XVI. MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.

THE Indian idea of the marriage bond is that it is not very strong. They have been accustomed to get married young, often at fourteen or sixteen years of age, to pay for their wives in money and articles to the value of several hundred dollars, and the men have had, oftentimes, two or three wives.

When they married young, in order that two young fools should not be married together, often a boy was married to an elderly woman, and a young girl to an elderly man, so that the older one could take care of the younger, with the expectation that when the younger one should grow older if they did not like each other they should be divorced.

Such ideas naturally did not suit the government, the agent, or the Bible. The agent has had about all the children of school age in school, and thus had control of them, so that they could not get married as young as formerly. In 1883 the government sent word to prevent the purchase of any more wives, and this has been generally acquiesced in by the Skokomish Indians. Some of the Clallam Indians, however, are so far from the agent, and are so backward in civilization, that it has not been possible to enforce these two points among them as thoroughly as among the Twanas.

The Commissioner of Indian Affairs, in his report for 1878, recommended the passage of a law compelling all Indians who were living together as man and wife to be married. The law has not been made, but the agent worked on the same principles long before 1878—indeed ever after he first took charge in 1871. He urged them to be married, making for a time special presents from government annuities to those who should consent, as a shawl or ladies’ hat, and some consented. Only two couples had been thus married when I went there. It seemed rather comical on the Fourth of July, 1874, when I had been on the reservation only about two weeks, to be asked to join in marriage seven couples, some of whom had children. One Sabbath in 1883 a couple stood up to be married, the bride having a baby in her arms, and she would probably have held it during the ceremony had not my wife whispered to a sister of the bride to go and get it. During the ten years I have married twenty-six couples among the Twanas, and twenty-nine couples among the Clallams, and a number of other Clallams have been married by other persons. Some very comical incidents have occurred in connection with some of these ceremonies. In 1876 I was called upon to marry eleven couples at Jamestown. All went well with the first ten, the head chief being married first, so that the others might see how it was done, and then nine couples stood up and were married with the same set of words. But the wife of the other man was sick with the measles. She had taken cold and they had been driven in, but had come out again, so that she was as red as a beet. Still they were afraid that she would die, and as I was not to be there again for several months they were very anxious to be married so as to legalize the children. She was so near death that they had moved her from their good house to a mat-house, which was filled with smoke. The fire was thrown out, and soon it became less smoky. She was too sick to stand, and only barely able to sit up. This, however, she managed to do in her bed, which was on the ground. Her husband sat beside her and took her hand, and I married them, measles and all. She afterward recovered.

At another time I married a couple who had homesteaded some land, and who had been married in Indian style long before. As they had never seen such a ceremony I took the man aside and explained it to him as well as I was able. After I had begun the ceremony proper, and had said the words: “You promise to take this woman to be your wife,” and was ready to say: “You promise to love and take care of her,” he broke out, saying, “Of course I do! You do not suppose that I have been living with her for the last fifteen years and am going to put her away now, do you? See, there is my boy, fourteen years old. Of course I do!” As it was no use to try to stop him, I did not try, but waited until he was through, when I said: “All right,” and went on with the ceremony, but laughed very hard in my sleeve all the time.

A girl in the boarding-school was to be married, and her schoolmates thought that it ought to be done in extra style. Thanks to the teacher and matron, the supper and their share of the duties passed off in an excellent manner. But five of the girls thought that they would act as bridesmaids, and they were left to manage that part among themselves. Each one chose a young man who had previously been in school to act as her escort. Thinking that they would hardly know how to act with so much ceremony, I invited them to my house fifteen minutes before the marriage was to take place in church, so that I could instruct them. They came on time, but what was my surprise to see the bride and groom and the five girls march into my house, but not a single groomsman, and they thought that it was all right, even if their partners did not come. Those whom they had expected were off in the woods, or at home, or if near by, were far from being dressed for the occasion, while the bridesmaids had spent a long time in getting themselves ready, and were in full dress. What a time I had hunting up partners for them! I had to borrow clothes for those who were on the ground, others whom I wished felt that they had been slighted so long that they did not care to step into such a place then, and the ceremony was delayed some before it could all be arranged. But how I was surprised to see five bridesmaids march in without a single partner!

At another time, as a sub-chief, well dressed, came forward to be married, he began to pull off his coat as if ready for a fight, although his intentions were most peaceable. I told him that it was just as well to let his coat remain on, and he obeyed.

The following is from The Port Townsend Argus of December 2, 1881:—

“Married.—Clallam Bay is alive! One of the sensations of the season occurred at that place on the sixteenth of November, and is news, though not published till this late day. Five of the citizens having complied with the laws of the Territory in regard to licenses were married by Rev. M. Eells to their respective partners. Nearly all the inhabitants of the place assembled, without regard to race or color, some of whom had come from miles distant. First came a short address by Mr. Eells on the history of marriage, beginning with the days of Adam and Eve, and setting forth some of the reasons against polygamy and divorce, after which Mr. Charles Hock-a-too and Mrs. Tau-a-yi stood up. Mr. H. has been the only Mormon of the place, having had two whom he called wives, but being more progressive than the Mormons, he boldly resolved to choose only one of them, and cleave only to her so long as they both should live. When the marriage ceremony was over, and he was asked if thus he promised to do, he replied in a neat little speech, fully as long as the marriage ceremony, very different from the consent of some persons whom the public presume to have said yes, simply because silence gives consent. It is impossible to reproduce the speech. It will live in the memories of those who heard it, however, as coming from an earnest heart and being all that could be desired. The bride did not blush or faint, but also made her speech, showing that she knew what was said to her. After this the four other couples stood up, Mr. Long John Smittain and Kwash-tun, alias E-ni-so-ut; Mr. Tom Jim-myak and Wal-lis-mo; Captain Jack Chats-oo-uk and Nancy Hwa-tsoo-ut; also Mr. Old Jack Klo-tasy, father of the Captain, and Mary Cheenith. In regard to the ages of the last two, from what we learn, the familiar lines would apply:—

While she probably is not eighty-five, yet she was old enough to obtain a license and leave her mother. He was about seventy years old. These were all married with one set of words, when congratulations followed—regular hand-shaking, none of those present so far forgetting themselves as to indulge in the (im)propriety of kissing the brides. The ceremony having been concluded, a part of those present, the invited guests (but here there was a distinction as to race and color) sat down to the marriage-feast. It was none of your light, frosted, airy cake (in fact, there was not any cake in sight), but substantial solid bread and the like. [Here the line went down, and the meager accounts we could gather about the elegant and varied costumes worn by the charming brides, the number and appearance of the bridesmaids, etc., had better be supplied from the vivid imaginations of the readers.] All of the high contracting parties, we may say, however, are tax-payers of Clallam County and land-owners. Kloshe hahkwa (“good so”).

Not much of a direct war was waged on plural marriages. They were simply fenced in and allowed to die out. In 1874 there were only five Twana men who had more than one wife, and there were about as many more among the Clallams. Those who had one wife were never allowed to obtain another as long as they were living with the first. When one of the wives died of those who had more than one, or was willingly put away, they were not allowed to take another in her place. On some reservations where plural marriages have been numerous, the plan has been adopted of having the man choose one of his wives as the one to whom he should be legally married; and then, in order to save the others and their children from suffering, they have been told to provide for them until the women should be married to some other man. Among these Indians it has now come to be practically the same. One is the real wife, and the others are so old that they are simply taken care of by their husbands, except when they take care of themselves, until they shall get married again; only they do not get married to any one else, being willing to be thus cared for.

They soon learned that a legal marriage meant more than an old-fashioned Indian one and that a divorce was difficult to obtain. The agent took the position that he had no legal right to grant a divorce even on the reservation, and that if the parties obtained one they must apply to the courts. This involved too much expense, and so not a divorce has been obtained by those legally married. But it has taken a long, strong, firm hand to compel some of the parties to live together, and this made others of them somewhat slow to be legally married. One day I asked a man who had then recently obtained a wife, Indian fashion, if he wished to be married in white style. “I am a little afraid,” he said, “that we shall not get along well together. I think we will live together six months; and then, if we like each other well enough, we will have you perform the ceremony.” It was never done, for they soon separated.

The most severe contest the agent ever had with the Indians on the reservation was to prevent divorce. In 1876 one man, whose name was Billy Clams, had considerable trouble with his wife and wanted a divorce, but the agent would not allow it. He tried every plan he could think of to make them live peaceably together, and consulted with the chiefs and the relations of the parties; but they would still quarrel. At one time he put him in charge of his brother-in-law, a policeman, with handcuffs on; but with a stone he knocked them off and went to the house of his uncle, a quarter of a mile from the agency. To this place the agent went with two Indians and told him to go with him. With an oath Billy Clams said he would not. The agent then struck him with a stick quite severely. Billy got a larger stick, which the agent wrenched from him. Then Billy grabbed the agent around the waist, and, with the help of his uncle, threw him down. The other Indians who went with the agent took them off. Then the agent locked the door and sent the friendly Indians to the agency for two white men, the carpenter and the blacksmith, for help. Twice Billy and his uncle tried to take the key away from the agent, but failed; three times Billy tried to get out of the window, but the agent stopped him. Then they made an excuse that a very old man must go out; and while the agent was letting him go, Billy ran across the room, struck the middle of the window with his head, and went through it; and the agent went so quickly out in the same way, that he lit on Billy’s neck with one foot, after which the window fell on him, and, as he was knocking that off, Billy got away and ran through the woods. Being swift of foot, he escaped; but there had been a fresh fall of snow, and the agent and two white men, with a number of Indians, followed him all day. They, however, could not take him. The agent at night offered a reward of thirty dollars if any of the Indians would bring him in; but their sympathies were too much with him, and at night one sub-chief and his son, with a cousin of Billy Clams, helped him off, and he went to some relations of his at Port Madison, sixty or seventy miles away. The next day Billy’s uncle was put in irons in the jail, and not long after those who had furnished Billy with a canoe, blankets, and provisions also went into the jail, while the sub-chief was deposed. The Indians worked in every way possible to have them released, but the agent said that he would only do so on condition that Billy Clams should be brought in. They had said that they did not know where he was; but in a short time after the agent said this, he came in and delivered himself up and was confined in the jail for six months. But a number of the Indians, including the head chief and a sub-chief, encouraged by some white men near by, had been to a justice of the peace and made out several charges against the agent for various things done during all his residence among them, and had them sent to the Commissioner of Indian Affairs at Washington. The principal charges were for shooting at an Indian (or ordering an employee to do so), burning ten Indian houses, selling annuity goods, collecting large fines for small offences, and having the employees work for him. The real cause of their sending these was the trouble with Billy Clams and his friends. The commissioner sent to General O. O. Howard, in charge of the military department of the Columbia, and requested him to investigate the charges. The commissioner said that on the face of the letter, it bore evidence of being untrue; but still he desired General Howard’s opinion. Accordingly Major W. H. Boyle was detailed for this purpose. He examined six Indians and three white men, as witnesses against the agent, and one white employee in his favor,—giving the agent an opportunity to defend himself,—and found that the charges amounted to so nearly nothing that he went no further.

After Billy Clams had served out his term of six months in jail, he secretly abandoned his wife and took another, and then they ran away to Port Madison. The agent quietly bided his time, found out the whereabouts of the offending party, and, with a little help from the military, had him arrested and conveyed to Fort Townsend, where he worked six months more, with a soldier and musket to watch him. This showed the Indians that they could not easily run away from the agent, or break the laws against divorce, and greatly strengthened his authority among them.