Traditions of the North American Indians, Vol. 2 (of 3)

J >> James Athearn Jones >> Traditions of the North American Indians, Vol. 2 (of 3)

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IV. THE GREAT HARE.

Michabou, or the Great Hare, sat upon the face of the waters--he, and
his creatures, which were all four-legged. The form of this Being was
unlike that of any thing ever seen on the earth, before or since. He
had four legs, or rather two legs and two arms, but he used them all
as if they were legs, and he used the two arms for purposes for which
legs could not be used to advantage. So he had four legs and two arms,
and yet there were but four in all. Each of his creatures was unlike
the others: all were known and distinguished by something which did
not belong to another. Some had but one leg, some had twenty; some had
no legs, but many arms; and some had neither legs nor arms. The same
diversity prevailed with regard to the eyes, and mouth, and nose, and
ears. Indeed they were a strange crowd of creatures, and not the least
strange of all was Michabou himself, the head chief, or rather great
father of all the creatures which moved over the face of the mighty
waters.

Michabou was married to a woman quite as odd and deformed as himself,
who bore him many children, of strange and various shapes. When the
time had come for her to bring forth her one thousandth child, she
had a strange dream. She dreamed that the child within her refused
to see the light, till he had something firm and stable to stand
upon--something which would permit him to enjoy rest undisturbed by
motion. She told this dream to her husband, whom it puzzled very much.
At length he made out that he was to create a world. He knew before,
that the bottom of the ocean was covered with sand. So he dived down,
and brought up from thence a glittering grain to serve as the germ of
the world.

Having taken this grain of glittering sand into the hollow of his
hand, Michabou blew upon it until it so expanded, that it became a
little earth. He then set it afloat upon the waters, where it
continued increasing in magnitude, until it was large enough to
sustain, without sinking, the child which the wife of the great chief,
after bearing about her for forty seasons, brought forth to the light
of day. This child, upon being born, had the form of a man, and was
placed upon the earth thus created. He was the first being which had
ever borne the form of a man, and the first occupier of the earth.
They gave him the name of Atoacan, which signifies the "great father,
or beginner of a race." When he was born, he was larger in stature
than any man that has been born since, and he increased in size, until
his head towered above the tallest woods.

But Atoacan was alone, and life soon became a burthen to him. He was
solitary and sad, and found no pleasure in the beautiful things which
were daily, hourly, springing up on the earth. He saw the flowers
bloom, and scent the air, but they afforded no pleasure to his eyes,
no refreshment to his soul. Sweet fruits were bending the bushes to
the earth, or clustering on the boughs, but they were tasteless;
for it was in his nature to enjoy nothing, prize nothing, unless
participated in by another--the counterpart of himself. So he put
clay upon his head, and cried loud to his father, the Great Hare,
for a companion. Michabou, perceiving that he and his strange-shaped
creatures would be supplanted in power by the son whom he had begotten,
the new creature _man_, had ascended to the heavens: he heard the prayer
of his son, and listened to it.

There was among the people of the skies a beautiful maiden, whose name
was Atahensic. She was fairest of all the daughters of the air,
beautiful as the sun, mild as the moon, and sportive as the stars.
Michabou asked her if she would descend to the earth, and become the
companion and wife of his son; and she, delighted as women always are,
at the prospect of a journey, no matter whither, consented. So
Michabou made a long string of the sinews and tendons of the various
land animals, and by this string he lowered Atahensic into the arms of
his delighted son.

The man, no longer solitary, but furnished with the being, intended
by the constitution of nature and the Great Master of all for the
companion and comfort of his life, set about appropriating to his use
the various things he saw. He was no longer solitary, but met the
difficulties which spring up in the path of human life, and the
labours which he is compelled to bestow upon the procuring of food,
with cheerfulness and alacrity. He now went in the morning to the
forest glade to hunt the red deer, and his toils were not thought of,
because, when they were ended, when the woods, made dark by the coming
shades of night, rang shrill with the lay of the fire-bird, and his
shafts were all spent, he could bear home the spoils they had won, and
be rejoiced by the smiles of his companion and wife.

Atahensic bore her husband two children, a son and a daughter. These
two married, and built themselves a lodge far from their parents. They
had many children, but Michabou, who came down now and then, to see
how things were going on, observing the slow rate at which the world
was peopling, determined to adopt another plan. So he told Atoacan
that, upon the death of every animal, he must skin it. He must burn
the skin, drop a drop of his own blood upon the carcase, and cover it
up carefully with dry leaves from the forest trees. Upon the fourth
day after he had covered it with leaves, if he would remove the
leaves, he would find beneath them a sleeping infant, which, upon
waking, would utter a cry of surprise, at finding itself no longer a
beast but a human being. Each of these beings would possess the power
to assist in the like multiplication of the species, but be denied
other power of procreation. Having thus left directions for the speedy
peopling of the world, Michabou again ascended to the heavens, which
he has not left since.

Atoacan and his son carefully obeyed the commands which had been laid
upon them, and of every beast or four-footed creature that died he
formed a human being. These human beings were gifted with the
qualities and passions which belonged to them in life: these they have
retained, and thence it is that, at this day, the dispositions of men
are so various. We see one crafty and subtle--he has the blood of the
fox; another cruel, malicious, blood-thirsty--he is descended from
the wolf. The red skin is courageous--the horse was his father; the
white man is a coward--his mother was a sheep. One is full of
sprightliness and agility--he is of the blood of the mountain-cat;
another is clumsy--the musk-ox was his father. Strange and various are
the dispositions which men have--cunning, subtle, sly, wise, brave,
prudent, careless, cowardly, peaceable, blood-thirsty. These are
qualities derived from the beasts, which died as beasts, and became
men and the ancestors of the tribes living on the earth.

V. THE SIX NANTICOKES.

Once upon a time, there was a very bright and sunny day on the earth,
and, upon this day so bright and sunny, a strange thing happened. It
was in the country inhabited by the tribe of Nanticokes, and upon the
borders of the Great Lake. It was in the morning of the day, and the
moon was the moon in which the shad, leaving the waters which are
salt, make their journey to those which are fresh. Beautiful was the
day; the salt and bitter waters lay as motionless as a little child
sleeping on the bosom of its mother. The winds were hushed in the
caverns of the earth, and the beams of the sun fell gladdening and
refreshing every thing beneath them. They shone upon field and forest,
hill and valley; upon bird and beast, and fish and reptile, and many
other things, beautiful or ugly, curious or strange; but they fell not
upon man, for he was not. The tall and erect form, which commands
obedience from all other creatures, was not then seen walking among
the glades of the forest, with the firm step and haughty eye which
distinguishes him. Beasts were many, birds were many, fishes were
many, but of men, the lords of all, there were none.

Before the sun descended behind the mountains of the West, he shone
upon man also. Six Indians, the first men that were ever on earth, and
the ancestors of the tribe of Nanticokes, all at once, they knew not
how, nor by what means, found themselves sitting upon the same shore,
upon the verge of the ocean. Whether they were created on the spot, or
came from some other place beyond the seas; whether they had swum up
from the waters, or crawled out of the mud, or bounded from the depths
of the forest, or alighted from the regions of the air, and were
changed into men, receiving a gift to forget their former state, they
knew not, or if they dropped from the skies, and forgot whence they
came through dizziness and the violence of the fall. But this they
knew, that they found themselves sitting on the shores of the Great
Lake, in the country now inhabited by the Nanticokes, on the latter
part of a warm and pleasant day, in the moon in which the shad leave
the waters which are salt, and make their journey to those which are
fresh. And they knew that there were six of them, and this was all
they knew.

These six Indians were all men; there was not amongst them, nor on the
earth, a single woman. The song-sparrow, and the mocking-bird, and the
dove, and the crested wren, and the spotted lynx, and the gorgeous
woodpecker, and the fish with shining scales, and all the other
beautiful creatures that have since lived, and now live, were then
upon the earth, even in greater numbers, and possessed of greater
beauty than now; but woman, more beautiful than any, the most glorious
thing that walks the earth, lived not then. It was soon that these
Indians found out their wants, and began to provide themselves with
food and clothing by means of hunting. They built themselves canoes,
and made them bows and arrows, wherewith they took the spoils of land
and water; and they set springes for birds, and traps for those
creatures which live alike on the land and water. And they cultivated
the various plants which they found growing spontaneously--corn, and
tobacco, and roots; and gathered ripe grapes, and abundance of
delicious berries. They lived well enough, and had they been wise
would have sought no further; but they took it into their heads, that
they could not live without women. So, led by the gloomy and solitary
feeling of a vacant heart, they left the cabins which they had built,
and wandered forth in search of the coveted objects. That their chance
of success might be greater, they agreed to separate, and each to
travel on different paths, and so they parted. One went towards the
clime of the snows, another towards the land of the summer winds, the
third sought the distant east, the fourth bent his steps towards the
mountains of the setting sun, the fifth descended into the bowels of
the earth, and the sixth climbed a sunbeam. Before they separated,
they agreed that those who were living when the Moon of Grapes again
came round, should repair to the same great tree in the shade of which
they were then sitting, and there, while the pipe of friendship was
passing around, recount their adventures.

The Moon of Grapes again came round, and found, upon one of its
pleasantest days, these six Nanticokes sitting beneath the great tree,
on the bank of the river which gives its name to the tribe. With them
sate six beautiful women, and laughing, and sporting, and rolling
about on the green and grassy sod at their feet, lay six beautiful
children. The six Indians and their wives appeared very happy, and
while they passed the pipe about, laughed and talked very loud and
joyfully, and were very, very merry, as though they had been drinking
something much stronger than water. At last, one of them, whose name
was Sinipuxent, rose and said:

Brothers! it was in the Moon of Grapes of the last year, that we found
ourselves sitting on the shore of the Great Lake, endued with the
faculties that we now exercise. It was in the Moon of Grapes, that we
departed in quest of the beloved beings who are now the light of our
eyes. And we agreed, that those who were living when the next
Grape-Moon came round should repair to the same great tree, beneath
whose shade we then sate, and there, while the pipe of friendship was
passing round, we should relate what had befallen us. The Great Spirit
has permitted our return to that spot, and the beautiful beings, whom
we have brought with us from countries so far apart, are proofs that
adventures have befallen us, which are worth recounting. Brothers, you
shall hear of what befel Sinipuxent, who left you to climb the sunbeam.

When he parted from his five brothers, he climbed a sunbeam for many
days, until he came to the land where the glorious luminary of the
earth, the Sun, takes his refreshment of sleep and rest during the
dark hours. It was in the morning of the day, and the great light of
the world had risen from his couch, and set out upon his journey, but
his wife and his children were all, save one, stretched out in
profound sleep. That one, the most beautiful of all creatures--look at
her, and say if she is not!--sat bathing her lovely cheeks and stately
neck in the morning dew, and brushing off the stray drops with the
white lily of the lake. Her little feet were carelessly thrust into
the clear stream gliding by her, beneath which they glittered like the
sparkling sands washed from the mountains into the river of the
Nanticokes. Her long bright hair, coloured by the beams of her father,
the Sun, lay floating over her naked shoulders and bosom, more
beautiful--but ye behold her. Beautiful creature! she saw not the
Nanticoke till he stood at her side. When she raised her head, and
found a stranger standing near her, she would have fled, but he
detained her gently with these words:

"Beautiful creature! what is it thou fearest? I am not he that would
harm thee. On the contrary, I would encounter any risk, brave any
peril, rather than harm one of the glossy hairs that is straying over
thy beautiful brow. My heart tells me, gentle creature, that thou art
the object for which my soul hath panted, ever since I first knew that
I was. I love thee, deeply and fervently, and wish thee to be mine. I
ask thee to leave the clime of thy father, and go with me to the
pleasant land and beautiful river of the Nanticokes. Though its skies
be not so bright as those in which thou wert born, yet are they
mellower. And the waters of the land are clear, cool, and sweet, and
the shades are refreshing. The vines are bending to the earth with
rich ripe grapes, berries are loading every bush, and the earth is
covered with flowers. Thou shalt become my companion in the cabin I
have built me beside the Nanticoke; and even as that river, when
unvexed by the swell of rains, glides along in the months of summer,
so shall our lives pass away. Thou shalt be the wife of my bosom, and
together will we live, till we are called to the land revealed to us
by our dreams as the land of souls."

The lovely maiden heard the words of the Nanticoke, and answered that
she knew not well what she should say. She knew not where the land of
the Nanticokes lay, nor did she know who was he that spoke to her. But
she timidly confessed that she loved him, and would become the wife of
his bosom, if the consent of her father and mother could be obtained.
So he asked the mother, who gave her consent at once, if that of her
husband could be procured.

When the Sun came home at night, his wife said to him, "One of the six
Indians that dropped from the North Star, on the shores of the Great
Lake in the Frog-Moon, has come hither, and demanded our daughter
Atahensic in marriage. He appears to be a bold and handsome youth, and
our daughter loves him."

"But he shall not have her," answered the fiery father; "the blood of
the Sun shall not mingle with the blood of the beings of the earth."

Then he called the Nanticoke to him, and spoke to him thus: "Thou
canst not have my daughter--thy blood cannot mingle with mine.--Depart."

The Nanticoke, who, like all the others of that tribe, was brave and
fearless, but prudent, held his peace, but departed not. When the Sun
was asleep he wooed the maiden; when he was awake, and his eyes were
peering into every spot however obscure, and every dingle however
dark, he hid himself where even those rays could not penetrate. And
often was the beautiful maiden of his love prevailed upon to hide
herself with him. But he had suffered himself to forget the
consequences of a mutual and unrestrained love. The beautiful
Atahensic gave evidence that she should in due time become a mother.
The quick-eyed father soon discovered what had happened, and heard the
whole from the lips of his weeping daughter. Nothing could equal the
rage of the mighty king of the skies, when he learned the disgrace
inflicted upon his family. In the frenzy of the moment, he seized both
the daughter and her lover, and hurled them from the highest part of
the skies to the region where the land of the Nanticokes lay. But the
kind mother protected both from the consequences of the fall, and the
earth, by her command, received them unhurt upon her lap. Brothers, I
am that Nanticoke, and the beautiful Atahensic is the woman by my
side, and the child at her feet is the child of our love. I have no
more to say.

* * * * *

When the first Nanticoke had finished his story, the second, whose
name was Conestogo, rose, and thus addressed his brothers:

Listen, said he, and you shall hear of what befel Conestogo, who left
you to travel into the bowels of the earth.

When he parted from his five brothers, he went to the deep cavern
which lies among the mountains west of the river of the Nanticokes,
and into this cavern he entered at the time of nightfall. After having
groped his way for many days through deep darkness, over rocks and
many other obstructions, living on the dried meat he had taken with
him, all at once, upon passing through a small door or opening, he
came to a great chamber, vaulted like the rooms which are unfolded to
our eyes, when we enter those great houses in the City of the Rock,
where men dressed in glittering robes, and little boys clothed in
white, call upon the Great Spirit, and sing loud songs to his praise.
Around the sides of this great room were tall pillars, which looked
liked icicles, and glittered like them when they are visited by the
beams of the sun. Over-head was a vast field of ice, of many different
colours, green, red, white, yellow; the reflection of which on the
floor of the mighty building occasioned a strange blending of rays.
Beautiful, wonderful, was the appearance of this room, and of all
within it.

But the most beautiful, wonderful things of the cavern remain to be
spoken of. In the further corner of this spacious apartment was a
company of beautiful maidens, clothed in robes of the same colours as
those which glittered on the roof and walls of the building; the
dazzling beauty of their dress may be guessed, but who shall paint
their own charms? who shall describe their bright black eyes, long
black locks, and voice like the music of the streams in spring? their
beautiful necks, and little feet and hands, their swelling bosoms, and
graceful footsteps? When I entered they were employed in chasing each
other around the apartment, and amongst the lofty pillars; but, when
they saw a stranger invade their retirement, they uttered a shrill cry
of terror, and fled along the vaulted passages. The Nanticoke pursued
them until he came to an inner range of apartments, all glittering
like that he had left, but smaller in dimensions; there were a great
many little recesses, and behind those pillars he saw many little
heads peering out, which he knew to be those of the beautiful maidens
who had escaped from the room of mighty pillars. He could see upon
their countenances that they were not so fearful as they pretended to
be; but when they hid, always preferred to be found. There was an arch
smile upon their beautiful little faces, and their red lips were
pursed up in affected contempt of the Nanticoke. He, whom nature
quickly taught the best means of winning woman's love, which was not
to seem over-anxious to obtain it, said nothing; but, seating himself
upon a broken pillar, leisurely drew out his pipe and fell to smoking,
rightly judging that if the fair creatures were not sought they would
seek. It was not long that they remained hidden. First one contrived
to put forth her little hand or foot; then a head became visible;
still the Nanticoke affected to see neither. At last, finding that
Conestogo would not play their childish game, one stepped forth, then
another, and soon the whole stood visible. They now came up to the
hunter, and, with many soft smiles, bade him welcome. Seating
themselves upon the smooth floor around him, they commenced asking
questions. "Who was he? what was he? how old was he? where did he come
from? how far was he going? who was his father? what was the name of
his mother? how many brothers had he? how many sisters? was his
grandmother living? how long would he stay with them? to what place
would he go when he left them?" and many other questions, which,
fortunately for him, were asked with so little pause, that he had no
opportunity to answer one of them. Nor did they seem to expect an
answer, but appeared to ask, only that they might have the pleasure of
talking. All were not so talkative, however. There was one beautiful
creature, the most beautiful of all the company, who sat apart from
the rest, said nothing with her tongue, but spoke a language with her
downcast eyes, which the smitten Nanticoke interpreted into that of
bashful love. While the rest were talking and laughing, displaying
their white teeth, and shaking their black hair over their polished
foreheads, he was thinking only of the silent woman, and contrasting
her modest and quiet deportment with the noisy and boisterous mirth
of her sisters. When she saw that the stranger bent his eyes a great
portion of the time on herself, and that their expression denoted the
same sentiment in him as filled her own bosom, she turned her face
away to fix them in listless gaze upon a distant object.

After the beautiful maidens had laughed, and chattered, and questioned,
as much as they would, they left the Nanticoke to enjoy his slumbers.
The silent maiden retired last, and the look which she gave him, as
she left the little chamber, did not quit his soul till more than half
of the hours of darkness had run through. The next morning he rose
early, and wandered about till he came to a little spring, which
rattled over a bed of pebbles, and fell into a cavern beneath; it was
a beautiful little spring, and its waters were cold and sweet, and as
clear as the sky. He had just placed himself by the side of this
little stream, when the silent maiden came thither also. The Nanticoke
sat hidden from observation by one of the pillars, while she whispered
her soft tale of love to the echoes of the cavern. She told them that
she loved the stranger with the black hair, and sunny eyes, and proud
mien; that she wished them to carry to the Great Spirit her wishes
that he should ask her to become his own--his companion--his wife.
More she would have said, but the Nanticoke caught her gently in his
arms, preventing her slight screams with the kiss of love. "Thou shalt
become my own--my companion--my wife," said he. "Lovely, and gentle,
and dearly beloved creature! I had feared thou hadst no tongue,
because to hear thee silent for a little while was something so new
and strange in thy sex. But thou hast found a tongue to tell the
echoes what thy bashful lips would not have dared tell me. I thank the
Great Spirit that I overheard thy soft confession; it has removed
those impediments which thy bashful timidity would else have
interposed to our immediate union. Lovely maiden! with the black hair,
and the bright forehead, and the slender waist, and the beautiful hand
and foot, and the white teeth, what prevents thy accompanying me at
once--to-day--this minute, to the land where I have taken up my abode,
the pleasant and fruitful land of the Nanticokes? Again thou art
silent, but the soft smile upon thy features tells me that thou art
not averse to my proposal. I see in the look of thy sunny eye, in thy
decreasing hesitation, and yielding reluctance, that thou wilt become
the star of my pleasant cabin, the hope, the solace, and the joy of my
life. Let us go then; ere ten suns be passed, thou shalt find thyself
seated upon a bank, whose flowers are only less sweet than thyself.
Thou shalt listen to a stream whose voice is only less musical than
thine own, and see the beautiful night lit up by its very many
glorious lamps.

"Brothers, I am that Nanticoke, and the beautiful maiden is she that
sits by my side, and the child that rolls about on the green sod is
the child of our love. I have no more to say."

* * * * *

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