XXII. Law — The Chukchee

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XXIILaw

COUNCIL OF THE FAMILY-GROUP. — I was told that in olden times, when some awkward case in law (akauˊka-vaˊɪrg̣ɪn, “inconvenient substances,” the usual Chukchee expression for trouble, trespass, crime¹) happened within the limits of a family-group, the old men and the young men would hold a council. The old men would sit down and talk about the case. The young men would stand behind and listen. Likewise, when any trouble arose between two different family-groups, men from both sides would assemble. The old men of each side would elect one or two speakers, who had to speak in turn, one side after the other. The old men spoke “for the softness” (am-yêrkêˊtɪ), and the younger men had to obey their decision. If, however, an agreement could not be reached, or the parties particularly interested in the case refused to listen to reason, the old men would say, “Let them [have a little] play” (nuučveˊerkɪnet).² Then the interested parties, armed with spears, would have an encounter. Of course, even such a duel would have been better than the unorganized bloodshed of vendetta; but I am unable to say how far the above description of the council corresponded to actual life; at least, in the modern life of the Chukchee tribe, I do not know of anything similar to such councils and their deliberations.

I mentioned previously that the Chukchee are eloquent in their own way; so that, when anything happens, at the next gathering of the people — for instance, during some ceremonial or on the occasion of a reindeer-race — it is much talked about; and in this discussion, as is the custom, only the older and more esteemed people take an important part. From this to a regular council, however, is a long way. I mentioned in the chapter on marriage a similar assertion by D. J. Melikoff,³ concerning the “council of elders.” This assertion even pretended to refer to modern times. I expressed then also my opinion that in modern times, so far as I know, no such councils are held among the Chukchee. The law is regulated by personal action, and no public institutions have anything to do with the judgment or punishment of the crime.

MURDER AND BLOOD-REVENGE WITHIN THE FAMILY-GROUP. — The principal[663]🗗uncollated crime is of course murder, and the punishment thereof blood-revenge. In the beginning of my acquaintance with the Chukchee tribe I was astonished to find that all murders are divided into two categories, those committed within the family-group, and those committed outside of it. Only those of the second category are liable to blood-revenge. Those in the first category were exempt from it, or indeed from any punishment at all. In explanation of such a state of things, the Chukchee would even quote something like a formula of customary law: “as one of their own he was treated” (činiˊtu liˊg̣nin), “as a kinsman he was treated” (čičeˊtu liˊg̣nin). This is meant to express that each family-group knows their own circumstances best, and is able to decide about them. The Chukchee would add, “Is he destined to live on? All the same, he would be killed by a stranger” (Yäqqäiˊ yeˊg̣ telelqäl? Tŭmg̣-aˊlvalag̣ ečveˊčä nɪˊnmɪnên). This implies that only “bad men” are murdered within the limits of the family-group. In reality, I know this to be true in some cases. For instance, in the country of the Oloi River, a couple of years before my visit there, a Chukchee by the name of Leivɪteˊhɪn was killed by his own kinsmen. He was a man of spiteful temper. He ill-used his house-mates, and was even cruel to his own driving-reindeer. The Reindeer Chukchee consider the driving-reindeer as first among things “dear to the heart” (liˊñliñkin). The terms for blood-revenge (liˊñɪlɪn, “blood-revenger;” liñɪleˊerkɪn, “to seek blood-revenge”) are derived from the same root (liñ). This root belongs to the noun liˊñliñ (“heart”).

One day, Leivɪteˊhɪn, while on some journey, happened to kill one of his reindeer by a misdirected blow. After that his kinsmen resolved to take his life. They said, “Otherwise he will be killed by somebody else, and we shall have a feud on our hands.” So his own brother came to his camp, and at a favorable moment stabbed him in the back with a knife. This act was approved by the common consent of all neighbors, because he was a “bad one, a source of torment to the others” (eᵋˊtqi tawêmɪn˙ñɪˊɪrg̣ɪn), as they expressed it.¹ In another case I mentioned,² a father was killed by his son and nephew, with the knowledge of his wife, also for his extreme cruelty. Outside of such cases, however, I know of several others where the victims were not “bad ones” at all, and the murderers were acting for their own material interest, Such was the case of fratricide mentioned above. In still another case, a man of the Chukchee country, Yaˊyaq by name, was murdered by his nephews in the early nineties of the last century. He was a rich reindeer-breeder, and the young men simply wanted to get possession of his large herd. On the other hand, Yaˊyaq, a few months before his death, had himself committed a barbarous murder on a family of Maritime people at[664]🗗uncollated Cape Erri. His deed was of such a character that it could not pass without punishment; so that the murderers could allege for themselves that the killing of Yaˊyaq by his own people would destroy all grounds for blood-revenge, and prevent further trouble. In still another case that I know of a man named Qaˊvrêtto was killed by his cousin in a quarrel. After the deed, the murderer married the wife of his victim, and joined the two herds together. The victim left a small son, who had to live in the camp of the murderer. Nobody protested against the deed. The Chukchee who told me the details of the affair said, “What is to be done? This is their own business” (Qailoˊ-qɪm miˊñkri. Eˊrrɪg̣-liˊi; literally, “Of course how, their knowledge”).

I will also mention a couple of cases of a somewhat different character, although they happened within the family.

A mother killed her boy with a blow of a heavy stick. The boy was about seven years old. The father was, as the Chukchee says, “a soft one” (yɪˊrkum-vaˊlɪn), and nothing further happened. In two cases men killed their wives, — one with a fire-brand, and the other with a kick of the foot in her abdomen. Moreover, the second woman was with child. Both murders remained without consequences. In a third case, however, a rich reindeer-breeder on the western Kolyma tundra, Qituˊwg̣i, who happened to murder his wife, had to pay a heavy fine to the brother of the one killed. He gave nine reindeer, among them two driving-teams and a number of the best fawn-skins. I was told, however, that even this fine was moderate, the killed one being a woman and not very young.

Still another case, also previously mentioned,¹ where, on the contrary, a wife killed her husband with the concurrence of her daughters, remained without consequences for the lack of avengers; that is to say, the victim had no kinsmen in the neighborhood.

MURDER AND BLOOD-REVENGE OUTSIDE OF THE FAMILY. — A murder committed outside of the family-group rarely remains unavenged. “It is a bitter shame to leave blood unpaid for,” say the Chukchee. “Even the remote kinsmen have to take it to heart. A friend, too, must avenge his friend, and, much more, his group-marriage companion.”

I have already mentioned that the union of those who have to take part in blood-revenge is designated by a special term, čiˊn-yɪrɪn, “heart-company” (from the root čiñ, identical with liñ). These are, first of all, kinsmen in the father’s line (“those from the old-buck side”). It is said that kinsmen in the mother’s line (“those from the matrix side”) have to appear as avengers only when there is nobody to undertake it in the father’s line. The son-in-law, who lives in the house of his wife as an adopted son, is considered as a member of his wife’s father’s family, and takes an active part in the blood-revenge.[665]🗗uncollated The son-in-law, living separately, is equivalent to a kinsman in the mother’s line. He undertakes revenge only in the absence of paternal kinsmen. On the whole, in all strife and cases of revenge the rights of the paternal line are decidedly preponderant over those of the maternal. In case the interests of other groups come into collision, a man has to stay with the paternal line. The same is true for the Asiatic Eskimo. The people at Indian Point declared, “In the case of a quarrel, the father’s kin becomes near, and the mother’s remote.” Still, the saying, that, in case of need, even the remotest relation may appear as an avenger, is occasionally put into practice. For instance, when a Chukchee man was killed by the Russians at the Anui fair in 1895, an incident, of which I have already spoken, the wrong was taken up, first of all, by the step-father of the killed one; i. e., by a man who was not connected with him on either the paternal or maternal side. He negotiated with the officials, and even received the first portion of the pay for the blood. It seemed, however, that he was conscious of having no right to that pay: at least, some of it was stolen from him almost immediately by the other Chukchee. He offered to return the remainder to the Russians under the pretense that they should keep it for the brother of the slain. In the end, of course, he took it for himself.

From this moment, day after day, various Chukchee from the Chaun country came to the Russian officials. Some of them declared themselves to be cousins of the killed one, how many times removed nobody could ascertain. The others simply said that they were his fellow-countrymen. They explained, “We have trodden the same ground as he. This is sufficient to make us feel compassion at his death.” Most of them also declared that it was their intention to get some part of the pay for blood; but the others only offered a lot of invective, even threatening the Russian officer to his very face. After that they would go. Still all of them declared that all these doings were quite useless, and that revenge would not begin until the next year, when the brother of the victim would come to the fair.

Nevertheless, there are cases where no kinsman wants to appear as an avenger of blood. Of brothers and cousins there may be none; and the more remote relations do not care to take up the quarrel, especially if the hostile family is strong enough to sustain the fight. If the slain one has left youthful sons, however, the duty of revenge falls upon them, and sooner or later will be accomplished.

A good description of the way in which blood-revenge was practised, was given to me by Aiñanwaˊt. I knew personally some of the people mentioned and described in his story; and the information they gave corresponded in all essential points to that obtained from Aiñanwaˊt. The most remarkable of the family of brothers mentioned in the story was the oldest. His name was Vaˊlɪrg̣ɪn. He was about forty years old, well built, strong, and active.[666]🗗uncollated He had the reputation among his neighbors of being dangerous in times of trouble; but in ordinary life he was of a quiet nature, and abused nobody.

“One rich reindeer-breeder was killed by his camp assistant while with the herd. He had left three sons, all of them still young boys. The eldest boy, however, was not very small: he had already begun to help with the herd during the daytime. There was, besides these, a little brother of the one killed. He was of just the same age as the second boy. After the murder, the camp assistant, being the strongest man in the camp, slaughtered reindeer as he liked. Then the wife of the murdered man began to abuse her eldest son, who slept too long in the morning.¹ The woman said, ‘Your father has been murdered, and notwithstanding this you sleep so long in the morning!’ “All this time the boys were shooting with their bows, spurred on by their mother. Their little uncle, the young brother of the murdered one, was doing the same. The murderer continued slaughtering their reindeer. Very soon he made them poor, and at last their entire herd had been butchered. Then the murderer separated from them and went away to a distant locality. The boys continued their exercises. At last they grew up to young manhood. The next year they were full grown, and became strong men. The murderer went away to the windward side.² “Now the boys went in search of him. They had become great archers. They would take aim at a blade of grass, and would hit it. Therefore they sought for the murderer. They travelled eastward from camp to camp, declaring that they were going to East Cape to trade. The camps were numerous in that country, and, after asking among the camps, they at last acquired the necessary information. The inhabitants said to them, ‘He left his winter place, and is going with a light tent to the seashore to get blubber from the Maritime people. His house-mates are travelling slowly behind, waiting for his return.’ These young men were without a tent, having only their own bodies; i. e., travelling with single sledges, without women and other house-mates. They reached the place. Then they began to go every day to watch the trail of the murderer, and every evening they came back. They walked on foot, leaving their reindeer in the herd of their host. The whole time they carried their bows and quivers upon their backs, ready for action. At last, one day, they saw a man coming along the trail with a reindeer-team. Behind him, but at a great distance, the usual line of pack-sledges was moving toward them. At last he came nearer and recognized them. At the same time he understood their intention, because all of them had bows in their hands. Then at last he made a halt. They said, ‘Now we have found you!’ He said, ‘Oh! so it is. Oh! better in the camp!’ They answered, ‘Did you commit the deed on our man also in the camp?’ So one strung a bow and shot at him. Being an expert archer, he hit him right in the middle of his liver.³ It was pierced through. Still he jumped up and ran away, not heeding the wound. Another one shot at the running one, and hit him right in the back. Then he fell down. They rushed toward him. He was still living, and his eyes looked like those of a living person. They hacked him with their large knives upon the head, and broke his skull. The pack-sledges were coming. Then they left him, and shouted to those who arrived, “Now we leave to you your wild reindeer [killed by us!]’ They started home, running. The wife of the killed man had to pitch camp on that spot. Thus they achieved their revenge. “After that they left and went home. Then they travelled in this direction, because they had lived far inland. When seeking the murderer, they falsely declared in the camps, ‘We are going to East Cape;’ and their real intention was to commit murder. Only on the sly did they inquire from their own kinsmen concerning the man whom they intended to kill, ‘Where is he?’ To the other people they said, ‘We are going to East Cape.’ After the deed, they, in their turn, left with a feeling of fear. “They travelled in great haste. Still summer overtook them, and they had to remain through the summer-time. When the next fall came, with the first cool weather they moved right on here. They went somewhere on the other side of the Kolyma River, and spent one year there. The[667]🗗uncollated next year they crossed the Kolyma. They stopped at last just on the border of the western camps, in the country of the Indighirka. It seemed almost as if they wanted to pass on to the land beyond the Chukchee (i. e., to the Russian) territory. Only there they resolved to make a halt. So they remained on the leeward (western) side. Ten years they spent in that country; and after many years the ‘knowing men’ among the kinsmen of the murdered one made them (by magic) entirely forget the past, and leave off their watchfulness. Then the youngest brother was murdered by means of a spell from a great distance (by those ‘knowing men’).”

Then follows the episode of the spell. The youngest brother wounded a wild reindeer-buck that came to his camp. While pursuing it on the ice of the lake, he broke his own neck. Thus the reindeer proved to be a spell. This part of the story has been mentioned elsewhere.¹ The narrator pointed out that this man, one of the recent avengers, perished through an accident connected with the shooting; and when dying had his bow in his hand, ready to shoot. He had the same bow ten years before, when taking an active part in their blood-revenge. Notwithstanding the incident of the spell, the narrator, when speaking of the flight of the avengers westwards, added some remarks of his own deprecating their lack of courage after the deed. His remarks are quite interesting: —

“They fled without reason. Their deed was not a murder. Why have they left their own country? They have only avenged their kinsman. And if they had staid there, they would have met no annoyance, since they were only ‘exchangers.’ It is rather sinful to answer [the avengers] with murder. Some such even live together, become friends and group-marriage companions; for they may dwell in union, since they have accomplished their intention, as they would finish some great work.² The others, however, may indeed feel afraid when the murderer has kinsmen who are hot-tempered. Some also do not kill the murderer. They kill somebody else, a son or a brother, or another man dear to his heart. They make the murderer suffer from sorrow. They say, ‘You also suffer and repine.’ The man who has recently committed a murder feels the utmost fear; but when retribution has been accomplished, he may cease to be afraid.”³

From all this the conclusion may be drawn that Chukchee blood-revenge in most cases stops with the first case of retribution, and that the repaying of revenge with further deeds of violence happens less frequently. On the contrary, families having a feud, after the first act of revenge, may conclude peace, and even form ties of friendship. I cannot say that I know of cases of such friendship in actual life; but, on the other hand, the continuation of blood-revenge through a series of return-cases does not correspond to the general condition of Chukchee family life. The Chukchee family connection is not strong enough to sustain a prolonged feud: at least, among the Reindeer[668]🗗uncollated Chukchee, in all cases of vendetta of which I know, revenge was taken by the first party wronged, and after that in return by the second party wronged. In this latter case it consisted almost always in the payment of were-geld or in the use of magic influence. Then the vendetta would cease, and even the enmity would be at an end. As to the Maritime Chukchee, I mentioned a prolonged feud between two villages, but the feud was of a different character; and no particular family blood-revenge; so far as I know, formed the basis of it.

In folk-tales, cases of vendetta are described almost with as much detail as the episode of actual life narrated above. Thus, for instance, in the tale of “Violent-One Murdered” (Eˊrmeč ɪn tɪˊmyo), the man is performing violence on his neighbors and robbing them of the products of their seal-hunt. They feel annoyed at this, and finally kill him. I mentioned this tale because of its description of a violent man among the Maritime people.¹ In the second part of the tale it is said that the killed one left two wives. One of them was with child, and soon brought forth male twins. The boys grew up quickly; but the family suffered many hardships, and often they had nothing to eat. The women, however, incited the boys to continual exercise, in order to prepare them for revenge. They said to them, “Our hunger comes from the fact that your father was killed by his enemies. While he was living, we always had plenty. So you are bound to avenge his death, and make the families of his murderers also repine and starve.” The boys obeyed. They were running all the time, hauling large trunks of trees, and fencing with spears. Thus they became strong and active men. One day they killed ten wild reindeer-bucks, and fed the two old women, their mother and her companion, who were almost starved to death. Then they had a quarrel with their neighbors, who had killed a whale. The old woman said, “Your father perished with many wounds in his body. Go now and repay that.” They went, and had a fight with their neighbors. All the men were killed. Everything that moved on the shore was exterminated. The young children of the killed men were reduced to starving orphans.²

It is curious to note that the idea of blood-revenge appears even in connection with hunting and fishing pursuits. Thus the Chukchee say that the trapping of foxes, otters, etc., is influenced by the desire of blood-revenge on the part of animals. One of the trappers told me that every time his traps catch a fox, he sees the fox in a dream beforehand. The animal attacks the hunter, and wants to hurt him.³ In speaking of foxes, he called them “avengers” (liˊñɪlɪt). Another hunter explained to me that among men and beasts there[669]🗗uncollated exists an eternal feud and desire for blood-revenge. When a man has killed a fox, another fox wants to avenge its death: so it rushes to a trap, and is killed in its turn. The fiercer this enmity on the part of the animals, the better will be the hunting. For this reason also, in angling, the angler sends a derisive challenge to the fishes in order to make them come. Thus, in angling for grayling through holes in the ice, when the fishes are seen in the water, but do not want to bite at the hook, the angler uses an incantation as follows: —

“Vai, vai, vai, ᴇʟaˊnaw-mêˊrg̣a qamêˊ-loᵋ-tɪˊnpɪk g̣ag̣tɪnɪmčaˊw-ê-hɪt;” “There, there, there, (from) mother, woman- in eating face-kicking having received a lesson-art grandparent thou;”

that is, “Well, well, from your mother’s mother, who kicked you in the face, during a meal you have received a lesson of prudence.” Another incantation used is: —

“Yo, yo, tan˙ñɪnaˊqut eˊmi?” “Oh, oh! taˊn˙ñɪt big where (are they)?”

that is, “Oh, oh! Where are those big taˊn˙ñɪt?” The fishes are equivalent to the taˊn˙ñɪt, the ancient enemies of the Chukchee tribe.

When the fish has bitten and been caught, the angler uses still another incantation: —

“G̣ɪk, g̣ɪk, g̣ɪk, kɪrña-takaˊlhɪn qäiñeˊwkun;” “Oh, oh, oh! old male mate call him;”

that is, “Oh, oh, oh! call your elder companion.”

This last incantation is the most effective of all. He who neglects to pronounce this short formula after every successful catch, in a short time will lose all his “fishing-luck.”

WEREGILD. — Weregild may be accepted either for murder, or, much more frequently, for any lesser crime perpetrated on person or property. The Chukchee language has several expressions for weregild. One of these is qäl-vil (literally, “misfortune-value”). This term is applied to weregild for more serious crimes; i. e., for murder and for great robberies.

Puˊurɪn (literally, “exchange”) is applied to cases of minor robberies and of corporal damages not followed by death. The same stem, however, is also used for all kinds of retributions, even for blood-revenge. Puurɪˊtkulɪn (“the exchanger”) is employed in the same sense as the term liˊñɪlɪn (“the avenger”), mentioned before. Kɪˊtkau (literally, “hard return”) is also used for all kinds of retaliation in blood, and also for weregild. Ñɪˊrkɪčvai (“shame-pay”) is used where some personal insult has been inflicted, chiefly in cases of rape on women, also in those of retribution for blood, and sometimes even for bad words. Weregild may be accepted for murder when the offender is either rich or has many strong kinsmen who are likely to defend him, or under[670]🗗uncollated both circumstances. The Chukchee, notwithstanding their quick temper, still have in their character a streak of soberness. “Large profits are always preferable to blood,” they say. I have described above in some detail the Anui-fair murder, where the Russians paid weregild for the killed man. The Chukchee, even in the hottest of the quarrel, did not express a direct craving for the blood of the murderer. I should, however, mention that the scuffle was so sudden and disorderly, that the natives did not notice who of the Russians dealt the mortal blow to the victim. The Russians knew, but of course kept it a secret. The next year this man avoided going to the Anui fair. Not knowing the name of the murderer, the Chaun people were disposed to wreak their vengeance on the “chief,” Eiˊheli, as I have already mentioned. The next year Eiˊheli also refused to go to the Anui fair; but the visit could not be avoided because of his official duties. He, however, left all his reindeer far away, and was conveyed to the fair by the Russians on a dog-team. He lived within the Russian fort, and avoided appearing in the trading-camps. Some days after his coming, the brother of the killed man met him at the house of the Russian chief officer, and promised to pay him a personal visit. A few hours later Eiˊheli asked to be taken away from the fair, and carried to Nishne-Kolymsk. “Otherwise they will kill me,” he persisted. “This time I shall not escape.” So this case also might have ended in blood-revenge.

I mentioned another case where a Maritime Chukchee whose cousin had been murdered in a reindeer-camp on the Anui River, took as weregild a young boy of the family of the murderer, and also a large part of his herd. The next year he came again and took another part of the herd of reindeer. He gave as his reason for doing so that weregild must be taken three consecutive years. Otherwise the spirit of the victim would not be appeased. His demands were considered exorbitant. When he was driving the reindeer back to his country, one of the kinsmen of the one killed crossed his path, and requested that half of the animals be given back. The Reindeer man had other people with him, and they immediately proceeded to divide the herd. “After that close asking,” said the last comer, “we shall have enough of this. The next year we shall fight you.” The brother of the man killed by the Russians also mentioned three years of payment of weregild, but the third year he got nothing. The whole value given to his step-father and to himself reached about three hundred rubles. It consisted of tea, sugar, tobacco, kettles, colored calico, etc. He asked also for some brandy; but this time the authorities had brought none, and refused to grant the request. Thus, in these two cases the weregild paid by the murderer was heavy enough.

In a third case of which I know, the weregild was much smaller. The affair took place also at the Anui fair, in the year 1894. A man came there with a single driving-team (qun-g̣ekeˊñä), and staid at a camp of one of his acquaintances from the Anui country, who had come to the fair with a[671]🗗uncollated number of his cousins. Some people from the Wolverene River accused this man of having murdered one of their friends in a drunken brawl two years before: so they wanted to punish him for that. They came to the camp of the Anui people armed with rifles and knives, but the master of the camp declared that he was ready to defend his guest. His people were more numerous. An altercation ensued. The offended party wanted at least to take the team of the murderer, since it was the only thing there “dear to his heart” (liˊnliñqin); but the accused one flatly refused to part with the team. “I will rather die,” said he. So, after some quarrelling and mutual threats, the assailants saw the necessity of contenting themselves with fawn-skins, which the murderer had brought for sale to the Russians. The skins were twenty in number, valued at fifteen rubles. A Chukchee single driver cannot carry much on his small sledge. Some time afterwards I saw one of the assailants. He said, “Well, after all, he had to go back to his family empty-handed. The tea and tobacco, the ‘desire of his heart,’ were taken from him with these fawn-skins.” From the Chukchee point of view, this reasoning was more or less true. The force of the desire is taken into account independently of the real value of the object, in peaceful trading; and a Chukchee is ready to pay a threefold price for any trifle that may take his fancy, and could not be acquired otherwise. The Russian traders are well aware of this disposition of the Chukchee, and make full use of it in all commercial transactions. So in this case tea and tobacco were really “dear to the heart” of the accused man.

MINOR CRIMES. — Minor crimes, on the whole, are followed either by personal chastisement or by the payment of weregild. The personal chastisement is usually preceded by a challenge to a wrestling-match, and inflicted after the victory in the dance. I mentioned before¹ the tale of the “Lucky Suitor,” in which such an incident is described with characteristic details.

“The hero married a proud girl, who had previously refused all her suitors. One of them, who lived in a neighboring camp, met her outside, threw her to the ground, and scratched her face with the point of his knife. The lucky suitor came to her camp shortly after the incident, vanquished her in a running-match, and was accepted. The next fall the neighbor who had scratched the woman’s face invited the people, saying, ‘Let us again have races and running-matches!’ All the people assembled, and all took part in a running-match. The newly married one did not take off his outer fur shirt. He ran in his usual clothes. Nevertheless he came back first. All the others were behind. Then he sprang forward, and said, ‘Well, come on [for a wrestling-match].’ His face was inflamed with anger. ‘Who wants to try? Hurry up!’ — ‘Who knows?’ answered the others. ‘Let this one wrestle with me!’ and he pointed out the neighbor who in the past year had scratched his wife’s face. ‘No,’ says the neighbor, looking down. ‘Hurry up!’ said the other. He continued to refuse. Then at last the lucky suitor sprang toward him and kicked him in the face. The other one fell down and swooned. After a while he sat up on the ground. ‘Hurry up!’ He rose, but continued to refuse. Then the lucky suitor caught him, threw him down, and pressed him with his knee to the ground. Then he took out his girdle-knife, and cut his nostrils all over, also his eyelids and his cheeks. His whole face he cut into strips, in revenge for the treatment of his wife.”

[672]🗗uncollated

Cases like this happen in modern life, and I will describe some later on. Of course, in order to inflict a chastisement of such a kind on the offender, one must be able to overcome him in a struggle. Whenever I mentioned this to my Chukchee friends, they would instantly answer, “A wronged man will be victorious.” This is the leading idea of all ordeals and of single combats for the sake of law. In actual life some encounters of this kind have issues of exactly opposite character. Thus one of the three brother-avengers of whom I spoke before, Vaatuˊwg̣ê by name, while still quite young, had a drunken brawl with another young Chukchee, whose name was Peñeˊwg̣i. They had a wrestling-match; and Vaatuˊwg̣ê, who was by far the stronger, threw his adversary down, and, seizing one of his legs, pulled it violently and drew it out of the socket. In consequence of this act, Peñeˊwg̣i remained lame until his death. Now, Peñeˊwg̣i was of a meek disposition; and his cousin Peñelquˊt, though cross-tempered enough, was but an indifferent fighter. The offender, on the contrary, was one of the three brothers who had prepared for murder from their youth up, and all three were strong and nimble men; so that the wrong of Peñeˊwg̣i was left without retaliation.

Another case within my knowledge happened in the country of the Upper Anui River, while I was travelling there. One man, Uˊmkuum by name, took a liking to a young woman, the wife of another Chukchee, Oˊoqai, who lived in a neighboring camp. The young woman refused his courtship; but at last he came to her house in the absence of her husband, caught her in the entrance of the outer tent, and violated her. This was done in broad daylight and in the middle of the camp. He promised to give her for this a new seal-skin, but failed to fulfil his promise. Then she complained to her husband, who challenged the offender to a wrestling-match; but both men proved to be of equal physical strength. The wronged man belonged to a strong family; and the number of his brothers, all full-grown and active, was seven. Shortly after that, four of the best reindeer of Uˊmkuum were lost. The people in the camps around laughed, and said that they were sold off for a single seal-skin.

In a camp of the Anui country, two young men had a quarrel while playing cards. A wrestling-match followed, and the one who considered himself wronged threw his adversary to the ground. The vanquished one sprang up and seized a large piece of wood that had been prepared to be fashioned into a sledge-runner. He wanted to strike the victor upon the head with the wood; but the latter succeeded in catching hold of it by the other end, and in wrenching it from the hands of his assailant. He threw it away; then, incensed by the attack, he kicked his adversary in the face, just as described in folk-lore. The other one fell down, his face bleeding. Now, the young man belonged to a strong family, with a number of uncles and cousins: so the next day some of his people came to the camp of the offender.[673]🗗uncollated Knives were drawn and they threatened to cut the sinews of the legs of the offender, that he might not be able to kick again. Nevertheless they did not come to blows. A few days afterwards, when the passions of both parties had cooled down, the young man who was threatened declared that he was in the right when he wrenched the piece of wood from his assailant and kicked him; and he therefore wanted to have reparation for the unsheathing of iron in his camp. Finally he was actually given as kɪˊtkau (“hard return,” i. e., reparation, see p. 669) a set of reindeer leg-skins. The value of the gift was insignificant, and it had chiefly a moral effect.

Shortly after my first arrival at the Anui fair, I had a visit from Eiˊheli, Qituˊwg̣i, and other chiefs of the Chukchee. They bade me welcome in a manner rather ceremonial, but they were really wishing for a drink of brandy as a token of welcome on my part, which they accordingly received. There were five or six of them. Then more people came and asked for the same, and at last I stopped the supply. One of the later comers, who had had nothing, insisted also on having a sip of the liquor. Soon he became so importunate, that I lost patience and asked him to leave me in peace. He sat down in his place, grumbling to himself. A couple of hours afterwards I was standing in the gate of the fortress, talking with the people who were passing to and fro, and making occasional notes in a little note-book that I held in my hands. Suddenly my recent guest came up from behind and struck me with his fist on my right wrist, so that my note-book fell to the ground. “You so and so!” cried he, “you come here and hobnob with the people for hours and scribble notes on a paper, but one cannot get a draught of brandy in your blessed house.” After that he retreated a little, stripped off his fur shirt, and was quite naked down to his waist. Then he requested me to do the same, and to have a wrestling-match with him. “I am standing on my own ground,” added he, “and I may challenge you to a test.” He was right, in so far as even officially only the interior of the fortress was considered to be Russian territory, and all the space outside of it was admitted to belong to the Chukchee. Every evening all the Chukchee were turned out of the fortress and the gate locked, so that the difference was more than theoretical. A young boy of about ten years kept tugging at the clothes of this man with all his might, trying to persuade him to be off to the house. This was his son. But the father was firm in his intention. My adversary was a man of fifty, of Maritime extraction, Rɪˊnto by name. He was of slender frame, but his temper was undaunted. As a result of this, he had two ugly scars in the region of his abdomen. I felt no desire, however, for the unexpected wrestling-match. At the same time I did not like the idea of openly retreating before my adversary, though he stood on his own territory, and I stood on mine. The difficulty resolved itself, however, by the arrival of one of my friends, a political exile like myself, who was a man of powerful build and[674]🗗uncollated of great physical strength. Without paying any attention to the difference in the territories, he stepped over to Rɪˊnto, caught him by the head, and lifted him from the ground up in the air. Then he put him down. “Now, say, what do you want?” he asked with a smile. His temper was quite sweet and peaceful, and he did not want to hurt anybody. Rɪˊnto said nothing, and went away to his own house. The next day he came into the fortress, and brought with him expiatory presents, — a reindeer-tongue for my friend, as being the stronger of us two; and a piece of ordinary meat for me. “I was ugly yesterday,” said he. “Take this kɪˊtkau,¹ as is the custom; and now give me my draught of alcohol.” This was so ingenuous, that my friend was quite charmed, and insisted on having Rɪˊnto’s wish gratified.

THEFT. — As I have stated before, thefts frequently occur among the Chukchee, especially among the reindeer-breeders. The chief objects taken are reindeer. Retribution for theft is of the same nature as that for more serious crimes, — either wrestling-matches and personal chastisement, or the payment of damages and a fine. I was told that the common rule required that the amount paid shall equal the value of the stolen article, together with a certain surplus as a fine for the deed. This, however, may happen when the thief confesses his action and expresses a desire to make it good. — “compelled by shame,” as the Chukchee say. If the thief persists in denying his guilt, however, it is difficult to make him return the stolen property. Thus the result depends much on the strength and the temper of the contesting parties. I will mention a few such cases within my knowledge.

One reindeer-breeder, a man of peaceful temper, lost a group of reindeer, nine in number, which strayed away from the herd, as reindeer often do, and could not be found. It appeared afterwards that they had gone to the herd of one of the neighboring camps, and had been appropriated by the master. His own camp assistant gave information of the fact; but the offender was obstinate, and denied it till the end. Then the wronged man became angry, and sent his people to seek retribution. His son and one of his neighbors visited the herd of the offender in the latter’s absence, and took from it two strong driving-reindeer, one young buck well broken, and three reindeer of the average sort. They said to the herdsmen, “Go and tell the master that we did this.” Still this was not enough. The next day they visited the camp of the unfortunate thief. The nephew was of a quarrelsome disposition, and said before departing, “Maybe he will show his anger. Then we will give him a thrashing.” They came to the camp, and spent some time there talking with the house-mates of the offender. He, however, sat quite silent and looked at the ground. He had not the courage to pick a quarrel. I should also mention that the quarrelsome nephew belonged to a strong family, and the number of his brothers was six. After the visit, they went home and[675]🗗uncollated divided the spoil. The young buck was given to the nephew. The son took the team, and the father the remainder. The neighbors said, “It is enough for him, because he lost something dear to his heart, the driving-reindeer.” I have this description from one of the participants.

Another case ended more peacefully. In the summer-time another group of reindeer had strayed from their own herd and gone to that of a neighbor. The herdsmen saw that one of the animals was quite fat, and wanted to slaughter it for their own private use. They threw a lasso; but it snapped in two, and the reindeer escaped with a fragment of the lasso wound around its antlers. Two hours later the master of the first camp came to the other herd, bringing with him the fragment of thong. The reindeer came back to him, and he rightly guessed who were the authors of this attempt to steal. “Whose lasso is this?” asked he, laughing. He was an old man, and no further trouble arose from the incident. Moreover, the herds were too near to each other. Under such conditions, the reindeer frequently become intermingled, and the herdsmen consider it no great crime to slaughter a strange reindeer when it comes to their herd. Sometimes they will even slaughter a reindeer, and then, of their own free will, confess to the owner, “Oh, I stole your reindeer.” Then, of course, they give him a good reindeer from their own herd. I mentioned before that on the Arctic seashore, in the summer-time, the mutual stealing of reindeer comes to be a serious annoyance.

One of my acquaintances, Leuˊtɪqai by name, said to me concerning the matter, “It is too bad for one to stay in summer on the Palauˊ River. The herdsmen steal too much. When I was staying there, in almost every hollow I found the carcasses of my reindeer. The legs were cut off and consumed, and everyhting else was left to rot;¹ and whomsoever you asked, ‘Who left that carcass here?’ the answer was always, ‘I do not know.’ One time I caught Qoptɪˊɪrg̣ɪn, son of Tɪˊqo, sitting by a slaughtered reindeer, gnawing at a thigh-bone. I asked him, ‘Why did you not carry the carcass to your father, who is also hungry, since you slaughtered it?’ He said nothing. ‘Or perhaps, if you desire it, I shall give you my whole herd.’ We both took off our fur shirts. He was a young man, but could not do anything, because great anger overcame me. I threw him down, then seized my thick rawhide girdle, and struck him with that upon his bare back until it was all covered with blood. After that I resolved never again to go to that land of thieves.” Leuˊtɪqäi was a man of about fifty and of mild temper; but the wrong had been repeated too often to let it go unpunished.

“Chief” Eiˊheli and the Maritime trader Čêpaˊt also had a quarrel over the stealing of reindeer. Čêpaˊt, being of Maritime origin, had not had any[676]🗗uncollated too much experience in keeping reindeer. His herd, too, consisted, for the most part, of new animals just bought from strange herds, and the mutual attachment of these reindeer was less strong than in an ordinary herd: so Čêpaˊt lost a few animals almost every summer. One year, quite a large group of reindeer, more than three hundred, strayed off and were lost. Then news came from the Oloi River that the reindeer had gone to Eiˊheli, and had been appropriated by him. After that, every time they met at the spring fair, Čêpaˊt asked Eiˊheli about his reindeer, but Eiˊheli most stoutly denied having any knowledge of them. In the year 1895, Čêpaˊt even talked about his intention of robbing the camp of Eiˊheli on his return home. Then followed the scuffle already described, and the thoughts of Čêpaˊt were drawn elsewhere.

Theft among the Maritime Chukchee is less frequent than among the Reindeer tribes, perhaps on account of the absence of valuable objects. I know of some cases of robbery, however. One had already been mentioned.¹ It refers to the people of Quluˊči, who complained of the inhabitants of Luᵋˊren. The latter robbed the dog-drivers of Quluˊči when they were returning to their country from the Pacific shore with a load of foreign wares.

Another case refers to a Chukchee of Mariinsky Post, Qoplaˊnto by name. This man, in the winter of 1898, met in the open country two young men of the village Valqaˊʟên, who were going to Mariinsky Post with a supply of brandy for trading-purposes. Qoplaˊnto joined them, spent a night with them on the snow, bought some liquor of them with fur-skins he had with him, and in the end robbed them of more of their brandy, and went away. They were two, but, being in a strange land, they did not offer much resistance; the more so, as Qoplaˊnto was the master of the front house of the Chukchee settlement on the north shore of the Anadyr estuary, opposite the Russian post. When Qoplaˊnto was leaving, however, they said to him, “Now, you too be careful not to come to our country. We shall take our chance then.” In the winter of the year 1900, when I wanted to go to the northern villages, Qoplaˊnto at first offered his assistance in transporting my load; but when the time for departing drew near, he declared that he was afraid to visit the village Valqaˊʟên on account of that affair; so he had to stay at home.

LAWS REGARDING PROPERTY. — I have already stated that with the Reindeer Chukchee the paterfamilias is considered to be the owner and the master of the herd, even though he be of extreme old age and infirm. I have noted down some facts within my knowledge referring to this subject. On the other hand, I was told by my Chukchee informants that when the son becomes full-grown and able to take care of the herd, the father, often of his own free will, transmits to him the direction of the herd, and himself takes the position of an assistant, even though he still be strong and able to work.[677]🗗uncollated Also when the son marries, and they have only a single sleeping-room, the father cedes to the son the master’s side (aig̣ɪs˙qaoroˊn, “the left one.”)¹ If, however, they should prefer to have separate houses, the father gives over to the son the front house, and puts up for himself a new house in the rear. Still I found but few facts corroborating this information. Everywhere old men ruled, and disposed of their property; and the houses of the sons were in the rear, not those of the fathers. When a man like Aiñanwaˊt really does cede his house and herd to his son, it is because of personal motives, mostly referring to the “reindeer-luck” which the old man is supposed to have lost, while the young one hopes to acquire it again.

In the family of Eiˊheli, with his numerous sons a latent and wary struggle against the father’s authority really took place; but the old man jealously watched every encroachment upon his rights; and, so far as I know, he was in full possession of them until his death, which followed a couple of years after I left the Kolyma country.

The family or the family-group has no formal rights over the property of its individual members. Still a man who becomes impoverished may be reasonably sure that his nearest kinsmen will give him essential support, unless they are too poor or too stingy. Brother applies to brother, or cousin to cousin, and receives a good part of the latter’s herd, so that he may be able to start anew with his own reindeer-breeding. Thus, in the year 1894, three brothers, sons of Taˊtko, though the eldest of them was reported to be close-fisted, still gave to a cousin of theirs five scores² of their reindeer-does. This cousin, in former times, also had owned a large herd, but he had squandered it away. Now he was older, and expressed his intention to reform.

Another acquaintance of mine, Aiñaˊɪrg̣ɪn, whose name has been mentioned before, also became poor. Then his kinsmen on the Indighirka tundra gave him a hundred and fifty does, so that he was able to begin anew. In other cases impoverished kinsmen are accepted as assistants under favored conditions, with the promise of being given, after a while, a certain part of the herd.

The chief part of the inheritance goes to the “principal heir” (eˊun-miˊlhɪlɪn). He receives the house, and becomes the front-house master. He takes with the house the principal ear-mark, the oldest in the herd, with which always the greater part of the animals are maked. Other sons, and also daughters, receive animals marked with their own ear-mark, which is assigned to them by the father himself. When a well-to-do reindeer-breeder has no sons, and no daughters either, he will make every effort to procure an heir during his lifetime. For this purpose he will invite some kinsman to his camp as an[678]🗗uncollated assistant, and then leave him the herd. A childless man, feeling that his end is approaching, sometimes even calls in a kinsman or a friend, who lives alone, and hands over his property to him. More frequently such a childless man will adopt some boy or girl, also from one of his kin, have him or her married, and then he makes him the principal heir of the house and the herd. It sometimes happens that a rich reindeer-breeder leaves his herd without any definite heir. This may occur, for instance, because of some disease which has taken away the only son and heir. The old father, from mere sorrow, may follow soon after, since the Chukchee are “soft to die.”¹ In such cases, the kinsmen come; and by counting the degrees of kinship decide who is the nearest to the deceased. There exist, however, no settled rules about this matter. I was told that in earlier times the family-group, would gather and come to a decision, but of late no such gatherings are known to me. Kinsmen of the same degree may divide the inheritance into equal shares, or the poorer man will receive a larger share. On the other hand, I know of cases where those of the kinsmen who were at hand took the whole, and the other relatives, though nearer to the deceased, could get nothing. Thus, for instance, while I was on the Wolverene River, a quarrel took place about such an inheritance. An old Chukchee of Maritime extraction, who had a good-sized herd, died heirless. His herd was taken by a third cousin (parent’s cousin’s child), who came with him from their parental village, and now was the front-house master of the neighboring camp. Nobody protested, and a few years passed away without incident. The man who received the inheritance died also, and the herd passed to his son, Akɪmlɵˊkê. Then two young men came from the Arctic shore, who said that they were sons of a first-cousin of the deceased: so they had a better right to the property than Akɪmlɵˊkê. They requested restitution. Akɪmlɵˊkê was a “strong man” (eˊrmečɪn), always ready for strife: so he refused to comply with the request. The younger of the two brothers, however, whose name was Uˊmkɪ (“polar bear”), was a large fellow of considerable strength and temper. He declared that he would rather die than go back empty-handed. While I was there, they met at a large reindeer-course, and nearly came to blows, but were prevented by the others present. I left the country before the matter came to a final issue.

When the principal heir is a daughter, who stays in the father’s house, even after she is married, her rights to the inheritance are the same as those of a male heir. A daughter who is married elsewhere receives only the animals marked with her private ear-mark. Some of these remain in her father’s herd, even after her marriage. On the division of the inheritance, they fall to her possession, anyway. A female relation of more remote degree has no part in the inheritance of a childless man, and cannot contend with male relatives. A childless widow has no part in the inheritance, and has to[679]🗗uncollated leave the house and has no claim to any utensils. She may take only the reindeer marked with her own private ear-mark. With these she returns to her own family. In the same way the adopted son-in-law has to go, after the death of his wife, leaving everything behind him, unless he marries another woman of the family.

A young widow with small children becomes part of the heritage left by a man. With the herd she passes to the heir of the deceased, and becomes his wife. Otherwise she must go to her own family, leaving everything behind. She may take the children to her own family, but then they forfeit every right to the inheritance. An elderly widow with youthful sons retains the herd after her husband’s death, and may hold possession of the property.¹

Among the Maritime Chukchee, until recent times, there was but little property to be inherited. After the death of the father, the sons divide his arms, nets, and seal-skins. The older son has a better share than the others; for instance, the best rifle. The house also is frequently divided into parts, because every son, when married, wants to have a house of his own. As soon as he finds enough timber, he proceeds to construct a separate house. With the Reindeer Chukchee, to divide the house into parts is a great wrong. They would rather desert the house entirely. The Maritime Chukchee simply break down the house, take away the skins, poles, etc., divide them among themselves, and use them for their own purposes.