Fort.
They granted to us to occupy and possess said land for the benefit of our tribes & their prosperity. But prohibited the right of selling the same. But took us in as joint owners of Said Land or Country—lest the grant should in future day fall into the hands of the white people, wherefore they gave us no writing at the time this took place. But for security they gave us Wampum instead of a written Deed. Our chiefs are doubtful with regard of such pledges— and indeed experience ought to teach us the weakness of such a measure. By observation the population of the United States, it appears to us that all Indian claims will be extinguished by the white people before long. The Land in which we wish to dwell all our days will inevitably be sold from under the feet of our poor children after us. In that case what will become of them... They will be compelled to dispossess once more. We dread that evil very much in spite of the pledges of Wampum which was given to us.
The chiefs went on to ask for “assistance” as they and their people (the Delaware) were “poor and have no sure habitation.” They pointed out that they now found themselves in the “same situation as the first Whites whom they befriended.” They asked for “pity” and a “writing” so that they would not be dispossessed by the Whites, who now claimed almost the “entire country” (Parker, Daniel, n. d.).
The quoted plea of the Delaware summarizes the basic changes in Indian philosophy toward land; it is symbolic of the fears and ten- sions shared by the Iroquois and all their Indian neighbors. It seems certain that prior to white contact, land was given (though not deeded in our sense), and wampum was used as a promise in perpetuity pro- viding the new owner behaved.
The translation of land to a salable economic commodity blurred tribal boundaries. In times prior to the arrival of the Whites, tracts of land were claimed and even occupied by several tribes who seemed to have lived peaceably together. A band which moved from a piece of land and neither occupied it for a number of years nor hunted on it, in fact relinquished its claim. The only recollections of its former residence remained in the folklore. The new and, to the Indian’s way of thinking, “artificial” values placed on land by the Whites destroyed these principles. We now find them claiming land long after they moved away. This is also indicative of the fact that all Indian philosophy was foundering in the whirlpool created by the impact of crass materialistic motives against an idealistic and natural ideology.
905645—51——3
28 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.B. Bull. 149
The continuing sales of land caused such resentment among the Seneca themselves, that Handsome Lake made land selling a cardinal sin and consigned Red Jacket to a special hell in which he would be forced to “carry dirt in a wheelbarrow” for eternity (Parker, A. C., 1913, p. 68). The Seneca Longhouse people to this day evidence this same feeling about parting with their land, and many of the “old people” at Coldspring still speak of Red Jacket in a deprecating manner.
It can be said that at least the first grants of lands were merely grants to the use of land during good behavior. They were certainly not final sales for concepts of absolute sales in our sense and land as a salable commodity were foreign to Indian social and religious ideol- ogy. For themselves, the Indians wanted only to harvest animals and plants from the land. They did not accept and could not understand the white man’s concept of absolute ownership. We cite here a short excerpt from the speech of Thomas King at the treaty of Easton in 1758. This sums up both Indian philosophy and its differences with the philosophy of white man.
. our cousins the Minisinks tell us they were wronged of a good deal of land and pushed back by the English settling so fast upon them so as not to know whether they have any lands or no. You deal hardly with us; you claim all the wild creatures and will not let us come on your lands so much as to hunt after them; you will not let us peel a single tree. ... You take of us what lands you please, and the cattle you raise on them are your own; but those that are wild are still ours and should be common to both; for our nephews, when they sold the land, they did not propose to deprive themselves of hunting wild deer or using a single stick of Wood. [Logan Hist. Soc., 1920, Publ. I, pp. 259-260. ]
It was no accident that the early treaties took cognizance of the rights of the Indians to continue to hunt and fish on lands which the white man “bought,” for without these guarantees, treaty making would have been more difficult. For example, the Treaty of Greenville, August 3, 1795, states that,
The said tribes of Indians, parties to this treaty, shall be at liberty to hunt within the territory and lands which they have ceded to the United States without hindrance, molestation, so long as they demean themselves peaceably and offer no injury to the people of the United States. [U. S. Statutes, vol. 7, p. 49.]
The Indians ultimately came to realize that negotiations with the Whites meant irrevocable loss of their land. Balancing the lure of money against their deep love for their ancestral grounds, and the fear of becoming homeless, it was inevitable that they would reject the money. The sources show that the Indians soon learned that money would not give them either the physical or economic security of the land. The Confederated Indians replied to the American Indian Commissioners (1793) :
No. 2] LAND OWNERSHIP—SNYDERMAN 29
Money to us, is of no value, and to most of us unknown, and as no consideration whatever can induce us to sell the lands on which we get sustenance for our women and children, we hope we may be allowed to point out a mode by which your settlers may be easily removed and peace thereby obtained.
We know that these settlers are poor, or they would never have ventured to live in a country which has been in continual trouble ever since they crossed the Ohio. Divide, therefore, this large sum of money which you have offered to us among these people; give to each also a proportion of what you say you would give to us annually, over and above this very large sum of money; and we are persuaded they would most readily accept of it in lieu of the lands you sold them. If you add also, the great sums you must spend in raising and paying armies with a view to force us to yield our country, you will certainly have more than sufficient for the purpose of repaying these settlers for all their labor and improvements. [Lowrie and Clarke, 1832-34, vol. 1, p. 356.]
A half century earlier, on July 7, 1742, Canassatego speaking on behalf of the Six Nations in Philadelphia insisted, “that the Indians knew that their Lands are now become more Valuable; the White people think we don’t know their Value, but we are sensible that Land is Everlasting and the few Goods we receive for it are soon Worn out and Gone” (Prov. Council, Pa., Minutes, vol. 4, p. 570). The Indians were not only haggling for higher prices, but were even then fearful of becoming landless and homeless.
The Indians did not readily escape White pressure by refusing to sell. A technique of inducing sales was to summon the Indians to a council whose sole purpose was to induce land cessions. At one such session, Legro, the Miami chief, also representing the Potawatomie, the Wea, and the Ottawa, replied:
You have made a request of us for our lands which we have already re- fused ... Itold you our situation... We have a right to trade or exchange our property, if we can agree, and if we cannot agree to trade, we can separate in peace. But it is not so here, for you ask us after we have refused... When I was in Washington last winter you told me to take care of our lands and to think a great deal of them ... You now ask us for our very beds, for the means of our subsistence.
When you came here, we thought you came to visit us for our benefit, but it appears you have come to procure our lands and bring on our destruction. Fa. the request you made of us we can never agree to—it is impossible ... If you was to give us as many dollars as would cover our land, we would not sell it to you. We can never sell it ... Therefore that we wish you to understand for all. Thatisallwehavetosay. [Tipton, 1942, pp. 588-589. ]
We have previously shown how Indians extended hospitality to their homeless bretheren. Whites, too, were initially welcomed and given places to live. However, when the Indians learned that the Whites would eventually dispossess them, the Whites were less wel- come. Thus in 1762, White Eyes greeted Christian F. Post:
You have marked out a large spot of ground for a plantation as the white
people do everywhere, and by and by another and another may come; and the next thing will be that a fort will be built for the protection of these intruders
30 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
and thus our country will be claimed by the white people and we driven further back as has been the case ever since the white people first came into this country. [Ohio Arch. and Hist. Soc. Publ., vol. 7, p. 41.]
The Indians also viewed the White man’s urgings to divide their communal lands as a ruse to gain control of their lands bit by bit, and as a plan that would render them powerless to resist further aggression and eventually lead to their extinction. Jabez Hyde, a New England missionary, noted a fragment of a speech by Captain Pollard, a Seneca, at the Council of the Six Nations held August 8, 1820:
As to dividing our lands into farms and holding them as individual property as among the white people, we think it will not do for us. Holding our lands in common as we now do, keeps us together. [Morse, 1822, App., pp. 4-5.]
White attempts to wring one land cession after another from the Indians were met everywhere with uniform and well-nigh incredible resistance. Here and there Indian leaders arose to lead their people. Pontiac, Tecumseh, and Black Hawk derived their influence in great part from a desire to save the lands for their people, and to their pro- nouncement that if all Indians united, they could save their lands. Personal philosophy and singleness of purpose permitted them at times to weld diverse elements into one strong resistance movement which resembled a crusade. For example, Tecumseh in his statement to Gen. William Henry Harrison at Tippecanoe added to the Indian philosophy of land ownership when he insisted that the land belonged to all the Indians, not just to specific tribes. Here is the substance of his speech:
The Great Spirit gave this great island to his red children; he placed the whites on the other side of the big water; they were not contented with their own, but came to take ours from us. They have driven us from the sea to the lakes; we can go no further. They have taken upon them to Say this tract belongs to the Miamies, this to the Delawares, and so on; but the Great Spirit intended it as the common property of us all. Our father tells us, that we have no business upon the Wabash—the land belongs to other tribes; but the
Great Spirit ordered us to come here and here we will stay. [Drake, B., 1852, p. 124.]
In 1807 Tecumseh argued,
These lands are ours: no one has a right to remove us because we were the first owners; the Great Spirit above has appointed this place for us, on which to light our fires, and here we will remain. As to boundaries, the Great Spirit above knows no boundaries, nor will his red people acknowledge any. [Drake, B., 1852, pp. 92-93.]
Indian leaders were thoroughly hated by the Whites for propound- ing a philosophy which contradicted the rugged individualism of the frontier. Such men as Tecumseh did lead effective resistance move- ments. Once started such movements were difficult to stop because they aroused the religious zeal of the Indians. The belief became
No. 2] LAND OWNERSHIP—SNYDERMAN 31
widespread among the tribes on the frontier that the land belonged to the many and not the few. This idea was more difficult to combat than tomahawks.
All Indian attempts to unite, whether for peace or war, were re- jected by the Whites, for they had had enough experience with con- federations of Indians during the eighteenth century to avoid such combinations after the Revolution. Thus, when Aron Hill, a Mohawk, tried to speak for the Six Nations, Ottawa, Chippewa, Huron, Miami, Potawatomie, Mississaugua, Delaware, Shawnee, Cherokee, Chicka- saw, Choctaw, and Creek at the Treaty of Fort Stanwix, the Federal Commissioners refused to entertain a united plea. The Commission- ers said they had “summoned the Six Nations only to this treaty. That nations not called should send their voices hither is extraor- Jinary.” They also questioned the authority of the Six Nations to represent other Indians since they had “not shown us any authority, either in writing or by belts, for your speaking their names. Without such authority your words will pass away like the winds of yesterday, they are heard no more” (Ketchum, 1864-65, vol. 2, pp. 19-20). The reasoning of the United States Commissioners was perverting the intent of Indian political custom by using Indian metaphors to pre- vent effective Indian bargaining for an equitable and just peace.
The official governmental policy of “divide and rule” may be noted in General St. Clair’s statement dated May 2, 1788:
The reason why the treaties were made separately with the Six Nations and the Wyandots and more westerly tribes was a jealousy subsisted between them which I was not willing to lessen by appearing to consider them as one people— they do not so consider themselves; and I am persuaded their general con- federacy is entirely broken ; indeed it would not be very difficult if circumstances required, to set them at deadly variance. [Lowrie and Clarke, 1832-34, vol. 1, p. 10.]
The Indians’ reply to St. Clair plainly reminded him that he had been told to transact business with the combined tribes. The speaker referred to the Indian sentiments in these words:
Brothers: Your commissioner . . . after having been informed by the general council . . . that no bargain or sale of any part of these Indian lands would be considered as valid or binding unless agreed to by a general council, never- theless persisted in collecting together a few chiefs of two or three nations only, and with them held a treaty for the cession of an immense country in which they were no more interested than as a branch of the general confederacy and who were in no manner authorized to make any grant or cession whatever. Brothers: How then was it possible for you to expect to enjoy peace and quietly hold these lands when your commissioner was informed long before he held the treaty of Fort Harmar that the consent of a general council was absolutely necessary to convey any part of these lands to the United States. [Smith, 1854, vol. 1, p. 179—my emphasis. ]
32 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
Enough has been said to indicate that White maneuverings to gain possession of Indian lands were met by resistance when the Iroquois and their neighbors awoke to the fact that money was expendable and would not buy the security which their fathers had enjoyed. When they could no longer fight for their land, Indian resistance took the form of reverting to the teachings of their ancestors, and adjusting these teachings to meet the threat to their way of life. These were not only psychological rationalizations—they were the end result of a defeated people’s attempt to maintain a dignified and secure existence. Many Indians still dream of the day when the land ceded to the Whites will revert to them to be tenderly nursed back to health so that the Blessings of the Maker may be enjoyed in peace.
BIBLIOGRAPHY BLACKHAWKE. 1932. Life. Reprinted by State Hist. Soc. Iowa. Iowa City. Barr, BE. H., Eprror. 1911. Indian tribes of the Upper Mississippi Valley and the region of the Great Lakes. 2 vols. Cleveland. BRoDHEAD, J. R. 1853-87. Documents relative to the Colonial history of the State of New York. O’Callaghan and Fernow, eds., 15 vols. Albany. CoLE, CYRENUS. 1940. Iowa through the years. Iowa City. Craic, N. B., Eprror. 1846. Olden times. Vol.1. Pittsburgh. Denny, Mas. EBENEZER. 1860. Military journals. Mem. Hist. Soc. Pa., vol. 7. Philadelphia. DRAKE, BENJAMIN. 1852. Life of Tecumseh and his brother the Prophet. Cincinnati. DRAKE, SAMUEL G. 1834. Biography and history of the Indians of North America. Boston. DraPer, LYMAN C. n. d. MS. 77, typescript. M. H. Deardorff, Warren, Pa. FENTON, WILLIAM N.
1940. Problems arising from the historic northeastern position of the Iro- quois. Jn Essays in Historical Anthropology of North America, Smithsonian Misc. Coll., vol. 100, pp. 159-251.
1949. Seth Newhouse’s traditional history and constitution of the Iroquois Confederacy. Proc. Amer. Phil. Soec., vol. 93, No. 2, pp. 141-158. Philadelphia.
ForEMAN, GRANT.
1946. The last trek of the Indians. Univ. Chicago Press. Chicago. Gipson, L. H.
1939. Zones of international friction. Vol. 5. New York. GRINNELL, GEORGE B.
1907. Tenure of land among the Indians. Amer. Anthrop., n. s., vol. 9, pp. 1-11.
HALLoweELt, A. I.
1943. The nature and function of property as a social institution. Journ.
Legal and Political Soc., vol. 1, pp. 115-188.
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HANNAH, CHARLES A. 1911. The wilderness trail. 2 vols. New York. HARVEY, HENRY. 1855. History of the Shawnee Indians. Cincinnati. Hopee, F. W., Eprror. 1907, 1910. Handbook of the American Indians north of Mexico. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 30. 2 vols. HOPKINS, GERARD. n. d. Journal to Fort Wayne [1803-4]. MS., Hist. Soc. Pa. KeEetcHUM, WILLIAM. 1864-65. History of Buffalo. 2 vols. Buffalo. LoGAN HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 1920. Publications, vol. 1. Cincinnati. Lowrif, WALTER, and CLARKE, MATTHEW ST. CLaArIR, EDITORS. 1832-34. American State Papers: Indian Affairs, 1789-1827. 2 vols. Wash- ington. McCoy, Isaac. 1840. History of Baptist missions. Washington. McILWAIN, C. H., EDITOR. 1915. An abridgment of the Indian Affairs ... from 1678-1751. Peter Wraxall. Harvard Hist. Studies, vol. 21. Cambridge. MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 1886. Collections. Ser. 3. Vol. 5. Boston. MICHIGAN PIONEER AND HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 1888-93. Collections and Researches, vols. 16 to 36. Morse, JEDIDIAH. 1822. Report to the Secretary of War ... on Indian Affairs. 1820. New Haven. O’CALLAGHAN, HE. B., Eprror. 1849-51. Documentary history of the State of New York. 4 vols. Albany. Oun10 ARCHEOLOGICAL AND HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 1898-99. Quarterly, vols. 6-7. Columbus. PARKER, ARTHUR, C. 19138. The code of Handsome Lake, the Seneca Prophet. N. Y. State Mus. Bull. No. 168. Albany. 1916. The constitution of the Five Nations. N. Y. State Mus. Bull. No. 184. Albany. PARKER, DANIEL. n.d. Letters to Secretary of War. MS., Hist. Soc. Pa., Box 2. PENNSYLVANIA ARCHIVES. 1876. Series 2, vol. 4. Harrisburg. PROVINCIAL COUNCIL OF PENNSYLVANIA. 1851. Minutes, vols. 46. Harrisburg. QualrFE, Mito M., Hprror. 1921. Alexander Henry’s travels and adventures in the years 1760-76. Chicago. SMITH, WILLIAM R. 1854. The history of Wisconsin. Vol.1. State Hist. Soc. Wis. Madison. SNYDERMAN, GEORGE S. 1948. Behind the Tree of Peace: A sociological analysis of Iroquois war- fare. Bull, Soc. Pa. Arch., vol, 18, Nos, 3/4. Harrisburg.
34 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B. A. E. Bull. 149
Speck, FRANK G. 1919. The functions of wampum among the Eastern Algonkian. Mem. Amer. Anthrop. Assoc., vol. 6, No. 1. 1923. Algonkian influence upon Iroquois social organization. Amer. Anthrop., vol. 25, pp. 219-227. 1931. A study of the Delaware Big House ceremony. Publ. Pa. Hist. Comm. Harrisburg. 1945. The Iroquois, a study in cultural evolution. Cranbrook Inst. Sci. Bull. No. 23. Bloomfield Hills, Mich. 1949. Midwinter rites of the Cayuga Long House. Philadelphia. STONE, WILLIAM L. 1846. Life of Joseph Brant. 2 vols. Cooperstown, N. Y. TANTAQUIDGEON, GLADYS. 1942. A study of Delaware Indian medicine practices and folk beliefs. Publ. Pa. Hist. Comm. Harrisburg. THWAITES, R. G., EDITOR. 1904-7. Early western travels. 32 vols. Cleveland. TIPTON, JOHN. 1942. Papers. Indiana Hist. Bur. Coll., vol. 24. Indianapolis. WALLACE, PAu A. W. 1945. Conrad Weiser ... Philadelphia.
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 149
Symposium on Local Diversity in Iroquois Culture
No. 3. Locality as a Basic Factor in the Development of Iroquois Social Structure
By WILLIAM N. FENTON
35
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CONTENTS
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LOCALITY AS A BASIC FACTOR IN THE DEVELOPMENT OF IROQUOIS SOCIAL STRUCTURE*
By WituuaM N. Fenron
The Iroquois remain the classic example of a kinship state, and it is proposed in this paper to examine the effect of locality or coresi- dence on the development of Iroquois social structure. In so doing I accept the challenge of Murdock (1949, p. 79) that “Anthropologists from Morgan to Lowie have shown far more interest in the forms of the family, sib, and the clan than in the organization of social groups upon a local basis.” I shall consider in turn the village community, which is the unit of Iroquois society and is the product of a distinct tradition; second, the coresidents of that society to see how local so- ciety is composed ; third, community organization, or the public func- tions of society; fourth, the tribe, a confederation of communities speaking a common language; and fifth ; the famous League of the Iro- quois, which was a projection of the preceding. Finally, I offer coresi- dence, or the concept of locality, as a theory for interpreting Iroquois cultural history.
THE VILLAGH COMMUNITY
Starting with the present reservation communities, I employ the method of historical “upstreaming,” using my own field data to afford a perspective for evaluating earlier field reports and particularly his- torical records. ‘There are some 20 reservations and settlements of the Iroquois, located principally in New York, western Ontario, and Que- bec—in the territory of their ancient homeland around the lower Great Lakes—with one outlier of Seneca and Wyandot in northeast- ern Oklahoma. Eight reservations comprise communities of between 600 and several thousand population, and ethnological field work has been carried on mainly in 7. In western New York, 3 reservations of the Seneca—Allegany (900), Cattaraugus (1,500), which form the
1 First read in the symposium on the Concept of Locality in the Development of Iroquois Cultural Diversity, held at the meetings of the American Anthropological Association on November 17, 1949, a draft of this paper was circulated widely for critical comment in December. I wish to acknowledge my gratitude to the following persons for their replies: Profs. B. W. Aginsky, R. H. Lowie, Ralph Linton, George Peter Murdock, the late Frank G. Speck, and Mischa Titiev; and among my colleagues of this symposium, notably A. F. Brown and Anthony F. C. Wallace, of the University of Pennsylvania.
39
40 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
Seneca Nation, and Tonawanda (600)—have received ethnologists since Morgan’s time, including the participants in this seminar. Wal- lace has studied Tuscarora (600), near Niagara Falls; St. Regis Mo- hawk (2,000) astride the International Boundary on the St. Law- rence has been reported by Mrs. Carse; a University of Pennsylvania field party in ethnology and linguistics worked at Onondaga near Syracuse in 1948 and 1949; and Six Nations Reserve on Grand River, Ontario, by far the largest in area and population (6,000), over the years absorbed Hewitt, Goldenweiser, Speck, and others. Information on the Caughnawaga Mohawk, principally famous as structural steel workers with an outpost in Brooklyn (Mitchell, 1949), and the Okla- homa groups is forthcoming. The study of the Oneida of Wiscon- sin has not been published, the Oneida of Thames River, Ontario, have been neglected, and in recent years ethnologists have ignored the Deseronto Mohawk group at Bay of Quinte near Kingston, On- tario, and the small band at Oka beside Lake of Two Mountains, west of Montreal.
Communities have been selected for field work in the past according to the character of the local culture. Those Iroquois communities which felt the teachings of the Seneca prophet and follow the Long- house way have been most conservative and offer the best ethno- logical and linguistic opportunities. As long as the purpose of eth- nology was recovery toward reconstruction of ancient Iroquois culture little interest was manifest in communities which are predominantly Christian—Cornplanter, Tuscarora, St. Regis, Caughnawaga, and Oneidatown.
Local schisms based on religious affiliation go back to early Contact times producing the separation of a large band of Mohawk to become the praying Indians of Quebec about 1670, ancestors of the present St. Regis and Caughnawaga bands, engendering the division of the Oneida into Protestant and pagan factions by 1874, and accounting for intense rivalry between pagan and Christian parties throughout much of the nineteenth century among the Seneca.
Identification with either faction implies a way of life which is observable in the settlement patterns of the present communities. The rural-neighborhood type of settlement pattern is typical of all the Iroquois reservations. This fact is epitomized in a song from the ritual of the Medicine Men, which says: “The houses of all my grandchildren extend in a thin line.” Only at Ohsweken, seat of government on the Six Nations Reserve, and in longhouse districts of the New York Reserves, do houses cluster in villages. It is notable at Coldspring on Allegany, at Newtown on Cattaraugus, “down below” at Tonawanda, and in Onondaga Valley (Syracuse) that the modern longhouse and its ball ground, scene of councils and religious festivals,
No. 3] LOCALITY AS FACTOR IN SOCIAL STRUCTURE—FENTON 4]
is a focal factor in the community. Of the 126 dwellings on Tona- wanda Reservation in 19385, all but 37 lay west of the Creek, and of the remaining 89, over half were concentrated in the longhouse neighborhood. Similarly, at Allegany, 72 households stretch between Red House and Quaker Bridge, sheltering 326 persons, and centering at Coldspring.
Iroquois settlements were formerly much concentrated. Before 1687, the League Iroquois were 12 or 138 villages, ranging between 800 and 600 persons per town: Mohawk (3), Oneida (1), Onondaga (2), Cayuga (3), Seneca (4). Two Seneca towns comprised upward of 100 houses, of which a good proportion were extended bark houses sheltering composite families. During the next century settlements dispersed and were smaller, the bark house giving way to log houses of smaller dimensions. By 1800 the bark longhouse was a thing of the past. With it went old patterns of coresidence.?
The old agriculture was another focal factor as long as it was the work of women. Between 1798 and 1800, the Quakers witnessed the change on the Allegheny River. As long as population concentrated in settlements, the men could not be induced to farm, but with gradual acceptance of farming the residence pattern changed. Settlement of Six Nations Reserve on Grand River saw similar changes. The emigrees from New York concentrated at first in bands—Upper and Lower Cayuga, Upper and Lower Mohawk. With further land cessions, the bands coalesced and settled on scattered farmsteads, located on surveyed lands in the Canadian pattern of townships, ranges, and concessions.°
2The problem of making adequate statements about residence after marriage is not simplified by ethnographic data from the present reservation communities. To my own observations among the Seneca of Allegany, Tonawanda, and the Iroquois of Six Nations, I append the following statement by Augustus F. Brown, of the University of Pennsyl- vania, concerning the present patterns of residence after marriage among the New York Onondaga: “I ean think of only two possible modifications or qualifications of your state- ments about residence ... [Without] ...a convincing amount of data ...a few ob- servations I made at Onondaga suggest . .. [that old patterns of coresidence did not pass with the bark house]. I noticed that although a daughter might have a nuclear family of her own in the sense that her house was physically separated from that of her mother, the physical separation was not great: the few minutes walk apparently put no great strain on the mobility of mother or daughter. The amount of mother-daughter inter- personal contacts in such a situation seemed to be great.’”’ (Brown’s observation would also hold for the Seneca of Tonawanda, and somewhat less for Allegany and Cattaraugus, for the settlement pattern at Onondaga more nearly approximates the old Iroquois village settlements. )
For Brown’s second point, see footnote 4.
7] am indebted to Professor Linton for calling my attention to similar changing pat- terns of settlement and their relation to farming in the Southeast. After conditions of general peace and security made it possible to abandon fortified settlements, most of the Southeastern tribes are described as living in scattered groups of families, each with its own establishment of several houses for different purposes. The straggling agricultural settle- ment pattern is described by various writers (Swanton, 1946, pp. 629-641). ‘“South- eastern towns generally ... consisted mainly of neighborhoods scattered through the woods and interspersed with fields” (Swanton, 1946, p. 638).
42 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE ([B.A.B. Bull. 149
Until the establishment of reservations Iroquois settlements were never permanent. The old agriculture favored more permanent resi- dence in single settlements, for part of the year at least, although exhaustion of the soil, scarcity of firewood, and depletion of game supply compelled removing the town to a new site within tribal terri- tory, and not far removed, about twice in a generation. The “new town” versus “old town” is a recurring theme in Iroquois culture.
Village removal quite possibly gave the villages an opportunity to recompose the residence pattern so as to agree with the social situ- ation. As we know after the removal of the Iroquois to the Grand River in Canada, they subsequently settled on farms and took up independent residence. Similar shifts, I am told by Owen Lattimore, have occurred in Mongol society. Thus society on removal to a new village can follow a theory of residence which its members favor or group in terms of a new economic pattern which they adopt.
Seasonal return to hunting and fishing economy meant that Iroquois villages were abandoned periodically. From the harvest to mid- winter, families went to the woods to hunt for meat, seeking hunting partners in settlements adjacent to hunting grounds. Villages were again evacuated in early spring: (1) a short removal to the nearby sugar bush for several weeks, (2) for a longer period in March and April to attend pigeon nestings, and (3) to nearby fishing sites. In all these activities a semblance of local organization was maintained. Village and tribal holdings in sugar bush, pigeon nesting sites, and fishing places formed a continuous territory with the farm and ordi- nary hunting lands of the village. Major pigeon nestings and long- term fall hunts were carried on at some remove from the village settlements and required the movement of persons from say Buffalo some 70 or 80 miles to south of Warren, Pa. (Fenton and Deardorff, 1948, p. 296 and map). Villages tended to move within rather nar- row orbits, quite definitely within the above territory, moving to perhaps a day’s walk from the old settlement, frequently the “old town” giving way to the “new town” as a gradual development of one out of the other. At earlier times the movements were more abrupt (Fenton, 1940). Use of hunting territory, fishing sites, berry- ing grounds, and medicinal plant stations were deemed local privi- leges belonging to the inhabitants of that place. Ultimately, such ownership rested in the tribe or “nation.” 'To this day the title of lands rests in the nation; nothing like the Algonquian type of indi- vidual hunting territories was known. A Cayuga hunter, however, was careful to leave the pelt in the Seneca nation’s territory, vouch- safing a privilege which was not extended to alien tribes outside the League. Similarly the use of fields and cemeteries will redound to local inhabitants. To the extent that coresidents are related unilater-
No. 3] LOCALITY AS FACTOR IN SOCIAL STRUCTURE—FENTON 43
ally, clan fields will adjoin; cemeteries will contain the bones of predominately one clan.
The association of certain activities with places has given rise to Troquois place names and was a factor in withholding the reserva- tions which were laid out in 1796. Tonawanda, Caughnawaga, Cattaraugus, Allegheny (Ohii’yo’), Grand River, Onondaga to a degree—all lay along streams famous for spring runs of fish.
COMPOSITION OF LOCAL SOCIETY
Contemporary Iroquois society has been characterized by single residences of nuclear families. On marriage the young couple moves in with whichever set of parents has room and seeks a separate, or neolocal residence as soon as they are able to build a house on adjacent land. Data from Allegany and Tonawanda, checked by field work at Six Nations, show a tendency for nuclear families to aggregate into clusters of two or three related families. Sons or daughters occupy adjacent land. Within the community there is no consistent pattern of either matrilocal or patrilocal residence. If anything, the latter prevails in the accounts of marriages participated in by older in- formants whose mothers made the matches. The reason, I believe, les in the newly adopted pattern of rural residence. Farms at first were transmitted matrilineally, but as holdings increased and White busi- ness methods were adopted, inheritance, like English names, went from father tosons. Although New York Agency has never disturbed enrollment of band or tribal members through the mothers, according to Iroquois custom law, in Canada the dominant culture has enforced double descent by requiring that band members be enrolled with the fathers, with the result that “citizenship” in the Six Nations, inher- itance, and residence after marriage have been displaced to the male line. Internally, the Grand River Iroquois cling to descent and succes- sion through the mothers. As one might expect, legitimacy is far more of an issue in Canada.*
4 Continuing Brown’s comment from footnote 2, which makes an analogy of my example concerning moieties (p. 49), “One might say that (at Onondaga), very often, for various reasons, an extended household is ‘partitioned,’ but the effect is not a complete change from an extended matrilocal household to a classical isolated nuclear family.” Apropos of this, Brown’s impression of Onondaga strengthens my point that the residence at Allegany, Tonawanda, and Six Nations has resulted from the pattern of rural residence which in the latter case was enforced by the Dominion Government by (a) parceling the land, and (b) enforcing double descent. “My hunch is that the Onondaga prove this point by the contrasting lack of (a) and (b): i. e., they continue to display more coresi- dence than the groups you mention.”
“The second possible modification for Onondaga . .. stems from [retention of old patterns derived from coresidence]. Your statements that nuclear families are now characteristic, and that older residence was probably matri-patrilocal, do not fit my impres- sion of Onondaga. Without evidence to demonstrate it one way or the other... my hunch is that matrilocal residence is more frequent at Onondaga than at the other reservations.”” Brown questions that residence could have been matri-patrilocal earlier, unless the term be interpreted to mean that the couple instead of later moving to the husband’s parents’ house, moved to a neolocal, or independent residence. “For Onondaga
905645—5 14
44 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
As Linton (1936, pp. 163-169) and others have indicated, the cru- cial factor in residence after marriage is whether one spouse must leave his local community. Informants express a marked aversion to marrying outside the community, although data afford numerous ex- ceptions. A man feels an outlander in his wife’s community and has no property rights. A Tonawanda chief was demoted for marrying an Allegany Seneca woman. A woman from outside is without kin- dred save in a classificatory sense, and her children only have rights in her home village. The exceptions favor distant matrilocal residence.
Possibly the problems of tribal enrollment and payment of treaty annuities have augmented the problem of outsiders. The outlander (oy4’ji 6ng’) is the marginal Iroquois who has the misfortune to be born of a New York Iroquois father and a mother from Six Na- tions, or any other place. He is enrolled nowhere and lacks citizen- ship in the Indian sense. That locality is the factor involved is evi- dent from the fact that on the Six Nations Reserve, where all the League tribes are present, most marriages are within the larger com- munity and intertribal marriages have been accepted for several generations.
I infer from older data that residence was matri-patrilocal with respect to a composite household and that the operation of the system required but two intermarrying lineages. Even after generations of independent residence the terms for one’s maternal lineage and the household (sadinonhsaat) aresynonymous. The latter term comprises a matron, her daughters, and all her descendants through females “who came out of the same house.” Locally the household is a powerful unit of public opinion and the core of Iroquois polity. It is balanced on the father’s side by his maternal household, or lineage, one’s father’s kinsmen (agadoni), and by extension of his clansmen, presided over by the father’s sister, or her female forebear.. The two comprise the kindred, one’s body of relations.
The distinction between the maternal family or household and the clan is a local problem.’ The maternal family and the clan are syn-
the latter would mean simply a variation on the matrilocal pattern—in that the wife owns the neolocal house, and the husband is still living in his wife’s house.”
Quite possibly these points of doubt cannot be cleared up by future field work at this late date, but it will be interesting to see what information Onondaga yields to Brown's field investigations.
By contrast, Wallace found matrilocal residence to be characteristic of 53 percent of Tuscarora marriages during the first 2 years, 29 percent patrilocal, and 19 percent neolocal in some 78 recorded cases.
§ Murdock (1949, p. 47) and in correspondence suggests a return to Lowie’s use of “‘sib’’ instead of ‘“‘clan,’’ on grounds which he has argued in his Social Structure. Nevertheless, I have adhered to the use of the term “clan” for the present paper because the Iroquois themselves constantly use the term in their daily speech. The so-called Iroquois clans are true sibs, but I must concede that they do have “clans” in Murdock’s sense—a com- promise kin group based both on a rule of residence and rule of descent plus social integration (Murdock, 1949, p. 68). Such a compromise kin group among Iroquois com- prises a matron, an unmarried son, her several daughters, the husbands of the latter, and
‘No. 31. LOCALITY AS FACTOR IN SOCIAL STRUCTURE—FENTON 45
onymous to the extent that local clansmen can relate themselves genealogically to a distant matriarch. The Iroquois know their mothers at least (Titiev, 1943, p. 513), and that is all that the Iro- quois themselves claim for the distinction between maternal family and clan, both based on maternal descent. The distinction arises in those communities in which knowledge of the connecting links be- tween maternal lineages in a clan has been lost, or it is known that two lineages came out of different houses in distinct communities (‘Tona- wanda Snipes and Turtles).
Now the importance of the maternal family is political, as Golden- weiser indicated, and politics are local business. In precisely those local groups where the system of life chiefs survives (Tonawanda, Onondaga, Tuscarora, Six Nations), the distinction is made between chiefly lineages and the clan. Controversies rage as to which lineage in a clan possesses a title and whether the clan mother is the oldest woman of the chiefly lineage or the oldest woman of the clan (Tona- wanda Turtles in National Gypsum Co. case). If the local title- bearing lineage lacks a likely candidate for chiefship, the matron loans her title to the matron of another lineage who installs her son, or sister’s son, etc., and the second lineage after a generation or so claims the title, or swears that it belongs to the whole clan. Similarly, a title may pass from one community to another, or to another clan in the same phratry. In the two communities of the Seneca Nation— Allegany and Cattaraugus—which adopted the elective system of Councilors after Buffalo Creek, the practical distinction between maternal family and clan has blurred. The same process has been going on since 1924 at Six Nations, including the Canadian Delaware.®
The clan, however, is the permanent social unit in the community, and in theory it is the exogamic unit. Arising out of the unilocal matrilineal lineage or houshold, to adapt Titiev (1943, pp. 525-526) to Iroquois parlance, is the multilocal matrilineal lineage. The lat-
their children—who, after the manner of the present ‘Beaver Clan’ at Quaker Bridge, gather at the house of one of the daughters for birthday parties, frequent Sunday-night picnics during the summer, and whenever an excuse presents itself. At its core is a maternal lineage (for it does not include other Beaver Clan lineages of the community) and a fringe of spouses—members of other sibs whose common fortune it is to have married Beaver wives. Clearly such a unit of society was formerly the household, although psychologically for the Iroquois, the fringe of spouses would belong to the households of their mothers. Since writing the present paper it now seems hopeful that the applica- tion of Murdock’s concept to Iroquois society may clear away confusion attending corest- dence of sib and maternal family and the relation of the maternal family to the father’s maternal family—the body of kindred which Goldenweiser called the bilateral family. In fact, the Iroquois household or “clan’’ in the compromise sense was, and still is, a cooperating unit in many endeavors.
6 The distinction made here between chiefly lineages and the clan suggests to Professor Linton some interesting questions on clan growth. He writes: “Obviously clans are come by through the isolation and increase of particular lineages or through the change of a lineage from one settlement to another. As a matter of fact, I suspect that the func- tional study would show a continuous series ranging from emergent lineages scarcely stronger than nuclear family to full clans.” Precisely this development is what my Seneca data and those of Goldenweiser from Six Nations Reserve indicate.
46 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.f. Bull. 149
ter becomes blurred in the clan when the members of an original maternal family lose track of connecting links. To illustrate, the Tonawanda Seneca Snipe clan of some 40 members comprises 3 mater- nal families, one of which has been local since before 1830, a second came from Geneseo, and a third went from Geneseo to Buffalo Creek and thence to Tonawanda after the breakup. The latter two can be traced to a single Genesee household. Likewise, the Bear clan at Tonawanda comprises two unrelated maternal families, a small chiefly line from Portage on Genesee, and a larger lineage traceable to three daughters of one matron who walked out from Buffalo Creek. Clearly the locus of the maternal family and the strength of the clan follows the migrating matron. A woman who marries outside of her community takes her lineage with her.
Although in theory the clan is the exogamic unit, several cases of endogamy in my Tonawanda genealogies were explained as extra local affairs between lineages: Father was of the Tonawanda Snipes, mother of the Genesee Snipes out of Buffalo Creek. To marry in the same maternal household is a far greater sin than to marry in the same clan.? The Seneca, nevertheless, have an ancient tradition of a longhouse that was partitioned in half so that a man could go out one door and around the house to get married at the other end; I first heard of this from John Jimmerson of Hawk clan in 1938, and it is confirmed as the Kiliou (Eagle) clan in a French source of 1666 (O’Callaghan, 1949, vol. 1, p. 3).
The status of a clan depends on its local representation. A census of 72 families in the Coldspring community on Allegany in 1947 gives the following distribution of the 8 clans in a population of 326:
Moiety I Moiety II Sex een Bomee eee Bee Bear | Wolf | Beaver] Turtle} Total || Deer | Snipe | Heron | Hawk Total Malegeten = es 2 7H 19 32 27 | 100 10 21 21 18 70 Females_____---- 24 7 32 29 92 15 7 23 19 64 ‘otaloss 2 46 26 64 56 | 192 25 28 44 37 134 Total pop- ulationae|$ 2 2 o> eee obi he thee Bie 326
7Morgan was aware of local considerations as they affect exogamy, which Lowie has ealled to my attention. At a number of places in Ancient Society, Morgan (1878, pp. 88, 90, 91) held that the phratry was formed by the segmentation of an original gens (clan) and that their former exogamy derived from original clan exogamy, but that the latter restriction had long since been removed. His theory called for local segmenta- tion, removal to another settlement, and adoption after a lapse of time, of a new name. Then reunion of the old segments took place at a higher level, forming the moiety system of two phratries.
8 The word ‘‘Kiliou” suggests Kineu, “Bagle,” in one of the Central Algonquian dialects, to F. G. Speck. The word is certainly not Seneca and casts some suspicion on an other- wise authoritative document.
No. 3] LOCALITY AS FACTOR IN SOCIAL STRUCTURE—FENTON 47
Beaver, Turtle, and Bear are the largest clans in that order. Wolf having but seven females is threatened with local extinction. These clans comprising the first moiety far outnumber the second moiety, Heron, Hawk, Snipe, and Deer in that order. Snipe has but seven women. Shrinking of the second moiety threatens the local cere- -monies which depend on moiety reciprocity.®
By contrast, a Tonawanda census (made for relief purposes in 1935) of 105 households, in which men outweigh women and children, on whom data is incomplete, shows a proportionately different distribu- tion of clans:
Moiety I Moiety II
Sex
RCH: Dea Seger okey (Se EE Bree ear ey Pa 254
Once more the first moiety outnumbers the second: Wolf, Turtle, Bear—all clans having chiefs in council—are large, but so is Beaver. In the second moiety, Snipe and Hawk which hold all titles on this side, Snipe having three, overshadow Deer and Heron, which verge on extinction, a fate that has already befallen the Eel clan. It is said that the latter two have merged. Viewed statistically, some weight attaches to the argument that the lesser clans without chief- ships are the remnants of adopted tribes. Similarly, Goldenweiser’s data from Grand River Seneca show that Duck, Eel, and Ball clans lacked chiefs, and the first two were already extinct.
Considering the distribution of clans among the Five Nations of the Confederacy and the Tuscarora (the Sixth Nation), Turtle, Wolf, and Bear, being the only clans among the Oneida and Mohawk, are always present and are probably most ancient; Snipe, Hawk, Ball(?), Deer, Heron, and Beaver exhibit fading distributions. Eel remains an enigma. The Seneca Duck clan is not found in New York, and further indication of local segmentation lies in differentiation of cer-
® Already the Coldspring Seneca have anticipated the possibility that moiety reciprocity cannot always be maintained; whenever the ceremonies demand participation by persons of opposite sides and one moiety lacks proper personnel, they simply borrow the necessary person from the other side. There is also a formal pattern for returning him with thanks. So long as the moieties remain but mildly disproportionate the fiction of true moiety reciprocity can be maintained, but the late Professor Speck, in reading this paper in
manuscript, commented that he considered the threat to the ceremonies a far more important consequence than the breakdown of possible moiety exogamy in the past.
48 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
tain genera: Big Snipe, Black Bear (Ca.), ete. Distribution of chief- ships among tribes and clans of the League would argue that Deer and Beaver were preeminently Onondaga clans.
To summarize the relation of clans to coresidence, I note that exogamy, common possession of a clan name, plus political rights (possession of an office) keep the figment of common descent from a matron alive. Similarly, separation (1794) and residence apart, in the territories of two sovereignties have given the clans of the Seneca and Onondaga a sense of complete distinction and political autonomy. ‘Tribal offices have been retained in New York or carried to Canada by migrating matrons of the same clan, or the offices have been assigned by the council to new clans with the result that the councils of the Tonawanda Seneca and the New York Onondaga. are duplicated on the Grand River. When the latter chiefs meet. their New York counterparts at Tonawanda or Onondaga, two chiefs of the same title sit down together. In disputes the Tonawanda chiefs have asserted that an invisible barrier at the Boundary sweeps the “horns of office” from the heads of Canadian chiefs.
The whole question of the local character of Iroquois personal name sets must be put off. Be it said that they belong to the clan and they tend to be repeated with or without attached statuses wherever the clan is represented.
Whatever the origin of the Iroquois moieties, their functions are primarily ceremonial at the village, tribal, and confederate levels. They function in burial of the dead, and semiannually the town divides spatially for the Bowl Game and similar reciprocal rites (Fenton in Hewitt, 1944, pp. 81, 82-84). Morgan (1878, 1881, p. 11), Titiev (1948, p. 529), and I (1940, pp. 204-205) have variously dis- cussed the origin of Iroquois moieties by a process of clan segmenta- tion and differentiation. It is only important here to underscore that clans arise from clans in local removals. The process has not always been the same among the five tribes.
Moiety arrangement of clans in two reciprocal phratries progres- sively strengthens as one moves from the social organizaiton of Onon- daga, to Cayuga, to Seneca, which was westward in historic times.*°
10 The discussion of moiety differences and their possible former connection with marriage, their strength among the western tribes and weakness among the eastern tribes of the Iroquois Confederacy, raises some interesting questions of diffusion. Professor Linton has called my attention to the Sauk and Fox dual division, as reported by Tax (in Eggan, 1937, pp. 268-269, 271), in which membership is arbitrarily assigned from the father alternately to his children in order of birth. If it is nonhereditary, it has no influence on marriage, but serves to provide an equal division of the tribe in games, dancing contests, feasts, and a spatial separation of the tribe into south and north with associated color symbolisms—white and black, which are reminiscent of red and white color symbolism in the Southeast. If such an arrangement was uncommon among Central Algonquians, at least it was not incongruous in an area where the clan system was ‘‘characterized by (a) patrilineal descent; (b) totemic clan names, of which over half a dozen agree [and overlap with names of Iroquois clans] ; (c) moieties linked with upper and lower worlds,
INo. 3] LOCALITY AS FACTOR IN SOCIAL STRUCTURE—FENTON 49
In the other direction, Oneida and Mohawk had but three clans, and the data on their differentiation into moieties is not clear, particularly for the Oneida. In 1940, I used Megapolensis as a source for indi- cating local differentiation of two clan towns into moieties, when one split during a removal. But the Mohawk-Oneida chiefs in council (nine apiece) do not have the same feeling about moiety segregation as the other three tribes; the former still regard their colleagues as siblings, not true cross-cousins. Have the Mohawk and Oneida -ac- cepted the moiety divisions for administrative reasons from the other three tribes among whom it is basic? Sex dualism, which governs Oklahoma-Delaware dual divisions and functions (Speck, 1937, p. 24), is about all the eastern Iroquois recognize.
Among the Onondaga and Seneca of Tonawanda, the two moieties refer to each other as if they occupied opposite sides of the same long- house, bringing us back to the composite sides of the same household: “The four chimneys, or fireplaces” (Turtle-Wolf-Bear-Beaver) and “the five fireplaces” (Snipe-Hawk-Heron-Deer-Eel) designate the other moiety. In Canada, the Onondaga address “Two fireplaces” (Deer and Eel clans) and “Four house corners” (Wolf-Turtle-Beaver- Small Turtle). For the Seneca at least, such designation of clans as fireplaces goes back to 1666, when the two divisions are called “four clans” and “five clans.” + Niotithesqué probably does not mean tribes. Even then Moiety I comprised Turtle-Wolf-Bear-Beaver, and Moiety II, Deer-Snipe-Great Plover-Little Plover-Eagle. What clinches the argument is the statement that “These nine tribes formerly occupied nine villages which were finally collected together in order to sustain war...” It is also said that they ranged themselves by divisions on opposite sides of the fire. The author of the French document also implies that exogamy applied to the locale as well as to the house, and in the custom of partitioning the house could be the original expedient for the beginning of moieties.
The moieties are not now exogamous but may have been formerly. Goldenweiser thought that intraphratric marriages were less frequent
respectively ; (d@) the ownership of name-sets by clans” (Lowie, 1948, p. 257). Linton queries, “Is it possible that the emergence of moieties among the western Iroquois was due to diffusion from their Algonquian neighbors? If so, in view of the Algonquian pattern, you would not expect it to be related with marriage regulations.’”” Rather I would say the dual divisions of the Central Algonquian and neighboring Siouan are of a piece with the moiety system of the Iroquois. Who borrowed from whom cannot be ascertained at this late date. As Sapir once pointed out, the Iroquois clan tradition appears older than the moiety tradition (Sapir, 1916, p. 39). This opinion is fortified by the absence of moieties among the eastern tribes, and the fact that the Mahican and Delaware neigh- boring the Mohawk and Iroquois share the same threefold divisions of somewhat localized clans of several maternal lineages called Turtle, Turkey, and Wolf (Wallace, 1949, p. 10). Wallace, in another paper (1947), has demonstrated that Delaware social organization was a near duplicate of Iroquois. The one fundamental difference seems to have been the absence of family hunting territories among the Iroquois.
4 The names given by the early Seneca to their moieties recall the Hidatsa designations of Four Clans and Three Clans. (See Lowie, 1948, p. 245.)
50 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B. A. BE. Bull. 149
in the older sections of Grand River genealogies. Moreover, older informants agreed that ancient exogamy of sides was the pattern. Quite possibly this was the system. Similar genealogies from the Allegany Seneca barely extend beyond four generations. In 811 recorded marriages, 31 percent were endogamous and 69 percent exog- amous with respect to the sides, in a community which has no tradition of moiety exogamy.
LOCAL ORGANIZATION
A constantly recurring theme in Iroquois mythology and history is the village, its headman, and the council of elders. Quite rarely in folklore do we encounter the assertion of Asher Wright (Stern, 1933, . p. 143), which is constantly repeated by informants, that each clan had its own chief, that formerly the different clans tended to reside together, if not in composite households, in adjacent districts of a settlement with which the name of the dominant clan was associated. The clans had their separate councils, but there was also, and still is, an ad hoc village council of ranking clan chiefs, elders, and others whose wisdom was respected. The public, or the assembly, still includes the local residents who are the sounding board of local opin- ion. As local residents they engage in such joint enterprises as work parties—hunting, lumber, railroading, steel gangs—sports, drinking, and war parties. ‘The mutual aid society is primarily a local affair; only secondarily do clan, rank, and moiety intrude, and principally to the extent that its membership boasts a clan chief, who is also the rank- ing chief of the community, and perhaps a federal chief in the League; and out of deference to his position he may be asked to speak, but he may not have charge of the enterprise. The mutual aid society appar- ently had its beginnings as a society of males who banded together to assist the women of a clan to whom they were married and their own sisters. They were coresidents in a composite household, or at least of the settlement.
The religious organization of officials who are keepers of Handsome Lake’s Code and their assistants who control the present longhouse centers is discussed in an earlier paper (Fenton, 1936).
THE TRIBH
A Chief was appointed by the oldest woman of the maternal family in which the title descended. Her descendants and those who were related clanwise were his constituents. The matron and the chief tended to reside in the same settlement, for when the Chief removed, the clan had no one to regard with confidence unless he returned for village councils. Ifthe matron removed, local succession was in jeop-
No. 3] LOCALITY AS FACTOR IN SOCIAL STRUCTURE—FENTON 51
ardy. The results of deliberations by the clan were taken from village councils to the council of the tribe. The ranking clan chiefs residing at a place were the cochiefs of that settlement. All eight of the Seneca chiefs are now concentrated at Tonawanda, but formerly the Seneca had at least four villages, and all the rest save the Oneida had each two or three principal towns with satellite settlements. The tribe thus spoke a common language, it comprised two or more settlements, it was governed by a common council of village chiefs who also repre- sented constituent clans, and they governed a common territory adja- cent to the towns. In time all clans were present in all villages, prob- ably about in the same proportions as they are now. As any clan predominated in a settlement, members had to seek mates in the next village, or divide their own house in twain, thus distributing the clans again.
The clan is the cement that binds the tribe. To this day in travel- ing, one is greeted on arrival in another settlement and asked, “To what clan do you belong?” You are told, “That house is over there.” The house was identified by the clan eponym which was painted or carved on the gable.
THE LEAGUE
The analogy of the maternal household was projected to the League. The League was in theory a kinship state, but it allowed for consid- erable local autonomy. The League arose as a confederation of villages, and the chiefs who became its founders were the then heads of settlements who in common had been installed in office by the matrons of their respective maternal families, households, and—by extension— their clans. No attempt was made to level local differences, and the tribes were consequently unequally represented in the League council. Although the Mohawk and Oneida each had 9 chiefs (3 in each clan), the Onondaga were 14, the Cayuga 10, and the Seneca 8. But each tribe had one vote, and unanimity was the rule. Each tribe had its own method of counciling, although two patterns prevailed. The Sen- eca, Cayuga, and Onondaga employed a moiety system in which the adjacent chiefs were siblings who conferred over the fire with cross- cousins, or offspring. The Oneida and Mohawk were not comfort- able with the moiety system, being all more or less siblings, but pre- ferred a tripartite arrangement which seated one committee of chiefs apart in control. The latter arrangement was also used by the Onon- daga, to a limited degree by the Cayuga, and still less by the Seneca. The tripartite arrangement with the Onondaga seated north of the fire in administrative control became the pattern for League councils: the Mohawk and Seneca sat east of the fire and the Oneida and Ca-
52 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
yuga west. On ceremonial occasions, as in the Condolence Council, the Longhouse which was the League was divided into two tribal moie- ties: Mohawk-Onondaga-Seneca as Elder brothers, father’s kinsmen (the agadoni principle) ; and the Oneida and Cayuga as Younger Brothers, nephews or offspring (the maternal principle). Thus we | see the bilateral organization of the Iroquois local family projected on | the League.
A THEORY FOR HISTORY
How does the recognition of local cultural differences help us to understand Iroquois political history? Elsewhere I have indicated how the Condolence Council became the instrument of treaty making (Fenton, 1949). Here I should like to suggest the effect of local autonomy on the solidarity of the Iroquois state. Lowie (1948, p. 52) has indicated that, “Centralized authority over a large territory can- not come early in history, for such centralization implies communica- tion to the margins of the area. . . .” Now, the Iroquois did not lack for communication; what they lacked was control. Power remained in the hands of local chiefs, and the latter in the course of history were not always the clan chiefs. They were war chiefs, and brilliant minds like Red Jacket who rose in national emergencies. In the minds of the Colonial officials and in the minds of the Indians, they were the chiefs of certain places. At the Treaty of Canandaigua in 1794, Farmer’s Brother and Red Jacket represented the people of Buffalo Creek. Cornplanter stood for the Allegany settlements. Each local chief brought a bundle of sticks enumerating his constituents. At one point in the proceedings the Seneca chiefs, who also held the titles of League Chiefs, upbraided Cornplanter for spending too much time with Colonel Pickering, the United States Commissioner for the treaty. They said Cornplanter was not even a Sachem (Federal chief), and this is one of the few occasions where real League chiefs were also signers of a treaty. What had happened?
If we look at Iroquois history in terms of local autonomy and recog- nize cultural differences, we can see that an old process was at work. — As the League grew old, village autonomy reasserted itself, and the League began to erode at the edges. Local factions broke away: Brant led the Loyalist Mohawk to Canada; the Oneida who had — helped the American cause of independence were split by religious — dissension; the bulk of the Seneca remained at Buffalo Creek to break — up over a treaty in 1838; and Cornplanter’s band withdrew to Pennsyl- | vania. We have come full cycle to the modern reservations as com- munities for independent study,
No. 3] LOCALITY AS FACTOR IN SOCIAL STRUCTURE—FENTON 653
BIBLIOGRAPHY
CARSE, MARY ROWELL. 1949. The Mohawk Iroquois. Bull. Archaeol. Soe. Connecticut, No. 28. Yale Peabody Mus., New Haven. n. d. The St. Regis Mohawk Community (MS.) Heean, FRep, Epiror. See TAx, Sou. FENTON, WILLIAM N. 1936. An outline of Seneca ceremonies at Coldspring Longhouse. Yale Univ. Publ. Anthrop., No. 9. New Haven. 1940. Problems arising from the historic northeastern position of the Iro- quois. Smithsonian Misc. Coll., vol. 100, pp. 159-251. 1949. Collecting materials for a political history of the Six Nations. Proc. Amer. Phil. Soc., vol. 93, pp. 283-238. FENTON, WILLIAM N., and Drarporrr, M. H. 1943. The last passenger pigeon hunts of the Cornplanter Senecas. Journ. Wash. Acad. Sci., vol. 33, pp. 289-815. GOLDENWEISER, A. A. 1913. On Iroquois work 1912. Summary Report. Geol. Surv. Canada
for... 1912, pp. 464-475. Ottawa. 1914. On Iroquois work, 1913-1914. Geol. Surv. Canada... for 1918, pp 865-372.
n. d. Iroquois Field Notes (MSS.) Hewitt, J. N. B. 1944. The Requickening Address of the Iroquois Condolence Council. W.N. Fenton, ed. Journ. Washington Acad. Sci., vol. 34, No. 3, pp. 65-85. LINTON, RALPH. 1936. The study of man. New York. LowIe, R. H. 1948. Social organization. New York. MITCHELL, JOSEPH. 1949. The Mohawks in high steel. The New Yorker, Sept. 17, pp. 58-52. Morean, L. H. 1878. Ancient society. New York. 1881. Houses and house-life of the American aborigines. Contr. to North Amer, Ethnol., 4. Murpock, GEORGE PETER. 1949. Social structure. New York. O’CALLAGHAN, BH. B., Eprror. 1849. The nine Iroquois Tribes, 1666. In The Documentary History of the State of New York, vol. 1, pp. 3-11. Albany. Sapir, BH. 1916. Time perspective in aboriginal American culture, a study in method. Canada Geol. Surv. Mem. 90 (Anthrop. Ser. No. 18). Ottawa. SPECK, F’. G. 1987. Oklahoma Delaware ceremonies, feasts, and dances. Mem. Amer. Phil. Soc., No. 7. STERN, B. J., EDITOR 1933. The letters of Asher Wright to Lewis Henry Morgan. Amer. Anthrop., vol. 35, pp. 1388-145.
54 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.B. Bull. 149
SWANTON, JOHN R. 1946. Indians of the Southeastern United States. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 137. Tax, SOL. 1987. The social organization of the Fox Indians. In Social Anthropology of North American Tribes, Fred Eggan, ed. Univ. Chicago Press. TitTirv, MiscHA 1943. The influence of common residence on the unilateral classification of kindred. Amer. Anthrop., vol. 45, pp. 511-530. WALLACE, ANTHONY F. C. 1947. Woman, land, and society: Three aspects of aboriginal Delaware life. Pennsylvania Archaeologist, vol. 17, pp. 1-35. 1949. King of the Delawares: Teedyuscung, 1700-1763. Univ. Pennsylvania Press.
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 149
Symposium on Local Diversity in Iroquois Culture
No. 4. Some Psychological Determinants of Culture Change in an Iroquoian Community
By ANTHONY F. C. WALLACE
55
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SOME PSYCHOLOGICAL DETERMINANTS OF CULTURE CHANGE IN AN IROQUOIAN COMMUNITY?
By AnrHony F. C. Wa.ace
THH HYPOTHESIS
It is almost axiomatic today in the social sciences that culture is a major determinant of personality. Less widely accepted, at least within anthropology, is the proposition that personality is a determi- nant of culture. The work of Roheim and Kardiner illustrates the latter position.2 They argue, for example, that the religious institu- tions of a society constitute displacements of basic attitudes toward parents, attitudes which are implicit in the personality structure char- acteristic of individuals in that society. But it is easy to point out, in a sort of rebuttal favored by culturologists, that these very atti- tudes are culturally determined in the socialization process. From here on it becomes almost a chicken-or-the-egg dispute; the original point can be almost forgotten, namely, that regardless of priority, the culture and modal personality structure of any society are complemen- tary functions of one another.
A collateral line of research in the personality-and-culture field has recently been opened by Hallowell: the relationship between modal personality structure and culture change. In a recent paper report- ing the results of investigations by him and his students among the Ojibwa, Hallowell has indicated that a culture can undergo drastic modification while the personality structure of the society yields only slightly, and that in a regressive way (Hallowell, 1949; see also Caudill, 1949).
1I wish to make acknowledgment to several individuals who have read and discussed this paper with me, to my profit: Dr. W. N. Fenton, Dr. A. I. Hallowell, Dr. Weston LaBarre, Mr. A. F. Brown, Miss Doris West, Dr. George Snyderman, and Dr. Floyd Louns- bury (anthropologists) ; and Dr. E. S. C. Ford (psychoanalyst). The paper was read in abbreviated form in New York, November 17, 1949, at a meeting of the American Anthro- pological Association.
2See Roheim (1932) and Kardiner (1939) for basic statements of this position. They do not assert that because personality is a determinant of culture, therefore it is its historical antecedent or ‘‘cause.’?’ Their concept of the relationship approximates the mathematical statement that x is a function of y: i. e., that a change in y will be accom- panied by a change in 2, and vice versa.
905645—51 5 59
60 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B. A. E. Bull. 149
In the course of his long-term study of Ojibwa culture and person- ality, Hallowell and his students have demonstrated, for this one tribal group, an amazing psychic conservatism. Comparing the Ojibwa of the seventeenth century, as they are described in the narra- tives of early missionaries and travelers, with the relatively little accul- turated “Inland” Ojibwa of the Berens River today, he finds that the two populations, at either end of the time-span, are psychologically almost indistinguishable. Writes Hallowell:
My own observations of the Berens River Saulteaux and the Rorschach records that I obtained from them corroborate the older descriptions. Among the less aceulturated Indians of the upper reaches of the river in particular, the emo- tional structure to be observed is almost identical with that of the Northeastern Indians of an earlier period. [Hallowell, 1946, p. 218.]
Not only are the least acculturated Ojibwa close to their ancestors in personality structure, but even the most acculturated Ojibwa com- munity studied in the Hallowell project, at Lac du Flambeau in northern Wisconsin—where most of the Indians speak English, the children attend a Government school, many families have radios, ete.—was still fundamentally Ojibwa in personality structure, still recognizably similar to the northern hunters whose way of life they have apparently abandoned. Thus Hallowell speaks of—
a persistent core of psychological characteristics sufficient to identify an Ojibwa personality constellation, aboriginal in origin, that is clearly discernible through all levels of acculturation yet studied. For this reason all the Ojibwa referred to are still Indians, in a psychological sense, whatever the clothes they wear, whatever their occupation, whether they speak English or not, and regardless of race mixture. While culturally speaking they appear more and more like whites at “higher” levels of acculturation, there is no evidence at all for a basic psychological shift in a parallel direction. Thus terms like “borrowing” and “diffusion” which are entirely appropriate to describe the acculturation process in a cultural frame of reference are misleading, inept and inappropriate if the acculturation process is viewed from the standpoint of a psychological frame of reference. At least in the situation described no identifiable constellation of psychological “traits” have been “borrowed” by the Ojibwa or “diffused” to them as a result of their contacts with whites...
While these [data] show, as I have said, the persistence of an aboriginal char- acter structure among the Ojibwa, this must not be interpreted to mean that no psychological modifications have been produced in the acculturation proc- ess ... The impression one receives is of a personality structure which, under the varying pressures of acculturation ...is being pushed to the limits of its functional adequacy. If, for example, we compare the Indians of Level 2 (Inland group in the Berens River) with those of Level 4 (Flambeau) we obtain a psychological picture in which the latter represent a regressive version of the northern group. [Hallowell, 1949, pp. 10-12. First italics mine.]
Hallowell’s observation formulates what I think has been a general impression among ethnographers working with supposedly ‘“accul- turated” primitive societies: that in many ways acculturation is only skin deep; that they are still “native” underneath. To put the Ojibwa
No. 4] PSYCHOLOGICAL DETERMINANTS—WALLACE 61
case, for example, very crudely, something has made it possible for them to take over a great many White culture elements without taking over many White personality traits too. This phenomenon may be termed “psychic conservatism”; the term may be applied to any occa- sion in which culture change is not accompanied by significant psy- chological change.
Reformulating the Ojibwa situation, we may put it again as follows: Something or other has selected for inclusion in their cultural stock- in-trade, out of the welter of possible alternatives, those new traits and institutions which are most agreeable to their kind of personality structure, and has tended to exclude those traits and institutions which are most disagreeable. Hence the modal personality structure has had to adapt itself only minimally. This is not to say that the Ojibwa have been able to avoid all psychic dislocation; only that it is minimal in proportion to the grossness of the overt cultural change.
This paper offers the following hypothesis to explain the seeming paradox: The psychological characteristics (particularly modal per- sonality structure and its derivatives) characteristic of the individ- uals who compose a society, act as a screen, tending to accept as new culture elements forms of behavior which are psychologically congenial, and tending to exclude forms of behavior which are psycho- logically uncongenial. The psychological structure thus acts like a sorting screen, letting through items of the right size and shape, and keeping out those of the wrong. Only those forms of behavior tend to be accepted which are within the range of behavior possible to a person with the old psychological structure. Any form of behavior which would require a different sort of psychological structure tends to be excluded
I need hardly advise the reader that this “screen” is not perfectly efficient, and that incongruous elements do creep in. Linton and
After writing the above “hypothesis,” I happened to re-read Linton’s “Foreword” to Kardiner (1939). Here he makes much the same generalization as I have made, in the following terms: ‘Turning from the static to the dynamic aspects of culture, the basic personality structure concept may provide a key to certain little-understood phenomena of culture change. It has long been realized that the reactions of societies to cultural innovations are highly selective and that the selection cannot be satisfactorily explained on a mechanistic basis. While certain innovations may be rejected because they are in direct opposition to existing behavior patterns, or because they would nullify the results of such patterns, others are rejected for no immediately discernible cause. Conversely, new patterns which entail a good deal of readjustment in the preexisting behavior patterns may be accepted and retained even at the cost of considerable inconvenience. The explanation for this condition would seem to lie in the compatibility or incompatibility of the new patterns with the already established personality structure of the society’ (Linton in Kardiner, 1939, p. x. Italics mine). Again, in Kardiner (1945), Linton writes: “Unfortunately, we have had few opportunities so far to investigate the inter- relations of basic personality and culture in changed situations, but there can be little doubt that the basic personality type plays an important part in determining a society’s reaction to innovations. Innovations which are congenial to the personality type probably are accepted and incorporated into the society’s culture much more readily than those which are uncongenial” (Linton in Kardiner, 1945, p. ix. Italics mine).
62 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE ([B.A.E. Bull. 149
Kardiner’s classic description of the change from dry-rice to wet- rice culture on Madagascar is an illuminating example (Kardiner, 1949, pp. 282-290, 329-337). As they point out, the change in eco- nomic organization entailed shifts in social structure, affecting the most intimate relationships of family life, which were extremely diffi- cult for the dry-rice people to accept. Indeed, rather than accept them, some returned to dry-rice culture after a period of experimenta- tion with the new technique. Others took over the new process per- manently and carried through the wholesale cultural readjustment. At this point, however, the psychological structure itself began to change. A major cultural change, in other words, could in this case not be completed without an accompanying change in the personality structure.
Thus psychological structure may change over time. But this some- what larger question—how and when the psychological structure itself changes—is not under discussion here. I also want to remark, before going on, that of course there are many other determinants of culture change which operate to reinforce or contravene the specific influences of the psychological structure; these too are in large measure being artificially excluded from consideration.
On one further conceptual issue, however, it may be well to enlarge. Anthropologists have, of course, for long been aware that a society does not admit any and all available new traits into its culture. The — general formula for expressing this has been somewhat of the following order: The culture pattern as it exists tends to exclude incongruous elements and hence tends to remain stable; those elements which are accepted are admissible because they fit into the pre-established pat- tern. With such a formulation, this paper does not, and need not, have any quarrel. “Pattern,” as it is used above, is analogous to what I have called the “psychological screen.” There are, however, important conceptual differences between culture pattern and psy- chological screen as determinants of culture change.* In the first place, the conventional usage of the phrase “culture pattern” is am- biguous in that it does not distinguish between what everyone would agree is cultural, and what many would call psychological. Without trying to solve the vexed question of how to distinguish in practice between a psychological and a cultural trait, I assume that most an- thropologists agree that there are the two sorts of phenomena.®> Hence there are really two questions in the pattern formula, instead of one: (1) What is the relation between cultural innovations and existing
4Dr. W. N. Fenton, in correspondence with me, drew my attention to the necessity of discussing the relationship between the two concepts.
5In a more philosophical vein, however, one must recognize that the boundaries between psychological and cultural phenomena are so blurred that hard and fast distinctions may obscure the essential continuity of the two classes of phenomena.
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culture? (2) What is the relation between cultural innovations and psychological structure? In any attempt to elucidate the relations between culture change on the one hand, and enduring psychological traits on the other, it would be inadvisable to work with a concept like “pattern” which has already so many ill-defined psychocultural connotations—which, indeed, denies the distinctiveness of the very classes of phenomena whose interrelationship one is trying to deter- mine
Thus in the following pages I shall be talking about four psycho- logical traits exhibited by a community of Iroquois Indians: (1) The absence of a fear of heights; (2) the chronic longing for alcoholic intoxication; (8) the lack (relative to White norms) of anal-reactive character formations; (4) and (again relative to White norms) an oral type of personality. The reservation culture is well integrated with these traits; one might properly include them in a discussion of the over-all pattern of Iroquois culture. But, in the conventional usage of those terms, they are psychological not cultural phenomena.
It is not necessary, in order to confirm the “screen” hypothesis, to demonstrate that the psychological selecting mechanism functions in every instance of culture change, or even that it is always effective when it does function. All that is necessary for our present purposes is to show that a psychological selecting mechanism can and does some- times work. A more precise evaluation of its mode and effectiveness may be left to future research. The nature of culture change is such that it depends upon the interaction of a multitude of factors, which may or may not be the same from one instance to another. There un- doubtedly are culture changes which go against the psychological grain, so to speak, or that are difficult to relate to psychological factors at all. These are presumably explicable, in terms of our present hypothesis, as the result of the interaction of forces which completely override psychological resistance, or as the result of the activities of a psychologically deviant member of the community.
The data which I am presenting, as a demonstration of the effects of the psychological characteristics of a people upon changes in their culture, are taken from a study, now in progress, of the personality and culture of a community of Iroquois Indians. Historical sources are \being consulted and field work is being done on the Tuscarora Reser- vation in New York State, where I spent the summers of 1948 and 1949.2 There are a number of psychological traits, and syndromes of traits, which the Tuscarora Indians displayed in the early eighteenth century, and which they still display. The observations of John Law-
6 Hence my observations on the Tuscarora cannot be safely generalized to cover other Iroquoian communities in the United States and Canada (although I suspect that there exists a substantial core of similarities).
64 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.B. Bull. 149
son, between 1701 and 1709, are my source in this paper for the Tus- carora psychological past (Lawson, 1714) ; my own observations, for the present. I want particularly to emphasize that I am not offering, in what follows, a sketch of Tuscarora modal personality structure. A few traits only are being presented, brutally ripped out of context— a procedure justified by the purposes of this investigation.
THE ABSENCE OF THE FEAR OF HEIGHTS
One of the things which struck Lawson about the Tuscarora Indians, in the early eighteenth century, was the absence in them of the fear of heights. Writing in 1714, he said in admiration:
They will walk over deep Brooks, and Creeks, on the smallest Poles, and that without any Fear or Concern. Nay, an Indian will walk on the Ridge of a Barn or House and look down the Gable-end, and spit upon the Ground, as unconcern’d, as if he was walking on Terra firma. [Lawson, 1714, p. 172.]
The fewness of individuals who are afraid of heights is a notable feature of the Indian society even today. A large proportion of the younger men are professional ironworkers, whose business it is to assist in the construction of the open steel framework of tall buildings, bridges, power-line towers, and the like. Many Tuscarora choose the parachute troops or the air corps when they enter the military service of the United States. They have traditionally, and still do, build their own two- and three-story houses. Even old men of 60 and 70 will take, and efficiently perform, such jobs as pruning high trees, painting the roofs of buildings, and carpentry work on scaffolds. There seem to be very few Tuscarora who experience enough anxiety in high places to deter them from taking jobs which require them to work at a danger- ous height above ground, even though they are perfectly aware of the real hazards involved. Compared with White communities, these Indians are relatively free of the mildly phobic fear of high places which afilicts a high proportion of even normal people in White society.
This psychological capacity has been an important determinant of culture change. Ironwork is regarded today by the Tuscarora them- selves as a sort of national profession. I do not yet have statistical data on the exact number of the younger (and sometimes older) men who are ironworkers, but a rough estimate is about 25 or 30 percent. It seems evident that this would be impossible if the members of this community of Iroquois were not unusually free of the fear of heights. Actually, the matter extends farther than that: Iroquois Indians from various reservations in New York State are often preferred as iron- workers by the contracting companies. Thus, their psychological pre- disposition (if I may use so strong an expression) to work on high steel has served as “open sesame” to the trade. Iroquois Indians pre-
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fer to be, and are preferred as, ironworkers because they are better able to behave in this way than are average Whites.’
The cultural consequences to the Tuscarora of entering into the highly paid construction work (as well as into other White industries) in such large numbers can only be sketched out. One important effect has been to markedly reduce the number of men engaged in agricul- tural work, the chief business of the Tuscarora Reservation in the nineteenth century. Many farm lands are now either allowed to lie fallow, or are rented, in some cases to Whites, and in other cases to one of the three or four professional Indian farmers. One of these professional farmers may farm as many as 600 acres, which represents approximately one-tenth of the total area of the reservation. These farmers are able to control their operations by using the labor of their sons and sons-in-law. Another effect has been to further integrate the Indian population with the surrounding White economy. Leaving the reservation every day, joining labor unions, working beside white men, and returning to the reservation only at night, has tended to break up the old Indian socioeconomic structure.
All these effects are dependent, among other things, upon the psy- chological trait of not being afraid of heights. These far-reaching cultural changes are thus based partly upon the maintenance of at least one element of the old personality structure.
THE PENCHANT FOR ALCOHOL
The case of the ironworkers is a limited one and involves a very specific psychological trait. Let me now take up a somewhat more general characteristic: the penchant for alcohol. Lawson remarked in 1714:
Some of them refrain drinking strong Liquors, but very few of that sort are found amongst them... They never are contented with a little, but when once begun, they must make themselves quite drunk; otherwise they will never rest, but sell all they have in the World, rather than not have their full Dose. [Lawson, 1714, p. 202.]
With some qualification, his remarks are as pertinent today as they were over 200 years ago. The qualification consists in the observa- tion that certain cultural techniques have been acquired and developed to solve the moral problem faced by a people who disapprove, prob- ably more strongly than Whites, of intrafamily and intracommunity brawls, but who discover that liquor, which they crave, seduces them into the open and socially disrupting expression of hostility. Thus
7™See Mitchell, 1949, for an account of the Caughnawaga Mohawk ironworkers. Iron- work is also a popular trade among the St. Regis Mohawk and the various bands of Seneca in New York State, all of whom are Iroquois and all of whom share with the Tuscarora an indifference to heights. The profession seems to have been discovered first by the Caughnawaga band, and diffused from Caughnawaga to the other reservations.
66 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B. A. E. Bull. 149
there is much less social disorder occasioned by drinking than there seems to have been in Lawson’s time, although probably much more liquor is drunk today.
In Lawson’s time, the Tuscarora were well aware of the moral issue and were trying to solve it in three ways: by imploring the Whites to stop the rum trade; by blaming offenses committed while drunk on the rum, not the drunkard; and by suppressing the urge to drink. None of these methods was successful. Liquor has never ceased to be available to the Tuscarora Indians, whether illegally or not; the rum trade has been too profitable to the Whites and too desir- able to the Indians. Denial of moral responsibility simply provided an excuse for drinking and thus ultimately heightened the conflict. — The suppression of the urge to drink is effective only in a few cases of persons who have been traumatized by childhood experiences with drunkards or who have reformed in middle age after what they con- sider to have been a wicked youth. Most (not all) of the population either drink, have drunk, or will drink.
But, as I have said, the moral conflict affects everyone, drinkers and nondrinkers alike; and so, in the 250 years since Lawson’s time, certain institutions have been developed to canalize drinking behavior into socially tolerable channels. These Indian institutions function in conjunction with certain White institutions. Thus, the sale of liquor to an Indian by a white man is technically illegal, and the discovery of a white man smuggling liquor onto the reservation, or setting up a disorderly bar on the edge of the reserve, would subject him to severe penalties. But a bartender who serves an Indian at a tavern in a neighboring town will normally not be disturbed by the police; and certain bars specialize in the Indian trade. The Tuscarora by and large respect this gentleman’s agreement and do not smuggle liquor in significant quantities; the local culture prescribes that con- vivial drinking be done in one of the “Indian hangouts” in the cities. There is some drinking on the reservation, but most of it is done outside. This arrangement has the effect of physically isolating In- dians while they are drinking, and placing them, furthermore, under the surveillance of police and of bartenders who are responsible to the police for maintaining a reasonably orderly house. Another, not inconsiderable, deterent to excessive drinking is the need for at least one member of each party to remain sober enough to drive a car back to the reserve. These and other various mechanical arrangements have the effect of preserving the social structure of the reservation itself from too-immediate contact with that solvent of social organi- zation, alcohol; and they thereby reduce the anxiety of the Tuscarora themselves over the possible damage they may in the future do while
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drunk, and eliminate the guilt feelings they would feel over damage done in the past.
Certain other institutions exist which directly reward Indians who do not drink, and punish those who do. These institutions cannot be regarded as having been acquired or created solely to solve the liquor problem; but one of the determinants in their adoption has undoubtedly been the desire to set up cultural mechanisms of defense against an unwanted drive.
Nearly all of the community are members of the Baptist congrega- tion and attend, more or less regularly, the church on the reservation. This congregation, which, of course, has many other important social functions, lays down stringent injunctions against the use of alcohol. The church membership, by scalding gossip, punishes members who do drink. Those who are teetotalers, or who repent, confess, and reform, are warmly praised, not merely in an implicit fashion, but directly by their friends, relatives, and neighbors. Annual revival meetings, of which house-to-house visits and public confession are conspicuous features, serve to bring the whole liquor conflict into direct association with the established network of social relationships. Confession and repentance thus not only tend to relieve an internal sense of guilt, but also openly reward the reformed drinker by giving him love, support, and warm face-to-face relationships with people.
The Temperance Society, which was organized early in the nine- teenth century, also functions to reward people for giving up, or at least restricting, their drinking proclivities. It holds periodic meet- ings of a sociable nature, with music, food, and conversation available to persons who do not drink. Any White person familiar with life on an Iroquois reservation will recognize the almost inconceivably great satisfaction these people get out of what seems, to an outsider, to be a very desultory occasion.
These two institutions—the Baptist Church and the Temperance Society—certainly do not stamp out drinking. But they do signifi- cantly reduce its incidence and severity. Needless to say, both are innovations since 1714; and while I could not assert that they were determined solely by the psychological problem presented by alcohol, I can hardly avoid recognizing that one of the determinants of their acceptance was the desire to find institutions which could handle the liquor conflict as it was felt by individual Tuscarora Indians. The aboriginal Iroquois religions (before Handsome Lake, who incident- ally did not reach the Tuscarora Reservation) seem to have been pow- erless to cope with the psychological conflict engendered by the use of liquor.
68 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull, 149 THE LACK OF ANAL-REACTIVE CHARACTER TRAITS
So far I have been discussing cultural changes which have been facilitated by enduring elements of personality structure. Now I should like to give an example of a group of possible cultural changes which did not occur, in spite of pressure on their behalf, partly because they implied behavior for which the Indians were not psychologically prepared.
The Tuscarora could not be accused, even by their worst enemies, of possessing what psychoanalysts have called “anal-reactive” character. The anal-reactive person, according to Fenichel, is frugal, orderly, and obstinate; he is likely to be concerned with saving money and with
time schedules; he is greedy and likes to collect things for the sake ~
of collecting (Fenichel, 1945, pp. 278-284). (This, of course, is a superficial description ; but there is no need to attempt a more analyti- cal definition of anal character here.) Lawson, whose own greediness for their land led to his execution by the Tuscarora, continually re- marked on their indifference to time; their lack of concern with prop- erty, savings, or profit; their untidy (but not dirty) cabins; their gen- eral complaisance (Lawson, 1714, pp. 179, 197, 199, 203, et passim). His observations parallel my own. ‘The community has, for instance, a different emotional attitude toward time from white people’s; there is even a word for it—“Indian time.” “Indian time” means that if you are to meet a person at 4 o’clock, he will probably be there by 5; perhaps later that evening; and perhaps not at all. The Iroquois are not frugal, not over-orderly, and (when they are not drunk), too agreeable ever to be really obstinate. Where a white man will obsti- nately “stand up for his rights,” the Tuscarora will tend either smil- ingly to give in, or if giving in would be too severe a threat to his security, he will try to avoid meeting you.
Now, in White schools and industries, in fact, in White society in general, a very high value is placed on the anal character. Punctu- ality, orderliness, frugality, and drawing-the-line-somewhere are traits which we admire; and when they are combined with an avid desire to collect and retain money, we reward them with public ven- eration. For 150 years, at least, the relatively “oral” Tuscarora have been surrounded by relatively “anal” Whites who have done their best, by punishment, precept, and example, to make the Indians “anal” too.®
The results have been generally disappointing to the Whites. The Tuscarora cannot behave in an anal way, and so their culture has
*The reader should recognize that I am using the words “oral” and “anal’’ in this paper as convenient terms to denote syndromes of certain character traits which are often found together. No implication is made that either term, by itself, could ade- quately describe either Iroquois or White personality structure, any more than the words “agricultural” or “hunting” could completely define a culture.
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remained, from the average white man’s point of view, a rather slipshod affair. The White farm lands around the reserve, for in- stance, are neatly rectangular and divided by fences. The Tuscarora fields are laid out every which way; they have irregular, rounded shapes; and they are divided by “wasteful” hedgerows. The Whites conscientiously keep their automobiles repaired and painted. The Indians’ cars are used and misused until they simply disintegrate into dusty, rumbling wrecks, to be abandoned finally in a backyard. The Whites go in for contractor-built houses, where the fixtures are all complete and the second floor is finished; the Indians, who put up their own houses and cabins, generally leave a number of things unfinished—stairways, second floors, and clapboarding (especially in the back of the house), and the paint work, in particular. The Indians have great difficulty in saving money, although many have respect- able incomes; indeed, when money is on hand, they will spend it indiscriminately, particularly on food, liquor, clothes, and gifts. The one lucrative grocery store on the reservation is in the hands of a white man, although it is on the property of an Indian. There are two gasoline stations on the reserve, one of them at the grocery store, and the other operated by another white man married to an Indian woman. The Indians despise persons who are greedy for money; an Iroquois Horatio Alger hero would find it harder sledding after he succeeded than before. There are a very few well-to-do Indians living on the reservation; but they tend to regard themselves, and to be regarded, as “different” from the normal reservation Indians.
Fundamental personality changes would have to be effected before the Tuscarora could ever become a people with an ethical system that demands frugality, punctuality, and systematic neatness; with a value-attitude system that rewards money grubbing; with a culture that runs by the clock, is measured by the dollar, and is laid out by surveying instruments.
DEPENDENCY ATTITUDES
I have already suggested that the Tuscarora are relatively more “oral” than the Whites, who by contrast are “anal,” and I have duly apologized for making use of these two catchwords. Catchwords, however, are useful because they do catch—if one is aware of their implications—a multitude of related variables. The concept of oral character does not restrict itself to a superficially homogeneous class of personalities. People may be oral in very disparate ways. The red thread of community is the presence of extreme (from the point of view of a psychoanalyst working with European and American subjects, who are as good a basis for comparison as any other, and are the only ones we have to work with) attitudes with regard to
70 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
taking and receiving. These attitudes are partly determined by in- fantile experiences with the mother and her substitutes. Fenichel gives the following discussion of oral character:
All positive or negative emphasis on taking and receiving indicates an oral origin. Unusually pronounced oral satisfaction results in remarkable self- assurance and optimism that may persist throughout life if frustration follow- ing this satisfaction has not created a state of vengefulness coupled with con- tinuous demanding. Exceptional oral deprivation, on the other hand, determines a pessimistic (depressive) or sadistic (redress-demanding) attitude. If a per- son remains fixated to the world of oral wishes, he will, in his general behavior, present a disinclination to take care of himself, and require others to look after him. In conformity with the contrasting aims of the two substages of oral eroti- cism, this demand for care may be expressed through extreme passivity or | through a highly active oral-sadistic behavior. . .. It has been mentioned sev- eral times that oral characters are dependent on objects for the maintenance of self-esteem. They need external supplies not only for oral-erotic satisfaction but also for the narcissistic gratification of their self-esteem.
Thus both marked generosity and marked niggardliness may be attributed to conflicts around oral eroticism. Some persons show their receptive needs obviously ; unable to take care of themselves, they ask to be taken care of, some- times in a demanding, sometimes in a begging tone. Others repress such desires and refuse exaggeratedly to “impose” on anyone, refuse all presents or are unable to ask for anything. Very often people need to be dependent and yet pretend to be entirely independent. Unconscious longings for passivity may be overcompensated by an apparently extremely active and masculine behavior. [Fenichel, 1945, pp. 488-490. Copyright, 1945.]
This somewhat extended quotation is necessary, I think, in order to make explicit the meanings attached to the term “oral” in this paper.
Lawson, about 1709, was impressed by at least one oral characteris- tic of the Tuscarora, remarking—
They are a very craving People, and if a Man give them anything of a Present, they think it obliges him to give them another; and so on, till he has given them all he has; for they have no Bounds of Satisfaction in that way; and if they give you any thing, it is to receive twice the Value of it. They have no Con- sideration that you will want what you give them; for their way of Living is so contrary to ours, that neither we nor they can fathom another’s Designs and Methods. [Lawson, 1714, p. 282.] ;
This trait of demandingness is notable in Tuscarora national char- acter even today, although it is somewhat masked in casual social relationships. The mask consists of efforts by the Tuscarora to ap- pear, to themselves as well as to others, independent and self-suflicient, strong and silent. Thus a matter of etiquette on the reservation is to insist on paying a driver for a “lift” inacar. No matter if it be only a few hundreds yards, an old woman will insist on paying the ethnog- rapher a dollar to drive her home—even though he was going by her house on his own errands! Mothers, knowing that begging is lowly regarded by the Whites, severely scold their children who, as children will, plead for candy. These little rituals, however, are perfunctorily
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performed; they are feeble efforts to resist the undertow of depend- ency wishes.
What happens in certain minor stress situations is revealing of the nature of these dependency wishes. A regular and predictable cycle of events occurs. The “independent-and-self-sufficient” mask col- lapses, and an extravagantly dependent attitude, to whoever seems able to offer support, becomes apparent. ‘Thus, for instance, a group of people is informed that the ethnographer will provide automobile _ transportation to a social gathering, but that he cannot call to bring _ them home later because of a previous obligation to be elsewhere at that time. The family accepts the ride to the place, with the fore- knowledge that they will have to find their own way home. But, when the ethnographer has delivered them and is about to leave, he is told to come back at the given hour! He explains again, in some em- barrassment: he has another engagement, he simply can’t make it. “But we don’t have any way to get home.” The ethnographer repeats their previous assurance that they could easily find a ride with some- one else. “Then you aren’t coming back?” “No.” The group marches away in stony silence, making the ethnographer feel that he has been mean and inconsiderate; and on next meeting, they take occasion to punish him, by subtle slights and disparaging comments about the heartlessness of white people to little children.
The tone of the demand is usually as quiet as in the instance cited; it is a demand so tempered by the (inherently aggressive) assumption that it will be met, that it does not sound at first like a demand. If support is extended, the relationship is stabilized on a pleasant level; and inasmuch as the Indians among themselves are very cautious about making such demands, which are regarded as demands by other Indians, refusal is rare. Indeed, scarcely any request will be refused point-blank, for fear, perhaps, of the enormous hostility refusal would arouse. For any refusal of support is a highly traumatic experience for an Indian. (It would seem that Whites normally are less sensi- tive to the pain of a denial of support, precisely because that support is psychologically less necessary to them.) As with the case of the frustrated automobile riders, denial of a dependency wish elicits a surprisingly bitter resentment. The frustrating object (or another related object upon whom the hostility may be displaced) is conceived as an agent of active, even malevolent persecution.
Needless to say, this process is not confined to the members of this Indian community. All persons have dependency wishes; and no one wholeheartedly enjoys the experience of their frustration. It is conceivable, however, that one people may, because of the pre- vailing mode of formative experience, characteristically be more de- pendent in their impulses than another. In aboriginal times, when
72 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
the kinship organization was stronger, such dependency impulses pre- sumably had more effective intracommunity implementation than the reservation culture provides today. Lawson’s observation of the ancient predominance of giving presents over commercial exchange suggests the same thing.
The strong tide toward dependency has had, and still has, far- reaching effects in channeling the relationships between the Indians and the Whites. The formal, institutionalized relationships between the reservation community and the State and Federal governmental bodies, in particular, shows the effect of the Indian dependency atti- tude. It is a commonplace that all Indians resent the stealing of (or trifling payment for) their lands. The Iroquois in particular, | including the Tuscarora, resent the injustices practiced upon them by citizens of the State of New York, especially during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, when large tracts of Iroquois land were alienated under, very often dubious, legal sanction. Nevertheless, the Iroquois communities, and especially the one under consideration here, are radically dependent upon the State government for certain vital services which their own culture does not provide and which are not available through the Federal Service, and toward which they pay only the excise taxes on White-manufactured goods. The State furnishes virtually the entire school system, paying for the materials used in the grammar school on the reservation (the Indians provide a large part of the labor), paying the teacher’s salary, and sending buses onto the reservation to take the older children to the con- solidated schools in a neighboring city. The State builds roads— macadam highways, some of them numbered through-routes which would, from the white viewpoint, be a great commercial asset. There are only a few stretches of dirt or gravel now remaining in the reservation road system. The New York State Department of Welfare, through the county welfare administrations, provides med- ical care and unemployment compensation.
The State courts, in the past, have been available to Indians for the settlement of civil cases, and still are; and although the chief’s council has the customary civil jurisdiction, many Indians prefer to abide by State law and judicial settlements in their private affairs. The chief’s council has the right to summon the State police to their aid in enforcing their own legal decision or in quelling any public disturbance. The lacrosse games, for instance, are policed by the State; State traffic laws (particularly concerning licenses, speeding, and drunken driving) are now being introduced onto the reservation and enforced by State police patrols. In the past, the Federal Gov- ernment was responsible for the administration of criminal law; criminal jurisdiction has recently been transferred by Congress to
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the State of New York. But the reservation and its inhabitants are exempt from State taxation of real estate and other property. In addition to these and other institutionalized, “official” depend-
ency relationships, the Tuscarora community (like all communities
in western society) is economically dependent upon other communities all over the world, both near and far, for supplies of food and other necessary goods which are obtained in commercial transactions. Par- ticularly, the reservation is dependent upon the neighboring towns in the State of New York to make available groceries, clothes, trans- portation, etc. These articles are, of course, normally bought with money. But even in such commercial transactions as these, the de- pendent position of the Indians appears! It seems that a white man cannot recover from an Indian an article such as an automobile or a refrigerator which is being purchased by installments and on which payment is in default. Nevertheless, credit is extended (and, in the vast majority of instances, the debt is honored by the Indian).
Thus, for over 150 years this community has remained tax-free on its own reservation; no land has been alienated; the tribal govern- ment has continued without interruption. During this time—and I think partly as a result of their kind of personality structure—the community has gradually become more and more dependent upon the largesse of the State of New York for various services necessary to maintain the existence of the community, and it has frankly accepted the White language and material culture as its own. Large areas of the nonmaterial culture have been replaced by extensions of the State administration, which provides virtually the entire formal-educa- tional, charitable, medical, transportation, and legal systems. ‘The striving has been to identify with the Whites even in religion, social structure, and standard of living, insofar as White norms in these areas can be translated into workable Indian equivalents. The Indians, in sum, have put themselves into the position of a corporate child, dependent upon and trying to identify with the corporate parent— New York State.®
Yet, while accepting these services (and, indeed, complaining bit- terly if they are not generously provided), the community nourishes the notion that the State of New York has sinister plans to tax and seize their land. It protests violently against the Federal Govern- ment’s investing the State courts with legal jurisdiction, although it has made use of the State courts for generations. It agitates for the
® Parenthetically, one might speculate on the possibility that the phenomenally rapid and successful acculturation of this community during the nineteenth century was a mass dependeney reaction, possible only for a relatively “‘oral’’ people. The less oral, more conservative and retentive Algonkians have, by and large, been less plastie in culture con- tact and have either withdrawn from contact where possible by simple migration (e. g., the Delaware) or have been broken in their efforts at resistance.
74 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B. A. E. Bull. 149
payment of old scores, presenting early treaties which are not properly ratified or fulfilled. There is absolutely no question that many of the claims are just, from a technical legal standpoint. There is also no question that such Indian claims arouse guilt feelings in Whites. Looking at the matter coldly, however, it is apparent that the combi- nation of a continuously demanding dependent relationship with persistent charges of persecution represents a cultural formulation of a deep-seated psychological pattern. The dependent demands are couched in such terms as to make them superficially appear to be claims for the payment of old scores. But the bitterness of the criticism of the State, or of white people in general, suggests more than an attempt to rationalize the demands. There is the petulant, nagging tone, the sort of tone one finds, among white people, in persons who conceive their friends and relatives as potentially all-satisfying, and who will not give up the attempt to extort from them the maximum of support. It is the “state of vengefulness coupled with continuous demanding” of which Fenichel speaks.
These observations of mine may be liable to gross misinterpreta- tion both by partisans of Indian rights and by partisans of a policy of assimilation. Therefore, I want to say, very explicitly, that this analysis of the situation, as I see it, is not intended to support either party in a controversy. The question of values—which is better, to preserve the status quo or to change it, and if so, in what direc- tion—is not under discussion here. It would be well to point out, however (and without denying the inevitability of change), that at this time it would be psychologically impossible for the people of the Iroquois reservations, as communities, to survive the abrupt dis- continuance of their present dependence upon the State and Federal Governments. Any change which faced the Tuscarora with the pos- sible loss of their reservation and with the necessity of competing economically with the Whites would result in their disappearance as a community, and would throw the survivors into a low economic status which would arouse the prejudice of ill-informed Whites.° A
10 A similar, but even more serious, problem apparently exists in New Zealand, where the Maori, the original inhabitants of the country, at present occupy a position of respectable status in the eyes of the Whites, as do the Iroquois of New York in America. The Maori personality structure makes it practically impossible for them, as a group, to compete successfully with the Whites in the economic world. Apparently they are not obsessive- compulsive enough to be able to tolerate the meticulous synchronization of White tech- nology and working habits ‘The result is a gradual decline of Maori socioeconomic status, with a future prospect, if the process is not arrested, of the Maori almost uni- formly occuping the lowest and most insecure rungs of the socioeconomic ladder. Since this would probably mean the development of an identification of low status with Maori lineage—in other words, “race’’ prejudice—New Zealand social scientists are seriously considering ways and means for radically changing Maori personality structure to make it possible for them as a people to live in a White economy on equal terms with the Whites. [Beaglehole, 1950.]
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few individual Indians might survive the change. As a group, how- ever, the community would disintegrate and its members would be cast adrift in a world which did not understand their values. White culture is usable only by persons with a relatively “anal,” competitive sort of personality; the Indians, with a different sort of personality, are not able to behave in the same way, and cannot make full use of White culture in consequence.
CONCLUSION
The implication of the phenomenon of psychic conservatism, in its restriction of the possible avenues of culture change, should be considerable for applied anthropologists—indeed, for anyone inter- ested in the practical matter of the improvement of human happiness. If we grant that all peoples have a definable modal personality struc- ture; that this structure is inflexible within one generation; and that this structure (in conjunction with other factors) determines what cultural forms can be implemented in behavior—then we may conclude that no cultural form can be successfully introduced, within the space of one generation, which requires behavior which is un- congenial to that personality structure.
The Iroquoian community reported upon in this study represents a case in point. The psychological characteristics of the Tuscarora have permitted some innovations in behavior which were psychologi- cally feasible, and excluded other suggested patterns which would have been psychologically incongruous.
The interactions here shadowed forth are only one of several func- tional relationships between personality and culture change. This paper has discussed an hypothesis explaining how culture may change radically, yet the underlying psychic structure very little. Ahead lie problems such as: How are innovations that are uncongenial to the personality structure admitted into currency? How does the psychological structure itself change? What sort of changes in culture follow changes in psychological structure?
BIBLIOGRAPHY
BEAGLEHOLE, ERNEST. 1950. Contemporary Maori culture. Bull. Philadelphia Anthrop. Soc., vol. 3, No. 3, pp. 1-3. CAUDILL, WILLIAM. 1949. Psychological characteristics of acculturated Wisconsin Ojibwa chil- dren. Amer. Anthrop., vol. 51, pp. 409-427. FENICHEL, OTTO. 1945. The psychoanalytic theory of neurosis. New York.
905645—51——_6
76 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
HALLOWELL, A. I.
1945. Sociopsychological aspects of acculturation. In The Science of Man in the World Crisis, ed. by Ralph Linton. Columbia Univ. Press. New York.
1946. Some psychological characteristics of the Northeastern Indians. Jn Man in Northeastern North America, ed. by Frederick Johnson. Robert S. Peabody Found. Arch. Andover.
1949. Ojibwa personality and acculturation. (Paper read in abbreviated form at the 29th Int. Congr. Amer., New York, Sept. 6, 1949. Mimeo- graphed.)
KARDINER, ABRAM.
1939. The individual and his society. Columbia Univ. Press. New York.
1945. The psychological frontiers of society. Columbia Univ. Press. New York.
LAWSON, JOHN. 1714. The history of Carolina. London. MITCHELL, JOSEPH.
1949. The Mohawks in high steel. The New Yorker, Sept. 17, vol. 25, No. 30,
pp. 38-52. ROHEIM, GEZA.
1932. Psychoanalysis of primitive cultural types. Int. Journ. Psychoanaly-
sis, vol. 13, pts. 1 and 2.
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 149
Symposium on Local Diversity in Iroquois Culture
No. 5. The Religion of Handsome Lake: Its Origin and Development
By MERLE H. DEARDORFF
77
* ‘
it otreoeberold to i
; ’ ler 4.3 FAHRMMIO ri) " s
THE RELIGION OF HANDSOME LAKE: ITS ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT
By Mere H. Drarporrr
Ganioda’yo’,' the Seneca, lived at Diono‘sadégi‘ (“there a house was burned”),? June 15, 1799, when he woke from a 2-hour trance to speak the first of the “good words” which launched his career as a prophet, to his own people first, and then to the rest of the Iroquoian world. He is perhaps better known by his English name of Handsome Lake.
The ensuing 16 years of his ministry were spent in the three Seneca settlements: Burnt House, Coldspring on the Allegheny above, and Tonawanda near Akron, N. Y. In 1815 he went to Onondaga Castle; but he died soon after his arrival, and was buried there.
Gai’wiio' (“good word; good message; gospel”) is the Seneca name for the body of Handsome Lake’s separate utterances of anecdote, parable, revelation, prophecy, apocalyptic, and law laid down with divine sanction during this period. As now recited, a history of its origin and some Handsome Lake biographical material are added. The Good Message is also the name of the religious beliefs and pra- tices of those who follow this “New Religion,” as its adherents call it in English.
1Ganioda’yo’, “it is a very large lake,’”’ is the title of the Federal councilor among the Seneca whose opposite number in the other moiety is Tca’dage’onye's, of the Snipe Clan. The Ganioda’yo’ title belongs to the Turtle Clan. The fact that Handsome Lake was born a Wolf was no bar to his holding it, since borrowing by a clan with no suitable candi- date for a vacant title is common (Fenton, 1950, p. 66).
2Seneca forms in this paper are modified from Parker (1913), The Code of Handsome Lake, the Seneca Prophet, the only generally available treatment of the man and his teaching, to conform with later usage.—W. N. F., ed.
The translation of the Good Message ‘‘code’’ therein is from a text assembled perhaps 50 years ago by Cattaraugus Seneca. Modern Good Message authorities among the Seneca criticise it as “all mixed up” and “only partly there.’ They do not approve altogether of the sources from which it was assembled, saying they were largely Christian Indians. The context of this paper will show that this comment is to be expected, since there are many “codes.”
The Parker translation is owned by many Good Message followers. At Coldspring it serves as a trot for men preparing themselves to be ‘‘code’” preachers.
Other published versions of the Good Message are referred to in the context. Many not so mentioned merely paraphrase Morgan.
The Bureau of American Ethnology has three unpublished and untranslated manuscript texts: BAE MSS. Nos. 449 and 2585 in Onondaga, and No. 3489 in Mohawk. Before the war, Dr. Frans M. Olbrechts of Ghent had a long Onondaga text ; its whereabouts is now unknown.
79
80 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B. A. E. Bull. 149
The Reverend William M. Beauchamp said it was “fast dying out” in his day (Beauchamp, 1907, p. 412) ; and Parker describes the grief of the Onondaga preacher, Frank Logan, over its passing (Parker, 1913, p.6). The New Religion has had its ups and downs, but it has not passed. The 10 Canadian and New York longhouses count at least half the reservation Iroquoians as open followers, with no other religious affiliation.
A good part of the rest find nothing inconsistent in attendance at both church and longhouse. Not too many find themselves in the ~ fix of a Mohawk Caughnawaga, with one of whom Joseph Mitchell talked lately. He said he was sitting one night in the graveyard outside the longhouse there, listening to Good Message followers inside,
. singing Mohawk chants that came down from the old red-Indian time. I thought I was all alone in the graveyard, and then who loomed up out of the dark and sat down beside me but an old high-steel man ... He said to me, “You’re not alone up here. Look over there.’ The bushes were full of Catholics and Protestants who every night crept up to listen ...so I said, “The long- house music appealed to me. One of these days I might possibly join.” I asked him how he felt about it. He said he was a Catholic... “If I was to join the longhouse I’d be excommunicated, and I couldn’t be buried in holy ground, and I’d burn in Hell.” I said to him, “Hell isn’t Indian.” He didn’t
reply. He sat there awhile—I guess he was thinking it over—and then he got up and walked away. [Mitchell, 1949, pp. 39, 52.]
The Jesuits established Caughnawaga and nearby St. Regis for their converts well over two centuries ago. As communities they never had an Indian religious tradition. When Good Message longhouses arrived within the last 25 years the sacred tobacco, the ceremonial wampum and rattles, and the rituals themselves had to be procured from older establishments. Old Good Message hands (especially from New York Onondaga and Canadian Oneida, because of language affinities) spent years there training both people and local preachers. For the first time in history, Caughnawaga and St. Regis delegates made appearance with the others for the round of “Six Nations meetings” that starts every fall at Tonawanda, going once every other year to the other nine longhouses on a circuit completed once a biennium.
Where did the Good Message get this vigor? Why has Handsome Lake’s message not gone the way of the many others brought back from other worlds by Indian dreamers? A few—as that of Hand- some Lake’s contemporary, the Shawnee Prophet—had influence equal to his; but they lasted for a day or two and were gone. Hundreds of others must have been stillborn.
Part of the answer is in the time and the place out of which the first “words” of the Good Message were spoken; and the local audience
No. 5] RELIGION OF HANDSOME LAKE—DEARDORFF 8l
to which they were addressed. Another is in the personal, accidental, and official auspices that fortified their authority, and helped spread them, and (to an extent acceptable at least to most Iroquoians) syn- cretize them into a body of doctrine. But most important for its viability and its continuing healthy life is its ancestry. The Good Message was born of a miscegenation of Quaker with old Seneca stock. Genetically the two were compatible. The hybrid was fertile, and of a disposition so generous that it made itself at home wherever it went even when it went into other Iroquoian communities with superficially different traits.
It will be the limited purpose of this paper to examine very briefly the background of the Good Message; to give some contemporary accounts of its birth and early days; and to point to a few reasons for its growth and influence.
The Burnt House of 1798—when the first Quakers arrived to es- tablish their work there—was a peculiar community. In July 1795, Pennsylvania had surveyed it and transferred it to Handsome Lake’s younger half-brother Gaiant’waka (The Cornplanter: John Abeel, O’Bail, Obale, etc.) as one of three separate tracts on the Allegheny, each of about a square mile, given this most influential of all the Seneca at the time for his services to the Commonwealth in its land negotiations with the natives. Cornplanter got patent title to these pieces, which meant that he held them in fee, as his private personal property. He sold the tract at West Hickory; and was later swin- dled out of the second tract at Oil City. This third parcel, the Burnt House, lay on the west side of Allegheny, a few miles below the New York-Pennsylvania line. Much Quaker help and leg- islative effort over the years have gone into keeping out the White predator. Cornplanter’s heirs still own and occupy it. As one goes north on the east side of Allegheny from Kinzua to Corydon in War- ren County, Pa., highway markers point across to Cornplanter’s grave, and to the former home of Handsome Lake on what is now denomi- nated “The Cornplanter Grant” by the Whites, but still called the Burnt House by the Seneca (Deardorff, 1941).
Cornplanter’s unique fee title to this piece had a lot to do with the fact that in 1798 almost all the Indians on Allegheny were gathered round him thereon. They felt safe there. Over the line in New York surveyors were daily expected, to start laying off what is still the Allegany Reservation “agreeably to treaty of last Summer... to contain 42 square miles”; and they would lay off the other “reser- vations,” too, held out of the sale of Seneca title to most of western New York by contract between them and Robert Morris at Big Tree, September 15, 1797.
82 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.B. Bull. 149
Now they heard that Morris was in jail; and that he had not bought the land for himself, anyhow, but for some others called “the Hol- land people.” They were afraid they would lose their money. No one knew where the survey lines would fall nor what would happen when they fell, with these uncertainties in the picture (Pierce, Ms. 1798,3 May 21-22 entries).
A few lived at Long John’s new settlement well up toward present Salamanca, N. Y., where one usually turned away from the Allegheny to go over to the other Seneca on Cattaraugus, Tonawanda, and Buf- falo Creeks. Only three or four families remained at the old largest townsite, 9 miles above Burnt House (Sharples, 1798, May 21 entry).
Befitting his position as bearer of the biggest federal chief’s name — among the Allegheny Seneca, Handsome Lake’s mark stood third on the list of 52 Big Tree contract signers. It was he who noted that the square mile about the old Cuba, N. Y., oil spring, which the Indians had intended to keep, had not been included in the contract list of reservation; and to him Morris gave the separate paper under which over a half century later the Seneca were able to maintain their title to it (Donaldson, 1892, p. 28).
At this treaty the Seneca accepted at last the consequences of their wrong guess when they joined the British side in the Revolution.
The Genesee-Allegheny half of the Seneca had opposed taking sides at all. Such old chiefs as Kiasutha (Hodge, 1907, p. 682) remembered well what had happened in the 1750’s when they had been caught in the middle between warring French and British; then they had guessed wrong. Later these western Seneca had held out against Sir William Johnson’s persuasions. In their Genesee- Allegheny valleys they had maintained a sanctuary for dispossessed Indians of diverse origins and kinds, from all quarters. Many of these alien Indians had remained among their hosts to be easily assimilated in the Iroquoian way. Few Whites were voluntarily ad- mitted to this refuge. The exceptions were some officials; adoptive In- dians, as Moravian David Zeisberger in 1767; and those traders, such as John Abeel (the Albany Dutchman who fathered Cornplanter), who were themselves Indian in almost all but blood.
The eastern Seneca, about Seneca Lake, had no such background. For a long time they had been much dependent on the favors dis- pensed by Johnson, and by his Mohawk agent, Joseph Brant. When Sir William died (1774) his nephew, Guy, and his son, Sir John, inherited his influence if not his abilities.
It was natural, then, that when the Johnsons called the Six Nations to a great council at Oswego in July 1777, to meet St. Leger and his
3 A list of the manuscripts consulted in the preparation of this paper is appended to the bibliography.
No. 5] RELIGION OF HANDSOME LAKE—DEARDORFF 83
army, which had come over from Canada, the response of the eastern Seneca should be prompt. Brant urged all to sign up with the British. Mohawk, Cayuga, and the eastern Seneca were ready to accept. But the Genesee-Allegheny contingent held out. They had met the Americans several times at Fort Pitt; they had listened to their official solicitation to neutrality, and they considered it sensible. At Oswego, Cornplanter and Handsome Lake argued this position; but they were overborne. Characteristically, once the issue had been decided by the council, all acquiesced. Cornplanter (accompanied by his young assistant, Governor Blacksnake) and Handsome Lake went with the others against the American fort at Rome, N. Y., and contin- ued service with the British. Cornplanter, Brant, and old Sayenquer- -aghta of the eastern Seneca (Hodge, 1910, p. 482) were the war leaders, elected by the Indians and commissioned “captains” by the British. Handsome Lake, fought as a “common warrior.” Only the Oneida and some of the Tuscarora remained to the Americans, due largely to the influence of their missionary, the Rev. Samuel Kirkland (Seaver, 1918, pp. 65-67; Blacksnake, MS., 1845-46, pp. 16-32; Black- snake, MS., 1850, pp. 28 ff; Ketchum, 1864, vol. 2, pp. 421-422).
The year 1779 was a bad one for the Seneca. Sullivan’s expedition to the Genesee displaced the entire Indian population of western New York toward British Fort Niagara. Brodhead’s independent foray from Fort Pitt up the Allegheny burned the flats between Kinzua and Corydon, including the main town—which even before this event was called Burnt House. The numerous good houses and the 500 acres of fine corn at which Brodhead marveled argue population well in excess of 1,000 (Fenton, 1945, pp. 89-93).
Handsome Lake and Cornplanter, of the Wolf Clan, were natives of the Seneca town near Avon, N. Y., to which Governor Blacksnake (also a Wolf) was brought by his mother when he was 2. In the face of invasion their families retired to Tonawanda. About 1780 they all moved down to the Allegheny, to establish themselves perma- nently (Fenton, 1945, pp. 94-196; Blacksnake, MS., 1850, p. 78).
To Cornplanter from Kiasutha, his old uncle, at once fell active leadership of the local Indians. In the difficult spot where the pro- British Iroquois found themselves after the Revolution, Cornplanter at first became spokesman only for the Genessee-Allegheny Seneca. What the new United States needed was a strong native character to head what it hoped to convert into a pro-American Indian party to oppose the pro-British faction under Brant, whose influence was paramount among the Mohawk and the western Indians. It was natural that Cornplanter, as leader of the powerful Seneca element which had a long tradition of action independent of the League, should be selected for the purpose; and that he should lend himself to
84 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B. A. B. Bull. 149
elevation by the Americans into their spokesman and favor-dispenser to the aborigines. He was always opposed, when it seemed safe, by those of the eastern Seneca who had not gone off with Brant to Canada. The latter had their headquarters for the most part at Buffalo Creek, where Farmers Brother and Young King were their leading figures. This element was to oppose Handsome Lake as prophet, too.
During this period we hear little of Handsome Lake and much of Cornplanter. Not until Jay’s Treaty settled the status of British occupation along the Great Lakes, and Wayne settled the Indians themselves at Fallen Timbers, Ohio, in 1794, did the Indians know which side would prevail. Cornplanter was constantly on the go—to the western Indians to attempt pacification; to Buffalo Creek to argue with his own people; and to New York, Albany, and Philadelphia to consult with American officials, State and Federal.
He was made much of on those city visits. He spoke no English; but he talked war and politics long with Knox, Pickering, and Wash- ington, and he discoursed on religion and education with the numer- ous Whites who were solicitous to help his people. During his long stay in Philadelphia in the winter of 1790, he attended Quaker meet- ings with some regularity; and he was so responsive to Rev. Samuel Kirkland and the Moravian Ettwein that they considered him as good as converted (Kirkland, MS., letter December 20, 1790; Hamilton, 1940, pp. 98, 126).
In February 1791 he addressed to the Quakers a request that they bring down for education his oldest son, Henry, and two other boys, to which they agreed.* The project was temporarily delayed when, on his return home, Cornplanter found that the Americans had sent him a teacher in the person of Capt. Waterman Baldwin, who had been Cornplanter’s prisoner during the Revolution. Baldwin came out with Proctor® in March 1791 (Proctor, 1876, pp. 557 ff.). He brought horses, a plow, and a Bible. Ostensibly he was sent to help the Indians learn farming, reading, and writing. Actually he was a spy for the Americans, as were all of his kind at the time (Baldwin, MS., 1791).
The Friends met Cornplanter again during treaty proceedings at Canandaigua in 1794; and their interest revived. On January 5,
Friends Historical Association, Philadelphia, has the original of Cornplanter’s letter of February 10, 1791. It and the Friends’ reply thereto of June 2, 1791, are printed in the Bulletin of the Friends Historical Association, vol. 25, No. 2, pp. 86-87, 1936. Fur- ther MS. correspondence in the matter is in the Friends Archives, 8d and Arch Sts., Philadelphia.
5A facsimile of Thomas Proctor’s autograph in the Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography (vol. 4, Philadelphia, 1880) clearly spells his name “Procter.” In citing his works, however, it has seemed best to adhere to the spelling used in them, i. e., ““Proctor.”— Mi HD:
| No. 5] RELIGION OF HANDSOME LAKE—DEARDORFF 85
1796, they issued a circular letter, asking what Indians might like their services. The Oneida and Cornplanter were among the first to reply. Quaker work at Oneida was started in 1796 and continued to 1799 (Anon., 1805, pp. 5-11). By 1798 Quaker interest had shifted to the Allegheny Seneca.
During the 8 years of relative quiet between 1795 and 1798 follow- ing the Canandaigua treaty, contacts between these Indians and the Whites were common. Cornplanter had a sawmill above his town, and a “Dutchman” to run it for him. This was the first mill on the
upper Allegheny. Its boards went to the Army at Franklin and Pittsburgh; and into the Holland Company’s storehouse at Warren (1796).
Civilization was touching Burnt House but it was still very much an Indian town when the five Quakers arrived May 17,1798. Joshua Sharples and John Pierce, older men, accompanied the younger Henry Simmons, Jr., Halliday Jackson, and Joel Swayne to settle them in the work. Sharples and Pierce kept detailed accounts of what they saw. All on the same day Pierce could report for civilization’s score “3 horses, 14 horned cattle, 1 yoke oxen, 12 hogs—all private property”; but, next door, a “curious scene”—really an exercise of the local chapter of the False-face Co. (Parker, 1913, pp. 127-128)—a score for the “old Indian” side. Pierce and Sharples tried to find out what was going on. But Henry O’Bail, now home from school complete with the white man’s education and bad habits, evaded their questions (Pierce, MS. 1798, May 29 entry).
The Quakers estimated the population at 400 living in about 30 houses, of which Cornplanter’s, where they were lodged, was much the largest (Sharples, MS. 1798, May 23, 30 entries). His residence was really two houses, about 10 feet apart, each 16 feet wide; one about 30 feet long and the other 24. It was roofed with bark; and made of round poles set close together “but not churked or plastered.” The space between the two sides served for entry (Sharples, MS. 1798, May 23 entry).
This was at once the home of Cornplanter’s family (including Handsome Lake), the community guest house, and ceremonial cen- ter—the longhouse. Out front stood the “huge block of wood formed into the similitude of a man, and artfully painted; embellished with skins, handkerchiefs, fine ribands, and feathers of a variety of col- ours” around which the community danced on festival occasions (Jackson, 1830 a, p. 24). Brodhead had overturned a like image at the same place in 1779; and Proctor, on his way out to see Cornplanter in 1791, had passed through the Genesee town of Caneadea where he saw another (Proctor, 1876, p. 565).
86 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
Burnt House women worked its 60 acres of cleared land in the old way, while the men passed their days in shooting arrows, pitching quoits, jumping, etc., and their nights in talk. Little game came in at this time of year. The two daily meals of bread or dumplings cooked in bear’s oil were frugal, indeed; and Pierce and Sharples were not loath to leave it all June 7.
Before Pierce and Sharples left, they had arranged that Swayne and Jackson should settle about 9 miles upstream at the site of the old town, deliberately off Cornplanter’s personal property. Here they were to build a house and a barn for themselves, and establish an agri- culture demonstration center for the Indians. They had early ob- served that an Indian man might be induced to labor if no other In- dian man were around to see him. Henry Simmons, better equipped by reason of a year (1796-97) at Oneida, was to live with Cornplanter at Burnt House to teach the children to read and write.
The diaries, correspondence, and reports of these resident Quaker missionaries, their long line of successors in the same posts, and of the delegations from the Friends’ Indian Committee, who visited them often until very recent years, afford a continuous and unmatched rec- ord of the single Indian community over a period of more than a century.
What follows is, unless otherwise noted, summarized or extracted from the diary of Henry Simmons for the period February 3 to No- vember 7, 1799.
Simmons had got his school started in Cornplanter’s home; but it didn’t do well. On bad days he might have 30 pupils; on good days, none. The one activity that persisted and which caused him oftenest to “apply my Heart with fervent breathings to the Lord for his aid and support” was what went on every winter night, when the men met at Cornplanter’s house. Through Henry, Cornplanter’s son, they quizzed Simmons about white men’s beliefs and customs.
The subject might be “how the World and things therein were created first.” Simmons’ answer to this, as to most others, was discre- tion itself. He was not there to proselyte. He said “it was a hard Question.” It and many others were answered in a Book which white men had; and he told them what the Book said. He anticipated their doubts as to how white men knew that the Book was true by saying he knew it because, the great Spirit pleased to make them [i. e., its truths] manifest in the secret of my heart . . . and told them it was the only way I had to know when I was doing right or wrong, by strictly attending to the great Spirit in my heart, and asked them if this was not the case, when they thought of doing something which they ought not to do, whether they did not feel something pricking at their
Hearts, and telling them not to do so. Several of the Chiefs, Cornplanter for one, confessed it was the very truth. I told them it was the great Spirit that thus
| No. 5] RELIGION OF HANDSOME LAKE—DEARDORFF 87
pricked, and tells us not to do so, and it is the Devil that urges ustodoit .. . Cornplanter informed me that when a young Man, he was a great Hunter, and ‘often thought of the great Spirit, who made the wild beasts and all things, and to be sure he had always very good luck he said . . . I told him that was the only way to receive a blessing, by thinking of, and returning thanks to the great Spirit, even the Farmers were then blest with better Crops of Grain. [Simmons, MS., 1799, Feb. 3 entry.]
Simmons seized these chances to urge them to learn to read so they might find out these things for themselves. Some agreed there was some sense in this; but many were inclined to credit the reports from
Buffalo Creek that a little girl up there had dreamed the Devil was in all white people, including the Quakers; and that it was not right for their children to go to school.
Typical questions asked him were: Is it right for Indians and Whites tomarry? Do both go to the same places when they die? Do all speak one language there? His answers were not evasive, for a Quaker; but he was not dogmatic.®
6 Indians raised questions such as these early in their contact with Whites. They were asked in October 1767, of Moravian David Zeisberger when he came down the Allegheny for a first short visit to the three Munsee settlements about West Hickory, Forest County, Pa., called collectively Goschgoschiink. Goschgoschtink was about 50 miles below the Burnt House site, and under jurisdiction of the up-river Seneca. It had been settled in the spring of 1765 by Indians emigrant “from Wihilusing on the Susquehannah as well as from Assininnissink and Passikachkunk on the Tiaoga’”’ (Hulbert and Schwarze, eds., 1912, pp. 14, 15, 20, 22).
With Zeisberger was Papunhank, who had been chief at Wyalusing before his Moravian baptism June 26, 1768. As early as 1752 he had come under Quaker influence. In 1758 he removed his adherents to Wyalusing and established there a town that was in many ways like the Allegheny Seneca settlements of 1800-10 under Quaker-Handsome Lake influence. John Hays and Christian Frederick Post visited Wyalusing in May and June 1760. Post described at some length the good houses and the sober, industrious people: “their religion chiefly consists in strictly adhering to the ancient customs and manner of their forefathers” (Post, MS. 1760, May 19 entry) ; but they listened eagerly to what the Moravians and Quaker John Woolman had to tell about the Creator and the Hereafter, even if they would receive no further instruction from white people. The Pennsylvania authorities (1760) distinguished the Wyalusing people as “the Quaker or religious Indians” (Pa. Arch.,-1853, 1st ser., vol. 3, p. 743).
Zeisberger returned to stay at Goschgoschtink from May 1768 to April 1770. The local “preacher,” Wangomen, was a Munsee from Assininnissink who had heard Zeisberger preach at Wyalusing in 1763. He was one of a class of native preachers whose emergence about 1750 De Schweinitz, the biographer of Zeisberger, attributed to Moravian influence (Schweinitz, 1871, p. 265). Zeisberger, who had long experience with them and who thoroughly disapproved of their teachings and practice, thought otherwise. He says, ‘‘all these preachers trace the beginning of their efforts to the Quakers, claiming that these had told them they were on the right way and that they should continue therein” (Hulbert and Schwarze, eds., 1912, p. 52).
These Munsee and their descendants remained about West Hickory and on the Allegheny above, always in close association with the Seneca, until the last of them were resettled among the Cattaraugus Seneca in 1791 (Proctor, 1876, pp. 580, 594). Some moved on to Munceytown, Canada, with the Oneida; those who remained have merged with the Seneca. The presence of these Quaker- and Moravian-influenced Indians on the Allegheny must be considered an important, if undefined, part of the background for Handsome Lake.
Especially among the ‘‘church Senecas,” Handsome Lake is accounted for by referring his inspiration to the Bible, via either Henry O’Bail, Cornplanter’s oldest (and educated) son, or a white-haired man who lived in a house in the hills back of West Hickory. They say that Handsome Lake used to take off by himself in a canoe, down the river, to be gone for weeks at a time. Some curious followed him on one such trip. He landed near West Hickory and went off up the mountain to a cabin. The spies saw him sitting at a table
88 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B. A. B. Bull. 149
Other problems were not so easily disposed of, however. For in- stance, toward the end of February he once again found the Corn- planter ménage in uproar with tremendous preparations for a feast and a dance going forward. Once again he had to turn the scholars loose. 'To let off steam he went out in the woods and chopped down a tree. But his gage was still registering high when he got back to the house, where the dance was in boisterous progress. He found Cornplanter, Henry O’Bail, and some of the family sitting in an apartment by themselves; and Simmons let go at the old man with almost un-Friendly violence for allowing such things to go on in his house. Cornplanter said “he could not say much about it, at the present; but would converse on the subject the next day” (Simmons, - MS., 1799, Feb. 27 entry).
Next day there was a big council. At its conclusion Cornplanter informed Simmons that “they had concluded (although they did not all see alike) to quit such Dancing Frolicks, for some of them thought it must be wicked, because they had learned it of white people, as well as that of drinking Rum or Whiskey and getting drunk, which they knew was evil, but they had a Hussleing kind of play and dance too twice a year of their own production originally, which they - thought to continue in the practice of.”
Worst of all were the community drunks which occurred when | the men got home from Pittsburgh, where they took the winter’s furs. That of 1799 started about the middle of May. It lasted for several weeks. Some died from fighting and exposure. When the liquor was gone and remorse had set in, Simmons sent up river for Swayne and Jackson, and asked Cornplanter to call the council. The three Quakers attended, and sternly admonished the Indians. After the usual interval, Cornplanter spoke for all when he acknowledged the great fault to be their own; that they had taken “a resolution not to suffer any more whiskey to be amongst them to sell, and had then chosen two young men as petty chiefs, to have some oversight of their people in the promotion of good among them” (Simmons, MS., 1799, May 26 entry).
Simmons witnessed the Worship Dances around the “wooden image, or God”; and “a great feast, after their ancient custom, by way of remembrance of their dead . . . the present one being made on ac- count of the old Chief’s daughter who had been dead upwards of 4 months.” He witnessed, too, the killing of a witch with knives,
on which lay a book from which an old man in a black coat read to him. The book, they say, was the Bible. They have no name for the old man. All the evidence indicates that Handsome Lake did not live on the Allegheny until long after Zeisberger’s day there, and that no other white preacher was resident on the upper river until the Quakers came in 1798. It is possible that a vague recollection of Zeisberger is incorporated in this ‘origin legend” for Handsome Lake’s teaching.
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done by three men at the command of the Old Chief. “However worthy of death she might have been I know not, but I took her to be a bad woman” (Simmons, MS., 1799, June 13 entry).
The local dreaming seemed to reflect something of Simmons’ in- fluence. For instance, a young man told a dream he had when out hunting. He thought an Indian struck him with a knife, and he thought he must die. Soon he found himself on an upward path, where were tracks of many people. At length he came to a house inside of which “he beheld the beautifulest Man sitting there that
ever he saw in his life.” He could not accept the invitation to sit down; but passed out a door opposite the one he came in. After some further travel he came to another building with an uncommon large door, “in which a man met him, who looked very dismal, his Mouth appeared to move in different shapes.” Here he saw a lot of drunken, noisy Indians, some of whom he recognized as having been dead several years. “Amongst them was one very old white-headed woman, whom they told him was dying, and when she went, the World would go too.” Their “officinator,’ the man who had met hin, of- fered him some stuff to drink, “like melted pewter, which he told him he could not take, but he insisted he should, by telling him he could drink Whiskey and get drunk, and that was no worse to take than it, he then took it, which he thought burnt him very much.” He saw people being punished for their earthly wrongs. He was himself charged with wife beating. At the end, though, he was told that if he forsook all evil practices which he had been guilty of, he should have a Home in the first house which he entered. He woke up crying. Now “he confessed in the Council that he had been guilty of all these actions above mentioned,” and said he intended to do better.
Simmons said he thought this dream was true; that the old grey- headed woman was the Mother of Wickedness. When she was dead the Worldly Spirit would go too. Cornplanter remarked that even the Devil would die if all tried to do good (Simmons, MS., 1799, Feb. 27 entry).
It is important to note that many of the reforms usually ascribed to Handsome Lake himself had actually been instituted in his own community before June 15, 1799, the date of his first visions. The community had decided there should be no more whiskey at Corn- planter’s town; had appointed two young chiefs to see to it that this resolution was enforced and to have general supervision over local morals. It had been determined that all of their miscellaneous festi- vals and dances should go, as being merely invitations to riot, and taken from the Whites, anyhow, together with their whiskey; but that the Worship Dances should be kept, since they were native and
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always had been religious. Witch killing was approved; confession practiced.
Questions about theology and morals had been referred to Simmons, and answered in the Quaker way: Look inside. You have a Light in there that will show you what is good and what is bad. When you know you have done wrong, repent and resolve to do better. Outward forms and books and guides are good; but they are made by men. The Great Spirit himself puts the Inner Light in every man. Look to it. Learn to read and write so that you may discover for yourself whether or not the white man’s Book is true. Learn to distinguish good from evil so that you may avoid the pricks of conscience in this world and prosper; and that you may avoid pun- ishment in the next.
Local Indians before Handsome Lake had gone to the other world in their dreams and returned with a conviction of sin that was relieved by repentance and resolution to reform. Dreaming such as this could be matched in many times and places, among many Indians. ‘The important point here is that Simmons could unreservedly approve of it, and pronounce it true, with no quibbling over its theological implications. No one but a Quaker could have done so at the time.
During all this, Handsome Lake had lain in the house of Corn- planter, a very sick man. A dissolute life had worn him out.
Sixth Month, 15th. The Cornplanter being from home about three-fourths of a mile, where he had men employed to build him a house... an express came to him that his Brother or Step Brother was dying (who had been on the decline of life for several years) he straightway went, and found a number of his people convened and his Brother laying breathless for the space of half an hour, but in about 2 hours after he came to himself again, and informed his Brother how he was and what he had seen, which was thus, as he lay or sat in the house, ke heard somebody call to him out of the house, he immediately arose and went out, his daughter seeing him asked where he was going he told her he would soon be back, and as he stood without, he saw three men by the side of the house, he then fainted and fell gently to the ground without being any sick, and the men had bushes in their hands with berries on them, of different kinds, who invited him to take some and eat, and they would help him, and that he would live to see such like berries ripe this summer he thought he took one berry off each man’s bush. They told him the great Spirit was much displeased with his people getting drunk, but as he had been sick a great while, he had thought more upon the great Spirit, and was preserved from drinking strong drink to excess, and if he got well he must not take to it again for the great Spirit knew (not only what people were always doing) but also their very thoughts, and that there was some very bad ones among them, who would poison others, but one of them was lately killed, yet there still remained one like her who was a man. He requested his brother to call his people in council, and tell them what he had said to him, and if they had any dried berries amongst them, he wished all in the Council might take it if it was but one apiece, which was done accordingly the same day, where myself and companion (Viz) Joel Swayn, attended, at the request of Cornplanter when a large number of them assembled with shorter
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notice than ever I had seen them before. [All seemed moyed, including Simmons. ]
Notrr.—The three persons aforesaid told him there was four of them, but one did not come, expecting to come to see him [some] time hence. And he often told his Brother Cornplanter, he expected that person would soon come. As he continued in a poor state of health for many weeks after. One night he dreamt the absent person came (who appeared like the great Spirit) and asked him if he did not remember the three men who came to him some time before, and told him there were four of them altogether, but one of them stayed behind and in- tended to come some time after, and he was the very one, now come to take him along if he was willing to go as he pitied him seeing he had suffered very much; He did not give him any answer. . . but in the morning when he awoke he said he would go and put on his best clothes, then wished to see his Brother, and was afraid he should not get to see him before he would be gone, as he was some dis- tance off, a messenger went immediately to inform his Brother thereof, who when he caine, attended pretty steadily with him through the course of the day, and about evening he fainted away, which held him but for a short space of time, after recovering he told his Brother not to put any more clothes on him, or move him, if he did go. Soon after he said he was now going, and he expected to return, but thought he should go as far as to see his Son who had been dead several years, and his Brother’s Daughter who had been dead about 7 months.
He then fainted or fell into a trance in which posture he remained 7 hours, his legs and arms were cold, his body warm but breathless, he knew not how he went out of the world, but soon perceived a guide going before him, who appeared to have a bow and one arrow, and was dressed in a clear sky colour. His.guide told him to look forward. When he did, behold the two deceased ones before noted, were coming to meet him, dressed in the manner of his guide, and after embracing each other, they turned aside to sit down to converse together wherein the daughter expressed her sorrow, in frequent hearing her father (viz) Corn- planter and brother Henry disputing together some time so high as to get very angry at each other, her brother thinking he knew more than his father... The young man then addressed his father in this way, being much concerned that he had suffered so much and that his own son then living had taken so little care of him, but would go out of the way when his father grew worse for fear of having some trouble . . . Guide said every Son ought to do good for their father. [Simmons, MS.]
The guide then told Handsome Lake that they had one fault to find with him, his drinking. He must do it no more and “he must quit all kinds of frolicks and dancing, except their Worship Dance, for that was right, as they did not make any use of liquor at the time, etc.” The guide told him the great Spirit made liquor to use, not to abuse. Those who got drunk need not expect to come to “that happy place.” He was told to look round toward the river. There, he saw many canoes loaded with kegs of whiskey, and also saw an ugly fellow whom the guide told him was the D. C. going about very busy doing and making all the noise and mischief he could amongst the people. Guide told him they often dreamt, and some times their dreams were true from the great Spirit; but they would not believe it was from him, but from the Devil, and when the D. C. have told them something, they have concluded it was the great Spirit, and that pleases the D. C. he being thought the greatest and most honored, having the most people on his side.
905645—51——7
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Further told him that white people were come into their towns to instruct their children, and that is right if they can all agree to it, but many of them are not willing, but will keep to their old habits of living, well that may be right too” [but they must not drink whiskey].
[Guide expressed sorrow that a great sickness was about to smite their village unless they mended their ways and thought more on the great Spirit.] His people must collect together in worship, and cook a white dog and every one eat thereof, as a preventative against the sickness. [Simmons, MS8.]
The guide then told him to return; he would not see them any more until he died, and perhaps not then, unless he did right as long as he lived.
After Cornplanter heard all this he called a council, and sent for Simmons. They asked the Quaker what he thought of it. “I told them there had been instances of the same kind amongst white people even of the Quakers, falling into a trance, and saw both the good place, and bad place, and saw many wonderful sights which I did believe.” Henry said he didn’t see why the same could not be true among them, since they and the Quakers were of one flesh and blood. He warned, though, that Handsome Lake may not have reported exactly.
The same day they prepared the White Dog Feast, of which. all partook.
Next day Simmons found Handsome Lake much improved. He was told that the Indians liked some of the white people’s ways very well, and some Indian ways very well. It would take some time to lead the Indians out of their set ways. Meanwhile, they would keep many of their old things, as their Worship Dances, as the only way they had of worshiping the great Spirit. He remarked that the white people had killed their own Saviour. Simmons was astonished at this: “how he had heard about our Saviour I know not”; and he was human enough to retort that it was the Jews that had killed the Saviour and “neither did I know but what the Indians were their descendants.”
The long passage beginning with the word “Note,” is inserted in the diary between that for June 15 and that for August 11, as of which date preparation began for the forthcoming Green Corn Feast, which is their fall Worship Dance. This festival started August 28. Nearly 200 danced around “their wooden image, which had a white dog hanging on it, with some wampums, ribands, and paint about him.” ‘Two men at his feet beat the time with turtle rattles. Sim- mons describes, without naming it, the Great Feather Dance, the Creator’s own dance. The festival closed with “A Husleing or Lot- tery play,” the Great Bowl Game.
When, soon after, Simmons left for home, Halliday Jackson’s diary takes over. Jackson remarks on March 1, 1800, that the In-
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dians generally had collected at Cornplanter’s Town to perform their yearly sacrifice. So zealous were they to have everyone get there that they hauled lame people 13 or 14 miles on deerskins. Jackson went down at the Indians’ request to write down some visions of Corn- planter’s brother. Jackson himself left June 17 (Jackson, MS., 1800). His “Manners and Customs of the Seneca Nation of Indians, in the year 1800” is the best summary we have of the situation at Corn- planter’s Town. He mentions Handsome Lake’s name once in this account.
We may take it that the culture which Jackson describes is what he and his friends found in 1798. He says the Indians believe in one all-wise being they call How-wa-neeo; an evil spirit, Nish-she-o-nee; and a place of happiness for the good. He mentions no equivalent of Hell. Twice a year preliminary to their Worship Dances an ex- amination of men, women, and children takes place, “whether they have committed any offenses or evil acts. Of these it is often the case that the offender makes confession, the design of which is, that all wrong things may be done away and reconciliation take place .. . and a promise on the part of the aggressor to try to do better for the future; which done, the council then assembled forgive them.” He describes “the Harvest Dance” and the Personal Chant, “the thank- ing or cheer songs.” These two, with the Great Feather Dance and Bowl Game, constitute the Four Sacred Ceremonies of the Good Message. It is notable that all four were associated originally with the two sober Worship Dances, rather than with their “frequent ban- quets, in which they regale themselves with strong liquors, and pass whole nights in singing, dancing, and music” (Jackson, 1830 a, pp. 23-81).
In his “Civilization of the Indian Natives,” however, Jackson gives an account of the activities of Handsome Lake for the years 1800-1802 (Jackson, 1830 b, pp. 42-45). He had acquired considerable influence over the nation. In his zeal against witchcraft he had accused some of the Munsee at Cattaraugus of responsibility for illness in Corn- planter’s family, which brought on a quarrel between them and the Seneca which was, however, peacefully adjusted. He was advising against schools for the children. The Indians might farm a little, and build houses; but they must not sell anything they raised, but give it away to one another . . . inshort, enjoy all things in common. Some of the younger men were dissatisfied; but his stock was gen- erally high. In “Account of a visit made by Penrose Wiley, John Letchworth, Anne Mifflin, Mary Bell & Company to the Seneca In- dians, settled on Allegany River, 10 mo. 1803,”* Cornplanter re-
™MSS. of Mary Gilbert in Museum of the American Indian, Heye Foundation, New York.
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sponded to the usual Quaker admonitions by saying that it was the first time any women had come to see them. What they had said “agrees with what our Prophet has told us, therefore, it must be true. He has told us that we should live in peace and goodwill, and that if we drank whiskey we should never go to Heaven.” Corn- planter’s sister confirmed the fact that these Indians had left off drinking whiskey “this four years; and are resolved to drink it no more.”
From their first meeting the Quakers had urged on Cornplanter the necessity for teaching his people to farm with the plow, and to keep domestic animals. Game was growing scarce; and would get scarcer. Cornplanter agreed to this, and solicited their help for the instruction. This was a main object of the Quaker mission to his town. The Iroquois were farmers by inheritance; but the plow re- quired manpower where the hoe had been the women’s implement. It was part of their fixed belief that the bond between women and the crops was so close that only women could make them grow. Before Handsome Lake’s advent as prophet, the council had agreed (1799) to see what the men could do with the plow. They experimented cautiously in the spring of 1801. “Several parts of a large field were ploughed, and the intermediate spaces prepared by women with the hoe, according to former custom. It was all planted with corn; and the parts ploughed . . . produced much the heaviest crop.” Cattle stocks increased beyond the feed supply. Fields and pastures were fenced; good houses, with shingle instead of bark roofs, were built. Visiting Friends were justifiably delighted with the progress they saw (Jackson, 1830 b, pp. 40-46).
When the Indians went down to Pittsburgh twice a year with furs, moccasins, deer hams, bearskins, and tallow, they returned with cloth- ing and provisions, instead of whiskey. The Pittsburgh merchants took to keeping jugs of sugar-water on their counters for the custo- mary “treat,” since the Seneca refused whiskey (Wrenshall diary, MS., 1803).
In early 1802 Handsome Lake, with Seneca and Onondaga associates, came home from Washington bearing letters expressing President Jef- ferson’s approval of the Prophet and his teachings. Jefferson advised the Indians “to open your ears to the council of Handsome Lake, to listen to his advice and to be governed by his precepts.” He consented to Handsome Lake’s appointment of Charles Obeal (Cornplanter’s son) and Strong as the two young men the “four angels” had told the Prophet to select to care for his “business.” Jefferson took pains to send Cornplanter assurance of his continued confidence.
Joseph Elkinton, the resident Quaker at Tunesassa, found the originals of these letters cherished in the possession of Governor Black-
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snake at Allegany, and copied them in his journal for June 20, 1827. The Indians regarded them (and they still do) as the Government’s endorsement of Handsome Lake and his teachings. The letters were of the greatest importance in establishing Handsome Lake as a Prophet, and putting him beyond effective reach of the faction that opposed both him and Cornplanter. The opposition came mostly from the Buffalo Creek quarter, but loud echoes reached Burnt House, too. The objection was not so much to Handsome Lake as to the Quaker influence over him, which was growing. ‘These official endorsements elevated him to a position above even that of Corn- planter, up to then about the only Seneca able to command such credentials.
Cornplanter was an Indian. As such he understood the Indian, Handsome Lake. He could and did value the good he was doing; and there is no evidence of an open break between them. But Cornplanter did not go along with his brother’s zeal against witches and schooling.
These and other factional divisions at Burnt House resulted in a gradual exodus starting about 1803, and led to the eventual repopula- tion of the Allegheny higher up. In 1803 the Quakers consulted with Cornplanter and his council about establishing a new and much larger farm on a Tunesassa Creek tract, east of the river and outside of the Allegany Reservation line, where they planned to erect mills and a boarding school. Their project was approved.® Coldspring, not far from Tunesassa but west of the river, became the new Indian center with a new council house, which Jackson describes as of Septem- ber 15, 1806 (Jackson, MS., 1806).
Handsome Lake’s influence was dominant at Coldspring, though he was still resident at Burnt House in 1809. During the summer of 1806 he visited some of the Seneca towns on the Genesee “to dissuade them from the use of strong drink, and to encourage them in habits
8 Work on the Tunesassa project started in 1808. The large building which housed the boarding school was torn down a few years ago and most of the farm sold. Extension of public-school facilities to Allegany Reservation seemed to make these phases of the work, in which so many Indians had received elementary and vocational training, no longer necessary.
The long line of resident Quakers who worked out here their “calls to service’? spent much time in the early days assembling and copying down all matter they could find lating to relations between the Friends and the Indians; and, especially, to these local Indians.
The bound volumes which contained thousands of pages of this valuable material were removed when the building was wrecked. Many had previously been copied by the Penn- sylvania Historical Project, WPA, and are at the Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission, Harrisburg. The originals are in the Department of Records of the Yearly Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends of Philadelphia and Vicinity under the Representative Meeting, 302 Arch Street, Philadelphia. There are several sets of hand- copied ‘‘Indian Records” there: one set of 10 volumes; another of 5; and one entitled “Indian Records” but subtitled ‘Joseph Elkinton’s Journal.” The 5-volume set and the Hikinton Journal were received at the Department of Records in 1943. The 5 volumes are a partial duplication of the 10-volume set. Quite possibly the 5-volume set and the Joseph Elkinton set came to them from Tunesassa, since the description fits.
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of industry” (Jackson, 1830 b, p. 51). He and the Quakers were now in such close accord that, after the Quaker delegation of 1806 had delivered its usual counsel—to love the Lord and one’s neighbor, listen to the Inner Voice in trouble, live harmoniously with families, permit no liquor, cards, or gambling—Governor Blacksnake could reply for the Indians, in Handsome Lake’s presence, that, “your young men and us are like one. When we want anything done we consult them and they assist us and our Prophet tells us what to do and so we get instruction from both” (Jackson, MS., 1806, September 15-16 entries).
In 1807 another witch was killed on the Allegheny, at the Prophet’s direction (Turner, 1849, p. 509).
Erastus Granger, Indian agent, writes the Secretary of War from Buffalo Creek, August 25, 1807, that, “the old Prophet, whom you once saw at Washington ... has acquired an unbounded influence over the Six Nations—his fame has long since reached some of the western Indians, and for two years past they have been sending mes- sengers to him ... the delegation which I mentioned in my last, consisting of Shawonees® and others, came on purpose to see him.” Granger proposes that this influence be capitalized for the United States by sending him, with Cornplanter and other friendly Seneca, to persuade the western Indians to peace. Accordingly, a pass was issued August 20, 1808, to Kon-a-di-a, Cornplanter and others “about taking a journey to the Westward . . . The object of their Journey is that of a friendly nature, as it respects the people of the United States. They expect to meet the western Indians in council” (Bab- cock, 1927, pp. 23-25).
War was brewing. The New York Indians knew it, and wanted none of it. The Oneida, Onondaga, Stockbridge, and Tuscarora met in council at Onondaga September 28, 1812, and addressed a letter to the President saying they saw trouble coming between the United States and the British. Washington had told them at the close of the Revolution to be sober and stay out of wars. “Our good prophet of the Seneca tribe, who is now with us in this council, has given us the same advice and our tribes have entered into a league to follow that advice” (Ketchum, 1865, vol. 2, pp. 424425).
® Note that Tenskwatawa, the Shawnee Prophet living in nearby Ohio, had his first vision late in 1805; that it was almost a duplicate of Handsome Lake’s; that his original teachings were regarded by the Shakers who knew him very well as ‘Christian’; that those of the nearby Tippecanoe absolved him from all blame for what happened there. Most contemporary accounts of him and his teachings and activities have come down from sources either unfriendly or second-hand and partial, as Forsyth (1912, pp. 273-278) usually heavily relied on; or via observers of his teaching and practice among Indians other than his own Shawnee, as most of those cited in Mooney (1896, pp. 670-700). (See Dean, 1918, p. 308; and MacLean, 1903, pp. 213-229, for the other side of the picture.)
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The Amerians piously professed to want only neutrality out of the Indians. Actually, they actively enlisted them wherever and whenever they could. Handsome Lake was neutral as a Quaker throughout this war. It is significant that most of the Indians who finally joined the Americans in July 1813 at Buffalo were from Buffalo Creek. Few or none came from Tonawanda, Allegany, and the other strongly Handsome Lake communities. Red Jacket, Cornplanter, and Blue Sky talked against participation. When Jasper Parrish forwarded from Canandaigua the few Onondaga recruits he was able to get, he told them to go straight to Buffalo and “not to call on the old Prophet, for he must not interfere with the wishes of our great chief.” The Indians said they would go to see him on the way, but it was for a religious purpose (Ketchum, 1865, vol. 2, pp. 424425, 432-433).
Handsome Lake was now at Tonawanda after 10 years’ ministry at Burnt House, 2 at Coldspring, and a short stop at Cattaraugus. The messengers had told him he must “take four steps from Burnt House.” He took the last in 1815, when he went to Onondaga. These same messengers had told him he must never be alone; but, as he neared Onondaga, he missed his favorite knife. Leaving his companions in camp, he retraced his steps to look for it. When he returned, his friends saw that all his strength had gone from him. They helped him to the town. The people there did what they could, but he died soon after, on August 10, 1815. They buried him at Onondaga. The senior federal chief, by a figure of speech, deposited the “horns of office” on top of his grave until another Handsome Lake should be installed (Parker, 1912, pp. 9-13, 78-80, pl. 9; Morgan, 1878, p. 96).
His words never died. Even modern Good Message followers (who read the books) are likely to say that they were lost for awhile until the people at Tonawanda asked Handsome Lake’s grandson, Jimmy Johnson (Soshéowa’) to recall them, about 1840 (Morgan, 1851, p. 230). This isa mistake.
Timothy Alden, president of Allegheny College, on one of his fre- quent visits to the Seneca, reached Cattaraugus July 10, 1818. Few were home. They said many chiefs of the Seneca, Oneida, and Cayuga were meeting at Tonawanda “upon the same business you are on,” and the people were there. Alden spent July 16 and 17 at the Tonawanda council. The local white teacher, Jabez Hyde, was with him. From Hyde’s narrative we get our best picture of what was going on (Hyde, 1903).
In spite of heroic efforts to keep them out, evangelical Christian missionaries were infiltrating the Seneca. Their insistence on their own one true way of salvation( on which no two agreed), on Sabbath- keeping, and a dozen other alien dogmas were issues the Quakers had
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never required the Indians to resolve. Their long tradition of unani- mous action had led to a series of Indian councils at Tonawanda, to find whether all views could not be reconciled. Various compromise plans were tried. But about 1820 the permanent division into two camps was effected. One party (mostly about Buffalo Creek, Tus- carora, and Oneida) went its way to “church”; the other stayed in the Quaker-Handsome Lake longhouse, with the Good Message.
It was one of these councils that Alden attended, in 1818. Its “great object . . . was to revive the moral instructions formerly received from . . . Konnedieyu, the prophet, as he was called... Many speeches were made, in which the lessons inculcated by the prophet, were recounted, and their importance urged .. .” John Sky, a Tona- wanda chief, spoke for 3 hours, summing up with: “You must not do anything bad; you must not say anything bad; you must not think anything bad; for the Great Spirit knows your thoughts, as well as your words and actions. This is what the prophet taught us. You know it—and this is according to the word of God!” Alden saw a public confession; heard relation by one Kasiadestah of a typical dream; and a “preaching to repentance” . . . still the essential ingre- dients of a general “Six Nations Meeting” (Alden, 1827, pp. 53-62).
Friend Joseph Elkinton had to contend with “an old Prophet” at Allegany in 1825-27, who—in Handsome Lake tradition—said “a snake would go down the river and the water would not be fit to drink for a day” unless the people repented (Elkinton, MS., 1827, May 2 entry).
In 1838 there were two great prophets at Tonawanda and Buffalo Creek. “The former states that there are four angels which are an- nually sent to him by the great spirit . . .”; and so on, as though it were Handsome Lake himself speaking (Dearborn, 1904, pp. 55, 90-91).
Young Ely S. Parker—later U. S. Grant’s military secretary— wrote down and translated Jimmy Johnson’s October 2 and 3, 1845, Good Message recitals at Tonawanda (Parker, 1919, pp. 251-261). G. S. Riley of Rochester was with him, and described what they saw (Parker, 1916, pp. 126-132). Ely again made notes of Johnson at Tonawanda October 4, 5, and 6, 1848. These form the basis for Morgan’s account of Handsome Lake’s gospel (Morgan, 1851, pp. 233-259). Morgan followed Ely’s notes faithfully in reporting what Johnson said, but he departed widely from Ely’s glosses on it and its ceremonial accompaniment (Fenton, 1941, pp. 151-157). The cor- respondence between Morgan and Parker shows that if Morgan had listened more carefully to Ely he might have avoided the general criticism of his “League” made by Seneca who read it: “There’s nothing actually wrong in what he says, but it isn’t right either. He doesn’t really understand what he is talking about.”
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Any discussion of the Good Message with Seneca friends elicits the remark: “Everything else the Iroquois do is different from one community to another—sometimes even from one house to another. But Gai’wiio‘ is the same at all longhouses.” There is as much and as little truth in this as there is in, “Christianity is the same every- where.”
Fenton’s and Speck’s reports on the annual ceremonial cycles at the Coldspring and Newton Longhouses (within a few miles of one another) and at Canadian Sour Springs Cayuga exhibit the great diversities that obtain (Fenton, 1936 and 1941; Speck, 1949).
The inference in Parker’s statement (Parker, 1913, pp. 7-8) that a Coldspring Meeting of Cattaraugus chiefs settled “forever the words and form of the Good Message,” with a certain canonized text resulting therefrom is mistaken. There is no one text of the Good Message. Versions vary from preacher to preacher; from one long- house to another; and from time to time. Parker’s Good Message took 3 days for recitation. The common allotment now is 4; but at Sour Springs in 1949 the preacher found 5 necessary to complete his version, which contained material that the delegates there from Coldspring had never heard before.
Nor is it correct to suppose that the only legitimate inheritance of all the Good Message is through Owen Blacksnake to Johnson to Stevens to Edward Cornplanter (Parker, 1913, p. 19). The ver- sion now heard at Coldspring, from DeForest Abrams, came to DeForest from Oscar Crow, who learned it from Jackson Titus, who might have heard it from Handsome Lake himself. The language in which it is couched contains so much obsolete Seneca—“big, dic- tionary words,” they say—that DeForest himself doesn’t know ex- actly what some mean. When he appeared before the Sanhedrin of chiefs at Tonawanda to make his 4-day trial recital of the Good Message in September 1949, Chief Heenan Scrogg, the oldest Seneca “preacher” present, was appointed to judge its orthodoxy, since he had the best chance of understanding it. When DeForest finished, Chief Scrogg said that he didn’t get all of it, but in what he did he heard nothing wrong. So DeForest passed, and was qualified to preach the Good Message on the 10 longhouse circuit of “Six Nations Meetings.” *°
19 Good message followers think and speak of the Tonawanda Longhouse as gajus’ towanen, usually translated, ‘‘central fire.’ Literally, ‘‘big light,” ‘big brightness,’’ its application to the place is an extension of its specific use as a name for the strings of wampum lodged there.
The story is that Handsome Lake died at Onondaga possessed of these sirings; that they were returned to Tonawanda by his companions on his last trip.
This palladium of the Good Message is variously described. It seems to consist of about 30 strings and several large belts, The strings are combined into about 10 strands. On some the beads are of one color; on others, of several colors. The belts bear “pictures
100 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
Before this ordination he might recite only at Coldspring. Each longhouse has its staff of local preachers. For the local bienniel “Six Nations Meeting” attended by delegates from all the others, an out- side preacher must be called. Those eligible for such calls must have been accepted at Tonawanda in the manner described. Comparison of the various versions that have been recorded from time to time shows that the prophecy and biographical sections have been most expanded. There are changes in the personnel of Heaven and Hell, too. For in- stance, it was Farmers Brother whom Handsome Lake saw (as re- ported at Tonawanda in 1845) under the Dante-like sentence of per- petually attempting to remove a never diminishing pile of earth— punishment for his part in Indian land sales (Parker, 1919, p. 260).
or designs and lines around them. . .. No white man has ever seen or handled them, and none ever will as long as Gai’wiio‘ is alive,” writes a Seneca informant.
Theoretically, these strings are to be brought out for reading by one of the few who can do it, at each Tonawanda session which starts off the bienniel circuit of “Six Nations meetings.” Actually, they seldom appear.
In September 1949, a large crowd had gathered to see them on a Thursday afternoon. In the longhouse they spread a table with a clean white cloth to receive them. The delegation of chiefs repaired under bright skies to the house of the current bearer of the title, Ganiodai’io’, who is their custodian. By the time they had covered the distance a small cloud had appeared; so they returned without the strings. The prospect, then, that any individual may see and hear the strings is governed by the probability that there will be a perfectly cloudless sky at Tonawanda, N. Y., on a certain afternoon once every 2 years, and that he will be on hand for that occasion.
The strings may not be brought out on any but a clear day. One must think that the chiefs welcome even a little cloud, since they handle the strings at their peril. If a bead should be lost, or harmed in any way, the handler pays the penalty in continuing bad luck for himself and his family.
It is, however, easily possible to find Indians who have seen the strings and who are willing to give a physical description of them. To find one willing or able to give a reliable account of what the strings say when read has, to date, not been possible. Many reasons are given; and, as is usual with Indians, they are good ones, designed to save the face of the inquirer. Only one Seneca friend has come right out and said frankly, “There may be somebody with an evil mind that may try to get me for telling secrets I shouldn’t. Just like that Wm. Morgan and the Masons. Get my meaning, Brother.’
Gajiis’towaneh is not for white men—quite properly.
Tonawanda is, then, a Mecca for the Good Message, but each longhouse is a law unto itself when it is at home. It is only when interlonghouse recognition is involved that it must go to Tonawanda. It may have its ha-ta-’ha’ (‘a talker, speaker’’)—the “local preacher’’—whose doings and sayings need to satisfy only his own folk. But when ha-ta -’ha’ wants to become hai-wa: no’-ta (‘“‘a teller, a reciter’’) he must present himself at Tonawanda for the judgment of his equals, in the true tradition of the Iroquois council. The chiefs who head community moieties when they function for the Good Message purposes need the same confirmation at Tonawanda, if they obtain more than local recognition. At Tonawanda, too, the plans are made for ‘‘Six Nations meetings.” Conflicts are adjusted ; preachers are invited. It is a unifying influence, of course; but in the way that such “international” councils have always been, among the Six Nations.
The 1949 circuit schedule arranged at the Tonawanda meeting (September 24-30, 1949) was:
Caughnawaga, starting October 1 (Saturday). St. Regis, October 8.
Onondaga Castle, N. Y., October 15. Coldspring, October 22.
Canadian Onondaga, October 29.
Sour Springs Cayuga, November 5.
The 1950 schedule will be set at the initial Tonawanda meeting and will include Cat- taraugus in New York and Seneca, Lower Cayuga, and Oneidatown (sometimes called Munceytown) in Canada.
No. 5] RELIGION OF HANDSOME LAKE—DEARDORFF 101
Red Jacket is substituted for Farmers Brother in the Edward Corn- planter version (Parker, 1913, p. 68). DeForest now sticks closely to the text as he remembers it. He is coached in it and helped by his family and the Good Message “elders.” If he runs true to form, as he gets older and easier in the role of preacher he will add to or sub- tract from it. This is what Henry Redeye, Oscar Crow, Wesley White, Hiram Jacobs, and all the other preachers at Allegany did when they got old, they say.
We find the same diversity in doctrinal interpretation that has been noted in Good Message services and text. The Sour Springs Cayuga chiefs officially approved Speck’s statement of their creed (Speck, 1941). This form could have obtained no such approval at any other longhouse, very probably. For instance: The Cayuga seem com- pletely to have assimilated Jesus. They have equipped him with the origin legend, so necessary to establish his status, in “The Father- less Boy” story (Speck, 1949, pp. 3, 31, 127-129, 141). None of the longhouse folk at Coldspring who have read it has ever heard it. Jesus’ status there is very different; and differently based.
Perhaps widest doctrinal variation occurs in the practice and con- ception of confession—as much difference as there is between Holy Roller and Catholic. We should expect Catholic-rooted St. Regis to accent the element of satisfaction, absolution in a “sacrament” super- ficially so like the one they have known in church. At Coldspring the emphasis is on the pledge taken either privately or openly to quit the confessed sin “forever, as long as I live.” Some require shouting, in a camp-meeting style public rehearsal, from the penitent. Others frown severely on this and favor confession silently, by brief formula any time and anywhere. Any consideration of Iroquoian confession, then or now, that regards it as a single sacrament with universal en- tire function—therapeutic, penal, magic, or otherwise—must miss some of its meanings for various Iroquoians (Jackson, 1830 a, pp. 93-27; Morgan, 1851, pp. 170, 187-188; Myrtle, 1855, p. 49; Parker, 1913, pp. 28, 44, 45, 57, 69; Fenton, 1936, p. 16; 1941, pp. 152-155; La Barre, 1947, p. 807; Speck, 1949, pp. 51-53).
The adaptability of the Good Message was inherent. We can see this best reported in the case of what happened when it reached Oneida in the very early 1800’s. The Reverend Samuel Kirkland, long resident there, reports its impact on that heavily missioned com- munity. In 1799 Oneida saw its first White Dog Feast in 30 years. In 1798 a young Grand River Mohawk of high character had a vision in which he talked with “Thauloonghyauwangoo, which signifies Up- holder of the Skies or Heavens.” That principal figure in the old Iroquoian pantheon complained of neglect by all but the Seneca. His White Dog offering had been withheld; hence the wars, diseases, and
102 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
famines. The young Mohawk dreamer got immediate attention. Even Brant had to bow to public opinion and consent to a dog burn- ing, stipulating that it must not be considered anti-Christian.
When word of this reached old Blacksmith, the last surviving pagan chief at Oneida, he gathered the population willing to help and staged his feast, at about the same time Handsome Lake was having his first vision. Blacksmith’s participants were warned not to drink rum for 10 days “or they would pollute the sacrifice and informed his adherents that the eating of the flesh of the roasted dog in that ancient rite was a transaction equally sacred and solemn, with that, which the Christians call the Lord’s feast. The only difference is in the elements; the Christians use bread and wine, we use flesh and blood” (Kirkland, MS., 1800, February 23, 26, entries).
The first Indians to bring back word of Handsome Lake to Oneida were of the Christian party there. They insisted that Handsome Lake banned the White Dog Feast; gave absolution from sin after confession; taught that those who had the Bible must follow it, and that those who had been baptized must observe all its precepts or they would be lost; and they held their services on the Sabbath Day. Kirkland was quite flabbergasted at this new competition. He kept discreetly quiet; allowed the Good Message preachers to speak at his services . . . and waited to see what would happen (Kirkland, MS., 1806).
We know that Handsome Lake did not ban the White Dog Feast, but enjoined it on his followers; that he had no such Catholic con- ception of confession; he had the common Indian attitude toward the Bible: it is all right for the Whites, but if it were intended for Indians it would be so fixed that they could read it. We know, too, that for years the distinguishing mark of a “church Indian” on the Seneca reservations was the fact that he kept the Sabbath, while Good Message followers did not.
What happened was that when the Good Message party was forming at Oneida, it had to select from the local stock of ritual and belief what it could use. Its followers decided that their Prophet had got his knowledge from the same source as the Bible. Since they had to make inclination one way or the other, it was toward Christianity which they had known for a long time, rather than toward the recently imported paganism. There was nothing in Handsome Lake’s actual doctrine itself that prevented marshaling his authority behind their selection since, to him, things of this sort were accidental rather than fundamental.
What happened at Oneida is what always happens to the Good Message wherever it goes among Iroquoians.
The record bears out the early observation that Handsome Lake did little more than give a certain ethical content to the old Seneca beliefs,
No. 5] RELIGION OF HANDSOME LAKE—DEARDORFF 103
rather than the other position which seems to consider that he in- vented almost everything in present Iroquoian religious and moral practice (Wolf, 1919). It may be that the Strawberry Feast, now as important as New Year’s and the Green Corn Feast in the annual longhouse ceremonial cycle, was instituted by Handsome Lake when he awoke from his first vision (Parker, 1913, pp. 25-26). If so, this is just about the extent of what can be identified as a positive addition to practice prior to the Good Message; and the Strawberry Feast is in no essential wise different from important parts of New Year’s and the Green Corn Feast with which it rates (Fenton, 1936) .™
Handsome Lake addressed himself at first to the elimination of drinking and witchcraft and the abuses connected with and arising out of them. As he went along he took in more territory; but one cannot escape the fact that his home community had already recognized as evil everything that Handsome Lake originally condemned and had not only resolved to eradicate it, but had set up the machinery with which to do it. Charles Obeal and Strong, the two young men ap- pointed by Handsome Lake at the direction of the “four angels” to look after community morals, are, if not identical in person, the same as the two young men that Cornplanter told Henry Simmons the com- munity had decided to appoint for the same purpose, before Handsome Lake’s first vision. The immediate inspiration for these resolutions and actions was Quaker.
At first Handsome Lake opposed the Quakers at some points, but not for long. They valued him as an ally; and it was through them that he got his Government certification. They had come, as one of them put it, to “find out what good thing the /ndians wanted to do, and then to help them do it”; not to proselyte. Their own attitude toward good and bad, conscience, the Bible, and God Himself was not too unlike that of the Indians themselves. It was not long before Handsome Lake was making such accommodations as: It is all right to learn to farm in the white man’s way, but only that you may grow more to give away to the needy—not that you may have more to sell for profit; reading and writing are not good for Indians, but it is well that some of your children learn them so they may deal with the Whites for you.
Handsome Lake’s numerous sensible accommodations are the point at which he parts company with most other prophets of his race and kind. As a rule, they advocated a complete turning away from all things White, when they did not actively urge their forcible extermination.
When old John Sky said in 1818 that what Handsome Lake taught was simply : “Do no evil; speak no evil; think no evil,” he was reciting
u These three festivals are the only ones which, in current Coldspring practice, are preceded by full 4-day recitals of the Good Message and public confession.
104 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE ([B. A.B. Bull. 149
the universal, generalized moral code. When he added: “Yhe Great Spirit knows all you do and say and think,” he supplied the universal, generalized religious sanction therefor.
“This is what the prophet taught . . . this is according to the word of God,” confirmed the particular divine inspiration for Handsome Lake and his Good Message—a Prophet and a Gospel. “You know it” was the test. As Alden’s full account of this meeting shows, the accent was on “You.” Each one could look within himself for evi- dence of the validity of all this . . . the same test of truth that the young Quaker, Henry Simmons, and all of his successors had recom- mended “when Gai’ wiio‘ was new.”
Handsome Lake’s function seems to have been to select and prune a strong native stock and to encourage grafting good scions thereon, leaving each gardener to determine pretty much for himself what is “sood” since the “bad” will not survive anyhow. The Quakers had taught him how to do it.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
ALDEN, TIMOTHY.
1827. An account of sundry missions performed among the Senecas and
Munsees. New York. ANONYMOUS.
1805. A brief account of the proceedings of the committee appointed in the year 1795 by the yearly meeting of Friends of Pennsylvania, New Jersey, ete., for promoting the improvement and gradual civiliza- tion of the Indian natives. 45 pp. Philadelphia. Signed by Thomas Wistar, Clerk.
Bascock, Louis L.
1927. The War of 1812 on the Niagara frontier. Publ. Buffalo Hist. Soc.,
vol. 29, Buffalo. BEAUCHAMP, WILLIAM M.
1907. Civil, religious, and mourning councils and ceremonies of adoption of
the New York Indians. N. Y. State Mus., Bull. No. 113. Albany. CLARK, J. V. H.
1849. Onondaga; or reminiscences of earlier and later times. 2 vols.
Syracuse. DEAN, THOMAS.
1918. Journal of Thomas Dean: A voyage-to Indiana in 1817. Candee Dean, ed. Indiana Hist. Soe. Publ., vol. 6, No. 2, pp. 273-345. Indianap- olis.
DEARBORN, HENRY A. S.
1904. Journal of Henry A. S. Dearborn, at Buffalo Creek, 1838. Publ. Buffalo
Hist. Soe., vol. 7. Buffalo. DEARDORFF, MERLE H.
1941. The Cornplanter Grant in Warren County. Western Pa. Hist. Mag.,
vol. 24, No. 1. DoONALDSON, THOMAS. 1892. The Six Nations of New York. Extra Census Bulletin. Washington.
No. 5] RELIGION OF HANDSOME LAKE—DEARDORFF 105
FENTON, WILLIAM N. 1986. An outline of Seneca ceremonies at Coldspring Longhouse. Yale Univ. Publ. Anthrop. No. 9. New Haven. 1941. Tonawanda Longhouse ceremonies: Ninety years after Lewis Henry Morgan. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 128, Anthrop. Pap. No. 15. 1945. Place names and related activities of the Cornplanter Seneca. Penn- sylvania Archaeologist, Bull. Soc. Pa. Arch., vol. 15, Nos. 1, 2, 3. 1950. The Roll Call of the Iroquois chiefs: A study of a mnemonic cane from the Six Nations Reserve. Smithsonian Misc. Coll., vol. 111, No. 15. ForsytH, THOMAS. 1912. Letter to Genl. William Clark dated St. Louis, Dec. 23, 1812. In The Indian tribes of the Upper Mississippi Valley and region of the Great Lakes, by Emma H. Blair (2 vols.). Vol. 1, pp. 273-278. Cleveland. HAMILTON, KENNETH G. 1940. John Ettwein and the Moravian Church during the Revolutionary period. Bethlehem, Pa. Hazarp, SAm’L., Epttor. See Pennsylvania Archives. Hope, FREDERICK WEBB, EDITOR. 1907, 1910. Handbook of American Indians north of Mexico. Bur. Amer. Ethnol Bull. 30, 2 vols. (Part 1, 1907; part 2, 1910. Reprinted, 1918.) HULBERT, ARCHER B., and SCHWARZE, WILLIAM N., Eprirors. 1912. The diaries of Zeisberger relating to the first missions in the Ohio Basin. Ohio Arch. and Hist. Quart., vol. 21, No. 1. Columbus. Hyper, JABEz B. 1903. Narrative of Jabez B. Hyde [1820]. Publ. Buffalo Hist. Soc., vol. 6. Buffalo. JACKSON, HALLIDAY.
1830 a. Sketch of the manners, customs, religion, and government of the Seneca Indians in 1800. Philadelphia and New York.
1830 b. Civilization of the Indian natives; or a brief view of the friendly conduct of William Penn towards them... and a concise nar- ative of the proceedings of the yearly meetings of Friends, of Pennsylvania, New Jersey . . . since the year 1795, in promoting their improvement. Philadelphia and New York.
KETCHUM, WILLIAM. 1864-65. An authentic and comprehensive history of Buffalo. 2 vols. Buf- falo. La Barre, WESTON. 1947. Primitive psychotherapy in native American cultures: Peyotism and confession. Journ. Abnormal and Social Psychology, vol. 47, No. 3, pp. 301-307. MacLEAn, JOHN PATTERSON. 1908. Shaker Mission to the Shawnee Indians. Ohio Arch. and Hist. Soc. Publ., vol. 11, pp. 218-229. Columbus. MITCHELL, FRANK. 1949. The Mohawks in high steel. The New Yorker, Sept. 17, vol. 25, No. 30, pp. 38-52. MOooNeEY, JAMES. 1896. The Ghost-dance religion and the Sioux outbreak of 1890. 14th Ann. Rep. Bur. Ethnol., 1892-93. Pt. 2.
106 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.}§. Bull. 149
Mor@an, Lewis H. 1851. League of the Ho-de’-no-sau-nee or Iroquois. Rochester. 1878. Ancient society, or researches in the lines of human progress from savagery through barbarism to civilization. New York. Myrtle, MINNIE (PSEUD.). 1855. The Iroquois; or the bright side of Indian character. New York. PARKER, ARTHUR C. 1913. The code of Handsome Lake, the Seneca Prophet. N. Y. State Mus. Bull. No. 163. Albany. 1916. The constitution of the Five Nations; or the Iroquois book of the great law. N. Y. State Mus. Bull. No. 184. Albany. 1919. The life of General Ely S. Parker. Publ. Buffalo Hist. Soc., vol. 23. Buffalo. PENNSYLVANIA ARCHIVES. 1853. First Series, Volume 38. Sam’l Hazard, ed. Philadelphia. Proctor, Cot. THOMAS. 1876. Narrative of the journey of Col. Thomas Proctor to the Indians of the North-West, 1791. In Pa. Archives, 2d ser., vol. 4, pp. 551-622 P Harrisburg. (Repr. 1896, pp. 463-524.) SCHWEINITZ, EDMUND DE. 1871. Life and times of David Zeisberger. Philadelphia. SEAVER, JAMES HE. 1918. A narrative of the life of Mary Jemison, the white woman of the Genesee. (20th ed.) New York. SHARPLES, JOSHUA. 1848. Diary of Joshua Sharples [1798]. The Friend, Robert Smith, editor, vol. 31, in article headed “Friends and the Indians.” Philadelphia. SPECK, FRANK G. 1941. An ethnologist speaks for the pagan Indians. Crozer Quart., vol. 18, No. 3, pp. 218-218. 1949. Midwinter rites of the Cayuga Long House. Philadelphia. TURNER, O. 1849. Pioneer history of the Holland purchase of western New York. Buffalo. Wo tr, Morris. 1919. Iroquois religion and its relation to their morals. New York. ZEISBERGER, DAvip. See Huipert, ARCHER B., and ScHWaARZE, WILLIAM N., EpiTors ; also SCHWEINITZ, EDMUND DE.
MANUSCRIPTS
BALDWIN, WATERMAN. MS. 1791. Diaries and correspondence, and photostats of privately owned material in office of Chemung County Historian, Elmira, N. Y. BLACKSNAKE, GOVERNOR. MS. 1845-46. MSS. dictated to Benjamin Williams, an Indian, at request of Dr. Lyman C. Draper. Wis. Hist. Soc. Madison. (Draper MSS. 16F109-114.) MS. 1850. “Conversations” with Dr. Lyman C. Draper, at Cold Spring, N. Y. Wis. Hist. Soc. Madison. (Draper MSS. Coll.) ELKINTON, JOSEPH. MS. 1815-64. Journals (940 pp.) formerly at Tunesassa School, Quaker Bridge, N. Y. Eztracts publ. in The Friend, vols. 22, 23.
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INDIAN RECORDS. MS. 1668-1859. Two MS. volumes (506 pp.) formerly at Tunesassa School, Quaker Bridge, N. Y.; copies of material relating to Friends and Indians, from all sources. JACKSON, HALLIDAY. MS. 1800. Some account of my residence among the Indians (continued), | by Warner Jackson. Friends Hist. Lib. Swarthmore, Pa. MS. 1806. Some account of a visit paid to the Friends at Tunesassa and the Indians living on Allegany and Cataraugus Rivers .. . Friends Hist. Lib. Swarthmore, Pa. KIRKLAND, SAMUEL. MS. 1800. Journals. Hamilton College Lib. MS. 1806. Journals. Hamilton College Lib. PIERCE, JOHN. MS. 1798. Notes on a visit to the Seneca Nation of Indians, by Joshua Sharples and John Pierce, 1798. Friends Hist. Assoc. Lib. Philadelphia. Post, CHRISTIAN FREDERICK. MS. 1760. Journal to Passigachkunk. Friends Hist. Assoc. Lib. Phila- delphia. SHARPLES, JOSHUA. See PIERCE, JOHN. SIMMONS, HENRY, JR. MS. 1799. Henry Simmons, Jr., his book (2nd book). MS. owned by Mrs. J. Ross Ewing, West Grove, Pa. WRENSHALL, JOHN. MS. 1803. Autobiography of John Wrenshall. Hist. Soc. Western Pa., Methodist Coll. Pittsburgh.
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SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 149
Symposium on Local Diversity in Iroquois Culture
No. 6. Local Diversity in Iroquois Music and Dance
By GERTRUDE P. KURATH
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CONTENTS
PAGE BRUSIRIBEEDCLIONGE memes <4 2a ee oe a 3. lly pe Ble 3 Be 113 BpUraPenettiand (OIVErsityi s2h2 2.201 et | sh ee eh 114 USEC SST TIS BL a RM emp op, a SE 114 LER OCG go ee Ee Ai ce eR Med a 116 LAUNCESTON SOLE BURNER a emer? ED He 116 The Society of the Medicine Men and Mystic Animals.___-. 116 Wengh east. 6. hg eee Ld Mal oa Bete = tr ae LUZ LSTA Ses 12) Ces: ae ae Ney Se SO TENOR PRY eel eM eee aT So 118 ear yOANCC 2. oe ke eee See er a Seba Ree a 120 iapler Wane. 2 hoc f eo ane et ge ea ek on es eee eee 123 Great Heathers Dances. Jean acme ene a | ee he. oe Lee en aes 125 Kood-spirit and Stomp-Dances 2: bs22 00 ola Sec l bese 126 CormeDanee.2ce* uit tis pe he ed hd ae ee ae 126 SURO A) Ove BEV a 6 ame eee at BOP oe MC! Se Se NaN eM ANAL RD LDN 3 128 DISGTIOUTION 2 5220 eee eee ys ket oe Oe eo 2 aig ae ae 130 Modern embroidery on ancient patterns.___._.._.....-.__---- 131 Wromen’s-Shuflle Dance..2a Were tyres tes OV UA ee 132 Mish: Dance. 25 is eee sie bee 0s 133 Bere LOMIATG ANTOVALION 205 2S Lis ye sel a fa bee ht el a 134 Geographical separation and communication_______________-_-___- 135 PecrIRTIREPTE TAGS A dak Se ee 135 MISERIES II Sct ce tS Ok Ey pera Eee knee oe Lace a ee 136 U8 Eye TN (SS a aI, ae am ell ed Me Mah ae ee eas ae aR AB 137 Besrsnused am tlustration. -& 28 Uscil. AGO 2 el ws 137
ILLUSTRATIONS
FIGURES*
1. Dance of the Society of Medicine Men and Mystic Animals________-~_ 117 Pee Sete ANCes.2 LL leh ft ea Sn SS ie ae eae a hee 119 pm eriry Ane ss 6 de ok es I Oe eh es hd oh eet ee ed 121 Seems) 20 S41 Cw) EC OES le ala ke os I SO A Sk ek 124 pepcrent weather MUanee: <_< SRI ig 2 ee ee 125 ne OTT) ACOs see ee LS 8 a nae Seeds 2 ee REVO (O17/ PES LO LUND rT C Cette ees eS Te me RRC ST TaN by ENON ae Ee ee 128 Be onicos jnutne: Dance...” 220i e seen. Eee Soe Sk 132 C22 LENTSD 01 J BYE) aes SE ei Eee ee pe rene 133 UPR SON2USCRI Sie. ok. a. . a ee ee Oe ee 135
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LOCAL DIVERSITY IN IROQUOIS MUSIC AND DANCE By Gertroupe P. Korata
In Iroquois communities scattered from southern Ontario to north- ern New York State and northeastern Oklahoma, the exposure to modernization, electricity, and work at white man’s occupations con- tinues in varying degree. Allegany Seneca Reservation is bisected by a well-traveled highway; the secluded expanse of Six Nations Reserve is crisscrossed by a network of gravel roads. Yet intervening mileage and varying conditions have not severed intertribal bonds. Distance is mitigated by intermarriage and consequent visiting, and by permanent changes of residence. Delegates come from all longhouses to Six Nations meetings, which migrate from place to place during 2 months in the fall, as Deardorff has described (p. 100). Guest singers are invited to other longhouses to accompany Feather Dance, False- face Dance, and social dances, frequently from Lower Cayuga to Sour Springs (George and Joshua Buck and Avery Bill), sometimes between Six Nations and Allegany (Hubert Cusick, the wanderer). Other wanderers, like Cayuga Willie John, even uphold connections with the Oklahoma group, including the adjacent Iroquoian Cherokee, Algonquian, and Siouan groups.
What effect have these circumstances for diffusion and local develop- ment had on ceremonial forms? Have divergent local functions de- veloped? Do the dances and songs adhere to a uniform pattern or do they deviate? Can explanations be sought in religious and social conditions? The formulation of these questions and some answers is based on 2 years of field work, ceremonial participation, and intensive musical study among Allegany Seneca and at Sour Springs and Onon- daga Longhouses on Six Nations Reserve, Canada.
RITUAL FUNCTIONS
The religious functions are dependent on practical demands and historical factors. Functional obsolescence has everywhere shifted
1Some 80 recordings have been transcribed by the writer from Dr. Fenton’s series of 1933, 1941, and 1945, comprising for the Seneca medicine men’s ritual alone 100 songs on 6 records. Yet many recordings are not yet available for transcription, and some cycles have not been recorded at all. This gives an idea of the musical fecundity of the Iroquois.
113
114 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
war dances to cure, weather-control, or display. Yet everywhere the dream cult retains its ancient hold, and agricultural festivals persevere. They will continue as long as people are taken sick, or keep a plot of ground for gardening, or enjoy a sociable gathering.
At all longhouses, ancestral medicine rites are performed to cure specific ailments as prescribed by the diagnosing shaman, and they are held in the patient’s home or at the communal Midwinter Festi- vals. Regularly in the spring and fall the False-faces exorcise disease demons and the ’ohgi’we commemorates the dead. In the cycle of rhythmically recurrent seasonal ceremonies the chiefs at Six Nations Reserve direct the Midwinter and Thanksgiving Festivals to the Three Life-giving Sisters. These observances are not cast in an iron mold, but may blend into various combinations.? “Social dances” of ceremonial cast but sociable objective, which conclude many festal days and the days of preaching at the Six Nations meetings, consist of food-spirit dances performed for diversion, paired dances with animal and bird names, and several miscellaneous rounds.
A prevalent sequence of invocation, celebration, and thanksgiving ©
patterns the structure of 10-minute dances and week-long festivals. The chief constituents are the dancers and their accompanying songs. Each longhouse follows its traditional order of events. Each social occasion selects the dances on the spur of the moment. Locally the programs of spontaneous selections show a remarkable consistency. No matter what the variations, each new combination uses the age-old forms. Each celebrant, be he in his own longhouse or that of another tribe, immediately recognizes the forms and is completely at home.
HOMOGENEITY AND DIVERSITY
The celebrant of a dance feels so much at home because of the funda- mental unity of its ritual constituents and the accepted identification of each.
UNIFORM PATTERNS
Ground-Plan.—In fact, the preponderance of counterclockwise circling produces a superficial impression of sameness. Each dance is cumulative: a few leaders start circling a stove or the central singers’ bench, and numbers gradually swell. Between each of the 8 to 20 songs there is a brief silence with walk-around. With one exception, the participants in all rituals proceed in single file, though in a few social dances they pair into double file, namely, in the Pigeon, Duck, Alligator, and Shake-the-Bush Dances. Men and women can be vari- ously grouped. All rituals place men in the lead, except in female
2 For a ceremonial outline of Allegany and Tonawanda Longhouses, see Fenton (1936, 1941) ; for Sour Springs, see Speck (1949).
No. 5] MUSIC AND DANCE—KURATH 115
jdances, and trail the ladies in the wake. Asa rule food-spirit dances alternate the sexes and most social dances couple them. The so-called Fish-type lets partners change places in the middle of the song—a pat- tern which extends to several other social dances and a few rituals. Straight lines are peculiar to the former war dances and the now obsolete Devil Dance. False-faces and Husk-faces in general perform solo, even when in an organized aggregate, although the Thumbs-up Dance of the Seneca False-faces is paired. These instances are so ex- ceptional as to seem outside the pattern.
Steps.—Seven fundamental steps are built on the simple principle of placing one foot in front or to the side and bringing up the other: side or forward shuflle, called “stomp”; step-pat; Feather Dance type; women’s shuffle twist or enskanye step; Fish Dance type; and jump-
hop-kick. A particular step adheres to each dance or group of dances, as the forward shuffle to a large majority of stomp dances. Five social rounds use the intricate twisting Fish-type step. Any of these steps may be the subject of embellishment. Some may be accompanied by gestures, which are arbitrary in the Feather, Drum, Women’s, War, and False-face Dances; but pantomimic in the Tutelo Four Nights’ Dance.
Some cycles permit the use of several successive step-types. The ga’daSot stomp changes from a forward to a side shuffle. Feather Dance introduces the step-pat for introductions and slow passages. More important, compound rites demand a different pattern for each section. Thus both the Cayuga and Onondaga Death Feast consist of two contrasting dances, a slow forward shufile by the women, and later a lively sideward jump-hop-kick by both sexes.* In their complete rite the False-faces first cure with their grotesque jumps and gyrations; secondly, two of them pair with two matrons in a sparring jump-hop- kick; finally they instigate a communal round, the men with a step- thump and the women with the enskanye shufile.®
Song type.—Each ceremonial type is accompanied by a specific song type so expressive as to preclude any confusion. Iroquois music is distinguished from that of tribes to the West by a number of charac- teristics, such as a preference for five-tone scales, for tunes centered around a focal note, and for certain recurrent rhythmic motifs, such as a long and two short notes or the syncopation of a short, long, and short. But the range, motifs, phrase lengths, tempo, vocal quality, percussion accompaniment, and structure contrast the song cycles and
3 For the choreography of ga’d4S8ot and explanation of method, see Kurath (1950 a, pp. 120-123). Description of this dance and others is also included in Kurath (1949, 1950 b).
4For a comparative outline and analysis of the Death Feast, see Fenton and Kurath (this volume).
5 For a descripition of the False-face ritual, see Fenton (1941, pp. 426-428).
116 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.}B. Bull. 149
distinguish the confined shamans’ medicine songs from the far-flung modern Women’s Shuffle Dances (figs. 1 and 8), the emphatic, stac- cato Bear Dance songs from the sustained Corn Dance melodies (figs. 3 and 6), and the short-phrased traditional Women’s Dance Songs from the modern compositions (fig. 8). Antiphony occurs in about 20 percent of the cycles, some of it monotone, as in the Bear Dance (fig. 3), some of it melodic, as in the ga’dasot stomp (fig. 7c). In some of the Onondaga-Cayuga Bear songs the male dancers answer the singers on the bench. Usually the chorus answers the dance leader. Sometimes women sing, as in the Death Feast, the rite of women planters, and in the Shaking-the-Bush Dance. Usually song is a male prerogative in all of the tribes. |
Instrumentation serves entirely as a background to the singing, ex- cept for the whistle in the Little Water Medicine ritual and the six- hole flageolette used in courting songs. The shamans manipulate gourd rattles; the singers of Corn and several other dances shake cow- horn rattles as they lead the file. Special singers play a small water drum for the War Dance, a large one for the Death Feast, and they combine drum and rattle in the Dark Dance, Eagle Dance, Women’s Dance, and Fish Dance. They beat turtle-shell rattles in duple time for the False-faces, in iambic time for the Feather Dance.
DEVIATIONS
Deviations do not follow a set rule, yet to an extent they conform to the functional type. Thus the selected examples can be grouped according to rituals, Food-spirit and Stomp Dances, and Women’s and Fish Dances. ‘These examples are arranged in the same order and with the same numbering as the comparative illustrations. When advisable for comparative purposes, the choreographies and notations are reproduced in somewhat simplified form, and the melodies in oc- casional slight transposition. A key to the dance script can be found in Kurath (1950 a) and Kurath (this volume, p. 165).
RITUALS
The Society of the Medicine Men and Mystic Animals (Figure 1)
This celebration consists at Allegany of (1) Marching Songs, (2) Messengers’ Songs, (3) Throwing or Individual Songs, (4) Middle or Curing Songs, (5) Round Dance. The Canadian Onondaga version omits part 2.6 The round dance develops at all times from a seated to a standing position to a side-shuffling stamp. A masker dances with the sponsor, at Allegany on the fifteenth song from the end, at Onondaga on the eighth song from the end.
° Fenton, 1942, pp. 25-26 ; field notes on recordings, 1941 series.
No. 6] MUSIC AND DANCE—KURATH LZ
The samples of songs play on the same three notes in triplets and quadruplets, but each song in different combinations. Another re- current melodic type uses the triad. The two round dances in figure
1 (a@ and 6) are both sung five times, with a horizontal tremolo of
Medicine Oa
FIguRE 1.—Dance of the Society of the Medicine Men and Mystic Animals.
the rattle on the first and fourth repetitions and a vertical rhythmic beat on the second, third, and fifth. These two use burden syllables, though some of the songs express an idea. The third song (c), from the second part of the Seneca group of individual songs, uses the same rhythmic motifs as a and 6, but with a wider range; it uses the same rattle pattern but with four song repetitions and an insertion of the vibration during the first half of the fourth repeat. These individual songs are quite diversified. The form is here given along with the text. Sections with tremolo accompaniment are indicated by italics. (a) AA A AA x—yowine. gayo, ho’o’o’0; yowine, gayo, gayo ho’ ho. gwahe (final call). (Joseph Logan, Onondaga.) (6) A A A A A x—hayowaha, hayowaho; ho yohige-ge. yowige-gehe; gwahe. (Chancey J. John, Seneca.)
(c) AB AB A-B AB.—gagwego gendihi heniygg wadinyo’o. (Chancey J. John, Seneca.)
Everyone I know of all the wild animals. hai yo’ho wiyeh he he.
Throughout both cycles there run allusions to mystic animals— wolf, raven, own; to magic acts; to sharp points which are thrown; and to shamanistic contests. Yet no two texts coincide, of four ver- sions available for study from the Onondaga of Six Nations Reserve and the Seneca of Tonawanda, Cattaraugus, and Allegany. The burden syllables, too, are related but not identical.
In sum, the curative objective has since remote times evolved a clear-cut frame, but has not stereotyped details.
Death Feast
The rite of the Death Feast, which is enacted mostly by women, may be used for curing, and shows the same conformity and diversity as
118 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.3. Bull. 14
the men’s shamanistic rite: variable order of events, uniformity o step, flexibility within the song type. No examples are here included, nor a ritual outline; for these are analysed elsewhere in this volume. The report below is based on the Onondaga song version recorde by Fenton from Mr. and Mrs. Charlie Jamieson. <A study of photo- stats from Joe Williams’ Cayuga version, prepared by Dr. Marius Barbeau,’ shows individual interpretations even of the same begin- ning songs, and considerable difference of choice, order, and render- ing in later songs. Likewise, its sequel, Carry-out-the-Kettle, always opens with the same chant and repeats some of the same melodies in the three versions recorded by Fenton; yet the selections differ when sung by Joe Logan, Onondaga; James White, Onondaga; and Free- man Gibson, Seneca-Cayuga. The jump-kick can be varied. It does not interpret the song pattern of AAB AB, nor the drum tremolo in the opening and repetition.
The Death Feast songs combine their typically Iroquois features with a number of characteristics that are either uncommon or non- existent in other Iroquois cycles—the syncopated drumbeat, succes- sion of quarter notes, semitones, and pulsating phrase-endings. These features characterize certain songs of tribes coresident at Six Nations Reserve, namely, the Delaware Skin-beating Dance and the Tutelo Four Nights’ Dance and Spirit Adoption Ceremony. Per- sonal observations have been confirmed by Herzog’s transcriptions of Tutelo music (Speck and Herzog, 1942, pp. 91-108), notably the Four Nights’ Dance (Nos. 7 and 8) as to drum and quarter notes, the Spirit Adoption (Nos. 9, 11, 12, 18) as to quarter notes and pulsation, and Nos. 9 and 19 asto semitones. Again, many of the Tutelo scales could pass as Iroquoian, particularly those listed by Herzog under I and II (p. 107) ; and the Bean Dance songs recall Iroquois Corn Dance songs, especially the introductory chant and call (No. 20). This suggests musical interassimiliation in both directions during the two centuries of Tutelo coresidence, but conclusive proof is contingent on the record- ing and study of the complete Four Nights’ Dance and other cycles.
False-faces (Figure 2)
Fenton’s field notes on recordings show slight local differences in the order of events in this ritual: At Six Nations longhouses, (1) Marching Songs, (2). Wooden False-faces, (3) Thumbs-up pairing with matrons (not recorded), (4) Husk-faces, (5) Doorkeeper’s Round Dance; at Allegany, (1) Marching Songs, (2) Wooden False-faces, (3) Thumbs-up, (4) Round Dance, (5) Husk-faces. In addition to
™Recorded by Marius Barbeau in August 1949; transcribed by Margaret Sargent and Marius Barbeau.
No. 6] MUSIC AND DANCE—KURATH 119
his complete ceremony, the maskers can renew obligations at Mid- winter, on the day of medicine rites. This always opens at Sour Springs with the Doorkeeper’s Round Dance (at least, on the observed occasions), and features several masked dances for different sponsors. ]
Fiaure 2.—False-face Dance.
In the course of their exorcisms, the maskers emit unearthly groans and improvise crawls, distorted straddling jump-hops, and angular postures. They shake their turtle-shell rattles or knock them on the door or floor, in spasmodic reinforcement of the singer’s insistent hammering. The dissonant chants are not identical at Six Nations and Allegany; yet both descend from a play on a semitone interval to a reiterated monotone, a fourth below the highest note. Frequently the monotone is flattened. Each song can be repeated as often as de- sired and immediately connected with the next tune by a series of calls and an unbroken rattle-beat. The illustrations are drawn from the recordings by Chancey J. John of Allegany and by the Six Nations Cayuga, Joshua (Billy) Buck, whom the writer has heard at Sour Springs. Buck is a Seneca from Tonawanda Reservation, by an Onondaga-Tutelo father from Six Nations Reserve. His version is as eclectic as his heritage, for it includes New York Seneca songs as well as a collection from the several Canadian longhouses. The Sen-
120 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 14
eca texts identify certain Seneca songs. The False-face song 2a is Onondaga-Cayuga, the two round dances (figs. 2c and 2d) are Seneca. Buck’s first Doorkeeper’s song (2c) matches Chancey’s first Door- keeper song (2e) as to text; Buck’s fourth one (2d) matches 2e in the recurrent iambic rhythmic motif and curious relationship of voice and rattle-beat. These do not synchronize but run parallel in the approxi- mate ratio of four to three, except for the synchronization in part B of 2e.
Prototypes for these texts were sought in Jesse Cornplanter’s ver- sion, which is available in manuscript but not in recording. Similar- ities occur, but not identities. As might be expected, the patron masker, called the “great defender” shagodyoweh’gowa, receives re- peated appeals.
(a)x[: aba’b :] x—hoi; yaa’o gagonhsiyogowa. The great good mask. he’e he he’e’e, he’e hogonsayondii; hoi, hoi, hoi. (Buck, S N R.) has a smiling face. (b)@[: A A’ :] x—hoi; he’e dehaskayondye’a, he’e he dehaskayondy’a ; hoi, They (the False-faces) are coming in. hoi. (C. J. John, 8S.) (c) c AB AB x—hoi; sayonkiyadonyang sagodoyowehgowa’so’9 (Seneca) They stir us, the great False-faces. he’ he’e; hayohoo hayohoo, hahaa hayoho; he’e he; hoi. (Buck.) (d) xABB AB x—hoi; sagodyoweh hodigwenyo eyokiya’dageha’ False-faces they can help us. hayo ho’o he’e hee yo’oho ho; hoi. (Buck). (ce) « A A A x—oneh negi gsagoya’donyangg shagodyowehgowahane’, Now you our bodies stir, O great False-face. hai yoho haiyoho, hai hehe; hoi, hoi. (J. John.)
Texts of Jesse Cornplanter, Tonawanda Seneca.— oneh negi o’djogwaya ? de’ihene’ shagodjowehgowa’aha’ ; hai he he. Now it is our bodies move with rhythm, Great False-face. esagoya’? donyanoho shagodjowehgowaha "a ; haiyo’o, hai he’he. He will move her body about in the dance, the great False-face.
Bear Dance (Figure 3)
The Bear and Buffalo Societies can enact their propitiatory cures at special ceremonies or at Midwinter, just as the False-face Societies. On the latter occasion they may carry out the whole process of cure, or they may limit themselves to the communal round or “songs only.” The full sequence is:
Invocation by song and tobacco-offering to the bear spirit and treatment of the seated patient.
(I) Round Danee, first by the patient and conductors, later by the community. A waddling shuffle expresses ursine clumsiness, and the voices puff hoarse and abrupt phrases. The first dance songs of the Six Nations and Allegany cycles use the same rhythmic motifs and the
No. 6] MUSIC AND DANCE—KURATH 121
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Ficure 3.—Bear Dance: Left score, Onondaga-Cayuga; right score, Seneca.
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122 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B. A.B. Bull. 14
same scale (except for the lowest note in Logan’s song) ; but they effec different combinations. The texts also differ, Logan using words} Johnny John uttering nonsense syllables: (I) AAB AB A—whwejiag¢he (ga) niyonta’a’a:he’e ne’e’e wiyoho (Oa.). On earth ripened fruits (berries) are beautiful. AB B’ A—hayo hahiyo; hiyoho hahiyo hiyoho haiyo; hiyoho hahiyo hiyoho’o haiyoho hiyo; ii haiyen. (S.)
(II) After awhile the dancers grunt and blow, and commence to answer the singers or their leader antiphonally. The two examples illustrate a solo by the singer, followed by antiphony between the dancers. ‘The Seneca reiterate “hahiyo” on a single note, along with a steady forward waddle; the Onondaga and Cayuga echo “yohiyo; hiyo,” first with a forward stamp, then with a shift to a higher note and a sideward waddle, finally back to the original note and the forward shufile.
AA A’A’, Bx—yonehe, ponehe, gaya(howi) yo; yohiyo hiyo, ete. (Oa.). AAB ABB Cx—ganohiyo howane; yahi’ihi: hahiyo hiyo, ete. (S.)
(III) Pairing by members of the same sex, to distinctive songs with an alternately accented drumbeat:
AAB AB x—wehayonendi wehayonendi hayonene;
weheyonendi hayonendi hayonene. Hui.
Every second dancer faces about, thus taking a partner, men and women segregated. On part A alternate dancers thus stomp back- ward. During B all execute the “therapeutic” step, the jump-hop- kick, which terminates other curative rites. On repetition of the song, partners change places as in Fish Dance (fig. 9) and in B the jump- hop is resumed and emphasized by terminal stamping and thumping. This entire section is omitted at Allegany.
Joe Logan has adopted several Seneca songs from Seneca members of his longhouse. These can readily be identified by their texts. One of these is virtually identical with Chancey’s song 9, reproduced as Seneca III. The form and text are:
AAB AB x—ha’ ooneh jigwiiye’, e’e; hai yeh.
So now strip the bushes (of berries). A subtle yet significant melodic change in the Onondaga version is indicated in parentheses. Namely, during B the melody is built on the first, second, and fourth notes of the scale, instead of the original first, third, and fifth or minor triad. ‘This distinction holds good for the entire cycle. Whereas Logan does not use the triad at all, Chancey uses it in six songs, one of them illustrated as IT.
This triad scale predominates in the Cherokee songs of yona, the bear. These excerpts are from an aural transcription from Dave Lawsey’s singing at Qualla Reservation. Note the similarity of text C to Seneca IT, and the similarity of rhythm in C to Onondaga II A.
No. 6] MUSIC AND DANCE—KURATH 123
During the rise in the antiphony, the Cherokee dancers turn sideward like the Onondaga-Cayuga. During the entire dance they clomp in a counterclockwise circle, which finally winds into a spiral (see ground- plan). Men and women alternate in the line and cap the climax with the “bear hug” and other manifestations of obscene buffoonery. All ritual significance has faded in the process of Christianization (Gil- bert, 1943, pp. 257-268). Cherokee texts—x wi'ihi :— td) wihe wihe (antiphony) ; (B) hai da’e hahiya; (C) ganuhiya, ganyhiya;
The Iroquois Buffalo Dance progresses through a similar sequence, with a similar curtailment among the Seneca, but its shuffle moves sideward with bovine butting and bellowing. The Onondaga and Cayuga use no antiphony and the Seneca only a brief terminal re- sponse. Other details of a nonchoreographic and nonmusical nature differentiate these versions.
Eagle Dance (Figure 4)
The Dew Eagle, possibly related to the Central Algonquian thun- derbird, brings communal health to Iroquois Midwinter worshipers. Its excellence depends on the grace and skill of the four young men who line up in front of the singers. They lunge and tremble and shiver rattles and wands in extended arms, while the chanters vibrate the drum and horn rattle. Experts can pick up objects from the floor with their teeth. During the regular drumbeat (6) they hop across the room in a deep crouch and accompany the final drum flour- ish with a knee twist from side to side. Both drumbeat and ground plan vary somewhat, whereas some of the same songs are common to the Onondaga and Seneca. One of these similar songs is reproduced in figure 4:
A ABA B—{: hanigondg yohe :] : yohe haniggndg yohe’e’e’e.
Canadian and New York practices agree in essentials, in the mo- tions, in the spasmodic interruption by cane tapping, speech, and gift distribution (Fenton, 1942, pp. 29-30). The two distinct differences, of drumbeat and ground plan, are not blatant, yet suffice for a differ- ence of effect. The Onondaga and Cayuga advance in a single-line foursome toward the singers’ bench and then retreat. The Seneca of Allegany and Tonawanda form the corners of a square, as they face each other in pairs during part A. The hopping cross-over during B effects a swap of position with the opposite. A cross-over during the second B returns each dancer to his original position. Logan starts his drumbeat with an eighth-note flourish. Richard and Chancey J. John start with eighth notes, proceed with quarter
905645—51—_—_9
124 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
=: + ATL Taare = Eagle Dance
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Cayuga << =) ' { “| } ae —_——————_ *“ Seneca
——— os
Figure 4.—Hagle Dance.
notes, and end with eighths. The apparently insignificant substitu-_ tion of the initial eighth notes changes the pattern from a tapering | one to a symmetrical one. |
The Eagle Dance is included in the Sour Springs Midwinter medi- cine rites, but rarely, despite its attractiveness—perhaps once to five performances of Bear Dance. It is unique in longhouse choreog- raphy, without introducing any sense of clash or discord. These two factors, its rarity and uniqueness, lend support to historial the- ories of introduction from the Great Plains (Fenton, n. d.). The writer has not observed the Plains Calumet Dance, but is acquainted with the Fox-Winnebago Pipe Dance. A brief comparison may ex- plain the acceptance.®
The Fox Pipe Dance songs resemble some of the Eagle Dance songs both as to tonality and motifs; they consist of a chant with tremolo and a song with regular beat. These call forth a low dip and a hopping cross-over by two opposing dance contestants. The choreog- raphy differs from the Iroquoian by the smaller number of partici- pants, and by the variable nature of the steps—a sway or kneel rather than a lunge, a war-dance jump-hop rather than a crouching hop. The paraphernalia is the same, that is, a small gourd rattle in the right hand and a feathered wand in the left.
The Eagle Dance is not an utter stranger. The motions, it is true, have no other equivalent, but the longways formation has survived in
®*The Cherokee Eagle Dance will not be drawn into the discussion because of its differ- ences. See Gilbert (1943, pp. 257-268) and Mason (1944, pp. 175-179) ; Kurath, MS.
No. 6] MUSIC AND DANCE—KURATH 125
at least one dance, the wa’eno’e’, Strike-the-Stick, an ancient Iroquois war dance and present-day Sun Rite and Midwinter Cure Dance. Two lines of men and women, formerly only of men, dance erect in place, meet, recede, and cross over, then repeat all. This follows the AAB AB form of songs which otherwise do not closely resemble those of the Eagle Dance. The Seneca rendering by Henry Redeye con- tains a tonality related to that of the Eagle Dance 8 (see scales, fig. 10), except for the lower maintone in the former. In general, the Eagle Dance five-tone scales find many counterparts in other cycles, as the Onondaga Bear song III. The introductory chant to a tremolo is also a familiar device. Thus various pre-existent features encouraged adaptation.
The Seneca adaptation appears more closely modeled on the Fox type, being simply a duplication of the pairing. The Canadian ver- sion, on the other hand, stretches this out into a line, without the opposition of either Calumet or Strike-the-Stick. This Sun Rite is clearly not the prototype, but a contributing factor in acceptance. This acceptance is more complete among the Seneca and thus possibly prior to the Canadian borrowing.
Great Feather Dance (Figure 5)
The Feather and Drum Dances are not curative rites but return thanks to the Creator for all benefits. The Feather Dance occurs at every one of the seasonal festivals. Both cycles owe their kaleido- scope of movement to inspirations of the moment. The older men may adhere to the fundamental two-step brush, but younger leaders add extra heel bumps, raise their knees, pivot, sway, and whoop in ecstasy. Some wave their arms wing fashion, another charges in fencing style, still another saws sharply from side to side. The in-
J = Il2 - 160 Feather Oa
Ficure 5.—Great Feather Dance.
126 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
finite possibilities know no tribal bounds. Great dance personalities arise in every Iroquois community in each generation. Allegany Seneca Amos Johnny John and his son, Richard Johnny John, be- come as animated as Onondaga Bill Johnson or Cayuga Ezekiel Hill and Russell Johnson or Seneca Huron Miller or the late Chief Lyman Johnson of Tonawanda. The excitement is confined to the men, for the women inconspicuously glide sideward in the wake of their gyrat- ing warriors. Despite the circular progression, gesticulation places these two dances in a class by themselves. Historically, they prob- ably belong to the War Dance cycle.
Likewise, the chants are strongly differentiated from those of other cycles. They frequently use five-tone scales or monotone, but pre- dominantly focus thirds on a central note (see fig. 10). These they combine into rhapsodic units, which end on short-clipped breath- ing pauses or long sustained notes. James White’s voice quavers on these final notes; Chancey Johnny John’s and Hubert Cusick’s voices pulsate rhythmically. As further differentiation, the Onondaga songs emphasize the highest note (fifth of the scale) somewhat, whereas the Seneca version favors a frequency of low notes, on the first of the scale. The Onondaga-Cayuga cycle is further distinguished by the inclusion of “slow” songs where the turtle rattle holds a steady meas- ured beat. These incisive songs provide a respite from the break- neck speed. They recur in the same form in every Six Nations Feather Dance.
The two examples of typical fast songs show the originality within a family relationship and the flexible pattern of alternately duple and iambic rattle-beat. They always start with introductory cries which are answered by the singers and dancers, and they end with an echoing call (fig. 5, last line). Both texts express the same funda- mental idea in different words.
(a) x A A’ x—yoho: gahendiyonehe ahwejagwegoho deyaw¢hayendg. (James
White, Oa.)
Beautiful meadows all over the world bloom profusely.
(b) x A A’ x—yoh¢’dzage wadoni djohe’hgo; he; hehe. (Chancey J. John, §8.) On earth it grows our life (supporters) [food].
FOOD-SPIRIT AND STOMP DANCES
Corn Dance (Figure 6)
The corn spirit, together with her sisters, beans and squash, is hon- ored at food-spirit festivals and on the last night of Midwinter. The leader invokes her with vibrant chants, as he shakes a cow-horn rattle and stomps along the circular course. Cayuga men follow him ahead of the women. Each of the Onondaga women hooks her left arm in a male partner’s right, with the small fry in a single-file queue. On
MUSIC AND DANCE—KURATH 127
No. 6]
.
2
a
oC Oo oO
wy &
a. eet ondana
Bui,
+ v
. -
On
t
Cherokee
Figure 6.—Corn Dance.
128 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
the repetition of each song the Onondaga turn toward the center for a few measures. The Seneca men and women, in alternate array, follow a serpentine course when the leader is Albert Jones, the Chero- kee dance enthusiast.
Albert is the singer of the antiphonal chant in figure 6. To his “hoyowine” Chancey responds with a brief “weha.” A shorter ver- sion of this same tune has been recorded by Cayuga George Buck in his Corn Dance cycle and by Cayuga Willie John as an Oklahoma Stomp song (fig. 77). Willie John, of course, brought it from Okla- homa. George Buck learned the Corn Dance from Jesse Cornplanter of Tonawanda, originally from Cattaraugus. Chancey migrated from Cattaraugus to Allegany and taught the songs to his musical progeny. Despite the possible common origin, the Seneca and Cayuga-Onondaga repertoires are not exact replicas, beyond the introductory chant and a few key songs.
Stomp Dance (Figure 7)
The various features of the Corn Dance pertain to the large problem of the so-called Stomp Dance. This ambiguous term refers in the first place to a large class of dances which plod along a countersunwise course with a rapid, springy, stamping shufile, like the Bear and Corn Dances. Specifically it applies to an antiphonal follow-the-leader circuit called ga’da’Sot (S.) or ga’da’trot (C.) or ga’da’tseta (Oa.) This former Warriors’ Standing Quiver Dance (Fenton, 1942, pp. 30- 32) is now a ceremonial ice breaker and draws large numbers of men, women, and children into its ranks. At Sour Springs it usually segre- gates the sexes; at Onondaga and Allegany it alternates them, as in the Corn Dance. Its simple and insistent tramping calls forth even the most unskilled. Without any instrumental accompaniment, four
Cherokee Corn
a Okla. St. C.Corn J=108 A B im 3254
Figure 7.—Stomp Dances.
No. 6] MUSIC AND DANCE—KURATH 129
men start chugging around the fire, now a stove, and toss around monotone syllables— wiho, wii; weha, weha; hahe, hahe; ha’a’a, hahaa; haheya, haheya; HUI, hw. They emerge into the center of the longhouse and swing into ingenious melodic antiphony, with a rise in part B and a simultaneous side-shufile (fig. 7¢) (Kurath, 1949 and 1950 a). This pristine form swells steadily in numbers, excitement, and melodic complication. The vocal chorus works itself into whim- sical echoing. The sideward shift intensifies into staggering toward the center; at Sour Springs, into echoing counterrhythms of stamps, kicks, and jumps. Clowns stray into the center singly or cluster into threes and fours, till suddenly the leader calls a halt.
This nuclear form retains its simplicity in the food-spirit dances for the beans (Hand-in-Hand) and squash (Shake-the-Jug). But the core is molded into the varying patterns of the social stomp dances. The devices include:
(1) The meander already noted in the Corn, Cherokee, and Okla- homa Stomp Dances.
(2) The double file. The Pigeon, Shake-the-Bush, and Duck Dances pair members of the same sex; Alligator Dance couples them as in the Onondaga Corn Dance.
(3) Progressive pairing and cross-over during the song repetition. Garters or Knee-rattle and Shake-the-Bush Dances cross like Bear Dance III, whereas the Duck Dance joins the mens’ arms into arches for the ladies’ passage.
(4) Pivoting of the girl by the boy, during a wild cry. Only in the rarely performed Alligator Dance does the male thus lift the female clear of the ground. Formerly at Allegany the girl went on to the next boy, like the fickle woman in real life.
A century ago Morgan (1851, pp. 278-279) already observed these as well-established dances; he even labeled the Knee-rattle Dance as obsolete. He may have meant Alligator with his Passing Dance. Nevertheless, they do not enjoy the prestige of the food-spirit rounds and ga’da’Sot, and they are confined to social occasions. The Shake- the-Bush Dance is fairly common at Sour Springs, where it is usually embellished with the “therapeutic” step. The Alligator is rare in Sour Springs and taboo at Allegany. Aside from any possible “moral” objections, the significance of this nonmimetic dance is impaired by the total absence of alligators in the area.
This entire class is musically homogeneous, in the incomplete five- tone scales and typically Iroquoian rhythmic motifs; though each song has its own tempo and phrase development. Some but not all are antiphonal. Squash Dance songs always add a long terminal monotone response, and the Squash and Bean Dances attach a brief ga’da’Sot.
130 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149 Distribution
The stomp enjoys a wide dissemination. Formerly it prevailed among the Eastern Algonquian as well as the Iroquois. Recently it has spread like wildfire among Oklahoma tribes.
The Cherokee.—Two brief sojourns at Qualla Reservation provided the writer with the musical and choreographic fragments of Iroquois pattern. As sung by Dave Lawsey of Painttown, Bear Dance, or yona, starts with monotone antiphony and a shift of pitch and di- rection as at Six Nations (fig. 3). In the course of their counter- clockwise waddle, the alternating men and women claw the air like bears. They end up in a tight spiral.
According to Carl Standing Deer (Awigadoga’), the mixed Friendship Stomp and men’s Ballgame Conjuring Dance start off with monotone responses of hohe, hohe; hoheho, hoheho; hohoya, hohoya; anali’, isa’. The Stomp, or dilsti, resembles ga’da’Sot in the melodic themes, shift of pitch and sideturn, and general climactic development. In addition, the chorus plays follow-the-leader with the first dancer’s improvisatory gestures. During his statement, he raises his arms, points, or puts his hand to his ear; during the chorus, the whole line imitates him. He feints postures and leads the group astray by a change of direction, he dictates pairing and cross-overs, he winds and unwinds spirals and meanders, and finally he calls out, — “stiyu (dance hard) ,” for a grand finish of double-time stomping and low-crouched kicks.
Some of the dances are in double file. As at Onondaga Longhouse, the women dance parallel to their partners in the Corn Dance (Selu dilskusti). But they cross to the inside of the circle on repetition of the song and enact the sowing of corn and the hoeing. Their tortoise- shell knee-rattles keep time with the special singer’s gourd rattle and his chant on the three basic triad notes of the scale (fig. 7a). Com- monly the circling ends in meanders, like those of the Stomp, Snake, and Ant Dances. The Pigeon and Quail Dances divide their double circle into two diverging and merging smaller circles. This figure has not been found in surviving dances of the northern Iroquois (Mason, 1944, pp. 163 and 173-175).
Eastern tribes —The Penobscot Leading Dance combined the shuffle with antiphony, and multiplied the double line into foursomes and intermittent cross-overs (Speck, 1940, pp. 165 and 275, 277-288). The Snake Dance, yane’ha, wove a serpentine path. Creek and Yuchi songs show a greater prevalence of antiphony than do the Iroquois (Speck, 1909, pp. 63 ff.; 1911, pp. 126 ff. and 162 ff.). The choreog- raphies do not seem to correspond exactly to those of the longhouse. Alligators are, for instance, represented by a realistic wobble, similar
® See Mason (1944, pp. 169-173) for a lively description.
No. 6] MUSIC AND DANCE—KURATH 131
to that of the Seminole. But snake enactments are always serpentine, down to the Everglades. And prancing men echo their leader from Maine to Florida.’°
Oklahoma tribes—The Eastern Stomp has been wholeheartedly accepted by the Delaware (Speck, 1937, pp. 26, 96), Shawnee (Voege- lin, 1942, p. 468), Osage, Comanche, Sauk and Fox, and has spread to the Fox of Iowa and their Winnebago friends in Wisconsin. The delightful Fox Snake Dance is modeled on the Cherokee dilsti: the chorus answers the leader with whimsical calls and gestures, and follow him in all sorts of spirals and meanders. In Oklahoma the tortoise-shell knee rattle still jingles under the skirts of the leading women, or else it has been replaced by hoofs of small milk tins."
In this dissemination, did the longhouse receive or lend? The answer demands a summary of shared and extraneous features. Com- mon elements are antiphony, the step, the counterclockwise communal round, usually in single, sometimes in double file, the cross-over. Cherokee antiphonal gestures have carried over to the Western tribes but not to the longhouse. The meander is prevalent in the western Stomp and Snake Dances, but among the Iroquois it is confined to the frankly introduced Cherokee and Oklahoma Stomps and to the Corn Dance of the southerly located Allegany Seneca. The therapeutic step of Six Nations Reserve has not been noted among the Cherokee; it differs from the stiyu kick.
In view of the nuclear position of the stomp-type dance among the Iroquois, it would be as reasonable to assume that the Cherokee bor- rowed this form and added postures, as that the Iroquois borrowed it and omitted the gestures. Though we may here have a complete absorption from “way back,” a blend of southern antiphony and the ancient ritual type, it is more likely that the Iroquois shared these features with the great Eastern Woodlands area and developed their own variations, minus postures and meanders. ‘The intrinsic rela- tionship facilitated the acceptance of this natural convolution of the single line into the Allegany Corn Dance. And as to the Corn Dance song in the Oklahoma Stomp Dance, here we evidently have a gift from the Seneca of Cowskin Reservation to the eclectic array of melo- dies, as in the spiral we have a gift from the Cherokee.
MODERN EMBROIDERY ON ANCIENT PATTERNS
Whereas the stomp-type dance encourages inventiveness only in step improvisations, the Women’s Shufflle Dance and Fish Dance types allow melodic creativeness. ‘The old type is modeled on ancient patterns in ever new combinations; the modern type combines daring with a traditional core.
"4 Seminoles at the Cherokee school have taught some of their songs to Qualla natives.
Incidentally, the Seminoles at one time had an Alligator Dance. 11 Kurath, 1950 b, article on rattles, dance; see also Voegelin (1942, p. 468).
£52 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
Women’s Shuffle Dance (Figure 8)
Women represent corn on all ritual and social occasions. They dedicate their special dance to this spirit, symbolically in the Great Shuffle Dance (enskanye goowa) and in the Oldtime Women’s Dance (enskanye gainggai’yoka’), playfully in the modern type. They twist their feet in the same saw-foot sideward progression, without achieving uniformity. Inexpert dancers jumble the foot-twinings. Experts embellish them with demure arm swings and hand twists. In these variations they do not heed the elaborate interplay of voice and percussion.
J=96=112 eskdnye-old-S-C. i D, >
Figure 8.—Women’s Shuffle Dance.
For all Women’s Shuffle Dances, six to eight singers plus several small boys sit face to face on two benches (Fenton, 1942, pp. 33-34). They invariably start on the highest note and maintain a strident “throwing” of the voice. The drummer always states the theme and the chorus takes it up, repeating each song and gradually accelerating till the final cry. In the old type the form varies from AAA’A’ to various combinations of AABAB. The drum plays an accented double beat from beginnig toend. At times Joe Williams starts with an introductory tremolo. In the new type, the fundamental AABAB form is elaborated by subthemes. Voices and sound effects combine by the following formula:
Figure 8c:
Aab—soloist ; even drum, rattle, and heel bumping. a—chorus; drum and rattle tremolo, even heel bumping.
b Bcb—chorus; even instrumental beat.
Aa—chorus; drum and rattle tremolo, even heel bumping. b Beb—chorus; uniform instrumental beat.
Both ritual types follow similar precepts of scale and motif limita- tions (figs. 8a and 8b). The Great Shuffle Dance is distinguished by introductory songs tothe corn. Chancey Johnny John precedes his 17 dance songs with 14 such chants for men and later for mixed voices.
No. 6] MUSIC AND DANCE—KURATH 133
Willie John of Sour Springs has taken some of these dance songs into his old-time cycle (fig. 8a). But as a rule the extensive repertoire shows few repeats, even in the 12 available recordings. Each produc- tive singer produces new ones and teaches them during practice ses- sions in private homes and at Six Nations meetings. Though each artist prefers bis own inventions, James White of Onondaga Long- house has recorded songs composed by Chief David Jack of Six Na- tions Reserve and disseminated them in the Canadian longhouses, Allegany, and Cattaraugus.”
Except for corn references in the ritual introductions, the texts are burden syllables, with interpolated meaningful words.
Figure 8: a. AABBx—we’e yoging, we’e yoging; weha’yoging yoho. (C. J. John, S.) b. (Not reproduced in entirety)—heyagoni; heyahewe; yoha yohayo ha’ahege; yoho. (Willie John, C.)
c.x Aab Aab Bcb Aab Bcb x—heya yo’o; gwaiwanegen wase”’; Brand New;
heyadesontas gagongwedasee’; ga’ enawiya’;
So pay attention young Girls (and enjoy it) ;
heya he hai heho; heho heho noheho; heya hai. (Johua and George Buck, C.)
Fish Dance (Figure 9)
”
This important social couple dance has extended its popularity to inclusion in the Midwinter medicine rites. It differs from enskanye in function and ground plan, but resembles it in structure, percussive
Figure 9.—Fish Dance.
pattern, and relation of old to new types. The two samples from the huge repertoires use burden syllables:
Figure 9: a. AABABx—wenoyanee weno’oyane wengyane; wengyane yo’o wenoyaye; henoyane wenoyane; yo’ho. (George Buck and Ed Styres, C.) b. AAB ABx—wenoye heya; wengye’e’heya; we gayowe heya; wenoye heya; wengye’e’ heya; gayowe wenoye; heya ho. (Buck and Styres. )
22 Announcement on recording.
134 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
Fish Dance songs strike a golden mean in the less conservative old type and less rhapsodic modern scales than found in enskanye. A table for both cycles can best isolate the innovations and point the conformities. The compositions suggest Sioux models, but they also have prototypes in the individual songs of three Iroquois ceremonies, the archaic chants of the Women’s Society of Planters, the less con- servative men’s thanksgiving chants, and the individual songs of the shamans’ curing rite. Chancey’s curing solo (1¢e) plunges down 12 notes of the scale, yet preserves the core of the archaic scale and sequen- tially repeats one simple theme. The scales on figure 10 link this ceremonial composition with the bold sociable enskanye of today.
Drum Theme Song Range | Tempo and Phrase Form Contour of Development voice A and B Fig. 8a__..- 5+3 96-112 | Differ___| 4 beats AABB Level. .._- Same..-_._- Reversal. Fig. 85....- 5 92-108 | Same____ 4 AABB Level_____ Same______ Repeat. Big: 8¢22--- 11 120-108 | Differ___ 9-13 |} AABAB | Steep de- | New-_-_---- Sequence, : scent. rhapsodic, coda. Fig. 9a_-..- 8 80-126 | Same-_-_- 6| AABAB Moderate Same-_.___ Extension. escent. Migs. Obes: 11 80-126 | Same_--- 6} AABAB | Descent__.}| Same_-__-_- Curtailment. Rig. Sones 12 80 | Same___- 4 [|:AB:] Descent...}| Same----__ Sequence.
TRADITION AND INNOVATION
Modern artists are continually modifying their heritage. Joe Logan has remodeled his borrowed Seneca songs; George Buck and Albert Jones have each varied the accepted Corn Dance songs; numerous musicians are developing a contemporary style. Albert Jones and Willie John have introduced new dance plots. Creative personality finds expression in song interpretation and vocal quality, and in the ever new combinations of fundamental steps.
Unless time has changed the Iroquois attitude, such ingenuity has always been operative in the evolution of song forms, in the metamor- phosis of simple motifs into more complicated structures. The single rhythmic song motif of the medicine rite had combined with sub- sidiary themes into the binary and ternary structures of the stomp type and into the long, ingenious phrases of the new enskanye. Out of the basic three notes of the ancient rites, insertions and additions formed five-tone scales and finally developed the comprehensive modern scales (fig. 10).
Similarly, the most conspicuous choreographic digressions have been introduced by adventurous individuals, but have been accepted by the community because they fitted into the traditional patterns. This certainly accounts for the introduction of the Cherokee and Oklahoma rounds, and probably explains the various versions of the Eagle Dance.
No. 6] MUSIC AND DANCE—KURATH 135
Figure 10.—Song scales. In fourth scale, the whole note is sustained.
Explanation : The note-values do not refer to the rhythms of each song. They represent tone weighting, that is, the relative frequency and importance of each note. The main tone (tonic) is represented by a whole note, the next important note (of, say, eight repetitions) is written as a half-note, and the next note or notes (of, say, four repeti- tions) as a quarter note, and so on. The final note, shown by a hold, is frequently but not always identical with the main tone. Hven in this simplified form, weighted scales are useful in showing range, focus, and scale construction. For instance, they show the homogeneity of the stomp type, 6 and 7. (See also Speck and Herzog, 1942, pp. 90, 107-108.)
GEOGRAPHICAL SEPARATION AND COMMUNICATION
Longhouse separations have molded such changes into local styles. The distinctions have subtle reasons, such as vocal quality, the shift- ing of one note in the scale (fig. 3), or variations in tone weighing (figs. 1-5). However, constant intercommunication has taken dance songs on long trips. Proximity at Six Nations Reserve has drawn together the longhouses of the different tribes into a constant inter- change of artists and ceremonial leaders, into a gradual unification of practice, and even into introductions from their Algonquian neighbors. Recently improved transportation facilities are encour- aging song dissemination and are leveling differences between distant longhouses.
COMMUNAL RITUAL
Whatever the means of innovation and introduction, these con- tributions are never haphazard. However spontaneous the sequence of events and the details of execution, they follow in unhurried order within the ancient frame of each ceremonial. Participation is open
136 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B. A. E. Bull. 149
to all; yet the planning and conducting is in the hands of a chosen group of male and female officials, the hono’ndiont.* Distinction is determined by ability. Any gifted musician may be called upon as accompanist, according to his repertoire. Any gifted dancer can display his virtuosity. Yet never will the most erratic genius invent a tune or a step that is out of place. Never will the community adopt a pattern that clashes with the native pattern, such as the Siouan clockwise circle * or the white man’s squares. The conservative yet democratic ritual system frames adoptions and inventions.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
FENTON, WILLIAM N. 1936. An outline of Seneca ceremonies at Coldspring Longhouse. Yale Univ. Publ. in Anthrop., No. 9. 1940. Masked medicine societies of the Iroquois. Ann. Rep. Smithsonian Inst. for 1940, pp. 397-429. 1941. Tonawanda Longhouse ceremonies: Ninety years after Lewis Henry Morgan. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull. 128, Anthrop. Pap., No. 15. 1942. Songs from the Iroquois Longhouse: Program notes for an album of American Indian music from the eastern woodlands. Smith- sonian Inst. Publ. 3691. 1948. Seneca songs from Coldspring Lorghouse. Library of Congress Music Division, Recording Laboratory (Program Notes to) Album 17. n. d. The Seneca Hagle Dance. (MS., Dissertation Yale Univ., 1937.) GILBERT, WILLIAM H. 1943. The Eastern Cherokee. Bur. Amer. Hthnol. Bull. 133, Anthrop. Pap., No. 23, pp. 169-418. KURATH, GERTRUDE P. 1949. Dance terms in Dictionary of Folklore, Mythology, and Legend. Vol. 1. Maria Leach, ed. New York. 1950 a. A new method in dance notation. Amer. Anthrop., vol. 52, No. 1, pp. 120-123. 1950 b. Dance terms in Dictionary of Folklore. Vol. 2. Maria Leach, ed. New York. MASsoN, BERNARD S. 1944. Dances and stories of the American Indian. New York. Morean, Lewis H. 1901. The League of the Hode’nosaunee, or Iroquois. 1 vol., H. M. Lloyd, ed. (1st ed., 1851.) New York. SPECK, FRANK G. 1909. Ethnology of the Yuchi Indians. Univ. Mus., Univ. Pa., Anthrop. Publ., vol. 1, pp. 1-154. Phidadelphia. 1911. Ceremonial songs of the Creek and Yuchi Indians. Univ. Pa., An- throp. Publ. Mus., vol. 1, pp. 155-245. 1987. Oklahoma Delaware ceremonies, feasts, and dances. Mem. Amer. Phil. Soc., No. 7. Philadelphia. 1940. Penobscot Man. Univ. Pa. Press. Philadelphia. 1949. Midwinter rites of the Cayuga Long House. Univ. Pa. Press. Phila- delphia.
13 For an example, see Death Feast, this volume. 44 Kurath, 1950 b, round dances.
No. 6] MUSIC AND DANCE—KURATH lat
SPECK, Frank G., and Hrerzoa, Grorae. 1942. The Tutelo spirit adoption ceremony. Pennsylvania Hist. Comm. Harrisburg. VOEGELIN, ERMINIE W. 1942. Shawnee musical instruments. Amer. Anthrop., vol. 44, No. 3, pp. 462-475. RECORDS FENTON, WILLIAM N. 1942. Songs from the Iroquois Longhouse. Folk musie of the United States, Album VI. Library of Congress. 1948. Seneca songs from Coldspring Longhouse. Folk music of the United States, Album XVII. Library of Congress.
SONGS USED IN ILLUSTRATION
Figure 1: a—L. C., 1941, 837A, song 23 (see I. L., 2B). b—L. C., 1941, 544A, song 32. c—L. C., 1941, 51B, song 7. Figure 2: a—L. C., 1941, 10A, dance 3 (see I. L., 3A, dance 3; c, d—10B, 1, 4). b—L. C., 1941, 42A, song 3; e—42A, 9. Figure 3: a—L. C., 1941, 24B-25B, songs 4, 10, 14. t—L. C., 1941, 48B, songs 3, 9, 11 (see C. L. 5A). Figure 4: Oa.—L. C., 1941, 24A, song 15 (see I. L., 4B). S.—L. C., 1941, 56B, song 12. Figure 5: a—.. C., 1945, 54, song 12. b—L. C., 1941, 40B, song 19 (see I. L., 1A). Figure 6—L. C., 1945, 25B, 2 (S.) ; similar to L. C., 1941, 16B, song 2, I. L., 3B, 2. Figure 7: a—Recorded by ear. b—Recorded by ear. c—L. C., 1941, 8B, song 3 (see I. L., 5B, 3). d and e—.. C., 1945, 22B, songs 3 and 4. Figure 8: a—L. C., 1941, 44B, Songs 21 and 23. b—L. C., 1945, 21B, song 2; similar to 1941, 44B, song 24. Figure 9: a—L. C., 1945, 183A, song 2. b—L. C., 1945, 12A, song 2.
145 Numbers refer to private and published collections. L. C.=Library of Congress ; I. L.=Songs from Iroquois Longhouse; C. L.=Seneca songs from Coldspring Longhouse ; Oa.= Onondaga ; S.=Seneca.
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
Bureau of American Ethnology
Bulletin 149
Symposium on Local Diversity in Iroquois Culture
No. 7. The Feast of the Dead, or Ghost Dance at Six Nations
Reserve, Canada
By WILLIAM N. FENTON and GERTRUDE P. KURATH
139
905645—51——_10
CONTENTS
PAGE PGE PRENIC OM aes eee to Mee Bee Eee ee bal oh eelattl O Re el ey ee 143 ihe present communal Memorial Feast. ..........-..~2-.-.<<.4-5--- 144 ’Ohgi’we at Onondaga Longhouse, Six Nations Reserve_.______------ 145 ibs or) AS ORE Rae YP Eee ek ee pp TEAR bree OX fy tty ae 147 BIS PeRCOL EIN OTN). sce 8 a eA ae ee eee 2 ae 147 ’Ohgi’we at Sour Springs Cayuga Longhouse__________________---- 153 POSES CEC TITOT Yio 2 2 eS ee ee I ae, ne ge ee 153 Belietscconcerning the Dead Béast®- = oe ee ee ee eee 160 Story of the lady who lived on Vth Concession Road_______________ 161 Story of the young man who went out every night________________- 162 incoionalsimterrelavions =. 5222 cues = cee oo Bee ee ae 163 NEPA LOTICT OIE eee as S08 sa Th eh ae 165 Explanation of symbols used in figures._....-..-...-=----21--2__-____ 165 ILLUSTRATIONS FIGURES
itOnondaga Longhouse and .cookhouse:—_..—_._. 25-22 nk 149
12. Position of officials at distribution of goods of ’Ohgi’we at Onondaga One HOUSC = ooo 2 noe eee oe pe ee eee ee ee 151 Hose Ohrizwe first introductory chant for mene. 22] es eee ee 154 14 Ohgizwe sixth introductory chant for men=—- ees eee 154 15. ’Ohgi’we first dance song for men and women_____________________- 155 16. ’Ohgi’we song number 50, for men and women_______________________ 156 17. ’Ohgi’we at Sour Springs Cayuga Longhouse, dance pattern to song 538... 157 18. ’Ohgi’we third coucluding song, number 66, for men and wonen----- 157 19. ’Ohgi’we final song, number 68, for men, with women’s shufflle step____. 158 20. Carry-out-the-Kettle, dance pattern and last song, number 10________ 159 ad Sone seales and rhythmic moisten ee a4 2) ee 161
THE FEAST OF THE DEAD, OR GHOST DANCE, AT SIX NATIONS RESERVE, CANADA?
By Wiuui1Am N. Fenton and Gerrrupe P. Kuratu
INTRODUCTION
The modern Iroquois still placate their dead with semiannual feasts which in their ritual content and form are lineally descended from the great Feast of the Dead as it was witnessed in ancient Huronia by Champlain, Sagard, and Brébeuf during the third and fourth decades of the seventeenth century (Kinietz, 1940, 99-120). ‘To the ethnol- ogist who has observed the modern ceremony and read the descriptions of the great Huron feast the genetic connection is inescapable. Having observed the ceremony among the Seneca of western New York, Fen- ton took a detailed account of the feast on the morning after from his Cayuga interpreter, Howard Skye. Within a few days, Skye and Fenton visited the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto, where, with Kenneth Kidd’s aid, Brébeuf’s Relation for 1636 describing the Huron Dead Feast was read to Skye. For two of the Huron terms, as reported by Brébeuf, Skye was able to give Onondaga equivalents or analogues: the Huron seldom referred to the solemn Feast of the Dead except by the euphemism “the Kettle,” or “the Great Kettle”; ganajaitgo-wah, “big kettle,” was Skye’s immediate response. “Those called Atheonde, who take care of the graves . . . ” suggested oyide’, “pit” or “ossuary,” and while this is not the term for the men who now assist the women, who are called hanehhwa’, “the skin,” they do perform analagous functions. Skye, however, was not the first to make the historic connection.
The late Simeon Gibson derived both the modern Feast of the Dead and the Condolence Council, by which candidates are elevated to chief- ship in the places of the dead founders of the League, from the ancient Huron feast (Fenton, 1944). Gibson knew that when the Cayuga removed from Echo Place, which is east of modern Brantford on the Grand River, to the present Six Nations Reserve, a large Feast of the Dead was held all night in the old longhouse to inform the dead whose bones lay in the adjacent cemetery that the band was leaving.
1The field work of both authors was supported by grants from the Viking Fund, Inc., of New York City.
143
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The same thing happened when the Onondaga removed from Middle- port, north of the river, south to the present site of Onondaga Long- house near MacKenzie Creek. Similarly, when the chiefs come over the road chanting the Eulogy to the dead chiefs and reciting the Roll Call of the Founders of the League on their way to condole the relatives of the late chief and raise up his successor in office, it is said that they symbolically carry the bones of the dead chief on their backs as if they brought him back from a distant field, removing him for burial to the cemetery behind the new council house.
Preoccupation with the dead permeates other aspects of Iroquois culture. Not only as in the following accounts do the dead manifest themselves to the living, but Iroquois mythology contains some beau- tiful myths of other-world journeys (Fenton, 1947, p. 394; Thomp- son, 1929, p. xxii).
Although the Feast of the Dead is a constantly recurring feature in the annual cycle of Iroquois ceremonies, and is celebrated in some form in all conservative Iroquois communities, it is rarely attended by Whites. Fenton was invited to several celebrations of the half- night variety given by Seneca families for the living and the dead, usually in response to someone’s dream, or to cure sickness; but he has never witnessed the huge all-night celebration held in the long- house, although one occurred at Tonawanda during his residence there in the United States Indian Service (1935-37). But there are abun- dant accounts by informants, and the songs are frequently rehearsed and have been recorded.
But Canada is the place to study the Feast of the Dead. In connec- tion with a study of the Tutelo Spirit Adoption Ceremony, Speck attended the all-night Feast of the Dead at Lower Cayuga Longhouse, and his recent book on the Sour Springs cycle contains a synoptic account (Speck, 1942; 1949, pp. 120-122, 166). The present article is entirely original, for it is based on the authors’ own research and observation; it publishes the detailed description by Howard Syke of a 1945 celebration at Onondaga Longhouse, followed by the observa- tion of Gertrude Kurath, who attended the memorial feast at Sour Springs Longhouse on April 24, 1949. To fortify and clarify her observations, Kurath went over the ceremony in detail with Speck’s informant, Chief Alexander General (Deskaheh), who contributed stories of ghost beliefs. She alone of all the observers could describe the ceremony choreographically. And she has coupled observations to the transcription and analysis of the music taken from Fenton’s records.
THE PRESENT COMMUNAL MEMORIAL FEAST
Time, duration, and purpose.—The Iroquois who follow the Long- house way believe that although the main soul goes the long trail to
No. 7] FEAST OF THE DEAD—-FENTON AND KURATH 145
the land of the dead beyond the setting sun, the ghost spirit hangs around the reserves. Ghosts which continue to circulate among the living must receive periodic propitiation in the forms of burnt offer- ings of tobacco, food, song, and dance, and presents of cloth. The Feast of the Dead, which is primarily the prerogative of women, as we shall see, may have one of several objectives: (1) Communal memorial for all ancestral spirits, held all night regularly at the longhouse; (2) a private healing ceremony to cure ghost sickness and held usually half the night in a private dwelling of the patient and sponsor; (3) a renewal of a former cure held briefly at the Midwinter Festival. The procedure in the ceremony is the same whether held for a community, a family, or an individual, although the latter two are briefer, the last including perhaps but six songs. Ghost rites are generally associated with winter when the growing things sleep. Consequently the great semiannual tribal feasts occur in late fall when the crops are in, and in early spring at the time of rising sap. But the healing rite may occur at any season. The few recorded dates of semiannual Dead Feasts are consistent with native theory: Oc- tober 29, 1912, at Oneidatown (F. W. Waugh); April 1939 at Sour Springs Cayuga (Speck); November 5, 1945, at Onondaga Long- house, Six Nations Reserve (H. Skye) ; Cayuga of Sour Springs, De- cember 26, 1948, and April 24, 1949 (Kurath).
We shall take up the account by Howard Skye of the Onondaga ceremony, followed by Kurath’s observations at Sour Springs Cayuga Longhouse.
*OHGI’WE AT ONONDAGA LONGHOUSE, SIX NATIONS RESERVE NOVEMBER 5, 1945, 10:30 P.M. TODAWN. HOWARD SKYE TO FENTON.
Name.—The fall semiannual Feast of the Dead of the Nation is called simply ’ohgi’we, or genena’’’geh gendyohgagwegih eya’dagweni’- yo’ ’ohgi’we deyohe’nhdi, ‘‘Fall meeting to feast the{dead of the nation all night.”’ It occurs also in the Spring.
Two women leaders—The women leaders are called Ona’sis’h¢’ onahgiwe’s‘g’ (Oa.), “the female cousins dead-feasters,” of which there is one in each moiety. They confer, and having decided, go around the houses and tell the other lady officials of a preliminary meeting to consider and set a date. As a rule they hold such meet- ings in a private house.
The women officials of the Dead Feast (onahgiwe’s‘q’), or Dead Feast Matrons, number about 15, and are elected for life in certain families, of which all are not represented at Onondaga.
Preliminary meetings ——The women officials hold a meeting (onahgiwe’s‘q’ egontgenis’a’’) to assess the food supply available in the community for the Feast. The ceremony this year (1945) was
146 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
unusual in that ordinarily there are between two and four preliminary meetings before the officials are assured of enough food for the feast. This year they set the date right away because, owing to the good times they had a big supply on hand. The Matrons had gathered these stuffs the Sunday before their meeting. So they set the date whenever they have enough food for the feast.
Men who assist the women.—Both of the Dead Feast Matrons have a male assistant (hone’hq’ hane’hwai’ (Oa.); haneh’hwa’ (Co.)) ; the two men work together and are called hadinehhwa” (Qa.), hadi’/neuhwa’ (C.) (haneh’wa’ from gane’hwa’, “a pelt or skin”; derivation uncertain). When the Matrons go to gather food they send the male assistants to carry heavy burdens. The men assistants likewise are appointed for life, but the office does not pass in the maternal family. That they carry titles as Dead Feast officials is uncertain, but they are of opposite moieties and of equal rank. On one side Howard Skye of the Wolf Clan (Ca.) has as his cousin Sam Silversmith (Deer Clan (Oa.)), whose official name in the Onondaga Longhouse is gawistano’wah, “big dipper” (?). Several days before the ceremony Sam informed Howard that they were expected to carry out the following assignments: (1) To go out and notify the people on the day of the ceremony, which means going from house to house as heralds (they went out the morning and evening of November 5) ; (2) to prepare fires at the longhouse, look after the lights (oil lamps), and cook the corn soup;? (3) to keep the fires burning in the longhouse during the ceremony; and (4) to conduct a dance for the women officials, who cross over to the men’s side when ’Ohgi’we is finished (first singing at midnight) and tell us that now they will put on (dance) ganadjitge’ ha, ‘“‘Carry-out-the- Kettle.”
Notification—The women officials appoint one or two women to get the singers, who are two women, and they are appointed at the meeting to serve for that ceremony. (Last night they had Mrs. Charlie Jamieson and Mrs. Alex Nanticoke.) One is considered song leader and the other second. The two women singers, having been appointed for that chorale, enlist a drummer, his assistant, and a Speaker.
2 Women usually cook for feasts, but on the Six Nations Reserve where the power of the Matrons is evident, I noted that in the Condolence Council the Matrons who were appointed to cook for the Chiefs delegated the hard work to male assistants. Jemima Gibson, a Cayuga Matron, having heard of the supposed Asiatie origin of the Indian from one of the anthropologists visiting the Six Nations, presumably Goldenweiser or Hewitt, made a joke at the expense of her cousin, Howard Skye, my informant, and the male cooks for the Dead Feast, saying that, “Surely they are Chinamen, since Chinamen are the only other men who cook in Canada.”
No. 7] FEAST OF THE DEAD—FENTON AND KURATH 147
These roles are distinguished by the following titles: (1) Woman song leader, od¢no't‘a’ eyeheh¢’’t. (2) Second singer, degeni odo’’ta’. (3) Drummer, hana’ja’’e-s (drum beater), or hadgno’t*a’, song leader, singer. (4) Assistant, ¢howai’nowas (he props up the words?). (5) Speaker, degahsaga-we (his mouth is open).
The day before the feast, female song leaders assist with the cooking, helping the first day and resting the day of the ceremony before singing.
MATERIEL
Food.—When the food is ready, the two Dead Feast officials usually appoint someone with a team of horses to bring it to the longhouse from the private house nearby where it has been prepared. No special name attaches to this role. The feast consists of the following traditional foods:
(1) Corn bread, onghao hih’gwa’; (Oa.) ganosto’hare gana‘’da (M.), “corn washed in water”; evidently round corn dumplings.
(2) Corn soup of hulled corn, parched-corn soup,
(3) or gagohsege’yuuh (Oa.) gahadih (dried): green corn grated and parched in the sun or oven, from oggh’s&”’ (Oa.), ‘corn in the milk.”
(4) gahigwagi’dawih, “bread that is scorched” (Ghost bread).
(5) or dihakghs&é ohigwa’, ‘feast bread’’: fried cakes.!
1 Omitted, 1945.
At this point the two male helpers now prepare the corn soup at the cookhouse or longhouse kitchen (see above).
Ritual equipment.—The two male assistants (haneh’wa’, “skin”) are supposed to have brought to the longhouse or place of gathering and to have kept there while they were cooking, a drum and a beater, and Indian tobacco, for it is the custom to have everything ready 24 hours beforehand. On the day of the feast, the women procure print goods to distribute as presents. The two head women make bundles of these goods, providing shares for the two female song leaders, the drummer and his assistant, the Speaker, and the hadi’- nehwa’, “two skins” (male helpers). Whoever else assists in the cooking, usually women, receives each a share, as well as the man who takes the food to the longhouse with his team.
THE CEREMONY
When the people start to gather at the longhouse (it was early last night; we gathered at 8 and started at 10:30), the two female officials Who are cousins (ona’sis’he’) confer and decide who shall go across from the women’s side and notify the Speaker (Chief Logan). At the time that she tells the Speaker to commence, they sometimes in-
148 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
stall new gohgii’weh (Women Dead Feast officials) , but not in Novem- ber 1945. But if there is a candidate, this is the time that the Matron informs the Speaker. Also they install new hane’hwa’ at that time (but none in 1945). She tells him, “We are going to perform as in the past onahgiwesho’’gehe’ (for the Dead Feast officials who are deceased).” She means that the living officials are going to perform as the deceased officials were wont to perform the ceremony. “All of the officials have agreed to have the feast in good faith.” The cere- mony must be performed in concord or else the dead will not enjoy it. (The Speaker supplies the rest in a set speech.)
Opening address.—First comes the customary thanksgiving address, ganohe’yok, followed by the ga’nigoha’ doges’ti’, the true message, “What is really on his mind.”
Today we all heard the hane’hwa’ (as we were notified) that there would be a feast tonight of [gives names middle of p. 147]. [Here the “true message” be- gins. Speaker relates what the gohgi’weh told him. It is a long speech last- ing about 25 minutes.]
All of the officials are in good spirits and all are attending this feast.
What happens depends on the wishes of the female officials.
[Preaches urging all to continue in good faith whenever they hold a feast.]
[Speaks of the dead:] If the female officials disagree, the dead will not enjoy the feast. [Nothing is said of the land of the dead or the fate of souls who meet violent deaths. (Cf. Fenton on Suicide, 1941.) Gainhiya’’geh, “heaven,” is the land of the dead.]
Tobacco invocation—The Speaker performs this role at the women’s fire. The invocation lasts about an hour at the ceremony because of a tendency to repeat and embellish. My informant thought that if re- duced to essentials it could be done in 15 minutes. (Robert Smoke’s invocation made on the occasion of recording the songs in the spring of 1945 was a special plea to the deceased officials and souls of the Nation not to consider the recording a lapse from grace.)
You all partake of tobacco, all of you departed Dead Feast officials, for this is how you were wont to go through the ritual. And so likewise these present women Dead Feast Officers think that they would like to perform the ceremony as closely as possible to the way you used to do it. And moreover the women have made a nice job of this, working with one accord. And they will give to you that on which our life depends [food]. This vital thing have the women done in gathering from everyone [they have solicited everybody] presents right here which belong to all of you [dead]. Therefore, don’t any of you require more than the amount that the women Dead Feast officials could realize. Therefore, this will make everyone who is still living happy [in the realization of having fulfilled]. This is what we understand. That you [dead people] are so con- stituted that nothing obstructs your vision [keeps you from seeing] those who survive [are living] going to and fro [here on the earth]. And so, therefore, this very sacred tobacco is what we customarily use in order that it will be well with [the living] in the future.
And so this is all of the words traversed [all he remembers].
[All he remembers of the Onondaga text of the prayer; more follows. |
No. 7] FEAST OF THE DEAD—FENTON AND KURATH 149
This expression is always used at the end, no matter how good a speaker the priest may be, in case he left out something, then he is free. Speakers should memorize the texts the same as singers. “Dawit” Thomas or Chief Joe Logan are the regular Speakers.
Locus of ceremony on women’s side-—The ceremony is performed in the women’s end of the longhouse as is appropriate in 2 women’s ritual (fig. 11). (The dead Matrons are comprised within the woman’s
a.
ONONDAGA LONGHOUSE AND COOKHOUSE @)
Figure 11.—Plan of Onondaga Longhouse and cookhouse.
realm and the continuum of society runs from them to the living Matrons, the onahiwe’s‘g’, through their daughters to the last child.) The woman song leader crosses to the men’s end of the longhouse and informs the drummer that they are now ready to start singing. She speaks to the drummer, to his helper, and to the Speaker, who are all seated on the men’s side. Thereupon the two male singers and the Speaker cross to the women’s side, where a bench is prepared for them, behind the women’s fire opposite the main door of Onondaga Long- house. Apparently the Speaker had gone to the women’s fire to make the Tobacco Invocation and had returned to his own side. Chief Peter Buck kids Chief Joe Logan for crossing to the women’s stove, claiming that he can’t hear from the Chiefs’ bench whether words are left out.
Songs.—Without seeing the ceremony, a discussion of the program of songs is omitted here, since these things are discussed later by Kurath (pp. 153 ff.).
Guanajitg,’hwih, ‘‘Carry-out-the-Kettle.”—When ’Ohgi’we is over, the Matron goes over to the men’s side and asks one of her male helpers
150 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
to get a man to sing for Carry-out-the-Kettle. (Such singers are not lined up or appointed in anyway beforehand. That would break the rules.) Peter Buck and Charlie Jamieson sang the main ritual; Roy Buck, the son, and Gordy Peters sang for the latter. A feature of this whole ceremony is a special, large "Ohgi’we drum; Charlie Jamieson always brings his. The drum is the “kettle” that is carried out. Both have the same generic term.
The Speaker announces “the women Dead Feast officials have said that now we shall have ‘Carry-out-the-Kettle’ and that we should all take part and dance.”
The dance.—The two singers, being the drummer and his assistant, stand face to face with the two head women Dead Feast officials be- tween them around the drum, which is a social dance drum, not the large Ghost Dancedrum. The opposing pairs of men and women hold the drum. After four introductory songs they commence to dance. (Kurath, who saw the dance, has described it below. She denies that the dance she observed proceeded in a clockwise direction, as Howard Skye stated to Fenton, and as Fenton had been told by other in- formants.) The action takes place in the middle of the house; there is no singers’ bench.
Announcement of feast—A woman official tells the Speaker to an- nounce the feast. The Speaker always repeats what the woman officer said, “They will now serve the feast.” (Presumably this is a longer statement, but my interpreter gave only the substance.)
Feast etiquette—About 2 a. m., the Matrons enlist some of their relatives (their brothers; never their husbands, who are not con- sidered relations) to distribute baskets of food. The circuit is some- times clockwise because they claim that is the way to serve the Feast for the Dead. Errors, however, often occur. A man goes contra- clockwise, and others follow. A Matron should instruct them to pro- ceed clockwise. One is not supposed to say, “Thank you”; never at a Feast for the Dead should one return thanks. But eat as much as you can; one is required to eat some of it. Nevertheless, persons at- tending sometimes leave the corn soup received in the distribution until morning.
Social dances (Gainasy’ah)—The Matron in charge crosses and tells her male helper, “Now we will have social dances,” and it is up to him to enlist a speaker or announcer, get the singers, and round up dancers. It is customary for a speaker to announce the period of social dancing. He mentions the name of the dance but not the names of the singers or dance leaders, as is done at stated festivals of the year.
No. 7] FEAST OF THE DEAD—FENTON AND KURATH 151
There follows a list of social dances performed regularly, with one omission noted for 1945:
(1) Owesganye’ gainagayoka’’’, Women’s Shuffle Dance with ancient songs.
(2) ga’datshe’’da’, Standing Quiver, or Warrior’s Dance.
(3) deyodaneé'tshags, Linking Arms,
(4) ojio’da’ ow€'’ra’, Fish Song (Dance).
(5) djo€ga’ge’ha’, Racoon Dance.
(6) da’nosta’ge’ha’, “Buffalo” or “Naked” Dance. (Known to be a dance bor- rowed from some other tribe called da’ngsta’, now equated with wasa’’se’ [Sioux War Dance] (‘“Shaking-a-Bush’—Kurath). Could this be On’dast (Conestoga) ?)
(7) odadeniyo’kwa, Fishing Dance. Men chose women partners halfway.
(8)? gatshe’dodadg’, shaking a jug.
(9) otci’nha’hog, garters.
oda’sa*’t°a’, Distribution 1 Omitted, 1945.
Drumming for the distribution—By the time the social dances are finished it is 4:30 a. m., when the Matron again crosses to the speaker to say: edyetcing’dji’yais g:da’sét°a’, “He will drum for you ladies for the distribution.” Now the ’Ohgi’we drummer, his assistant, and the Speaker return to the bench placed near the women’s fire. The two head women singers stand facing the drummer and his assistant (the singers). On an adjacent bench the two head women ’Ohgi’ we officials administer the distribution. They have one of the woman officials designated to carry bundles with instructions how to distribute the goods (fig. 12).
ASSISTANT SINGER ADS. DRUMMER AND HEAD SINGER SPEAKER
HEAD MATRONS e) Q WOMEN SONG LEADERS
DEADFEAST OFFICIALS
g OFFICIAL
() FIRE
DIAGRAM OF DISTRIBUTION IN WOMEN'S ENO OF ONONDAGA LONGHOUSE
Fiqure 12.—Position of officials at distribution of goods in ceremony of ’Ohgi’we at Onondaga Longhouse.
There must be one person designated to distribute goods to each of the four principal singers, male and female. Each of the two women song leaders stands holding a bundle. The head singer or drummer
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and the assistant singer receive shares at the same time, followed by the Speaker, the two male helpers of the two Dead Feast Matrons, the man who brought the food to the longhouse, and finally the cook assistants.
Participants who received shares
(1) Two women song leaders.
(2) Head male singer or drummer and his assistant; the drum itself receives a handkerchief in the distribution.
(3) Speaker.
(4) Male helpers of two Dead Feast Matrons.
(5) Man who brought food to longhouse.
(6) Cook assistants.
[(7) All dancers. (Kurath.)]
The first two are bracketed in same group of songs. Another special song comprises numbers 3-6, and the singer utters a special word on the end of the song when they make the distribution: dodagné’- nahgwa’, “distribute clothes or goods [pelts?].” (Are these not skins for the Dead as in the Huron Dead Feast?)
The songs of distribution were not recorded in the spring of 1945.
A short period of social dances follows, usually one or two dances.
Skainaga’’disq’, ‘“Halfway of the songs.’’—Here the singers in the far end of the longhouse, the women’s side, proceed to repeat half of the Dead Feast songs, but meanwhile social dances may continue at the opposite or men’s end of the building, as if to emphasize that this ceremony is a women’s affair anyway and the menfolk might as well have a good time while the women are discharging their responsibility to the dead.
Odonetso’ dahkwa?, “raising arms aloft.”—The officials (notes say Matrons) distribute cakes to elevate outside the longhouse. Circulate once. When the drummer and singer stand, then all who have cakes form a column and go around once (notes say contraclockwise?) inside the house and go out. Outside, the Speaker announces that everyone should take care not to be rough in taking the cakes from the upheld arms of the procession. (The rest who were inside the building will have to come out to take the elevated cakes from the procession.) He cautions the snatchers because they believe that if someone falls down it will bring hard luck, possibly death. (Notes don’t say to whom.) Both sexes make up the procession. Those whom I designate “snatch- ers” are called hgnongtcoda’’gwa’, ‘they take it off their arms’’; the procession, hgdon¢’tcota’, ‘their arms are elevated.”
(Anciently in removal of villages, the Iroquois held an all-night ’Ohgi’we and in the morning they went to the cemetery and threw the drum into the cemetery and abandoned it.)
Now they go around the longhouse contraclockwise.
Name of the song, odongtco’dahkwa’, “‘for elevating arms.”’
No. 7] FEAST OF THE DEAD—FENTON AND KURATH 153
One of the male helpers, standing where they started the circuit, takes the drum, removes the head, and burns the drumstick. This hap- pens about daybreak.
Return inside Longhouse.—Having passed the climax of the cere- mony, the crowd returns inside the longhouse to hear the Speaker wind up the ceremony until the spring celebration of the Dead Feast. In the customary way of returning thanks to the participants, the Speaker thanks on behalf of the community the various officials, starting with the two female Moiety Dead Feast officials, their two male helpers, the women Dead Feast officials, the two female song leaders, the drummer and his assistant who held up the songs, etc., through the several roles and statuses connected with the ritual. This is a long speech and conforms to the customary pattern for such acknowledgments which terminate feasts and longhouse celebrations.
Time.—Traditionally, the public Feasts of the Dead are midnight observances; they should start late at night, around 10 or 11 o’clock and continue till dawn, which is still true of the Onondaga, but public drunkenness has forced the Sour Springs Cayuga to start in the after- noon. The observed ceremony commenced at 3 p. m. and continued tillabout 10 p.m. (Cf. Speck, 1949, 121-122.)
*OHGI’WE AT SOUR SPRINGS CAYUGA LONGHOUSE SUNDAY, APRIL 24, 1949, 3-10 P. M. G. P. KURATH
As on this occasion the Wolf Clan arranged the feast, the Speaker, Joe Williams, was also the clan chief, and the Chief Matron, Susan Johnson, was of Lower Cayuga Longhouse. The leading singers, Mr. and Mrs. Charlie Jamieson, came from Onondaga Longhouse. They were assisted by Cayuga men, Avery Bill and Willie John, and on the women’s side by Lydia Winnie, Onondaga. Preliminaries and epilogue correspond to the Onondaga version, but the major events, though much the same, proceed in a different order. The songs must have been identical, from the same Onondaga singers.*
THE CEREMONY
’Ohgi’we follows a well-defined pattern of song groupings which is determined by the drumbeat, the melodic character, and the dance step. The drum by its large size and deep resonance is unique in Iroquois ritual. It introduces each song with a few beats and breaks off clean with the end of the song. The pitch forms throughout the cycle a pronounced harmonic background to the melody (fig. 14). (For the scales of the songs shown on figs. 13-20, see fig. 10, p. 161.)
3In Iroquois ceremonials, each song leader has his special version. Charlie Jamieson’s rendering is far from identical with Joe Williams’ version as recorded by Dr. Marius Barbeau in August 1950.
154 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
Introduction.—Ten chants by the men. No dancing.
Drum.—(a) Songs 1-5, after a preliminary triple beat, are accom- panied by a fast duple beat (fig. 13), first synchronized, then lagging, then in syncopation with the melody. (6) Songs 6-10 change to a measured syncopated beat (fig. 14).
——— -_ — — SRST Lehi ho ho hoyo ho ha haha Liititij +
Figure 13.— Ohgi’ we first introductory chant for men.
% 7 ry é- he na wi yo he yo na we-he- he FIGURE 14.— Ohgi’we sixth introductory chant for men.
Melody.—Songs 6-10 reproduce songs 1-5 with some variations. Archaic five-tone scales descend to the groundtone—la, sol, mi, re, do, or 65321, with a major third. The highest note is at the outset dis- torted into an eerie effect by the flattening of the voice. On repetition this is stabilized to the true pitch (1B and 6).
Body of Dance.—Forty-two songs by men and women, musically grouped in pairs or identical fives, and into larger related units. Thus 11-12, 13, 14-15 group together, and again 48-52.
Drum.—The same syncopated beat continues steadily, as in the introduction.
Melody.—F igure 15 serves as a formal paradigm for all of the dance songs, in the pattern of duplication, of male statement and
No. 7] FEAST OF THE DEAD—FENTON AND KURATH 155
female reiteration. Song 11 descends in a scale of 54217, with the same intervals as songs 1 and 6, but with the groundtone on the second from the lowest note. Song 50 covers an octave in intervals of 865421 (figs. 15, 16,21). These two songs show some of the simpler, typical rhythmic motifs of even notes and syncopations.
Dance.—The two leading Matrons begin circling the room counter- clockwise, followed during the first few songs by half a dozen society members; then, on the Speaker’s behest, by a swelling line of women. During the male leader’s statement of theme A they saunter, eyes downcast, with their arms hanging relaxed, or (as the leaders), with their hands folded. On the second statement of A they commence the ’Ohgi’we shuffle, facing obliquely toward the center. They slide the right foot forward along the floor, then flex their knees slightly; drag the left foot up to the right, then flex knees. The short steps coincide with the drumbeat, and the knee flexions with the melodic syncopa- tion, the slide acting as a grace note. This subtle rhythmic combina- tion is shown on figure 15.4
Fiaugke 15.—’Ohgi’ we first dance song for men and women.
The recurrence of song patterns, the steady monotone boom of the drum, and the swish of feet in unison begin to weave a hypnotic spell, when a change of drum accent arouses the dancers to livelier improvi- sations.
Body of Dance.—“Halfway of the Songs,” by men and women. Eleven songs are grouped, 53-58 in pairs, 59-63 as one unit.
Drum.—A sense of assurance arises from the synchronization of the simple even beat with the melodic accent (fig. 17).
‘For explanation of the dance notation, see Kurath (1850). Some improvements have been introduced into the present paper, as also simplified symbols for the gestures.
905645—51——_11
156 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
FIGURE 16.— Ohgi’we song number 50, for men and women.
Melody.—These songs are much longer, with a part C, several dup- lications of B and C, and an extra complete rendering by the women. The characteristic example, song 53 (fig. 17), at first reinforces the stable percussion by a series of even eighth notes, but in part C it shifts to a syncopated figure, in alternation with the even notes, and it ends suspended on three nebulous notes. Its tonality shifts be- tween two foci on the third and first of a scale of 53217.
Dance.—The solemn shuffle accompanies the first theme and the entire women’s rendition; but during most of the men’s singing, the dancers’ faces brighten and the motions grow livelier, with improvised, staccato two-steps, stamps, crisp turning Jumps, and pert gestures, such as the raising of the hands to shoulder level (2) or the wafting of the elbows from chest to shoulder level, forearms straight across the chest (C). Figure 17 shows a complete diagram of the song and progres- sion and of the steps and gestures.
Conclusion.—Five songs, four by the ensemble, one by men alone.
Drum.—(a) In songs 64-67 a tremolo heralds both the men’s and the women’s entrance (fig. 18) and turns into a duple beat, as in the somewhat faster introductory songs 1-5, thus tying up with the opening. (0) At the end of song 67, a tremolo connects directly with the last song, continues through the chant (A), and bursts into a duple beat of doubled speed to a clean-cut final stroke (B, fig. 19).
Melody—(a) The four paired songs introduce lively rhythmic mo- tifs. The eighteenth notes anticipate the climactic communal dance, Carry-out-the-Kettle (fig. 20). Songs 66-67 introduce a semitone between 5 and 4 in the scale of 65481. (0b) The chant and final cry of the last song waver on the fifth, the semitone below, and the third; the dance part reiterates two notes on the interval of a major third, in a scale of 5(4)31.
Dance.—(a) A fast forward shuffle coincides with the drumbeat. (6) A fast Women’s Shuffle Dance terminates the cycle. Facing center, the dancers glide sideward by twisting first their heels, then their toes toward the right. They flex their knees with each twist and
No. 7] FEAST OF THE DEAD—FENTON AND KURATH 157
Figure 17.—’Ohgi’we at Sour Springs Cayuga Longhouse, dance pattern to song number 53.
fot TET? wee yo ho ng aasa'papa’s LTT Ficure 18.—’Ohgi’ we third concluding song, number 66, for men and women. 905645—51——_12
158 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B. A.B. Bull. 149
howi ne howi ne hawi ne iL ue Fieure 19.—’Ohgi’we final song, number 68, for men, with women’s shufile step.
swing their forearms alternately up and down obliquely across the chest. They halt promptly on the final beat, then break formation.
Distribution of cloth.—The distribution of gifts of cloth proceeds, after a brief intermission, as at Onondaga Longhouse. The two female Dead Feast officials, who stand facing the male singers, receive dona- tions from the participants at the hands of the Chief Matron. The presents range from a handkerchief to a share (3 yards) of print material. The ladies wave the cloth back and forth in time as they sing and the men accompany them. Two at a time, both Head Matrons present the shares to all participants; symbolically, to the spirits of the dead.
Carry-out-the-Kettle.—Carry-out-the-Kettle refers to the drum which they take out at the finish. In the center of the room the two female Dead Feast officials hold the drum while the male song leader drums and sings with assistants. They slowly rotate against the sun with a side shuffle to the right (fig. 20). Other women start circling sideward in a concentric outer arc, arm in arm. Soon men mingle with them. The music and steps are animated. The songs have the same duple beat and the same major tonality as the first "Ohgi’we songs, and in form and rhythmic design they resemble its latter tunes. With the drumbeat all dancers jump on both feet, then hop on the right while kicking the left foot forward, next repeating this jump-hop- kick on the other foot (fig. 20 A). Good dancers will turn right or left, hopping several times on one foot and “toeing” with the other (touching the toe on the ground) (fig. 20 B). Finally a thick spiral winds itself around the drum.
Whereas dignity if not mournfulness pervades the ’Ohgi’ we, Carry- out-the-Kettle expresses festive gaiety. On this occasion an unsched- uled incident heightened the hilarity. A well-inebriated youth in- dulged in clumsy antics and displayed affection for the ladies. In vain did the male Faith-keepers protest, and what might have been inter- preted as ceremonial clowning was ended finally by the inconspicuous
No. 7] FEAST OF THE DEAD—FENTON AND KURATH 159
FicurE 20.—Carry-out-the-Kettle, dance pattern and last song, number 10.
intervention of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Such interrup- tions on a larger scale constitute the reason why the night ceremonies at Sour Springs Cayuga Longhouse have been shifted to afternoon.
Feast.—Ceremonial and profane foods in plenty are served clock- wise by the male assistants as at Onondaga Longhouse, with the same deference toward participating spirits of the dead.
Social Dances.—Social Dances concluded the Cayuga festival. Although free to all, even the Social Dances are invested with a cere- monial flavor. There was one dance which did not occur at Onon- daga, the Osage Stomp, which Willie John brought home from Okla- homa and which differs from the Standing Quiver Dance in that it winds everyone into a human spiral in the center of the room. The Social Dances are enumerated in the comparative outline below.
160 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE ([B.A.PB. Bull. 149
COMPARATIVE OUTLINE OF THE Two LONGHOUSE VERSIONS OF THE ’OHGI’ WE
Onondaga Longhouse Sour Springs Cayuga Longhouse 10:30 p. m. Opening address. 3 p.m. Opening address. Tobacco inyocation. Tobacco Invocation. A. ’Ohgi’we. A. ’Ohgi’we. B. Carry-out-the-Kettle. B. Distribution of cloth. C. Feast. C. Carry-out-the-Kettle. D. Social Dances. D. Feast. 1. Women’s Shuffle Dance. K. Social Dances, 2. Standing Quiver Stomp. 1. Women’s Shuffle Dance. 3. Linking-arms. 2. Standing Quiver Stomp. 4, Fish Dance. 8. Women’s Shuffle Dance. 5. Coon Dance. 4, Linking-arms or Bean Dance. 6. Naked Dance. 5. Fish Dance. 7. Fishing Dance. 6. Osage Stomp. 8. Shaking-the-Jug. 10 p.m. Concluding prayer. 9
. Garters Dance. HE. Distribution of cloth. EF. Halfway of songs. G. Dawn procession. Concluding prayer.
The omission of the Dawn Processicn at Sour Springs is probably due to the hour of the celebration. The variance in the selection of the Social Dances conforms with the flexibility of these events. The other variations in program may similarly follow the discretion of the ceremonial leaders. Or variations may point to differences in patterns of sequence between longhouses or to a difference merely between the fall and spring feast. Here is a problem for later investigation.
Contrasting Qualities.—Majestically, through the hours, this ancient ceremony builds up a structure which is at once symmetrical and cumulative. It combines unusual characteristics with others which are typically Iroquoian. Its mood combines solidity and ten- uousness, solemnity and buoyancy—by various subtle means:
(1) The steady, relentless drumbeat syncopates the song and shifts relationship with the melodic accents.
(2) The melodic motifs alternate accented even notes with syncopations and suspensions.
(3) The final notes of each section are sustained with marked pulsation of the voice.
(4) The serene tonality at times is relieved by exotic notes, semitones, slurs, and mordents.
(5) The monotone, earthen swish of the dancing feet toward the end breaks into volatile jumps, gestures, and foot twists.
BELIEFS CONCERNING THE DEAD FEAST
It is believed that the dead are present in the longhouse during the ceremony to receive the various forms of sacrifice and to participate in the song and dance. At Onondaga the living elevate the bread for
No. 7] FEAST OF THE DEAD—FENTON AND KURATH 161
the dead. The living persons who take the bread off the outstretched arms of the living act as surrogates for the dead. The reality of these convictions is illustrated in the following stories.
Belief that the dead are present.—Manifestations are not lacking of the belief that the dead are in the longhouse during ’Ohgi’ we.
Figure 21.—Song scales (left), and rhythmic motifs (right) for *Ohgi’we and Carry-out-the-Kettle.
STORY OF A LADY WHO LIVED ON VTH CONCESSION ROAD
On the day of the Feast, han¢’hwai came to notify her. She went on with her cooking for the longhouse, making cakes, etc. She was so occupied with the preparations that at nightfall she didn’t have her dress ready. She continued sewing into the night, which made her departure for the longhouse quite late. At midnight she was still at it sewing when she heard someone knock at the door. She went to answer the door. A lady entered. She said, “T am on my way to the feast. I thought I would stop and accompany you, to the longhouse when you are ready.”
162 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
When the lady of the house was ready, they both went together to the long- house. ‘Ohgi’we was already going when they arrived. This lady who hadn’t finished her dress took part in ’Ohgi’we; she sang and danced with the others and her visitor followed her, taking similar parts. All night long they took part together, whenever the social dances went on the second danced with the first, as in Fish Dance; they were partners.
The audience noticed that the lady who came late was dancing as if she were with a partner. They could see her alone, no one else.
The last time the lady who came late because she stayed home to fix a dress saw her partner was when they went outside with the procession to hold aloft bread. The latter said, “I will now leave.”
That is all.
Belief that if someone falls bad luck will befall—tIt is bad luck if someone falls in the ’Ohgi’we Dawn Procession. (Cf. p. 152.)
At the November 1945 meeting George Buck slipped and fell. Nellie Harris, one of the Dead Feast officials, was elevating the cake. Both George Buck and my informant, Howard Skye, who is also helper to the Matron of his moiety, reached for the same piece. George is a heavy man on a slight frame; Howard is rugged and athletic. George went down. Howard heard a crack. George had broken his lower leg.
Some years ago, Freddie Thomas fell, and he died 3 years afterward.
It is an old saying that whosoever falls will not live very long.
The Onondaga Medicine Society gave George Buck the sacred Little Water Medicine. Patterson Davis (Oa.) administered it. My in- formant is an officer. At the time of this notation, George Buck was in seclusion (4 days). Canadian Indian Department physicians, Dr. Davis and Dr. McClenahan, were not called in to set the bone for several days. By that time the limb was quite swollen and blue. The lower left fibula was broken. They set it with some difficulty and at some pain to the patient. I recall that we discussed the case, but I do not find a notation. On the last night of my visit to Six Nations I called on George Buck, who had recorded for me on two previous occasions, to cheer him up and leave an album of music to which he was a heavy contributor. He seemed delighted. He at- tributed the recovery to “the Great good medicine.” ‘The pain was terrific—then it abated. The doctors would have been unable to help, he said, until after the 4-day confinement.
A strange adventure happened around 1800, so John Echo (Qa.) told F. W. Waugh (1915, No. 5, ms. p. 40).
STORY OF THE YOUNG MAN WHO WENT OUT EVERY NIGHT
About 100 years ago, at the time Onondaga Longhouse was at Middle Port and [others were living] at Cayuga (or Indiana, as it was called), one young fellow went out every night. His mother said, “stay at home or you'll get into trouble.” The young fellow said, “There’ll be no trouble about. Sure I’ll beat
No. 7] FEAST OF THE DEAD—FENTON AND KURATH 163
him.” The mother warned him to look out and told him that sometimes he would meet some kind of animals not fit for people to see.
The young fellow also used young girls very badly. (He was good looking.) He would change about from one to the other. The girls liked him.
He found out there was going to be a dance at the Cayuga Longhouse and thought it would be a good chance to go. His mother advised him to stay at home for fear of trouble, as it was a long way.
He put on new moccasins so he could run better. Just this side of Caledonia he saw someone coming toward him, a girl apparently. He thought, “Here’s a good chance to get hold of her.” He grabbed hold of her and spoke to her, but she never answered. He coaxed her to come along with him to the longhouse for company. He wanted to see what her face was like, but the head was covered all but a little hole and she kept her head turned away when he was looking. At last they came where the light was good, and he saw that there were only holes for eyes and that the face was all bone (no flesh). He said to her, “I guess, you are one of these dead people.” All she said was, “Sh!” He let her go, turned about and went home. He had turned quite crazy after this. He ran all the way. When he got home he opened the door and fell down inside. That was the last he remembered. His mother spoke to him but he could not answer. He was all night like that. They tried all kinds of medicine, but no good. The oldest of the family (of his folks) said, “I’ll bet he met some dead people.” So the mother said, “I think we had better put up some sort of feast (godiiha’’kg’) to give the dead people something to eat.” So they gathered the people together. The old mother put tobacco in the fire and begged that the dead people should get what they want. This was the only way they saved him.
Manifestations of the spirits —Other stories of ghost beliefs were told by Chief Alexander General of Sour Springs Longhouse, to Kurath:
The spirits of the dead are believed to be present to receive the offerings at the feast, though invisible to all but a few especially empowered individuals. They are potentially malevolent, unless placated. They travel through the air as a whirlwind, like disease and epidemics, which are also windborne. A man walk- ing along the road at night may feel the impact. If it catches him, it causes a neurotic derangement, loss of sleep and appetite, and calls for an ’Ohgi’we cure. Once in awhile a devout Indian may see a white form or witchfire (will-o-the- wisp) in the trees and meadows: these are spirits. These sometimes resume their human form, appearing to only one person. Tommy General, a relative, was walking along the road one night to a Feast for the dead and noticed two people whom he did not recognize. When they arrived at the longhouse he approached to speak to them and they vanished.
FUNCTIONAL INTERRELATIONS
Beliefs associated with the ’Ohgi’we ritual have not arrived at the stage of superstitions, but are part of an active faith which has mirac- ulously survived the encroachment of the white man’s customs. The ritualism is still sufficiently clear-cut to suggest further ceremonial implications no longer consciously operative.
(1) Duality of symbolism is inherent not only in the reciprocity of male and female functionaries, but in the doubling of practically
164 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B. A.B. Bull. 149
all offices; in the two-part division into "Ohgi’we and Carry-out-the- Kettle dances and further subdivision of the ’Ohgi’we into double introduction, body, and conclusion; in the pairing binary form and repetition of the songs, and duple drumbeats.
(2) The roles of women as conductors and chief participants. Women feature more prominently in the Dead Feast than in agri- cultural festivals, which are managed by Chief Matrons and which include at least one performance of the Women’s Dance.
(3) The dance steps tie up with other aspects of Iroquois cere- monialism. The ’Ohgi’we dragging step is a slower version of the shuffle step of the Bear Dance, the Stomp Dance style. The Women’s Dance step, which winds up the ’Ohgi’we, extends into food festivals and touches the great Thanksgiving or Drum Dance, and it relates to the round dance which climaxes the False-face curing rite. The jump-kick in Carry-out-the-Kettle resembles the step which termi- nates the Bear and Buffalo Dances and is also employed in a grotesque version by the False-faces. This last resemblance became particu- larly marked in the clowning of the drunk intruder.
The Dead Feast is clearly more than a mourning ceremony. One might infer this from the lack of mournfulness: In fact, the dig- nified gayety which pervades the gathering highlights the social nature of such community rituals which also include the dead. The majestic "Ohgi’we songs and dance take on a livelier tempo toward the end. Carry-out-the-Kettle has flexible rhythms and friendly tonality, and vigorous jumps, coinciding with each of the quick duple drumbeats.
As in the case of the medicine rites, the finale evidently celebrates the achievement of an end: The spirits are placated by friendly com- memoration, or the ritual is performed to effect a cure. There may be another, now subconscious objective, an appeal to chthonic powers on the part of the ancestral spirits. ‘The women who are the mothers and the agriculturists of the race are in a position to evoke fertility from the soil where all creatures lie buried, by means of the food- spirit dances. It is significant, however, that female Dead Feast officials conduct the ceremony not in the growing season but in the off season, frequently in the dead of winter, when the growing things and the food-spirits are happily asleep, and the performance of the ceremony is frequently remarked to produce bitter cold.
At present only the curative aspect remains with the intent to cheer the departed. Thus the community unites in a pleasant evening of song, dance, and feasting, including the living and visible and also the great invisible assembly of the nation since time immemorial.
No. 7] FEAST OF THE DEAD—FENTON AND KURATH 165
BIBLIOGRAPHY FENTON, WiLUIAM N.
1941. Iroquois suicide: A study in the stability of a culture pattern. Bur. Amer. Ethnol. Bull, 128, Anthrop. Pap. No. 14.
1944. Simeon Gibson: Iroquois informant, 1889-1948. Amer. Anthrop., vol. 46, pp. 231-234.
1947. Iroquois Indian folklore. In Folklore Research in North America. Journ. Amer. Folklore, vol. 60, pp. 383-397.
KINIETz, V. W. 1940. Indians of the western Great Lakes, 1615-1760. Univ. Mich. Press. Ann Arbor.
KURATH, G. P. 1950. A new method of choreographic notation. Amer. Anthrop., vol. 82, pp. 120-1238. SPEecK, F. G. 1942. The Tutelo spirit adoption ceremony. Pa. Hist. Comm. Harrisburg. 1949. Midwinter rites of the Cayuga Long House. Univ. Pa. Press. Phila- delphia. THOMPSON, STITH. 1929. Tales of the North American Indians. Harvard Uniy. Press. Cam- bridge, Mass.
EXPLANATION OF SYMBOLS USED IN FIGURES
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Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 149
Symposium on Local Diversity in Iroquois Culture No. 8 Iroquois Women, Then and Now By MARTHA CHAMPION RANDLE
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TROQUOIS WOMEN, THEN AND NOW? By Martua Cuampron RANDLE
In spite of the century-long discussion about an Iroquois “matriar- chy,” still another paper with Iroquois women as its theme has been undertaken. I will discuss briefly the role of Iroquois women as we can partially recreate it from the literature of the so-called “classical” League period and try to compare that picture with the present-day social life and role of women at Six Nations Reserve in Ontario. Accounting in a general way for the historical and acculturative fac- tors which have been influential in the modern adjustment is naturally a difficult and perhaps questionable undertaking, but I have tenta- tively formulated some thoughts about it.
Generalizations as to present-day women are based on field work at Six Nations in 1947? and 1950? and could be documented to a certain extent by notes, test results, and observations, but I am well aware that such records were selectively collected and may be variously inter- preted.
Such material does not lend itself to direct comparison: the earlier writers were generally more interested in the reconstruction of social life during the days of the best functioning of the League, rather than in direct observation of behavior; nor were they dealing with as mixed a population as now lives at Six Nations, and though often intuitively reaching valid psychological interpretations, such were not their con- scious concern. However, I shall reexamine what is known about women’s role in the past, then describe the varying impact of white culture on men and women, and lastly, generalize somewhat on the social life of the woman of the Six Nations today.
My conclusions are: that though not dominant in the so-called “ma- triarchal” sense, women of the League period, especially as described by Morgan, were secure in their role as women and participated in male-oriented culture patterns to a remarkable extent; that due to the
1 Paper read at Fifth Conference on Iroquois Research, Allegany State Park, Red House, N. Y., October 6, 1950.
2 Thanks to a grant from the Viking Fund, New York, the author spent 5 months at the Six Nations Reserve in 1947.
3 The writer wishes to express her gratitude to the Canadian Social Science Research Council, which financed field work on acculturation problems at Six Nations, summer of 1950.
169
170 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B. A. BE. Bull. 149
patrilineal emphases of the White culture with which they have been so long in contact, cultural shock was more deeply and drastically felt by men who bore the brunt of the conflicts with the Whites and whose cultural accomplishments were destroyed by the Whites; that, finally, the present-day Iroquois woman has retained a great part of her ancient security and efficiency. My observations at Six Nations bul- wark the thesis that Iroquois women today identify completely with their feminine role, do not seek “equality” with men, and, while par- ticipation in masculine-centered cultural pursuits is not as great as that of their neighboring sisters, feminine cultural activities are success- fully and cooperatively undertaken and accomplished.
In the old days the extended household, matrilocal among the Mo- hawks,‘ gave the woman the utmost in security. There were no dis- continuities in her upbringing. Desired as the one to carry on the clan and its prerogatives, and through her children, to keep up the strength of numbers of the clan, the girl was as fondly and permis- sively treated as the boy. Children were not punished; they partici- pated in activities as soon as they were able, were not disciplined in any harsh physical fashion, nor weaned too young. Surrogate mothers were always available, and in the extended household there was no chance for isolation or neglect of the child. In the matrilocal house- hold the relatives first to have contact with the girl would always be in closest relationship to her; she would not have to learn other clan affiliations or restrictions, nor other relationship terms. As she grew older, she would assist her mother in household tasks and in the care of younger siblings; work in the fields with the cooperative women’s group; and learn the feminine crafts and techniques from her mother and maternal relatives. Sometime after adolescence her marriage would be arranged by her mother and the mother of a suitable man. Marriage would not change her residence, her name, or her place in the clan. The older women, especially the mothers of the spouses, were the ones responsible for the success of the marriage and would do their best to keep it going. But if their efforts failed, a broken marriage worked little hardship on the wife or young child. Another spouse might be brought into the maternal group, and the child’s support was the concern of the maternal line, and his name and inheritance came from his mother’s brother.
The so-called “disabilities” of women, that is, their inferiority in physical strength and their lesser mobility due to child-bearing and rearing, are usually points at issue when the position of women and
4 Matrilocality was the basis of the theory of the League, though habits of patrilocality and matrilocality were not well defined; Seneca tended to be patrilocal. See Morgan, (1901, vol. 1, p, 308) for composition of Longhouse groups, and Fenton’s paper in this yolume, pp. 3-12.
No. 8] TROQUOIS WOMEN—RANDLE 171
the division of labor between the sexes are discussed. The Mohawk matrilocal household minimized these disabilities; enough men were attached to the household as husbands or unmarried brothers to insure cooperation in the clearing of fields and erection of houses and pali- sades. Except in time of major war, enough men were present for the defense of the group. Women’s chief occupation was horticulture, and work-time lost by the mother could be made up by the women’s mutual aid group, and, since the fields were close to the village, a mother could start work fairly soon after parturition, taking the nursing child with her on his cradleboard. Older women frequently freed a young married woman from maternal duties so that she could accompany her husband on a hunting expedition. Older women were useful in the easier garden work and household tasks such as mat weaving, shaping of bark utensils, and beading of garments. Hon- ored as heads of clans and household, the old age of women could be rewarding, surrounded by her offspring. The head of the household was not always the oldest woman of the line, but the one with most leadership and diplomacy. Consequently, there must have been an incentive toward developing these qualities and some conscious effort made to attain them.
Related to the “disabilities” of women is the sexual division of labor, male dominance generally being attributed to the differential in size and weight. Such dominance usually expresses itself in assigning to women the more time-consuming, monotonous jobs of life, while pursuits that take speed, strenuous spurts of energy and are often less time-consuming and more exciting are allotted to men. If cul- ture is due in great part to Man-with-time-to-think-between-meals (Wheeler, 1950), no wonder that most cultural activities are man’s creations. Though Iroquois women needed to put in long hours in garden and household work, the boresomeness was mitigated by the extended household and the mutual aid societies, for in household tasks the woman was in the company of other adults aswell as chil- dren, and the sociability and gayety of the women’s work-group in the fields eased that toil.
The literature stresses the “high position of women” in respect to their participation in dominantly male-oriented cultural activities, especially politics and religion. The political points are familiar and most of them can be traced to the symbolic extension of the Longhouse as the conceptual basis of the League. The extended family structure of the Longhouse, symbolized in the League, accounts for the function of the matrons to hold the chiefs’ names in their clans and their con- sequent right to appoint and depose chiefs. Death feasts and mourn- ing were the responsibility of the women. Women kept the White Wampum belts which signified the chiefly names. The ability of
1V2 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
the women to influence decisions of the council both directly through their speaker ® and indirectly through the weight of public opinion is mentioned in the literature. Since unanimity was necessary for a decision to act, any proposal unpopular with the matrons could be hindered by their disapproval. Indirectly, too, it is stated that the women could hinder or actually prevent a war party which lacked their approval by not giving the supplies of dried corn and the moc- casins which the warriors required. Village head-women are men- tioned in myth, and though they may not actually have ruled villages, this concept reflects the power that women were thought to possess. The importance of clan matrons in deciding the fate of captives, whether they would be adopted to replace a lost clan member, or tortured as revenge for a death within the clan, is well known.
Religion was a shared activity, though I have called it male-oriented, for the men took the more active part in rituals, prayers, dancing, and singing, and figure as principals in most of the myths. However, there were as many women Keepers of the Faith as men, and these officials, appointed for life, had not only the care and preparation of the feast as their duties, but other responsibilities as well—conferring on the times of festivals, presenting the corn for examination for setting the date of the Green Corn ceremonial, etc. The women were more retiring than the men in making public confessions and it was only a rarely aggressive woman who participated in the dream inter- pretations. There were women’s dances and women joined in the sing- ing, but they requested men singers and drummers to lead the singing for them.
Women’s activities, rather than men’s, are celebrated ‘in the cere- monial cycle. There are no festivals to celebrate hunting or war, though they probably existed in the past. All the ceremonies, with the exception of the Midwinter Ceremonial, are thanksgiving for the fertility of the earth, especially for the crops which are women’s chief concern. The “Three Sisters,” corn, beans, and squash, also called “Our Mothers” and “Our Supporters” are honored the most. Female virtues of food-providing and the natural fertility and bounty of nature are the qualities most respected and revered.
Economically, the maintenance of the household was a joint under- taking, but the women had the chief responsibility in the care of the fields and the raising of the staple foods. Men and women cooperated in the clearing of new fields, after that the women’s group took over. Men’s hunting added an important relish to the diet. A good meat- provider was considered the best husband. But hunting was more a prestige and recreation point, than a necessity. Village sites were
5 Thanks to Dr. W. N. Fenton for calling attention to this delegation of power by women.
No. 8] IROQUOIS WOMEN—RANDLE 173
changed when the fields near them were exhausted—every 15 or 20 years with this type of horticulture—rather than when the district had been hunted out. Conflicts with pioneers occurred more often over the decimation of the game animals, due to the clearing and planting of large numbers of acres, rather than over the scarcity of arable land. But in this case one must remember that it was the Iroquois men with their developed war patterns who came in contact with the pioneers.
Women, then, were secure in their matrilineal clans and partici- pated to a marked degree in the political and religious life of the village. Yet Morgan says,
Intercourse between the sexes was restrained by circumstances and by inclina- tion. Indian habits and modes of life divided the people socially into two great classes, male and female. The male sought the conversation and society of the male, and they went forth together for amusement, or for the severer duties of life. In the same manner, the female sought the companionship of her own sex. Between the sexes there was but little sociality, as this term is understood in polished society. Such a thing as formal visiting was entirely unknown. When the unmarried of opposite sexes were casually brought together there was little or no conversation between them. No attempt by the unmarried to please or gratify each other by acts of personal attention were ever made. At the season of councils and religious festivals, there was more of actual intercourse and sociality, than at any other time; but this was confined to the dance, and was, in itself, limited. [Some courtship techniques were employed; if we examine the folk tales we find that boys often threw small wooden chips at the girls whose attention they wanted to attract, and girls often dressed up in their best finery and went to dances to meet the boys of their choice, Morgan continues.] A solution of this singular problem is, in part, to be found in the absence of equality in the sexes. The Indian regarded woman as the inferior, the depend- ent, and the servant of man, and from nurture and habit, she actually considered herself to be so. This absence of equality in position, in addition to the force of custom, furnishes a satisfactory explanation of many of the peculiarities characteristic of Indian society. [Morgan, 1901, pp. 314 ff.]
From a feminist point of view, Mrs. Converse writes of the same
situation, Labor and burdens may have been the condition of the Indian woman. She may seem to have been a creature only and not a companion of the red man, yet by comparison with the restrictions, to characterize it by no stronger term, obtain- ing among civilized people, the Iroquois woman had a superior position and superior rights. [Converse, 1908, p. 138.]
Nonequality is interpreted by Morgan as inferiority, by Mrs. Con- verse as superiority (in comparison with the position of white women, of course.) There is a subjective element in the problem of inferior- ity, and it seems to me, that the different must be made to feel inferior before difference can be interpreted as inferiority. Behind the fem- inist movement as well as behind most male chauvinism is the concept that the difference between the sexes is always to be interpreted as
174 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A. ©. Bull. 149
inferiority, and the further hypothesis that inferiority can be removed only with the extinction of the difference, which is called equality. Troquois men and women had separate and different culture patterns, different values and different life goals, and although contact between the Iroquois and the Whites has been both long and penetrating, these differences between men and women remain to the present day.
It is impossible adequately to summarize the effects and forces of a long period of acculturation in a few paragraphs: the many conflicts, the gradually increasing impact, more and more contact, and inter- marriage. Today the people of Six Nations participate to a large extent in the surrounding Ontario culture, some individuals partici- pating so completely that their identification with the Indian group seems nothing more than a sentimental gesture. The participation of others is partial, particularly the people who belong to the Handsome Lake cult which is a potent force for the retention of Iroquoian lan- guages and customs.
Not much is known of the early days of the groups which went to Canada at the termination of the American Revolution and formed the nucleus of the present Six Nations people. The earliest treaties were signed by Matrons as well as by chiefs, later agreements only men signed. Early land holdings were in women’s names in many cases, but later, and up until the beginning of the 20th century, the patrilineal emphasis of the Whites in Ontario brought it about that land was always registered in men’s names. English and Americans were accustomed to dealing with men, chiefs and warriors, and no doubt any dealings with Iroquois women were minimized and gradu- ally eliminated.
The Six Nations Reserve was constituted with approximately its present acreage in 1847. Whites who had settled in that area were given land outside, and the various bands of Indians who lived in the vicinity were allotted land in 200-acre tracts on the Reserve. The population at that time was about 2,000 and has tripled in the subse- quent century.
The shock of culture contact must have been more deeply experienced by the Ircquois men than by the women. The man’s association with his maternal family was disrupted by the Whites’ insistence on farm- ing separate holdings. The extended household with its nonmarriage- group security was gone, and the man was isolated in his nuclear family where he had not the tradition of permanence and security. A noncongenial, isolating occupation, and a historically feminine task, that is, farming, was imposed by necessity. The man became more dependent upon his wife and children for help in farming and for emotional satisfactions.
War, the truly masculine prestige-earning activity, was gone. Po- litically, the hereditary council continued its functions until 1924,
No. 8] IROQUOIS WOMEN—RANDLE 175
and made many interesting adjustments to the changing situation (Noon, 1949; Fenton, 1949). That the Six Nations were Allies, not subjects, of the British was maintained as a point of honor, but the realists among the Indians must have been sore at heart at the actual condition of dependence and poverty of their people, facing an ever- rising and unstemmable tide of White influence.
Women had less contact with the Whites; their lives had been and continued to be more family-centered. Not as much effort was put into getting girls to school, teaching them English or other white ways. Although the extended household, clan, and moiety affilia- tions gradually lost their hold, women were still concerned with their habitual occupations of housework and child rearing and gardening. The daughter was still close to her mother and sisters and women’s cooperative mutual aid societies continued. Of course, the smaller, more closely knit family group resulted in more dependence of the wife upon the husband, but here that effect seems offset by the increased insecurity of the man.
Competition with Whites was felt more keenly by the man, for the Whites considered the Indian male completely dominant and the one to be dealt with in intercultural conflicts. Domination by the Whites was more keenly experienced by the man for it was his cultural accom- plishments which, first threatened, were rendered ineffective, and finally abolished—war, hunting, political domination of others, politi- cal independence, and, at last in 1924, political forms.
Women, during their entire life span, were never strongly tempted into individualistic activities. It is true they could practice medicine and join medicine societies, either in a society with men, or in an all- women’s group. In regard to witchcraft, folk tales often represent the mother-in-law as a strong malevolent witch, but these are certainly men’s fantasies. Wizards are more prevalent than witches. The typical wizard is the evil male character of unbridled power and pride who will not be governed by group values and expresses his power over other men. The typical witch is lacking in femininity; de-sexed, she plays a man’s role in attempting to coerce, intimidate, and harm her victims. It is interesting that though stories of female witches were told of the past, today the only evil magic feared is that of two old men who are accused of working bad magic against young women who have refused them.
Generally, the pressures of acculturation were more strongly and sooner felt by the men than by the women, and these external pressures were more disruptive to men’s values than to the women’s activities.
What light does this material cast upon an inquiry into the role and social function of women at Six Nations today? Certainly the 6,000 people at Six Nations are not homogeneous in heredity, in political or
176 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
religious affiliation, or economic status; and general statements about such a mixed group may become meaningless if qualified sufficiently.
As to population, one drastic effect of the patrilineally oriented governmental regime has been to exclude women from the tribal roles if they married non-Six Nations Indian men; and to include on the roster women who married into the group, whether White or Indian from other groups. As we know, too, that adoption was practiced from ancient times, and that white captives and enemy Indians were often taken in marriage by Iroquois, the composition of the group is now far from all-Iroquois. At present, White women who have married into the group take as seriously their affiliation with the Six Nations as many of their Indian spouses and neighbors. This cultural com- promise of these White women is integrated into the community and is influential in group as well as particular family patterns. On the other hand, since girls who marry out are lost to the group, the cul- tural orientation of ambitiously seeking a White man in marriage and accommodating to White ways off the Reserve is an attitude lost to the community. The Six Nations girl who marries a White man and lives in the White community brings up her children as Whites, and the Indian heredity in that case is merged with the general American genetic pool.
To discriminate and describe the various segments of the popula- tion is beyond the scope of this paper.* It probably is necessary to state that there are about 1,500 Longhouse people, about 2,000 Chris- tians of various denominations, chiefly Anglican and Baptist, and that the remainder, whether they have a Longhouse or a Christian background, adopt the prevalent White attitude of scepticism and nonattendance at Church services, but identify themselves with either the Longhouse or the Christian tradition and usually seek ceremonial sanctions for marriage or funeral services.
Politically, the chief line of cleavage is between the defenders and supporters of the old Hereditary Council and those who participate in the elections of the present Elective Council. The numbers of the supporters of the old chiefs have recently been augmented by the addition of a number of disaffected Mohawks, the so-called Mohawk Workers. But the Mohawks have never participated in the Long- house religion, and since the present-day Hereditary Council is com- mitted to and supported by Longhouse people, the affiliation of the Mohawks is not dependable. In politics as well as religion, there is a large group who think it unimportant what council is in power. Perhaps one-third of the population, though they may or may not vote for the Elective Council, have the prevailing attitude that, “Re- serve politics don’t matter.” These people are not malcontents, and
®An account of the factions and divisions of the Six Nations people of today is in preparation.
No. 8] IROQUOIS WOMEN—RANDLE 177
usually realistically condemn the perpetuation of the Hereditary Council as “child’s play” or “make-believe.” Not all of the Long- house people support the Hereditary Council, which continues to have meetings, appoint chiefs, pass resolutions, though aware that it has no power to enforce its decisions. Probably one-half of the Long- house people are active in support of the old Chiefs’ Council, and with the addition of the disaffected Mohawks, their strength may be about two thousand.
As to residence and occupation, there is a stable base of nonshifting residence of fairly successful farmers, but the population is generally more shifting than a White-Ontario rural community. Employ- ment is not difficult to find in the adjacent towns of Hagersville, Caledonia, Brantford, and Hamilton. With good roads, and fair cars and bus service, the people can live on the Reserve and commute to work. The result is a rural, nonfarming group. In addition, tobacco and fruit picking offer seasonal employment to families, who usually move to the fields during the season, and return home every 10 days or so to care for their garden plots. Such families save some money from their summer’s work, and the man of the family may work at day labor or jobs of short duration during the remainder of the year to add to the family income. There are families who retain their membership in Six Nations, though they live more or less permanently in other places, Buffalo, Brantford, Hamilton, or other cities, and return home on visits, to have babies at the hospital, for vacations, or because of illness, or temporary lack of employment. Such families often move back to the Reserve to retire and farm a little in their old age.
Returning to the subject of women, maternal descent is, of course, not important except to the Longhouse people, where the mother still confers membership and position through her clan. However, the situation as to affiliation has become quite confused, and at present there is a certain leniency and freedom to choose either the mother’s or the father’s Longhouse affiliation. Very few people outside of the Longhouse know their clan or moiety affiliation. They are aware of their tribal mixtures. (Marriages, once chiefly within the tribe, are now in many cases across tribal lines.)
Perhaps a woman’s life is not as free of discontinuities as it once was. However, a strong ego-structure is built up in the girl, and the women are efficient and active individuals in the great majority of cases. The child is wanted and cherished as much as ever, girls as much as boys. Only one mother out of many expressed to me a wish for a boy—and she had already a family of five girls! Seldom is a baby born outside of the hospital; the care and rest is appreciated by the mothers, and child care is studied and followed, though some mothers are not much concerned with hygiene and cleanliness. Gen-
178 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B.A.E. Bull. 149
erally, babies are handled and fondled more than among us; grand- parents, friends, and relatives, fathers too, take more care of the infant than we are accustomed to see. Often a maternal grandmother frees a young mother for outside work.
Discipline of both sexes is at a minimum in infancy, no fixed feed- ing schedules or harsh disciplines for motor control are imposed. Little girls are often given tasks by their mothers at an early age, jobs that look too difficult to our eyes. However, from my observa- tion, these tasks were never resented nor insisted upon and no punish- ment was imposed for failure, but praise was lavishly given for success.
The only temper tantrums observed were due to sibling rivalry. The displaced older child showed all the symptoms of a typical temper tantrum, but the mother ignored the manifestations so completely that the frustration must have been eventually interpreted by the child as imposed by fate rather than by the mother. Boys are rarely assigned tasks by their mothers, though grandmothers are more apt to give them jobs. At an age somewhat older than the girls, boys begin to help their fathers, if their fathers farm. If the father works away from home, the boy of preschool age has complete freedom and runs about a lot with nothing to do. Not many toys or tools are pro- vided for children, and boys often seem aimless and bored, even though they have company. Mothers tend to keep their daughters occupied with household chores or care of younger siblings. At school the same contrast continues; girls seem not to have enough time, boys have time on their hands. Girls develop better work habits and do their home- work; boys tend to neglect it for baseball or lacrosse.
In school, the picture is much as it is with us. Girls are more amenable to discipline and usually do assigned tasks more cheerfully and more neatly. In the upper grades of grammar school, the boys often catch up and outdistance the girls in intellectual and imagina- tive learning, though they continue to be less neat and disciplined. More girls than boys continue their education in high school. Girls are apt to have a specific career in mind, such as marriage, teaching, nursing, stenography. Boys often have ambitions which are vague or impossible of execution.
There are some very early marriages, but generally the age of mar- riage follows the trend among the neighboring Whites—depression and hard times retard marriage, war brings a crop of early marriages— a tendency which has continued from the end of the war to the present.
Since children are loved for their own sakes and puritanical ideas are only accepted on the surface, if at all, there is not the pressure against the unmarried mother that we are familiar with in our society. Having a child does not shame the parents of the unmarried mother, except in the case of the most acculturated and Christian families of the community. Later marriage is always possible, either to the
No. 8] TROQUOIS WOMEN—RANDLE 179
child’s father, or, more generally, to some other man. Little social censure is passed along to the illegitimate child, who is often cared for by its maternal grandmother in the same fashion as legitimate children.
Of course, there are exceptions, but the role of the father, especially in relation to the daughter, is a kindly and playful one, without much pressure or control. There is a much closer bond built up between father and son, especially if they cooperate in farm work.
Many girls face a major conflict when they decide to work or go to school outside the Reserve. Most families have some relatives in nearby cities, and girls often want to try life with them, nourishing the hope of marriage to a White, if their emotions are not already involved with a boy on the Reserve. Frequently, such ambitions are realized; the girl lives with relatives or friends in Buffalo, works a year or two, marries there, and returns only for visits to her parents, or in hard times. Some girls never feel at ease away from the Reserve, and after an interlude of working away from home come back to stay and marry on the Reserve.
Of course, the iess ambitious girl may never be interested in leaving the Reserve. Even the contacts with outsiders in high schools in the nearby towns may cause the more introverted girl to recoil and wish to stay at home although her studies may be going satisfactorily. Especially in homes where Iroquois languages are still spoken, and where economic conditions are hard so that the girl may feel at a disadvantage as to her clothes and equipment, such introversion may occur and ambition to compete with Whites be stifled. Economic pressure in such cases usually keeps the girl busy, however. She may go out to work with other women as day labor on farms which pick up workers daily on the Reserve, she may find housework jobs on the Reserve, and if her parents pick tobacco or fruit, she will ac- company them and, in any case, earn her own money.
Adult women enter into many cooperative enterprises and group activities; Women’s Institutes flourish, mutual aid societies still carry on; associations of women tangential to churches thrive. The casual observer would remark that the women’s exhibits at the annual agri- cultural fair are equal to those of their White neighbors, whereas the men’s exhibits generally are not as good. Schools taught by women tend to have better morale and discipline.
Usually having supported herself before marriage, the Iroquois girl makes a thrifty and self-reliant wife. Her property is her own. Her attachment to her husband is generally not as much based on companionship as in our marriages. Her decisions in regard to her children are usually final. Examining Thematic Apperception Tests *
7 Unmodified TAT was used because of the acculturation situation. 4
180 SYMPOSIUM ON IROQUOIS CULTURE [B. A. BH. Bull. 149
of Six Nations women and comparing them with White women’s tests, we find the chief difference is a more complete identification of the Iroquois women with the feminine role. This means that an Iro- quois woman never sees herself as a Hero, always as a Heroine. Mas- culine accomplishment is not her ambition, and in her daydreams and fantasies she sees herself succeeding in typically feminine pursuits— nursing or teaching, a mother or wife on whom children and husband rely and depend, influential and beloved, a grande dame around whom offspring congregate. This truly feminine identification shows that she does not envy men nor seek equality. These tests also show a rich fantasy and inner life, a strong ego-structure, and little conflict with individuals; life’s battles appear chiefly as conflicts with the external, real situation, rather than attempts at freedom from domi- nation or influence of individuals.
The Iroquois woman of today is resolute and self-reliant. Because of her identification with the feminine role, her relationship to her sons differs from our mother-son relationship. She herself does not have masculine ideals and consequently does not adequately encourage and spur onward her sons, who, unless they have a particularly in- terested and affectionate father, lack ambition. TAT tests show that adolescent boys do not always identify with masculine ideals, and this might be attributed to their mother’s lack of them.
To sum up: The family-centered life of the Iroquois woman in the old days made for a secure woman who entered into masculine ac- tivities in a subsidiary but important fashion. The acculturative process was less destructive of the woman’s pattern, and consequently the woman of today is more secure in her feminine role and more successful in accomplishments along the lines set by White patterns, than her masculine counterpart.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
CONVERSE, HARRIET MAXWELL. 1908. Myths and legends of the New York State Iroquois. Edited by Arthur C. Parker. N. Y. State Mus. Bull. 125. Albany. FENTON, WILLIAM N. 1949. Seth Newhouse’s traditional history and constitution of the Iroquois Confederacy. Proc. Amer. Phil. Soc., vol. 98, pp. 141-158. More@an, Lewis H. 1901. League of the Ho-dé-no-sau-nee, or Iroquois. 2 vols. Edited by Her- bert M. Lloyd. New York. Noon, JoHN A. 1949. Law and government of the Grand River Iroquois. Viking Fund Publ. Anthrop., No. 12. New York. QUAIN, BUELL. 1937. The Iroquois. Jn Cooperation and competition among primitive people, pp. 240-281. Edited by Margaret Mead. WHEELER, R. E. M. 1950. What matters in archaeology. Antiquity, No. 95, September.
INDEX
Abeel, see Cornplanter, the Old Chief Abeel, Henry, son of Cornplanter, 84, 85
Buffalo Creek, settlement, 52 treaty in 1838, 52
Abrams, DeForest, present preacher at | Bureau of American Ethnology, center
Coldspring Longhouse, 99 Acculturation, skin deep, 60 Adopted tribes in Iroquois League, 21 Agadoni, one’s father’s kinsmen, 44 Agriculture, focal factor, 41 Agriculture, male prejudice against as female occupation, 94 Albany Conference, 1754, Mohawk speaker at, 20 Alcohol, penchant for, 65-67 Alden, Timothy, on revival of Hand- some Lake’s doctrine at Tona- wanda, 1818, 98 Seneca visited by, 97 Allegany, clan census, 46 settlement patterns, 41 American Council of Learned Societies,7 American faction of Cornplanter, 83 American Philosophical Society, 7 Anal character traits, lack of, 68-69 Anal-reactive character, lacking, 63 Assuchquay, Iroquois speaker for Conoy, 24
Autonomy, local, and the League, 51 a theory for history, 52-53
Baldwin, Waterman, school teacher at Burnt House, 84 Baptist Church, at Tuscarora, 67 Barbeau, Marius, field work, 118 Basehart, Harry W., Oneida field work, 7 Bear Dance, 120-123 at Qualla (Cherokee), 130 Beauchamp, Rev. Wm. M., cited, 80 Black Hawk, influence derived from desire to save lands, 30 statement of, 16 Black Hawk Wars, and land cessions, 19 Blacksmith, leader of pagan faction at Oneida, 102 Blacksnake, Governor, deputy of Corn- planter, 83 Bowl Game, 88, 92 Boys linked to grandmothers, 178 Brant, Joseph, Mohawk agent of Johnsons, 19, 82-83 British faction of, 83 Broken Kettle, for Six Nations, protest on Ohio land sales made by, to Richard Peters, 25 Brown, A. F., Onondaga field work, 7 Buck, George, Cayuga singer, 128 Buck, Joshua (Billy), Seneca singer, 119 Buffalo Creek faction, War of 1812 supported by, 97
of Iroquois studies, 7 Burnt House community, 1798, 81 divided by witcheraft, 95 drunkenness at, 1799, 88 native agriculture practiced at, 86 residence of Handsome Lake, 79
Canandaigua, meeting between Friends and Cornplanter during treaty proceedings at, 84
Canassatego, at Philadelphia 1742, 29
reminds Delaware of their/status as
women, 22 speaks for League at Lancaster, 19, 24 Carse, Mary Rowell, St. Regis Mohawk study, 40
Caughnawaga, a Jesuit community, 80 Caughnawaga Mohawks, steel workers, 40
residents in Brooklyn, 40 Cayuga chief, Delaware and Shawnee scolded by tenants, 22 Cayuga, removal from EKcho (Feast of Dead), 143-144 Ceremonies, Four Sacred, of the Good Message, 93 Character traits, lack of anal, 68-69 lack of anal-reactive, 63 Cherokee dances, 130 Cherokee-Iroquois parallels, 123 Chief appointed by matron, 50 Chief’s title and maternal family, 50 Chiefships, local representation, 51 Children not punished, 170 Christian party at Oneida, word of Handsome Lake, brought by, 102 Christian sects at Six Nations, 176-177 “Citizenship” at Six Nations, 43 Clan, and coresidence, summarized, 48 and exogamy, 45 and local property, 42-43 and maternal family distinguished, 44-45 and moiety, 47 census at Allegany, 46 census at Tonawanda, 47 chiefs of local districts, 50 examples of endogamy, 46 local character of, 45-46 permanent social unit, 45 representation at Six Nations on Grand River, 47 status and representation, 46 tribe bound by, 51
Place
181
182
“Clan” of Murdock, ftn., 44 Coldspring established as new Indian center, 1806, 95 Committee on American Indian Linguis- tics, Ethnology, and Archaeology of the American Philosophical Society, 8 Communities, not studied, 40 studied, 40 Competition with Whites felt by Indian man, 175 Concepts of landownership, 15 reasons for study, 15 Condolence Council and tribal moieties,
5
Condolence Council linked to Feast of Dead, 1438
Confederated Indians, money spurned by, 1798, 28-29
Confederations, White opposition to, 31
Confession, 101
Congdon, Hon. C. E., 9
Conoy claim pressed by Iroquois, 24
Conservatism of Ojibwa culture, 60
Constitution of League, land status of aliens defined in, 22
Converse, H. M., quoted on Iroquois woman, 173
Coresidence, 3
Corn Dance, 126-128
at Cherokee, 130
Cornplanter, Edward, preacher Handsome Lake Code, 99
Cornplanter, Halftown, and Bigtree, speech of, 17
Cornplanter, Jesse, Seneca singer, 120
Cornplanter Seneca resolve to quit “dancing frolicks,” 88
Cornplanter, the Old Chief, Allegany settlement represented by, 52 Grant, 81 Handsome Lake’s half-brother, 81 house, 85 Kirkland’s estimate of, 84 message to President in 1790, 18 nephew of Kiasutha, 83 resolve to keep semiannual festi- vals, 88 sawmill, 85 travel to cities, 84 war chief censored by, 52 wooden image at town of, 85 Council of Elders sanction sales, 20 Creek and Yuchi songs, antiphony, 130 Culture and modal personality, 59
Culture contact harder on Iroquois men than women, 174, 175
of
Culture pattern and_ psychological screen, 62 Dance, Local diversity in Iroquois
musie and (Gertrude P. Kurath), 109-137
Dance, modification of, 134 Dance patterns, deviations in, 116
INDEX
Dances, dissemination of, 130 preponderance of counterclockwise circling in, 114 uniform ground-plan in, 114 Dance steps, 115 elaboration of, 131-132 Dead, preoccupation with, 144 Deardorff, Merle H., 9 field work at Cornplanter and Allegany, 9 (The religion of Handsome Lake: Its origin and development), 77-107 Death Feast, 117-118 Delaware, guarantee of title demanded by, 27 lands of Miami sold by, 24 reminded of their status as women,
22 Skin-beating Dance, 118
Demandingness, notable Tuscarora trait, 70 Dependants, payments for _ rights
demanded by, 25
Dependence reactions of Iroquois men, 174-175
Dependency attitudes, 69-75
Descent, double, 43, 177
Discipline, 178
Dodge, E. S., 6
Dreams, interpreted for Seneca by Simmons, 89
relation of, 89 Drummond’s Island, Council at 1816,
Drum, water, 116 Drunkenness at Burnt House, 1799, 88
Eagle Dance, 1238-125 introduced from Plains, 124 resemblance to Fox Pipe Dance, 124 Economic cooperation of sexes in agri- culture, 172-173 Economic dependency of Indians on Whites, 73 Elkinton, Joseph, resident Quaker at Tunesassa, 94 Endogamy, 46 Ethnohistory, 9 Exogamy, 45 statistical preference, 50 Factions, at Buffalo Creek, 97 at Burnt House caused by witch- craft, 95 at Six Nations, 176 British and American, 1777, leaders enumerated, 83 Christian and pagan among Oneida, 102 eastern and western Seneca, 83 in breakup of League, 52 separation of Cornplanter and Handsome Lake caused by witch- eraft, 95 settlement patterns affected by, 40 Factions and band fission, 10
INDEX
Fallen Timbers, battle of 1794, 84 False-face Company, 85 False-faces, 118-120 Farmers Brother and Young King, lead- ers at Buffalo Creek, 84 Father, role of, 179 Fear of heights, absence of, 64 Feast of the Dead, 139 ff. at Soursprings Cayuga, 153-160 beliefs concerning, 160-163 contrasting qualities, 160 dance steps contrasted, 164 Dawn procession omitted at Ca- yuga, 160 functional interrelations, 163-164 in ancient Huronia, 143 in annual cycle of ceremonies, 144 linked to Ancient Huron feast, 143 medicinal function of, 164 Onondaga and Cayuga variants compared, 160 reciprocity in, 163 shift in time at Cayuga, 153 spirit manifestations, 163 Onondaga, 145-153 Feast of the Dead, The, or Ghost Dance at Six Nations Reserve, Canada (William N. Fenton and Gertrude P. Kurath), 139-165 age O,, “anal-reactive”’ character, 8
cited, 70 Fenton, William N., field work, 6 (Locality as a basic factor in the development of f[roquois social structure), 35-54 (The concept of locality and the program of Iroquois research), 1-12 Fenton, William N., and Kurath, Ger- trude P. (The Feast of the Dead, or Ghost Dance at Six Nations Reserve, Canada), 139-165 Festivals, followers of Cornplanter re- tain, 88 New Year, 103 Worship Dances, 88, 92 Strawberry, place in cycle, 103 Field centered approach to Iroquoian studies, 9 Fish Dance, 1388-134 Focal factors 10 Food Spirit Dances, 126 Four Sacred Ceremonies of the Good
Message, 93
Fox Pipe Dance songs and Eagle Dance, 124
Friends, attend Canandaigua Treaty, 1794, 84
See also Quakers.
Gai’wiio‘, Good Message of Handsome Lake, 79 various versions, ftn., 79 Ganioda’yo’, Indian name of Handsome Lake, q. v. General, Chief Alexander (Deskaheh), 144
183
Ghost beliefs, 145
Ghost Dance at Six Nations Reserve, Canada, The Feast of the Dead, or (William N. Fenton and Gertrude P. Kurath), 139-165
Ghost rites in winter, 145
Gibson, Simeon, on Condolence Council and Dead Feast, 143
Girls and boys contrasted, 178
Girls, clo association of with mothers, 178
Goldenweiser, A. A., on former moiety exogamy, 50 on maternal family, 45 Good Message, adaptability to survival, 101-102 diversity in doctrinal interpreta- tion of, 101 Four Sacred Ceremonies of the, 93 Oneida reached by in 1799, 101 preachers of, examination of at Tonawanda, 99 vigor of, 80 Gourd rattle, 116 Grand River Mohawk, vision of, 101 Granger, Erastus, Indian agent at Buffalo, 96 report of on Handsome Lake, 96 Great Feather Dance, 125-126 famous dancers of, 126 Green Corn Feast, 103 at Burnt House, 92
Greenville, Treaty of, 17
Guarantee of title demanded in land sales, 27
Hallowell, A. I., research among Ojibwa, 60
Handsome Lake, accommodation of, 103 accretion in his doctrine, 103 activities, 1800-02, 93 at Tonawanda, 97 death at Onondaga, 97 illness and_ prophecy of,
Simmons Journal, 90-92 in accord with Quakers, 96 influence of, at Coldspring, 95 Morgan’s account of gospel of, 98 neutrality in 1812, 97_ points of opposition to Quakers, 103 prestige of inflated by Jefferson’s sanction, 95 proposed western journey of, 96 reforms of anticipated, 89 religion, absent at Tuscarora, 67 local diversity, 99 selling land considered a sin by, 28 Seneca towns on Genesee visited
from
by, 95 title, 79, 82 visit to President Jefferson, 1802, 94 zeal against witches, 93 Handsome Lake and Cornplanter, na- tives of Avon, N. Y., 83 Handsome Lake, The religion of: Its origin and development (Merle H. Deardorff, 77-107
184 INDEX
Harrison, William Henry, Indians| Kardiner, A., cited, 62 defrauded by, 19 theory of, 59
Hendrick, the Mohawk, cited, 19] Ketiontonka, 22
Herzog, Geo., transcriptions of Tutelo| Kiasutha, western Seneca chief, 82 music, 118 Kickapoo, tenants of Wea, 23
Hewitt, J. N. B., papers, 5 Hospitality, and land use, 23 sia and fishing rights reserved by ndians in early land grants, 27-28 Hunting territories, tribal, 42 Huot, anit Champion, see Randle, Huron, Dead Feast, 143 Hyde, seer New England missionary, 0 teacher at Tonawanda, attends council with Alden, 97 Hypothesis on culture and personality, 61
Inheritance of land, 18 Innovations and culture, 63 Instrumentation, 116 Intertribal title to joint ownership of land, 30 Intoxication, 63 Ironwork, an Iroquois trade, 64-65 Iroquois culture, destroyed by domi- nance of Whites, 175 field studies, 5—9 Iroquois land owned by village, 20 Iroquois men, shock of contact suffered
Iroquois music and dance, Local Di- versity in (Gertrude P. Kurath), 109-137
Iroquois Research, Conferences on, 4
Peeuels Research Fund at Smithsonian,
Iroquois social structure, Locality as a basic factor in the development of (William N. Fenton), 35-54 Iroquois studies, 5 support of research on, 7 Iroquois women, then and now (Martha Champion Randle), 167-180
Jackson, Halliday, diary of 1800, 92 requested to write down vision, 93 Jamieson, Mr. and Mrs. Charlie, singers of Dead Feast, 146, 150, 153 Jay’s Treaty, 84 Jefferson’s approval of Handsome Lake, 94
John, Chauncey Johnny, Seneca singer, 119, 122, 126, 132
John, Willie, songs from Oklahoma
introduced by, 128
John, Willie, introduces Osage Stomp to Cayuga, 159
Johnson Jimmy, grandson of Handsome Lake, 97
Johnson, Sir Wm. and heirs, influence on eastern Seneca, 82
Joint enterprises of local residents, 50
treaty within 1818, 18 Kickawapalathy, 16 Kidd, Kenneth, 143 King, Thomas, at Treaty of Easton, 1758, 28 Kinship state, 3, 5 Iroquois classic example, 39 Kirkland, Rev. Samuel, estimate of Cornplanter, 84 on diffusion of Good Message to Oneida, 1799, 101-102 secures Oneida and Tuscarora to Americans, 1777, 83 Kurath, Gertrude P. (Local diversity in Iroquois music and dance), 109-137 observations of Cayuga Feast of ' the Dead, 153-160 study of Iroquois dance and music, 8 Kurath, Gertrude P., and Fenton, Wil- liam N. (The Feast of the Dead, or Ghost Dance at Six ta Reserve, Canada), 139- 165
Labor, sexual division of, 171 Land, a gift of the Maker, not to be sold, 15 claim of entombed ancestors, 18 intertribal title to joint ownership of, 30 owned by village, 20 ownership and Indian claims, 10 right of occupancy, 18 sales, early conditions of, 27-28 Land ownership among the Iroquois and their neighbors, Concepts of (George S. Snyderman), 13-34 Lawsey, Dave, singer at Qualla (Chero- kee), 122 Lawson, John, on alcoholism, 65 on early Tuscarora character, 64 on lack of Tuscarora frugality, 68 on ‘‘oral”’ character, 70
League of the Iroquois, a confederation, 51
authority weakened, 25 based on analogy of maternal household, 51 chiefs of upbraid Cornplanter, 52 council of, representation on, 51 tripartite seating of, 51 lands of dependants sold by, 24 land status of aliens defined in con- stitution of, 22 local autonomy and, 51 towns of enumerated, 41 treatment of adopted tribes, 21 Legitimacy, 179 Legro, Miami chief, reply of, 29
INDEX
185
Library of Congress, Fenton records, 8] Morgan, L. H.—Continued
Lineage and household, 44
Linton, Ralph, cited, 4, 61-62
Litters of deerskin, 93
Locality and the program of Iroquois research, The concept of (Wil- liam N. Fenton), 1-12
Locality as a basic factor in the devel- opment of Iroquois social struc- ture (William N. Fenton), 35-54
Local organization, 50
privileges, 42 nce OOS Joseph, Onondaga singer,
Longhouse members estimated, 176 Long qphnis settlement at Salamanca,
Lounsbury, F., field work on compara- tive Iroquoian, 7 Lowie, Robert H., cited, 3
Maine, H. S., cited, 3
Male eee in Canada, shifts to,
Male-dominant society, cluded by, 176
Marriage and residence, 170
Maternal descent important to Long- house group, 177
Maternal family and chief’s title, 50
Maternal family and politics, 45
Maternal household projected to League, 51
women ex-
Matrilocal residence among Mohawks, 170
Matron appoints chief, 50
Matron carries title to new town, 51
Medicine Men, Society of, 116-117
Medicine Society, administer Little Water Medicine, 162
Megapolensis, on Mohawk clan towns, 49
Mitchell, Joseph, on Mohawk Indian- ism, 80
Modal personality, minimal adjustment to acculturation shown by, 61
Mohawk and Oneida, tripartite system of, true moieties lacking in, 49
Mohawk, Caughnawaga, steel workers, 40
residents of Brooklyn, 40 Mohawk Workers, political faction at Six Nations, 176 Moieties, distribution among League tribes, 48-49 formerly exogamous, 49-50 function ceremonial, 48 lacking in Mohawk and Oneida, 49
not now exogamous, 49 terms of address, 49 tribal, and Condolence Council, 52 Montauk Indians, taken under protec- tion of Seneca, 21-22 Morgan, L. H., account of Handsome Lake’s gospel from E. S. Parker, 98
on Iroquois dances, 129 quoted on restraint of sexes, 173 work of, 3 Morris, Robert, at Big Tree 1797, 81 Munsee at Cattaraugus, accused of witchcraft, 93 Murdock, George Peter, cited, 4 on ‘‘clan,”’ ftn., 44 on local organization, 39 Musical instruments, 116 Music and dance, Iroquois, Local diversity in (Gertrude P. Kurath) 109-137 Mutual aid in women’s work, 171 Mutual aid pattern, 50
Nativism, reaction to land loss, 32 Neutrality, a continued Iroquois policy,
96
Noon, John A., field work of, 6
O’Bail, Henry, see Cornplanter, the Old Chief.
Ohio Iroquois warriors unruly, 26 Ojibwa culture, conservatism of, 60 Caebone tribes, stomp dances among, 131 Oneida factions, 102 Oneida, Good Message heard by, 101 Oneida of Ontario, neglected, 40 Oneida of Wisconsin, field work among, 7 Oneida, Quaker mission to, 85 Onondaga, removal from Middleport (Feast of the Dead), 144 “Oral” character traits, 69 Tuscarora more “oral’’ than Whites,
69 Oral personality type, 63 Osage Stomp Dance, Oklahoma, 159 Oswego, Council at, 1777, 82-83
Parker, A. C., 22, 79, 80 official version of Handsome Lake evaluated, 99 Parker, E. §., recorded Jimmy Johnson,
brought from
98
Parker, Nicholson, 3
pita Pg so agent at Canandaigua, 9
Participation in communal ritual, 135- 136
in two cultures, 174 Pattern adaptation in ritual, 102 Pattern and innovation, 63 Pattern concept and “‘screen,”’ 62 Pattern of communal ritual, innova- tions, and inventions included in, 136 Penobscot Leading Dance, 130 Personality structure, application of concept in planned social change, 75
Pierce, John, journal quoted, 85
Place names and activities, 43
Political factions, Hereditary Council vs. Elective Council, 176
186
Pollard, Captain, Seneca, against divid- ing tribal lands, 30
Pollenz, Philippa, study of Seneca dances, 8
Pontiac, influence derived from desire to save lands, 30
ri eri Cornplanter’s settlement,
5
Post-Revolutionary period in Canada unknown, 174 Prophet, Grand River Mohawk, 1798, 1
10 Prophets, at Allegany 1825, Buffalo and Tonawanda 1838, 98 Psychological determinants of culture change in an Iroquoian com- munity, Some (Anthony F. C. Wallace), 55-76
Quakers, arrival at Burnt House, 1798, 85
diaries of, 86
ge Lake valued as ally by, 1
influence on Handsome Lake, 81
program of farming, 94
work at Oneida, 85
See also Sharples, Joshua; Pierce,
John; Simmons, Henry, Jr.; fackeen, Halliday; and Swayne, oel.
Randle, Martha Champion, field work at Six Nations, 8, 169 (Iroquois women, then and now), 167-180 Rattle, cow-horn, 116 gourd, 116 turtle-shell, 116 Red Jacket, 52 sale of land by deprecated, 28 speaker for the women, 20, 172 Reforms preceding Handsome Lake, 89 Religions failure to stamp out drinking, 6
local organization of, 50 male centered, 172 Religion of Handsome Lake: Its origin and development, The (Merle H. Deardorff), 77-107 Reservations, listed, 39-40 Residence, 43 affected by tribal enrollment, 44 and occupation at Six Nations, 177 changes with economy, 43 pattern, shifted with farming, 41 Richardville, Joseph, speaker for Miami, 24
Ritual functions, 113-114
Ritual pattern and local diversity, 114 Roheim, G., theory of, 59
Roll Call of the Founders (League), 144 Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto, 143
Sae and Fox Tribes defrauded, 19 St. Clair, General, 1788, on separate treaties, 31 reply of Indians to, 31
INDEX
Scales, 135 Schisms, based on religion, 40 See also Factions. “‘Sereen” hypothesis, 61-63 Serogg, Chief Heenan, preacher at Tonawanda, 99 Seasonal shifts, 42 Settlement patterns, Allegany and Ton- awanda, 41 before 1687, 41 Shawnee, attitude toward land, 16 League flaunted by, 26 Shawnee Prophet, compared with Hand- some Lake, 80 Sibling rivalry, 178 Simmons, Henry, account of Handsome Lake’s illness and prophecy, 90-92 keeps journal at Burnt House, 86 quizzed by Indians on White relig- ion, 86-87 school started by, 86 Singers, exchange of between longhouse centers, 113 wandering, songs diffused by, 113 Six Nations Reserve (Grand River), work at, 40 Sky, John, Tonawanda speaker, 1818, 98 Skye, Howard, account of Onondaga Feast of the Dead, 145-153 Cayuga interpreter, 143 Snyderman, George 8. (Concepts of land ownership among the Iroquois and their neighbors), 13-34 study of warfare, 6 Song type, 115 Songs, composition of, 133 diffusion of, 113, 128 local styles, 135 leveling of styles, 135 modification of, 134 tradition and innovation, 1384 Speaker for women, 172 Speck, F. G., field work on Dead Feast and Tutelo ceremony at Cayuga, 144 influence of, 4 lecture on landownership, 17 local studies started by, 6 quoted on Cayuga interpretation of Good Message, 101 State and Federal relations with New York Indians, dependency atti- tudes affected by, 72 State of New York, dependency atti- tudes toward, 73 Stomp Dance at Cherokee, 130 dissemination from Oklahoma, 131 of Delaware, 131 Stomp Dances, 126-131 Sullivan’s expedition, 1779, 83 Summer Linguistics Institute, work on Seneca language, 7 Symbols used in dance figures, 165
Taxation, fear of, 73
INDEX
Tecumseh, influence derived from desire to save lands, 30 insistance by that land belongs to all Indians, 30 to Harrison at Tippecanoe, 30 rane: achieved by Seneca Proph- et, 9 Temperance Society, at Tuscarora, 67 [Temper tantrums, 178 ferritorial principle, 3 [Thematic apperception test, 179-180 Titiev, M., cited on clan, 45 Tonawanda, central fire of Good Mes- sage, 80 central fire of Handsome Lake religion, 99-100 clan census, 47 settlement patterns, 41 Treaty of Canandaigua, 1794, 52 Treaty of Easton, 1758, 28 [Treaty of Greenville, 28 fribal boundaries blurred by sales, 27 Tribal enrollment and residence, 44 Tribe, 50 bound by clan ties, 51 lribes, incorporated, 5 [unesassa, site of Quaker Mission (Quaker Bridge, N. Y.), 94 ruscarora agriculture, decline of, 65 demandingness a notable trait of, 70 field work, 63 more ‘‘oral” than Whites, 69 futelo Four Nights Dance, 118 rutelo scales like Iroquois, 118 Tutelo Spirit Adoption Ceremony among Cayuga, 144
United Nations of Indians, 1786, 18 United States Commissioners, refusal to entertain a united plea, 31 Universities participating in Iroquois studies, 7
University of Pennsylvania, work at Onondaga, 40
‘Upstreaming,”’ historical method, 39
Viking Fund, Inc., The, 7
Village chief and council, a recurring theme, 10, 50
Village chiefs, treaties signed by, 10
Village community, 39
Village removal, 42
Wallace, Anthony F. C. (Some psycho- logical determinants of culture change in an Iroquoian com- munity), 55-76
Tuscarora field work, 7 Tuscarora study, 40
Wampum, “big light” at Tonawanda,
99-100
187
Wampum, given as guarantee of validity in land deeds, 27
Warriors and hunters on Ohio, presents demanded by, 25
Warriors, land sales sanctioned by, 20
Warriors’ Standing Quiver Dance, 128
Washington, George, Journal to Ohio, 1770, quoted, 25
Weiser, Conrad, Lake Erie Indians met by, 26
West, Doris, work at Cattaraugus men- tioned, 10
Whistle, 116
White Dog Feast, at Oneida, 1799, 101
Handsome Lake on, 102 prepared for prophet, 92
White Eyes, Delaware, greets Christian Post, 29-30
White, aes Onondaga singer, 126,
33
Witch, killing of, 84 Witchcraft, factions at Burnt House pro- duced by, 95 Handsome Lake’s zeal against, 93 Witthoft, John, field work of, 6 Wizards, outnumbering witches, 175 Women, activities and ceremonial cycle, 172 and Death feasts, 171 as Keepers of Faith, 172 cooperative enterprises of, 179 ego-structure, 177 excluded from recent politics, 176 exhibits exceed men’s, 179 few individualistic roles, 175 final say in land sales, 20 Iroquois, 167-180 role in Feast of Dead, 164 political roles of, 171-172 role in marriage, 170 eet ‘disabilities’? minimized, 171 Women’s Shuffle Dance, 1382-133 Women’s Society of Planters, 134 ea eee at Cornplanter’s town, 8
Work off the Reserve, 179 Worship Dances, 88, 92 See also Festivals. Worship Dances and Four Sacred Cere- monies of the Good Message, 93 Wright, Rev. Asher, 3 on clan chiefs and local districts, 50 Wyandot and others, message of to President, 17 Wyandot of Sandusky, speech of, 18
Zeisberger, David, 82 questioned by Indians, ftn., 87
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