The power of the Doctor “caps the climax.” In him all the powers of the
gods meet, as the colors blend in the rain-bow. The doctor is revered
as much, perhaps, as the superior gods themselves. The subordinate gods
dwell in them and confer on them the power to _suck out disease_ from
the human body. If long without practice, it is said that the gods in
them become restless, and subject them to much inconvenience. To pacify
them it is represented that they sometimes obtain and drink considerable
quantities of human blood.
When one of these doctors has been called, with due respect, to
administer relief to a sick person, the patient is placed on a blanket
on the ground, in a lodge vacated for the purpose, with the body chiefly
naked. The doctor also lays off his own clothes, except the breech
cloth. After chants and prayers, the rattling of the sacred shell, and
numerous other noisy ceremonies, with an air and attitude of self-conceit
and impudence, which only a devil could inspire, he mutters out the
following, or something similar: “The gods told me that having this, I
might approach the bones of a dead man even, and set him on his feet.” He
then drops on his knees, at the patient’s side, and applying his mouth to
the part of the body immediately over what is supposed to be the seat of
the disease, he sucks with frenzy, at the same time rattling the shell
with the utmost violence. In this manner, the god which is in the doctor,
draws the disease from the sufferer. After a considerable time spent in
this manner, like an enraged beast, he suddenly starts to his feet in
apparent agony. He utters dreadful, indescribable sounds, in variety, and
groans which may be distinctly heard for a mile or more, at the same time
violently striking his sides with his hand, and the earth with his feet,
twisting the whole body into the most hideous contortions. He now grasps
a dish of water with his left hand, and proceeds, with a disgusting
sing-song bubbling, with his mouth in the water, to deposit the disease
in the dish, keeping time still with the sacred rattle which he continues
to shake with great energy.
This operation is continued with brief intervals for smoking, for hours
and sometimes day after day and night after night. This process sometimes
effects a cure at once. At other times extra demonstrations are deemed
necessary. The doctor ascertains the sin which has been committed, and
the particular god which has been offended and inflicted the disease.
Then he makes an image of the offended god, which he hangs on a pole
and which is shot by three or four persons in rapid succession. As the
image falls the spirit of the god which is in the doctor, leaps out,
and falling upon the spirit represented by the image, kills it. On this
it is expected that the sick one will recover. But it is not absolutely
certain that even this will prove effectual. After repeated experiments,
the doctor often discovers that the god who inflicts the disease is
mightier than the one by whom he is inspired, and he desists. Now, unless
another doctor is found, competent to expel the demon, death ensues. The
wakan-men are wakan to a degree corresponding to the strength of the gods
by whom they are respectively inspired.
If the higher doctor can be found, health will be restored, but it is
difficult to obtain their aid. If not duly respected at all times, and
on all occasions, and in all their relations, and well remunerated for
their services, in advance, they may let the patient die without exerting
their powers, or perform their work deceitfully. This seems to be a
necessary provision of their system, as it affords ample room to account
satisfactorily for all failures. This operation is termed Wapiyapi, or
renovation. There are instances where the doctor prevails on the gods
to come in person and perform the operation for him. The following
description of such a scene was obtained from an Indian who was present
on the occasion. The doctor was named RED BIRD, of the Lake Calhoun band,
who was killed with his son by the Chippewas in the memorable battle of
Rum River, in the summer of 1839. The sack of Red-Bird, which contains
the symbols of the gods, and which was used on the occasion to which the
narrative relates, has since providentially fallen into the hands of the
writer, and will be herewith forwarded as a relic of superstition worthy
of preservation. The gods employed were the TAKU-SKAN-SKAN:
“A man had been sick a considerable time, and many of the wakan-men had
attempted, to the extent of their ability, to exorcise him, but without
any favorable results. Red-Bird had in his service many of the gods
called Taku-skan-skan. It was decided in council that the case should
be referred to them. Accordingly, in the evening, a feast was prepared
for the gods, to which they were called by chants, on the part of the
medicine-men. A tent of parchment was prepared for them. The doctor
was bound, by carefully weaving strings and tying them firmly in all
his fingers and toes. Then his arms were bound behind his back and he
rolled up in a buffalo robe, and carefully bound in it by cords around
it outside. He had a little boulder in his bosom, a symbol of the gods.
He charged those who bound him to do it thoroughly, assuring them that
his boys—his gods—would come and release him. He was so bound that he
could not stir and then was rolled into the tent, and the sick man was
placed by his side. Over him was hung a drum and a deer-hoof rattle; a
large number of spectators were in attendance—men, women, and children.
Red Bird ordered that certain men present should chant to the gods, which
they did. The doctor, in the mean time, was very demonstrative with his
wakan jargon. A young man, who had been appointed for that purpose,
then gave a wild yell, and all lights were suddenly extinguished. At
the instant, a strong wind struck the tent, and the doctor cried out,
as if he were in great fear, “Boys come carefully, your father is very
weak, be careful.” But the gods did not seem to regard the admonition
and beat the drum, shook the rattle and heaved the tent furiously. The
tent seemed to be full of them and they were very talkative and rude,
but their voices were so fine, so soft, that we could not comprehend
their meaning. They performed the ceremony of exorcising the sick man.
The sounds they made were so different from what we had been accustomed
to hear, and so ludicrous that we could scarcely refrain from laughter,
though we had been forewarned that if any one should laugh he should be
knocked down. The gods called for a pipe and smoked many pipe’s-full,
indicating a large number of them, but it was dark and they could not be
seen. Suddenly the gods were all gone, and the doctor ordered the torches
to be lighted. All expected to see him still bound, as he was thrust into
the tent; but, to their surprise, he was out of the robe, and all of his
fingers and toes slipped out of their fastenings, though not a single
knot had been untied. The sick man began from that time to recover,
though all sick persons who are treated in this manner do not recover.
All were confirmed in their faith and confidence in the Taku-Wakan.”
In some cases the sick are cured by obtaining a new blanket, and
consecrating it to this class of gods, and then wrapping the sick person
in it.