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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[Illustration: _Designed & Etched by W. M. Brookefield R. H. A._

Then mounting the noble Horse they bade farewell.]

When the feast was concluded, the songs and dances, and sacrifices,
finished, the Wahconda's son prepared to take his departure to the
mountains where his father dwelt. The tribe attended him to the edge of
the forest, which had been the hunting-grounds of the Ottoes ever since
the rivers ran, and there they left him to pursue his journey with his
beautiful and happy wife to the abodes of spirits, and great warriors,
and just men. But before the chief parted from his daughter, he made her
husband a long speech, and prayed that peace might ever be between them
and their people. He told him he had given him his all--his dearly
beloved daughter, to whom he must be kind and affectionate. He must not
put heavy burdens upon her; he must not send her to cut wood, nor bring
home the bison's flesh, nor pound the corn, for her hands had never been
hardened in tasks like these, nor her shoulders bowed in her father's
house to the labours of the field, or forest, or cabin. "She had been,"
he said, "the darling of her father's household, and knew not labour but
by name."

The Wahconda's son smiled at the words of the old chief, and told him
"that services, like those he had mentioned, were never required of
women in the Wahconda's dwelling. The people of the happy vales and the
spirits of the mountains fed not," he said, "upon bison's meat, nor
pounded corn; and the sun, which was the same at all seasons, beamed so
warm, that they kept no fires. It was a lovely land, far pleasanter than
that which the Ottoes abode in, nor was it subject to those dreadful
storms and tempests which terrified and annoyed those who dwelt upon the
banks of the Great River." And then, mounting his noble horse, and
taking his little wife behind him, he again bade them farewell and rode
away.

He had been gone two moons--the third was in its wane, and the parents
had become consoled for the loss of their daughter. It was upon a clear
and beautiful evening in the Moon of Harvest, when the forest was losing
its robe of green, and putting on its garment of brown and scarlet, and
cool and steady winds were succeeding to the hot and parching breezes of
summer, that the Ottoes assembled to dance and feast in the cabin of
their chief. It was one of the most beautiful nights ever beheld.
Nothing was heard to break the stillness of the hour, save the rustling
of the branches of the cedar and pine, the slight music of a little
rivulet, and the mournful singing of the wekolis,[A] perched in the low
branches of the willow. The feast was prepared, the Master was
propitiated, and they were sitting down to partake of the good things of
the land and water, when suddenly the earth began to move like the
waters of lake Huron, when agitated by winds from the regions of the
frozen star. Upon every side of them, above them, and beneath them, the
earth thundered, with a rattling sound. In vain did the Ottoes attempt
to leave the cabin; they rolled about like a canoe launched upon a
stormy river, or a ball tossed upon frozen water. The rocking of the
earth continued throughout the hours of darkness. When light came, it
was frightful to behold the disfigured face of the earth. In some places
lakes were scooped out, and mountains piled up on their brink. Trees
were rooted up and broken; little streams had disappeared, even large
rivers had ceased to be. The tall magnolia lay broken in many pieces,
the larch tree had been snapped like a rotten reed. The flowers of the
meadows were scorched and seared, the deer in the thicket lay mangled
and bruised, the birds sat timid and shy on the broken bough. The people
called their priests together, and demanded why these things were. The
priests answered, "Because the Master of Life was angry, but with whom
they knew not. Yet soon should they learn, for there was one coming
hither who would be able to tell them."

[Footnote A: Wekolis--the whip-poor-will.]

Three suns had passed, and the knowledge of the cause still remained
hidden from them. On the morning of the fourth day, when the chief went
out of his lodge, he found his beloved daughter weeping by the door of
the cabin. Oh! how changed was the beautiful Mekaia--she was no longer a
Star-flower. The brightness of her eye had departed, as the beauty of
the green fields and leafy forests is driven hence by the chills of
winter, her cheek was sunken and hollow, her long black locks lay
uncombed upon her shoulders, and the joy and cheerfulness which once
warmed her heart, and made her foot lighter than the antelope's, were no
more. She, whose feet were fleeter than the deer's, now walked feebly,
and rested oft; she, whose tongue outchirped the merriest birds of the
grove, and warbled sweeter music than the song-sparrow, now spoke in
strains as gloomy and sad as the bittern that cries in the swamps when
night is coming on, or the solitary bird of wisdom perched among the
leaves of the oak. The father sat down by her, and asked her whence she
came.

"From the valley upon this side of the mountains," she answered.

"Where is thy husband?" demanded Wasabajinga.

"Dead," answered the Starflower, and wept afresh.

"Wah!" exclaimed the warrior, and hid his face with his hands. When he
had sat thus awhile, he inquired the manner of his death. She told him,
that, before they reached the mountains of the Wahconda, they saw a pale
man coming towards them, mounted on a low, black horse. When he came up
them, he asked her husband if he would buy blankets, and beads, and the
fire-eater. That the Wahconda's son answered, "No;" and told him it was
very--very bad in him to carry the fire-eater, to destroy the poor
misguided Indians. The man upon the black horse answered, "That he was a
better man than the Wahconda's son, for he was no heathen, but lived
where men worshipped a greater Wahconda than his father in a beautiful
house built with hands, and not beneath the shade of the cypress and the
oak." Upon this, her husband did but smile, when the pale man elevated
the spear he carried in his hand, and, with the bolts which issued from
it, struck him to the earth, from which he never rose again. Then there
came a cry of mourning from the cabin of the Little Black Bear. The
women rushed out, and tore their hair, and cut their flesh with sharp
stones, through grief for the death of the husband of their beloved
Starflower. And they sung a melancholy lament, for the youth who had
perished in the morning of life, while the down was yet upon his cheek,
and his heart had never felt the shaft of sorrow. They sung how happy
the lovers were, ere the malice and cruelty of white men destroyed their
joys; ere their sacrilegious hands had laid one low in the dust, and
left the other to pine under the bereavement, till death would be a
blessing. They painted the anger and grief of the great Wahconda when he
found the darling of his house numbered with the slain. They sung that,
exasperated with the children of earth for the murder of his beloved
son, he called upon his earthquakes to deface and lay waste their
country. They bade the eye note how well these ministers of his wrath
had performed his dread commands. So they sung--"For many a weary day's
journey upon the banks of the Mighty River, for many a long encamping in
the direction of the setting sun, the land lies in ruins. The bough is
broken, and the solid trunk is rent. The flower lies bleeding, and the
voice of the dove is hushed. But see, he has bidden the marks of havoc
be effaced from the country of the Ottoes, because it is the native land
of the beautiful woman who had become the wife of his son."

Long was the mourning continued, and deep the grief, which for many a
moon pervaded the cabins and camp of the Ottoes. The Great Wahconda did
not permit the Starflower to remain long upon the earth, but soon called
her away to be re-united to his beloved son in the land of spirits. Yet
she often returns to look upon the place of her birth, to breathe on the
things she loved, and to sit beneath the shade of the trees she planted.
In the season of flowers, she is often seen by moonlight, binding
together the choicest which grow on the prairie, and her voice is often
heard in the sighs of the breeze in spring. The Wahconda's son never
comes with her, for he fears the treachery and violence of the pale
faces.

NOTES.

(1) _Stealing horses_--p. 148.

Stealing horses is one of the most meritorious acts an Indian can
perform, and is boasted of at his feasts among his other praiseworthy
deeds. Next to scalping, it is the greatest feat of the Indian warrior.
Before going out to war they pray to the Great Spirit to favour them,
among other things, with the ability to steal horses.

(2) _Struck dead bodies._--p. 148.

Striking the dead, or the disabled body of a living person, is
considered the third in the scale of honours. These things are
regulated, among the Indians, with the nicety which attends the
distribution of academical prizes at the Universities.

(3) _Lived in the same cabin, &c._--p. 149.

All the wives of an Indian reside under the same roof. As an Indian is
despotic in his family, there is seldom any domestic disagreement in his
cabin; if there be, the whip is called in to arbitrate the difference,
and the dispute is soon adjusted. I shall notice this subject in a note
in another part of the work.

(4) _Lodge of his father._--p. 152.

The dwelling-place of the Supreme Being is variously located by the
Indians. I shall not notice their reported belief, which places the Good
Spirit "above the blue sky," and gives the Evil Spirit the Antipodes.
Such, as it is mentioned by Loskiel and by Purchas, are the opinions of
the Eastern Indians. These are obviously derived from the white people.
The following may be pronounced the unsophisticated traditions of the
different tribes on this point, and they are very curious.

"About thirty miles below the falls of St. Anthony, at which I arrived
the tenth day after I left Lape Pepin, is a remarkable cave of an
amazing depth. The Indians term it Wakon-teebe, that is, the Dwelling of
the Great Spirit. The entrance into it is about four feet wide; the
height of it fire feet. The arch within it is near fifteen feet high,
and about thirty feet broad. The bottom of it consists of fine, clear
sand. About twenty feet from the entrance begins a lake, the water of
which is transparent, and extends to an unsearchable distance; for the
darkness of the cave prevents all possibility of acquiring a knowledge
of it. I threw a small pebble towards the interior parts of it with my
utmost strength: I could hear that it fell into the water, and,
notwithstanding that it was of so small a size, it caused an astonishing
and horrible noise, that reverberated through all those gloomy regions.
I found in this cave many Indian hieroglyphics, which appeared very
ancient, for time had nearly covered them with moss, so that it was with
difficulty I could trace them. They were cut in a rude manner upon the
inside of the walls, which were composed of a stone so extremely soft,
that it might easily be penetrated with a knife; a stone every where to
be found near the Mississippi." _Carver's Travels_, p. 39, 40.

Very many of the Western Indians believe that the Supreme Being has his
residence in the Rocky Mountains; and some of them make him the
Sun.--_Charlevoix_, ii, 180, 117.

The Chippeways suppose the islands in Lake Superior to have been, from
their first formation, the residence of the Great Spirit, and relate
many stories of enchantment and magical tricks that had been experienced
by such as were obliged, through stress of weather, to take shelter
there.--See one of them further on.

The Hurons believe that Michabou, the God of the Waters, and sometimes
their Great Spirit, formerly dwelt at Michillimackinac where he was
born.

(5) _The thunder_.--p. 153.

The Indians have but one way to account for atmospherical phenomena; it
is always by the intervention of a Supreme or Spiritual Being of the
earth, the air, or the waters. Thus they ascribe earthquakes to the
moving of the Great Tortoise which bears the _Island_ (continent) on its
back. They say he shakes himself or changes his position. The Missouri
Indians believe earthquakes to be the effect of supernatural agency,
connected like the thunder with the immediate operations of the Master
of Life. Thunder and lightning impress them with inconceivable terror.
Their opinions of the cause are various. Some take it for a voice of a
particular species of men who fly in the air. Others say the noise comes
from certain birds that are unknown to them. The Montagnais say it is
the effort of a genius to bring up a snake which he hath swallowed; and
they found this notion on observing that when the thunder falls upon a
tree, it leaves something like, the shape of a snake.

The Konzas believe that, when a man is killed in battle, the thunder
takes him up, they do not know whither. In going to battle each man
traces an imaginary figure of the thunder on the soil, and he who
represents it incorrectly is killed by the thunder.

The Delawares, who knew nothing of the cause of natural phenomena, nor
do they desire to be informed of them, conceived thunder to be a spirit
dwelling in the mountains, and now and then sallying forth to make
himself heard. Some of them imagined it to proceed from the crowing of a
monstrous turkey-cock in the heavens; others from enraged evil spirits.

Carver says in his _Travels_: "We had just landed, and were preparing to
set up our tents for the night, when a heavy cloud overspread the
heavens, and the most dreadful thunder, lightning, and rain, issued from
it that ever I beheld. The Indians were greatly terrified, and ran to
seek such shelter as they could. The Indian chiefs themselves, though
their courage in war is usually invincible, could not help trembling at
the horrid combustion."--_Carver_, 56. The southern Indians believe
thunder to be the voice of the Almighty.--_Adair,_ 86. They believe that
Minggo Ishto Eloa, "the great chieftain of thunder" sometimes binds up
the clouds and withholds rain.--_Ibid_., 89.

Eclipses they attribute to the attempts of the Evil Spirits to embarrass
the labours of the luminary which is eclipsed. "The first lunar
eclipse," says Adair, "I saw, after I lived with the Indians, was among
the Cherokees in 1736; and, during the continuance of it, their conduct
appeared surprising to one who had not seen the like before; they all
ran wild, this way and that way, like lunatics, firing their guns,
whooping and hallooing, beating of kettles, ringing horse-bells, and
making the most horrid noises that human beings possibly could. This was
done to assist the suffering moon."--_Adair_, 65.

(6) _The chief gives her to him_.--p. 156.

Marriages among the Indians are proposed and concluded in different
ways. Thus, among the Delawares, the parents on both sides, having
observed an attachment growing up between two young persons, negotiate
for them. This generally commences from the house where the bridegroom
lives, whose mother is the negotiatrix for him, and begins her duties by
taking a good leg of venison or bear's meat, or something else of the
same kind, to the house where the bride dwells, not forgetting to
mention that her son has killed it. In return for this, the mother of
the bride, if she otherwise approves the match, which she well
understands by the presents to be intended, will prepare a good dish of
victuals, the produce of the labour of women--such as beans, Indian
corn, or the like--and then, taking it to the house where the bridegroom
lives, will say, "This is the produce of my daughter's field, and she
also prepared it." From this time (if the presents be accepted) not only
presents of this kind are continued on both sides, but articles of
clothing are presented to the parents of each party by way of return for
what they have received, and of these the young people always have a
share. The friendship between the two families daily increasing, they do
their domestic and field-work jointly, and when the young people have
agreed to live together, the parents supply them with necessaries, such
as a kettle, dishes, bowls, &c. &c.

The men who have no parents to negotiate for them, or who otherwise
choose to manage the matter for themselves, have two simple ways of
attaining their object. The first is by stepping up to the woman whom
they wish to marry, saying, "If you are willing, I will take you as
wife;" when, if she answers in the affirmative, she either goes with him
immediately, or meets him at an appointed time or place. The other
method is--(I give it in their bad English)--"Indian, when he see
industrious squaw, which he like, he go to _him,_ place his two
fore-fingers close aside each other, make two look like one--look squaw
in the face--see _him_ smile, which is all one _he_ say _yes!_ So he
take _him_ home."

Among the Iroquois, Miamis, &c. treaties of marriage are entirely
carried on by the parents; the parties interested do not appear at all,
but give themselves up entirely to the will of those on whom they
depend. The parents, however, do not conclude any thing without their
consent, but this is only a formality. The first advances must be made
by the matrons. Not but that, if any girl were to continue too long
without being sued for, her family would act underhand to procure her a
suitor.

In some places the young man is contented to go and sit by the side of
the young woman in her cabin; and, if she suffers it and continues in
her place, it is taken for her consent, and the marriage is concluded.
The customs of the different tribes do not essentially vary. What should
you say, my fair readers, at being "wooed and won" in this way?

(7) _Indian farm of marriage_.--p. 156.

The Indian nations differ but little from each other in their marriage
ceremonies. The tribes that inhabit the borders of Canada have the
following custom:--When every preliminary is agreed on, and the day
appointed, the friends and acquaintance of both parties assemble at the
house or tent of the oldest relation of the bridegroom, where a feast is
prepared on the occasion. The company who meet to assist at the festival
are sometimes very numerous; they dance, they sing, and enter into every
other diversion usual at any of their public rejoicings. When these are
finished, all those who attended merely out of ceremony depart, and the
bridegroom and the bride are left alone with three or four of the
nearest and oldest relations on either side; those of the bridegroom
being men, and those of the bride women.

Presently the bride, attended by these few friends, having withdrawn
herself for the purpose, appears at one of the doors of the house, and
is led to the bridegroom, who stands ready to receive her. Having now
taken their station on a mat, placed in the centre of the room, they lay
hold of the extremities of a wand about four feet long, by which they
continue separated, whilst the old men pronounce some short harangues
suitable to the occasion. The married couple after this make a public
declaration of the love and regard they entertain for each other, and
still holding the rod between them they dance and sing. When they have
finished this part of the ceremony, they break the rod into as many
pieces as there are witnesses present, who each take a piece, and
preserve it with great care. The bride is then re-conducted out of the
door as she entered, where her young companions wait to attend her to
her father's house; there the bridegroom is obliged to seek her.

Another manner of performing the ceremony is said to be peculiar to the
Naudowessies. When one of their young men has fixed on a young woman he
approves of, he discovers his passion to her parents, who give him an
invitation to come and live with them in their tents. He accordingly
accepts their offer, and by so doing engages to reside in it for a whole
year in the character of a menial servant. During this time he hunts,
and brings all the game he kills to the family; by which means the
father has an opportunity of seeing whether he can provide for the
support of his daughter and the children that might be the consequence
of their union. When this period is expired, the marriage is solemnized
after the custom of the country, in the following manner:--Three or four
of the oldest male relations of the bridegroom, and as many of the
bride's, accompany the young couple from their respective tents to an
open part in the centre of the camp. The chiefs and warriors being here
assembled to receive them, a party of the latter are drawn up into two
ranks on each side of the bride and bridegroom, immediately on their
arrival. The principal chief then acquaints the whole assembly with the
design of their meeting, and tells them that the couple before them,
mentioning at the same time their names, are come to avow publicly their
intention of living together as man and wife. He then asks the young
people alternately whether they desire that the union may take place.
Having declared, with an audible voice, that they do so, the warriors
fix their arrows, and discharge them over the needs of the married pair;
this done, the chief pronounces them man and wife. The bridegroom then
turns around, and, bending his body, takes his wife upon his back, in
which manner he carries her, amidst the acclamations of the spectators,
to his tent. The ceremony is concluded by the most plentiful feast the
new-married man can afford, and songs and dances, according to the usual
custom, conclude the festival.

Among the Quapaws, as I have been informed, the husband, on the
consummation of his marriage, presents his wife with a leg of deer, and
she in return offers him an ear of maize.

THE IDOLS.

A TRADITION OF THE RICARAS.

"Whither goest thou, valiant warrior?
Whither goest thou, Son of the Beaver?
Man whom the Mahas fear;
Man whom the Pawnees shun;
Man of the red and painted cheek;
Man of the fierce and fearful shout;
Whither goest thou?"
"I go to make an offering,
I go to give to the Idols a bow,
An arrow, and a spear,
The Man, and Woman, and Dog of Stone,
That stand on the willow bank,
On the willow bank, that o'erlooks the stream,
The shallow and turbid stream;
I go to ask that my heart may be made,
Like the heart of the panther, fierce and stout,
And my soul as clean as the soul of a child,
And my foot as swift as the foot of a buck,
That victory may be mine,
That the pole of my lodge may bend with scalps,
And the song of my lips
Be the song of a Brave,
Who sings of bright deeds in the ears of his tribe."
"Go! Warrior, go!"

"Whither goest thou, Hunter?
Whither goest thou, keen eyed-man?
Man whom the Beaver fears;
Man whom the Panther shuns;
Man of the fleet and ardent foot,
And the firm and patient heart,
And the never blanching-cheek,
Whither goest thou?"
"I go to make an offering,
I go to give to the Idols flesh,
The juicy flesh of the elk,
The Man, and Woman, and Dog of Stone,
That stand on the willow bank,
On the willow bank that o'erlooks the stream,
The shallow and turbid stream;
I go to ask that my eye maybe true
To follow the trail of the deer,
And to lead in the fox's track,
And strong my arm to send the dart
To the life of the bison-ox,
And stout my heart, when I list to the growl
Of the cubs in the panther's den."
"Go! Hunter, go!"

"Whither goest thou, Priest?
Man of wisdom, whither goest thou?
Man that commun'st with the Voice[A],
And notest the lightning's words;
Man that hast knowledge of things unseen
By the eye of thy brothers,
Whither goest thou?"

"I go to make an offering:
I go to lay my magic robe,
My shaggy hide of the old black bear,
Before the Idols,
The Man, and Woman, and Dog of Stone,
That stand on the willow bank,
On the willow bank that o'erlooks the stream,
The shallow and turbid stream;
I go to ask my Okkis[B] to give
To the sleep of my nights the dream that shows
The image of things to come,
That I may behold the fate of my tribe,
And the fate of the Indian race;
And count the scalps from Mahas torn,
And the prisoners brought from Pawnee lands,
And the beads from the town of the Rock[C];
And number the coal-black horses,
The Ricara Braves shall steal
From the men who wear the cross,
That shines like the cold, pale moon"[D].
"Go! Priest, go!"

"And whither goest thou, Maiden?
Dove of the forest, whither goest thou?
Maiden, as bright as the Hunter's Star,
Maiden, whose hair is the grape-clustered vine,
Whose neck is the neck of the swan,
Whose eyes are the eyes of the dove,
Whose hand is as small as the red-oak's leaf,
Whose foot is the length of the lark's spread wing,
Whose step is the step of the antelope's child,
Whose voice is the voice of a rill in the moon,
Of the rill's most gentle song;
Whither goest thou?"

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