Traditions of the North American Indians, Vol. 1 (of 3)

J >> James Athearn Jones >> Traditions of the North American Indians, Vol. 1 (of 3)

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"A bottle," he replied.

"What is there in it?" they asked.

"Good stuff! good rum(3)--very good rum," said he, shaking the bottle,
and winking with both eyes. "Here, taste and see," and he held out the
the bottle.

"T-a-s-t-e and s-e-e," cried the man who had fallen down, hiccuping.

The Narragansetts tasted of the rum, and liked it so well, that in a
little time they had drunk all there was in the bottle, and ask the
Little Man if he had any more. "Oh, great plenty," answered he, "the
White Men, like those who came in the canoe, let me have it dog-cheap.
I get almost all my worshippers by it; oh, I buy a great many
worshippers by it. Yes, plenty of good rum--Indians may have it almost
for nothing. The white men will bring me plenty of good rum."

"If you will let us have plenty of drink, like that in the bottle,
plenty of rum, you shall be our master," said the Indians. "It is a
great deal better than the Good Spirit's corn."

The bargain was soon made between the Evil Spirit and the Narragansetts.
The Evil Spirit agreed that his white men should let the Indians have as
much rum as the Narragansetts wanted, and they in return were to be his
servants. So, from that day to this, the Narragansetts have served the
Evil Spirit. They get from the Good Spirit the canoes which enable them
to cross rivers and catch fish, and the corn which fills their bellies,
but the bows and arrows which lead them to engage in bloody wars, and
the rum which makes dogs, and bears, and hogs, and wild cats of them,
they get from the Devil and the pale faces. Yet it must be told that
neither spirit has exactly kept his word. The Great Spirit sometimes
withers the corn by withholding rain from it, or sweeps it away by
sending too much; and the Evil Spirit often lets the pale faces drink up
all the rum before it reaches the Indians.

NOTES.

* * * * *

(1) _Hobbamock_--p. 120.

This was the Indian Devil. "Another power they worship, whom they call
_Hobbamock_, and to the northward of us, _Hobbamoqui;_ this, as farre as
wee can conceive, is the Devill; him they call upon to cure their wounds
and diseases. When they are curable, hee perswades them hee sends the
same for some conceiled anger, but, upon their calling upon him, can and
doth help them; but, when they are mortall, and not curable in nature,
then he perswades them Kiehtan is angry, and sends them diseases whom
none can cure; insomuch, as in that respect onely they somewhat doubt
whether hee bee simply good, and therefore in sicknesse never call upon
him. _This Hobbamock appears in sundry formes unto them,_ as in the
_shape of a man, a deare, a fawne, an eagle, &c., but most ordinarily at
a snake_."--_Purchas' Pilgrims_.

Dr. Jarvis, a shrewd and learned American theologian and writer,
observes, "This Hobbamock, or Hobbamoqui, who "appears in sundry forms,"
is evidently the _Oke_ or _Tutelary Deity,_ which each Indian worships;
and Mr. Winslow's narrative affords a solution of the pretended worship
of the devil, which the first settlers imagined they had discovered, and
which has since been so frequently mentioned on their authority,
without examination. The natives, it was found, worshipped another being
besides the Great Spirit, which every one called his _Hobbamock_, or
_Guardian Oke_. This the English thought could be no other than the
_Devil_, and accordingly they asserted, without farther ceremony, what
they believed to be a fact."

(2) _Conjurors_.--p. 121.

Both Charlevoix and Heckewelder have treated of Indian priests, and
conjurors, and jugglers, as though they were separate professions, and
several late writers have fallen into the same error. Hear Carver:

"The _priests of the Indians are at the same time their physicians, and
their conjurors_; whilst they heal their wounds, or cure their diseases,
they interpret their dreams, give them protective charms, and satisfy
that desire which is so prevalent among them, of searching into
futurity. ***** When any of the people are ill, the _person who is
invested with this triple character of doctor, priest, and magician,
sits by the patient, &c."--Carver,_ 251, 252.

My opinion is decidedly with Carver, that the two professions are
conjoined. The physician never uses his simples, without invoking, in
his quality of priest, the aid of the Supreme Being.

The appearance which they make, and the dress in which their
incantations are performed, deserve mention for their singularity. The
following passage from Mr. Heckewelder describes their appearance, and
is the original of those in Mr. Cooper's Novels of The Prairie and Last
of the Mohicans: "The dress this juggler had on consisted of an entire
garment, or outside covering, made of one or more bear-skins, as black
as jet, so well fitted and sewed together that the man was not in any
place to be perceived. The whole head of the bear, including the mouth,
nose, teeth, ears, &c., appeared the same as when the animal was living,
so did the legs with long claws; to this were added a huge pair of horns
on the head, and behind a large bushy tail, moving as be walked, as
though it were on springs; but for these accompaniments, the man walking
on all-fours might have been taken for a bear of an extraordinary size.
Underneath there his hands were, holes had been cut, though not risible
to the eye, being covered with the long hair, through which he held and
managed his implements, and he saw through two holes set with
glass."--_Hist. Account,_ p. 288, 289.

He then describes the practice of these medical gentlemen of the forest:
"He approaches his patient with a variety of contortions and gestures,
and performs by his side, and over him, all the antic tricks that his
imagination can suggest. He breathes on him, blows in his mouth, and
often makes an external application of the medicines which he has
prepared, by throwing them over in his face, mouth, and nose; he rattles
his gourd filled with dry beans or pebbles; pulls out, and handles about
a variety of sticks and bundles, in which be appears to be seeking for
the proper remedy; all which is accompanied with the most horrid
gesticulations, by which he endeavours, as he says, to frighten the
Spirit or the disorder away," &c.--_Hist. Acc._. 225.

An Indian physician never applies his medicines without accompanying
them with mysterious ceremonies, to make their effect supernatural. He
therefore prepares his roots and herbs with the most singular
ceremonies, and, in mixing them up, invokes the aid of the Great Spirit.
He also accompanies his directions with various gesticulations and
enigmatical expressions. The ceremonies he uses are various. Sometimes
he creeps into the oven where he sweats, howls, and roars, and now and
then grins horribly at his patient. Altogether I cannot conceive of a
more irrational manner of performing Esculapian duties, than that
adopted by the "faculty" of the Western Wilderness.

(3) _Rum_.

That the Indians were made drunk by Hendrick Hudson, at his first
interview with them, seems well settled. A tradition also prevails among
the Iroquois, that a scene of intoxication occurred with a party of the
natives on the arrival of the first ship in their waters.

The same tradition prevailed among the tribe named in the tale. See also
the tradition of The Coming of Miquon in the second volume.

THE RESURRECTION OF THE BISON.

The men of my nation, the Minnitarees, believed that the bones of the
bison, which they had slain and divested of their flesh, rose again,
clothed with renewed flesh, and quickened with life, and became fat and
fit for slaughter in the succeeding hot month. To us it appeared
incomprehensible that thousands should be slaughtered every year by the
many tribes of red men that roam over the country of the bisons, yet
that they should increase yearly. When we asked our priests about this,
they replied that they did not die, but rose again from the plains and
the _prairies_, the same in flesh and form as when they were slaughtered
and stripped by us. For a long time, very few of us believed the words
of the priests, they had lied to us so often.

Once upon a time a party of the people of our nation, who were out upon
a hunting-excursion, lost one of their number, a boy, and returned to
the village lamenting his loss. Believing him to have been killed or
taken prisoner by the cruel Sioux, with whom they were then at war, and
who had been seen prowling about their village they assembled a
war-party, and set out to avenge his death. They had marched a weary
way, and were just entering the country of the Sioux, when they espied a
herd of bisons, one of which they succeeded in killing. Guess their
astonishment, when, on opening the belly of the animal, they found the
long-lost boy, alive, well, sleek, and hearty, after having been
imprisoned there one entire year. Relieved from his captivity in the
belly of the bison, the boy told us how it happened.

He said that when he left his hunting, companions, he proceeded onward a
considerable distance in search of game, till he found a bison, which he
was so fortunate as to kill. He removed the flesh from one side of the
animal, but had not time to remove that from the other side, when night
came on, and a great rain set in. Finding that he could not reach his
village that night, and it being in the middle of a prairie, where no
bark or branches could be had with which to form a hut, he was for some
time at a loss to know what he should do to avoid the pelting of the
storm which raged in the skies. At last, he bethought himself of a
method, which was, to remove the entrails from the bison, and creep into
the hollow space: he did so. But, during the night, and while he slept,
the flesh of the bison that he had cut off grew over the side again. In
the morning when he awoke he found himself in darkness. For many nights
there was no motion of the animal. At last the various intestines and
viscera began to grow. He felt from time to time with his hands to learn
their increase, rightly judging that, when they had arrived at full
size, the animal would return to life. That period at length arrived.
His residence began to grow warm, at first moderately so, but increasing
in heat till respiration became difficult. At length he began to feel
with his hand a pulsation in the heart of the animal, and to hear the
sound of wind in its veins, its arteries, and its intestines. Soon he
found himself rocking about as a canoe is tossed on the waves of the
great water; and then he knew the animal had returned to the full
enjoyment of life.

THE WAHCONDA'S SON.

Brothers, I am an Otto, and a chief. I am a man of courage and truth. I
have been a warrior, and a hunter of the bear and wolf ever since the
great meeting of aged counsellors and brave-warriors pronounced me a
man. I never fled from a foe; and none ever saw me afraid. Who will say
that the Guard of the Red Arrows was ever other than a man in his heart?
When the Padoucas bound him to the stake, and kindled fires around
him;--when they thrust sharp, heated stones into his flesh, and tore off
his nails with fiery pincers, did they force a cry from him? did they
see his cheek wear the badge of a woman's weakness? No, I am a man.
Brother, I will tell you a tale. While the nation of the Ottoes had
their hunting-grounds in the shade of the Mountains of the Great Being,
they were led in war to battle--in peace were advised in council by a
brave and warlike chief, who was called Wasabajinga, or the Little Black
Bear. He was the head chief of the nation, and its greatest warrior. His
martial exploits and daring deeds were the theme of all the tribes who
roamed through the vast woods between the Mississippi and the Mountains
of the Setting Sun, the Missouri, and the Lake of the Woods. All had
heard of his great deeds; and many had seen and felt his prowess. He was
stronger than the bear, he was swifter than the deer, he was nimbler
than the mountain-cat or the panther. Who was so expert at stealing
horses(1) as Wasabajinga?--by his cabin-door stood the best in all the
land; and they had belonged to the Konzas, the Pawnees, the Omawhaws,
the Puncas, the Sioux, and other tribes whose eyes were sharp and arrows
long, but neither so sharp nor so long as those of the Otto warrior. He
had entered alone the camp of the Missouries, at the time when the stars
are the sole torches of night, and had brought thence many scalps; he
had crept to the lodge of an Arrowauk, and taken the beloved maiden. He
had struck dead bodies(2) of all the nations around--Osages, Padoucas,
Bald-heads, Ietans, Sauxs, Foxes, and Ioways. And who had such eyes for
the trail and the chase as he? He could show you where the snake had
crawled through the hazel leaves; he could trace the buck by his nipping
of the young buds; he could spring to the top of the tallest pine with
the ease of the squirrel, and from thence point out unerringly where
lay the hunting-lodges and grounds of all the tribes of the land; he
could endure as much fasting as the land-tortoise, or the bear of the
frozen north, and march as long as the eagle could fly; never hungry
till food was placed before him; never tired when there was more glory
to be won. Strong, healthy and nimble, Wasabajinga lived to learn that
there was no one in the wilds able to cope with him in battle, and to
have his wisdom as loudly applauded as his valour.

At home it was the good fortune of this famous chief to be equally
prosperous and happy. He had nine wives, all beautiful as the path of
the Master of Life[A]--all good and amiable. Though they all lived in
the same cabin(3), ate out of the same bowl, warmed themselves at the
same fire, and slept' on the same skins, there was a fair sky among
them--it never thundered and lightened in the cabin of the Otto warrior.
One nursed another's child as kindly as if it were her own; one
performed the field-tasks allotted to another, who in return prepared
the bison meat for the fire, and drew home the fuel from the woods.
There was peace, and the calmness of a summer day, in the cabin of
Wasabajinga--he lived the happiest of his nation.

[Footnote A: The Milky Way, the Galaxy.]

His children were many--ten sons were in their father's cabin; each
could bend his father's bow, each poise his father's spear, and each
wield his father's war-club. Daughters he had but one, who grew up the
most beautiful of all the maidens of the land. She had a skin much
whiter than that of Indian maidens generally; her teeth were white and
even; her hair long, black, and glossy, as the feathers of the raven;
her eyes mild as the dove's in the season of its mating; and her step
was that of a deer who is scared a little. And she was good as she was
beautiful. No one ever saw her cross or sulky like other women; nothing
made her angry. Though she was beloved by her parents, and a great
favourite with all the wives of her father, yet she never claimed
exemption from the duties which belong to Indian females. Willingly
would her little hands have laid hold of the faggot, and her small feet
have travelled forth with her mother to the labours of the field of
maize; but the fond affection of all around her, and their belief that
she was something more than mortal, protected her from a call to share
in their labours. She was allowed no part in the cutting-up of the
bison; she was not permitted to pound the corn, or winnow the wild rice,
or bring firing from the woods. It was the pride of the youthful part of
the tribe to prepare ornaments for her person. The young maidens (for
she was envied by none) wove wampum, and made beads for her; the young
men passed half their time in hunting the red and blue heron for the gay
tuft upon his crown, and the Spirit Bird for his train of yellow, green,
and scarlet, that her hair might vie in colours with the beautiful bow
that rests upon the mountains after the rains. They made her bracelets
for her wrists, and anklets for her legs, of the teeth of the fish with
shining scales, and pendants for her ears of the bones of the birds of
night and music. Thus lived Mekaia, or the Star-flower, which was the
name of the beautiful Otto, till she had reached her seventeenth summer.

It was a little before sunset upon a pleasant day in the month of
green-corn, that a young man riding upon a noble white horse was seen
entering the great village of the Ottoes. He appeared to be very young,
but he was tall and straight as the hickory-tree. He was clothed as our
brother is clothed, only his garments were scarlet, and our brother's
are black. His hair, which was not so dark as that of the Indians, was
smooth and sleek as the hair on the head of a child, or the feathers on
the breast of the humming-bird. His head was encircled with a chaplet
made of the feathers of the song-sparrow and the red-headed-woodpecker.
He rode slowly through the village without stopping till he came to the
lodge of Wasabajinga, when he alighted, leaving his good horse to feed
upon the grass which grew around the cabin. He entered the lodge of the
chief. The stern old warrior, without rising from his bed of skins,
asked him who he was, and whence he came. He answered that he was the
son of the great Wahconda, and had come from the lodge of his father(4),
which lay among the high mountains towards the setting-sun.

"Have you killed any buffaloes on your journey?" demanded Wasabajinga.

"No," answered the young god.

"Then you must be very hungry," said the chief.

The young man answered that the son of the Wahconda had his food from
the skies, because the flesh of the animals which lived on the earth was
too gross for him. He lived, he said, upon the flesh of spirit beasts,
and fishes, and birds, roasted in the great fire-place of the
lightnings, and sent him by the hands of the Manitous of the air. His
drink was the rain-drops purified in the clouds.

The chief asked him if he had come on a message from the Wahconda to the
Little Black Bear of the Ottoes.

The young man answered that he had. He said his father had shewn him
from the high mountains of the west the beautiful daughter of the Otto
chief--had told him she was good as she was beautiful, and bidden him
come and ask her for his wife. His father, he said, bade him tell the
Bear of the Ottoes, that, though his daughter must now leave her father,
and mother, and nation, and accompany his son into the regions of
ever-bright suns, and balmy winds, yet, in a few seasons more, when the
knees of the chief had become feeble, and his eyes dim with the mists of
age, and his time had come to die, that he should rejoin his daughter
and tend her little ones, and be as joyful as the bird of morning on the
banks of the rapid river that glided through the valley of departed
souls.

"How shall I know that the Wahconda has said this?" asked the chief.

"I will do these things for a sign," answered the boy-god. "To-morrow,
when the sun first rises from his slumbers behind the hills of the east,
he shall show himself in a cloudless sky. In the space of a breath,
darkness shall cover the face of the heavens, the thunder(5), which is
the voice of my father, shall roll awfully, but the lightnings, which
are the glances of his eye, shall be spared. Before the Indians shall
have time to raise themselves from the earth, upon whose cold bosom, in
their terror, they will prostrate themselves, the darkness shall be
recalled from the earth and shut up in the cave of night. The moment the
thunders cease, the lightnings, which are the glances of his eye, shall
commence their terrific play over the face of the cloudless sky. By
these signs ye shall know that I am the Wahconda's son."

"If these things shall be done," said the chief, "the maiden shall be
yours."

It was soon told in the village, that the Wahconda's son had come from
his father's lodge among the mountains, to ask the beautiful Star-flower
for his wife. And it was also told, that with the rising of the sun on
the next morning, he would convince the Little Black Bear, that he had
not a forked tongue, nor spoke with the lips of a mocking-bird. There
was little sleep that night in the Otto village. Our nation awaited with
great dread and much trembling the coming of the morning, fearing danger
to themselves and the very earth on which they dwelt, from the
threatened waking of the Wahconda's voice, and the glancing of his eye.

The nation had assembled beside the cabin of the warrior, when the sun
came out from behind the mountains. The young man kept his promise. When
the sun first came in view, there was not a cloud on the face of the
sky. In the space of a breath, thick darkness overspread the earth,
rendering it as dark as the darkest night, and the thunders rolled so
awfully, that the very earth seemed to reel like a man who has drunken
twice of the fire-eater, which the brothers of our friend sell us in the
Village of the High Rock.[A] But what astonished our people most was,
that no lightning accompanied the thunder. In a few minutes the darkness
was driven away by the same mighty hand which called it forth; the
thunder became as mute as the sleep of a child which is filled with its
mother's milk, and the sun shone out full and clear as before the
Wahconda had shut his mouth. Then succeeded most terrific lightnings;
lightnings which rent the solid trees, and clove asunder the flinty
rocks. A moment, and they too were called back;--the Great Being had
closed his eyes, and the lightnings were imprisoned between their lids.
The Indians stood for a moment aghast, and then fell on their faces in
worship of the Being who could command all things so promptly to do his
bidding, and who kept his mouth shut, and his eyes closed, in mercy to
the poor creatures of the earth.

[Footnote A: Quebec--Heights of Abraham.]

When they had recovered from their fright, they rose to an upright
posture, and paid their obeisance to the stranger, now proved to be the
Wahconda's son by signs that no one would dare dispute. He showed his
love for them by the kind look he gave them. Turning to the Little Black
Bear, he said, "Has the Wahconda's son proved himself worthy to have the
beautiful daughter of the Otto chief to be his wife?"

Wasabajinga answered, "The Wahconda's son has proved himself worthy to
have for his wife the daughter of the head chief of the Ottoes. The
chief gives her to him (6), in the presence of all his nation."

The chief went into his lodge, and brought out his daughter. The son of
the Wahconda then went up to the beautiful maiden, and fondly pressing
her in his arms, called her his wife, and told her that, moved by her
beauty and goodness, he had left the pleasant skies of his dwelling, to
come into the cold and misty region where the Ottoes had their lodges.
She wept, but the tears came not from her heart, and smiles beamed
through them, as the stars of night shine through mist, or the sun of a
spring morning looks, through a cloud of vapour. Then the beautiful
couple went through the Indian form of marriage(7). When this was ended,
the tribe gathered to the feast in the cabin of the chief. Rich and
juicy was the bear's meat, set out on the buffalo robe, and ripe were
the berries, and sweet was the roasted corn, which the women brought to
feed the guests. They sung, and danced, and recounted their warlike
exploits in the ears of the listening boy. They told of their hostile
visits to the countries of the Padoucas and Bald-heads; they mimicked
the cry of terror which burst from the letans when a painted man of the
Ottoes crept with an uplifted hatchet into their camp by midnight, and
took five scalps as they slept. Then one arose and sung a song of
marriage. Brothers, this was the song he sung:

OTTO SONG OF MARRIAGE.

Who is that?
Oh, it is the Master's fair-haired son,
Come to wed the warrior's beauteous daughter.
Tall and manly is his form;
Beautiful and fair is she;
See his step how light,
See his eyes how bright with love and joy;
How glad he looks:
So turns his eyes the husband-dove
Upon its gentle little wife.

He came and caught the maiden in his arms,
He pressed her to his bosom as a mother
Presses her infant.
She was pleased, and wept,
But her's were tears of joy;
Hung her head, and hid her beautuous face,
Yet was she not ashamed.
Her's was maiden bashfulness.
Blushes she to be so caught in love?
See her stolen glances! sunlit glances! see!
She doth not altogether hate the youth.

Why dost thou weep, mother of the bride?
Weepst thou to be parted from thy daughter?
Weep no more.
What is life?
A reed beat down by every wind that stirs,
A flower nipt by the first autumnal blast,
A deer that perishes by prick of thorn,
Here at morning,
Gone at evening.
Weep not, tender mother of the bride;
Soon thou'lt meet her in the happy vales
Beyond the setting sun:
Ask the lover, he will tell thee so.

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