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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"The Northern Indians call this meteor by a less romantic
name--_Ed-thin,_ that is, "deer;" and, when that meteor is very bright,
they say, that deer is plentiful in that part of the atmosphere. Their
ideas, in this respect, are founded on a principle one would not imagine
them to possess a knowledge of. Experience has shown them, that, when a
hairy deer-skin is briskly stroked with a hand in a dark night, it will
emit many sparks of electric fire, as the back of a cat will."--_Ibid_.

V. THE LITTLE WHITE DOVE.

I have heard the words of the son of the Chepewyan, and the tale he has
told of the Happy Island, and the Stone Canoe. It is the belief of his
fathers, and he does well to treasure it up in his soul. The Knisteneaux
have too their land of delight. It is in a different clime from that of
the Chepewyan--how could it be, and continue a land of delight? Wars
would arise between these ancient and implacable enemies, and the peace
and quiet of the blessed regions be destroyed by their cries of hatred
and revenge. Ask a Knisteneau to throw away his war-spear with a
Chepewyan in his hunting-grounds? Ask a Chepewyan to wipe off his
war-paint while there was the print of a Knisteneau mocassin in his
war-path? The Great Spirit, knowing the impossibility of reconciling the
jarring tribes of the Wilderness, appointed to each tribe or nation its
place of happiness, and placed, between each, impassable barriers, that
wars enkindled on earth might not be transferred to the Land of Souls.

The "Foot of the Fawn," the most beautiful woman of the nation, and the
beloved wife of the great chief, died suddenly of the labour of nature
in the Moon of Buds. The body of the deceased mother, dressed in the
best garments she possessed, the robe of white fox-skin with the
embroidered sandals of dressed deer-skin, the feathers with which she
used to deck her long black hair, and the bracelets of pierced bones
which encircled her slender wrists, were placed in the grave lined with
pine branches. They buried with her all the domestic utensils she had
used, and all the articles she was known to have prized. While they were
filling in the earth into her grave, and erecting over it the canopy to
protect it from the rains and the winds, loud were the lamentations
which filled the air. They spoke of her patience, her industry, her care
of her family, her love of her husband, her kindness and pity to the
sick and afflicted, her benevolence to the stranger. The child, in
giving birth to which she had died, was buried, according to the custom
of our nation, by the side of the public footpath, or highway, that,
having enjoyed but little life, merely seen the light of the sun to have
its eye pained by its beams, some woman as she passed by might receive
its little soul, and thus it might be born again, and still enjoy its
share of existence. With these rites were the wife and child of the
great chief of the Knisteneaux laid in the earth from whence they
sprung.

It was many suns after the decease of the beloved Fawn's Foot, that two
doves, one of which was of the size of a full grown dove, and the other
a very little one, were seen sitting upon a spray by the side of the
warrior's lodge. Our people, who recollected the tradition of our
fathers, that the souls of the good, after their entrance upon the land
of never-ceasing happiness, were transformed into doves, and that not
always were little children appointed to be received into the bosom of a
second mother[A], and to re-enter into another stage of existence,
immediately conjectured that they were the spirits of the mother and the
child returned to the land of their bodies, on some errand yet to be
learned. They knew by the tradition of their fathers, that they had
entered on the Land of Souls, for the Festival of the Dead[B] had been
celebrated, and all the rites duly observed which release the soul from
its compelled attendance on the body, until the baked meats have been
eaten, and the howling and the piercing of flesh, and the tearing of
hair, and the weeping in secret, have taken place. "They have come! they
have come! The Fawn's Foot and her child have returned from the Land of
Souls," was shouted through the village. "The beautiful Fawn's Foot and
her child, that disdained to be born again, but clung to its first
mother, have returned to visit us, and tell us the secrets of the land
of departed souls. Now we shall hear from our fathers, mothers,
children, sisters, brothers, lovers, and friends. We shall be told the
length of the journey to the _Cheke Checkecame_, and whether the
traveller thither must take him stores of provisions, and go armed. We
shall know if the soul of the Little Serpent, who was taken prisoner by
the Coppermines, and burnt at the stake, is yet subjected to the pinches
and goadings of the bad spirits in the place of torment prepared for
those who die the death of fire; we shall hear about the Great Dog which
stands on the hither bank of the river, over which all must pass who
would enter on the land of spirits, to guard it against the approach of
those who break from their chains in the place of torment before the
expiation is duly made, and attempt, with impure hands, to lay hold of
the pleasures of the happy regions." Thus they ran about the village,
shouting and singing, until all the people were collected together, and
then they moved in a procession towards the tree upon which the doves
were perched. They found them--beautiful birds! but they were not
birds, but souls changed into the form which betokens innocence and
purity; they found them, and long and earnestly did they gaze upon the
tenderly beloved beings they had formerly been, the pure souls they now
were. The happiness they enjoyed in their present state was seen in
their eyes, which were mild and beautiful beyond my power to tell. And
great appeared the love subsisting between them. The little dovelet
hopped on the back of its parent, who playfully pecked it in return, and
often were the eyes of the child turned fondly on its mother, as if
thanking her for the existence she had bestowed upon it, at the expense
of her own life. Glorious birds with soft eyes, and skyey plumage! never
hath aught so beautiful been seen in the land of the Knisteneaux.

[Footnote A: They (the Chepewyans) have some faint notion of transmigration
of the soul; so that if a child be born with teeth, they instantly
imagine, from its premature appearance, that it bears a resemblance to
some person who had lived to an advanced age, and that he has assumed
a renovated life, with these extraordinary symptoms.--_Mackenzie_,
cxix.]

[Footnote B: See note 4, p. 306 of this vol.]

At length the bereaved husband and father made his appearance, slowly
and with eyes which would have shed tears, had they been other than
those of a warrior. No sooner was he in view, than the little wings of
the doves were rapidly fanning the air towards him. One, the lesser, and
scarce larger than a fly, lighted on his lip, the larger crept to his
bosom, as it was wont to do in life, and was fondly pressed to his
heart, which loved the form it bore when living, and deeply cherished
its memory, and hailed its return to the earth, in a new shape, with
inconceivable delight. Having nestled awhile in his bosom, the soul of
the good and beautiful Fawn's Foot perched upon his shoulders, and thus
addressed the listening Knisteneaux:

"I am one of the souls of the Fawn's Foot, who died of the labour of
nature, in the Moon of Buds, and the little dove at my side is the
spirit of my child. It is an old tradition of our fathers, and will not
therefore surprise you, that every person is gifted by the Great Master
of Life with two souls. One of these souls, which is the breath, never
leaves the body, but to go into another, which nevertheless seldom
happens, save to that of children, which, having enjoyed but little
life, is allowed to begin a new one, and live out a second and more
protracted term of existence. When the breath departs from the body, the
other soul goes to the region which is appointed to be the everlasting
abode of the Knisteneaux. It is situated very far towards the setting
sun, so far, that even those souls which are pardoned are many moons
reaching it. Many dangers are to be encountered before the souls bound
thither arrive. They first come to the place of torment, appointed for
the souls of those who have been taken prisoners and burnt. They pass a
river where many have been wrecked, and at length come to another, at
the hither edge of which lies a dog of immense proportions, which
attacks indiscriminately every one that attempts to cross. The souls
whose good deeds outweigh the bad are assisted by the Good Spirit to
overcome the dog, while the bad, conquered by him in the conflict, are
incessantly worried by him thereafter. The next place of danger and
dread, is the country where the spirits of the beasts, birds, fishes,
&c.--all animate nature which is not man--is found. Here are the spirits
of bears, and wolves, and snakes, all that is cruel, or bloody, or
hideous. And these are sure to give battle to the shades of the human
beings, as they cross the lands and waters where they dwell. The
punishment they inflict consists alone in the terror they excite, for
the jaws, so thickly studded with teeth, are but a shadow, and the claws
could only retain in their grasp a shade. The dwelling place of the
souls of the brutes has its enjoyments and pleasures suited to their
tastes. The snail, that delights to crawl in slime, will have full
permission to do so; the tortoise, and the prairie dog, and the mole,
may still creep into the earth if they choose, and the squirrel still
suspend himself by his tail from the bough of the tree. If the bear
choose to suck his claws, none shall say him nay, and the neeshaw may
bury himself as deep in the mud as he likes.

"At length the souls arrive at the region where they are destined to
spread their tents for ever. I have heard from the lips of our fathers
of its pleasures and its joys; all are well and truly described in your
old tradition. Happiness and rest are for the good, misery and labour
for the bad. Bright skies, eternal springs, and plenty of all things,
reward him who did his duty well; continual storms, endless winter,
parching thirst, pinching hunger, and crying nakedness, punish him who
performed them ill. Men and women of my nation! forsake evil ways, and
earn, by so doing, unbounded happiness. Hunter, dread not the bear, and
be patient and industrious; warrior, fear not thine enemy, and shouldst
thou unhappily fall into his power, bear his torments as a warrior
should bear them, and sing thy death-song in the ears of his tribe. And
thou, my beloved husband, persevere for a few more moons in the course
which made thee the light of my eyes while living, and renders thee not
less dear now I inhabit the world of spirits. Thou wilt soon rejoin the
souls of thy wife and child in the land of unceasing delights. Till
then, farewell."

Having spoken thus, the little doves flung out their skyey wings to
catch the breath of the Great Spirit sent to waft them home, and were
soon swept away from the sight of the Knisteneaux. Not so their tale,
which has resisted the current of time, and survives in the memories of
all our nation.

VI. THE TETON'S PARADISE.

If my brother will go abroad in a clear evening in the Moon of Falling
Leaves[A], and turn his eyes towards the cold regions of the Hunter's
Star, and the north wind, and the never-melting snows, he will often see
the skies flushed with a hue like that which mounts to the cheeks of a
young maiden, when the name of her lover is whispered in her ear, or
when that same lover presses her to his heart in the presence of curious
eyes and slandering tongues. At first, he will see a faint beam darting
up in the north, like the spray which shoots into the air, when the
waters dash upon a rocky frontlet. Gradually he will behold it arise,
till half the heavens, and sometimes the whole, is lit up with exceeding
brightness. Then will he hear in the skies a noise as of half-suppressed
laughter, and sometimes, though more rarely, he will behold the
light-winged aerial forms of the merry laughers, as they thread the
mazes of their dance among the clustering stars. The sight fills the
soul of an Indian with great joy, for he thinks that it is occasioned by
the spirits of his departed friends, indulging in the sport they loved
so well on earth, and dancing merrily to the music of the stars. The red
blush which tinges the face of night with a hue like that which mounts
to the cheeks of a beautiful maiden, when the name of her beloved youth
is whispered in her ear, is the flame which arises from the fires
kindled by the kind spirits of the north, to thaw the frozen mist which
impedes their light footsteps across the face of the heavens. And the
laugh is the laugh of eager joy, which those spirits utter when,
indulging in their loved pastime, they remember the occurrence which led
to their glorious destiny, and made the bright and starry north their
place of residence after death.

[Footnote A: This month (November) is sometimes called by them the
"Beaver-Moon," being the month in which they commence their hunt of that
animal.]

Once upon a time, the tribe of the Burntwood Tetons had assembled to
hold a merry feast and joyful dance upon the coming-in of the green
corn. It was a season of unusual plenty; the stalks of maize had grown
almost to the height and thickness of the surrounding trees, and the
ears thereon were many, sound, and sweet. Not only was this best beloved
food of the Indian in great plenty, but every thing else which
contributes to the enjoyment of Indian life, and makes the red man
happy, was in equal abundance. Every bush was loaded with rich, ripe
berries; and never, in the memory of the oldest Teton, had the woods
been so stocked with game, or the waters so frequently made to ripple
with the gambols of the nimble fish. The boy of twelve summers could
feed all his father's children with the spoils of his feeble bow and
tiny arrows, and the daughter of six would pluck more berries from the
prairie and hill-side, in the space of half a sun, than could be eaten
in her father's cabin by its hungry inmates for four sleeps. The Moon of
Planting saw the Great Spirit in good humour with his children, the
Tetons, because they had kept his commands, as laid down by his priests
and prophets: the Moon of Green Corn found him equally pleased and
gracious. Thence it was that he had showered prosperity upon all the
undertakings of our nation, and thence that he had given to our corn to
grow up like trees, and made the feet of our young warriors swift in the
chase, and their hearts strong in the combat, and had given to our
maidens the power to win, by their soft smiles and softer words, and
endearing glances, and whispers of affection, the hearts of whomsoever
they would. The Great Spirit loves to bestow gifts upon mortals, and to
see them happy, and never withholds his blessings from them when they
have duly besought his aid, and remembered to walk in the path he has
pointed out to them. When our tribe drove the Mahas from their
hunting-grounds, and came back with many scalps, it was because they
invoked his protection ere they went, and offered him frequent
sacrifices--when they left the bones of half their warriors to whiten on
the prairies which skirt the distant Wisconsan, it was because, in the
pride of their hearts, they remembered him not, and forgot that death
and destruction go before the steps of the hardened and contumacious.

I have said, that the warriors of my nation had assembled to the dance
and the feast. They had, and there were gathered together with them that
part of the tribe which better loved the pursuits of peace than those of
war--were better pleased to gather in the maize and nuts of autumn, and
to spear the gliding tenants of the waters, and to follow the trail of
the deer through the leafy coverts which he makes his hiding-place, than
to join in the tumult, and fatigues, and bloodshed, of the strife of
men. While the blithe young warriors danced their dance, the crowd
around them, from time to time, approved of their performances, by loud
and oft-repeated shouts of joy and delight. They said, that more expert
and graceful dancers had never been seen in the tribe, and predicted,
that limbs so light and agile in the dance, and eyes so true in
directing the spear to the painted post, around which they were dancing,
must needs show their agility and truth in the first expedition they
should undertake against a foe. And the young maidens--those whose
praise is sweetest, at least to the ears of youth--were equally loud in
their commendations of the sprightly Tetons, who were worshipping the
Master of Life in the manner supposed to be the most acceptable to him.

While our people were thus employed in their worship and dance, although
it was the hottest month of summer, and the day was one of singular and
overpowering heat, they were surprised and terrified by a sudden
darkness, accompanied by a great fall of snow and hail. All at once, to
their unspeakable consternation and confusion, there stood, in the
centre of the space around which the dance was danced, a spirit of the
air, wearing the form and proportions of a woman of exceeding beauty.
White and pure was her skin, as the snow ere it touches the earth; her
hair, which flowed to her knees in many folds, was white as the snow
which was falling around her; but her eyes were blue as the sky from
which she had taken her flight, and these alone, of all that appertained
to her, were of a different hue from the snows which had accompanied
her descent to the earth. She was of the usual height of the women of
our nation, and more beautiful than any thing that had ever entered into
the imagination of mortals. In a moment the dance was suspended, and,
throughout the camp of the Tetons, not a voice or sound was heard, save
the hushed respiration of the terrified and astonished crowd, as they
gazed upon the beautiful and majestic spirit. Awhile it stood in earnest
but tranquil look upon the silent warriors, and then spoke in whispers
the words which I shall repeat to my brothers:

"Men of the Burntwood Tetons! I am the chief spirit of the Land of
Snows--the power which, by the decree of the Great Being, presides over
the regions of ice and frost. I have come from my dwelling in the far
north, to look upon the brave and good Tetons, and to behold the dances
which they are so famed for dancing, and to see with my own eyes their
skill in shooting with the bow, and throwing the spear, and their
strength in wielding the war-club, and their patience under afflictions,
and their endurance of fatigue, and hunger, and cold, and want. I had
heard in my dwelling-place in the bright skies that they were the best
and bravest of men; I shall see if the report is true. But not for this
alone have I left the glorious regions of the north; I have suffered
myself to be coaxed to the earth, by a wish to feel in my bosom the
workings of that soft passion, which possesses both mortals and
immortals--things of the earth, and the air--and sometimes blesses with
joy and happiness, but oftener afflicts with pain and misery, and days
of anxiety, and nights of anguish, those whose lot it is to make it the
all-controlling guest of their bosoms; thou knowest that I mean the
almighty passion of love. Although I dwell in the regions of eternal
frost and never-melting snows, yet would I that my bosom should feel the
gentle flame; though my flesh be of the consistence and coldness of ice,
I would feel the raging of a fire like that which exists in the bosoms
of those who love to madness. I, who lived in the skies many, very many,
ages before the Elder Chappewee brought up the earth from the bottom of
the ocean to the present hour, without a touch of human passion--who
never knew or wished to know joy or sorrow, hope or despair, pleasure or
pain, melancholy, regret, anger, disappointment, or aught that elevates
or depresses the souls of mortals--would now partake of all and each in
an equal degree with the children of the earth. I would have my bosom
torn with the conflicting passions of humanity--be chilled with the
horrid doubts of jealousy, and with agonising fears for the duration of
the affection which will become a part of my existence."

Here the Spirit of Snow ceased speaking, while her tears fell thick and
fast in the shape of frozen rain upon the Tetons. Seeing the emotion of
the beautiful Spirit, and fearing that further silence on the part of
the tribe whom she had come to visit might be offensive to her, the aged
Nikanape, who was wisest of all the men of the land, rose and addressed
her thus:

"Beautiful Spirit of the Land of Snows! Thou wouldst feel, thou sayest,
the passion of love, and wouldst admit to thy bosom a soft feeling of
preference for one dearer than all the other beings of earth. Although
thou art a spirit, and shouldst be wise, yet, to judge from thy
speech--be not offended--the words of an aged Teton may better thy
wisdom. They whose bosoms are not afflicted by the passions of humanity,
who know neither love nor hate, nor joy nor sorrow, nor revenge nor
pity, nor anger, nor the other passions and emotions which distract
human life, and reduce it to a few brief and unhappy years, have only to
pray that the Great Spirit would keep them in their happy state of
ignorance. Why wouldst thou love?"

"To know its pleasures."

"They are fewer than the throbs of fear in the breast of a true
warrior, and shorter lived than the flower that blooms to-day, and
to-morrow is blasted by the unwholesome dew."

"I would know its pains."

"They are more numerous than the fire-flies which light up a summer
prairie, and die but with the being who entertains the passion upon
which they attend."

"I have seen otherwise. Once, while keeping my night-watch in my own
clime of snows, I beheld the return of one to the embrace of a maiden
from whom he had long been separated. I saw the eager flush of delight
on her cheek, as she rushed into his outstretched arms, and beheld the
sweet kisses of affection which were interchanged between the enraptured
pair, and heard the thrilling words of heartfelt tenderness which these
two did murmur in each other's ears. Was not this happiness?"

"It was."

"Would he not do well who should exchange a space of time equal to
thrice the years of a brown eagle, of existence so passionless as mine,
for one moon of happiness like that which those lovers enjoyed?"

"The great prophet of the Tetons is a man of few words. He sees the
Spirit of the Land of Snows determined to become a mortal, and why
should he seek to change her mind? May it be the happy lot of a man of
his nation to gain the affections of a being so beautiful as thou art!
Speak, fair Spirit! my people listen in anxious hope that thou wilt call
some Teton youth to thine arms."

Softly, and with a fearful look did the unearthly maiden make reply to
the Teton prophet. "I saw from my place in the land of frost one whom I
deemed worthy to be the husband of her at whose command the snows
descend upon the earth, and the waters are locked up with a chain, the
rivets of which can only be unclasped by the warm sun of summer. I
beheld him, in my eyes, the bravest of all thy warriors. None hath so
fleet a foot, none so sure a hand, none so fair a cheek, none so stately
a form."

"Surely thou hast named the pride of our nation--thou has described the
Swift Foot," replied the prophet. "Call him hither."

They carried the message to the youthful warrior, who came with the
speed of foot for which he was so well known, and stood by the side of
the beautiful maiden from the Land of Snows. Though it was evident that
she liked the young Brave, yet was not her love shown by the signs which
usually give evidence of the existence of that tender passion. No blush
lit up her snowy cheek, or flushed her lily neck, as it does the cheek
and neck of maidens of the earth when pressed to the enraptured bosoms
of those they love. No tear bedewed her eye, no trembling seized her
frame, no throb of rapture lifted the snowy mantle that hid her bosom.
Her body was bent slightly forward, her snowy lips were parted like a
water-lily, about to unfold itself to the face of day, and her arms were
extended as if they would press to her heart, all icy as it was, the
noble warrior who stood at her side.

"Dost thou love me?" she faintly asked.

"Does the dove love his little mate? does the spring bud love the beams
of the sun? does a mother love her first-born? does a warrior love the
shout of a foe? I love thee more than words can express; let my actions
show the deep affection I bear thee. The Swift Foot will make thee the
wife of his bosom."

"Dost thou know who it is that thou wouldst wed?"

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