INSANITY--SUICIDE.
Insanity is not common among the Indians; yet I have known several
who were afflicted with mental derangement. Men in this situation are
always considered as objects of pity. Every one, young and old, feels
compassion for their misfortune; to laugh or scoff at them would be
considered as a crime, much more so to insult or molest them. The
nation or colour of the unfortunate object makes no difference; the
charity of the Indians extends to all, and no discrimination is made in
such a lamentable case.
About the commencement of the Indian war in 1763, a trading Jew, named
Chapman, who was going up the Detroit river with a batteau-load of
goods which he had brought from Albany, was taken by some Indians of
the Chippeway nation, and destined to be put to death. A Frenchman,
impelled by motives of friendship and humanity, found means to steal
the prisoner, and kept him so concealed for some time, that although
the most diligent search was made, the place of his confinement could
not be discovered. At last, however, the unfortunate man was betrayed
by some false friend, and again fell into the power of the Indians, who
took him across the river to be burned and tortured. Tied to the stake
and the fire burning by his side, his thirst, from the great heat,
became intolerable, and he begged that some drink might be given to
him. It is a custom with the Indians, previous to a prisoner being put
to death, to give him what they call his last meal; a bowl of pottage
or broth was therefore brought to him for that purpose. Eager to quench
his thirst, he put the bowl immediately to his lips, and the liquor
being very hot, he was dreadfully scalded. Being a man of a very quick
temper, the moment he felt his mouth burned, he threw the bowl with its
contents full in the face of the man who had handed it to him. “He is
mad! He is mad!” resounded from all quarters. The bystanders considered
his conduct as an act of insanity, and immediately untied the cords
with which he was bound, and let him go where he pleased.
This fact was well known to all the inhabitants of Detroit, from whom
I first heard it, and it was afterwards confirmed to me by Mr. Chapman
himself, who was established as a merchant at that place.
SUICIDE is not considered by the Indians either as an act of heroism
or of cowardice, nor is it with them a subject of praise or blame.
They view this desperate act as the consequence of mental derangement,
and the person who destroys himself is to them an object of pity. Such
cases do not frequently occur. Between the years 1771 and 1780, four
Indians of my acquaintance took the root of the may-apple, which is
commonly used on such occasions, in order to poison themselves, in
which they all succeeded, except one. Two of them were young men, who
had been disappointed in love, the girls on whom they had fixed their
choice, and to whom they were engaged, having changed their minds and
married other lovers. They both put an end to their existence. The two
others were married men. Their stories, as pictures of Indian manners,
will not, perhaps, be thought uninteresting.
One of those unfortunate men was a person of an excellent character,
respected and esteemed by all who knew him. He had a wife whom he was
very fond of and two children, and they lived very happily together at
the distance of about half a mile from the place where I resided. He
often came to visit me, and as he was of a most amiable disposition,
I was pleased with his visits, and always gave him a hearty welcome.
When I thought he was too long about coming, I went myself to the
delightful spot which he had judiciously selected for his dwelling.
Here I always found the family cheerful, sociable and happy, until
some time before the fatal catastrophe happened, when I observed that
my friend’s countenance bore the marks of deep melancholy, of which
I afterwards learned the cause. His wife had received the visits of
another man; he foresaw that he would soon be obliged to separate from
her, and he shuddered when he thought that he must also part from his
two lovely children; for it is the custom of the Indians, that when a
divorce takes place between husband and wife, the children remain with
their mother, until they are of a proper age to choose for themselves.
One hope, however, still remained. The sugar-making season was at
hand, and they were shortly to remove to their sugar-camp, where he
flattered himself his wife would not be followed by the disturber of
his peace, whose residence was about ten miles from thence. But this
hope was of short duration. They had hardly been a fortnight in their
new habitation, when, as he returned one day from a morning’s hunt, he
found the unwelcome visitor at his home, in close conversation with his
faithless wife. This last stroke was more than he could bear; without
saying a single word, he took off a large cake of his sugar, and with
it came to my house, which was at the distance of eight miles from his
temporary residence. It was on a Sunday, at about ten o’clock in the
forenoon, that he entered my door, with sorrow strongly depicted on
his manly countenance. As he came in he presented me with his cake of
sugar, saying, “My friend! you have many a time served me with a good
pipe of tobacco, and I have not yet done anything to please you. Take
this as a reward for your goodness, and as an acknowledgment from me as
your friend.” He said no more, but giving me with both his hands a warm
farewell squeeze, he departed and returned to the camp. At about two
o’clock in the afternoon, a runner from thence passing through the town
to notify his death at the village two miles farther, informed us of
the shocking event. He had immediately on his return, remained a short
time in his house, indulging in the last caresses to his dear innocent
children; then retiring to some distance, had eaten the fatal root, and
before relief could be administered by some persons who had observed
him staggering from the other side of the river, he was on the point of
expiring, and all succours were vain.
The last whom I have to mention was also a married man, but had no
children. He had lived happy with his wife, until one day that she fell
into a passion and made use to him of such abusive language as he could
not endure. Too highminded to quarrel with a woman, he resolved to
punish her by putting an end to his existence. Fortunately he was seen
in the first stage of his fits, and was brought into a house, where a
strong emetic diluted in lukewarm water, the composition of which I
have already described,[209] was forcibly poured down his throat. He
recovered after some time, but never was again the strong healthy man
he had been before; his wife however took warning from this desperate
act, and behaved better ever after.