Besides chiefs, and braves and doctors, of whom I have heretofore
spoken, there is yet another character of whom I must say a few words
before I proceed to other topics. The person I allude to, is the one
mentioned at the close of my last Letter, and familiarly known and
countenanced in every tribe as an Indian _beau_ or _dandy_. Such
personages may be seen on every pleasant day, strutting and parading
around the village in the most beautiful and unsoiled dresses, without
the honourable trophies however of scalp locks and claws of the grizzly
bear, attached to their costume, for with such things they deal not.
They are not peculiarly anxious to hazard their lives in equal and
honourable combat with the one, or disposed to cross the path of the
other; but generally remain about the village, to take care of the
women, and attire themselves in the skins of such animals as they can
easily kill, without seeking the rugged cliffs for the war-eagle,
or visiting the haunts of the grizzly bear. They plume themselves
with swan’s-down and quills of ducks, with braids and plaits of
sweet-scented grass and other harmless and unmeaning ornaments, which
have no other merit than they themselves have, that of looking pretty
and ornamental.
These clean and elegant gentlemen, who are very few in each tribe, are
held in very little estimation by the chiefs and braves; inasmuch as it
is known by all, that they have a most horrible aversion to arms, and
are denominated “faint hearts” or “old women” by the whole tribe, and
are therefore but little respected. They seem, however, to be tolerably
well contented with the appellation, together with the celebrity
they have acquired amongst the women and children for the beauty and
elegance of their personal appearance; and most of them seem to take
and enjoy their share of the world’s pleasures, although they are
looked upon as drones in society.
These gay and tinselled bucks may be seen in a pleasant day in all
their plumes, astride of their pied or dappled ponies, with a fan in
the right hand, made of a turkey’s tail—with whip and a fly-brush
attached to the wrist of the same hand, and underneath them a white and
beautiful and soft pleasure-saddle, ornamented with porcupine quills
and ermine, parading through and lounging about the village for an hour
or so, when they will cautiously bend their course to the suburbs of
the town, where they will sit or recline upon their horses for an hour
or two, overlooking the beautiful games where the braves and the young
aspirants are contending in manly and athletic amusements;—when they
are fatigued with this severe effort, they wend their way back again,
lift off their fine white saddle of doe’s-skin, which is wadded with
buffalo’s hair, turn out their pony—take a little refreshment, smoke a
pipe, fan themselves to sleep, and doze away the rest of the day.
Whilst I have been painting, from day to day, there have been two or
three of these fops continually strutting and taking their attitudes
in front of my door; decked out in all their finery, without receiving
other benefit or other information, than such as they could discover
through the cracks and seams of my cabin. The chiefs, I observed,
passed them by without notice, and of course, without inviting them
in; and they seemed to figure about my door from day to day in their
best dresses and best attitudes, as if in hopes that I would select
them as models, for my canvass. It was natural that I should do so,
for their costume and personal appearance was entirely more beautiful
than anything else to be seen in the village. My plans were laid,
and one day when I had got through with all of the head men, who
were willing to sit to be painted, and there were two or three of
the chiefs lounging in my room, I stepped to the door and tapped one
of these fellows on the shoulder, who took the hint, and stepped in,
well-pleased and delighted with the signal and honourable notice I had
at length taken of him and his beautiful dress. Readers, you cannot
imagine what was the expression of gratitude which beamed forth in
this poor fellow’s face, and how high his heart beat with joy and
pride at the idea of my selecting him to be immortal, alongside of the
chiefs and worthies whose portraits he saw arranged around the room;
and by which honour he, undoubtedly, considered himself well paid for
two or three weeks of regular painting, and greasing, and dressing,
and standing alternately on one leg and the other at the door of my
premises.
Well, I placed him before me, and a canvass on my easel, and “chalked
him out” at full length. He was truly a beautiful subject for the
brush, and I was filled with enthusiasm—his dress from head to foot was
of the skins of the mountain-goat, and dressed so neatly, that they
were almost as soft and as white as Canton crape—around the bottom and
the sides it was trimmed with ermine, and porcupine quills of beautiful
dyes garnished it in a hundred parts;—his hair which was long, and
spread over his back and shoulders, extending nearly to the ground, was
all combed back and parted on his forehead like that of a woman. He
was a tall and fine figure, with ease and grace in his movements, that
were well worthy of a man of better caste. In his left hand he held a
beautiful pipe—and in his right hand he plied his fan, and on his wrist
was still attached his whip of elk’s horn, and his fly-brush, made of
the buffalo’s tail. There was nought about him of the terrible, and
nought to shock the finest, chastest intellect.
I had thus far progressed, with high-wrought feelings of pleasure,
when the two or three chiefs, who had been seated around the lodge,
and whose portraits I had before painted, arose suddenly, and wrapping
themselves tightly in their robes, crossed my room with a quick and
heavy step, and took an informal leave of my cabin. I was apprehensive
of their displeasure, though I continued my work; and in a few moments
the interpreter came furiously into my room, addressing me thus:—“My
God, Sir! this never will do; you have given great offence to the
chiefs—they have made complaint of your conduct to me—they tell me
this is a worthless fellow—a man of no account in the nation, and if
you paint his picture, you must instantly destroy theirs; you have no
alternative, my dear Sir—and the quicker this chap is out of your lodge
the better.”
The same matter was explained to my sitter by the interpreter, when
he picked up his robe, wrapped himself in it, plied his fan nimbly
about his face, and walked out of the lodge in silence, but with quite
a consequential smile, taking his old position in front of the door
for awhile, after which he drew himself quietly off without further
exhibition. So highly do Mandan braves and worthies value the honour
of being painted; and so little do they value a man, however lavishly
Nature may have bestowed her master touches upon him, who has not the
pride and noble bearing of a warrior.
I spoke in a former Letter of Mah-to-toh-pa (the four bears), the
second chief of the nation, and the most popular man of the Mandans—a
high-minded and gallant warrior, as well as a polite and polished
gentleman. Since I painted his portrait, as I before described, I
have received at his hands many marked and signal attentions; some
of which I must name to you, as the very relation of them will put
you in possession of many little forms and modes of Indian life, that
otherwise might not have been noted.
About a week since, this noble fellow stepped into my painting-room
about twelve o’clock in the day, in full and splendid dress, and
passing his arm through mine, pointed the way, and led me in the most
gentlemanly manner, through the village and into his own lodge, where
a feast was prepared in a careful manner and waiting our arrival. The
lodge in which he dwelt was a room of immense size, some forty or fifty
feet in diameter, in a circular form, and about twenty feet high—with a
sunken curb of stone in the centre, of five or six feet in diameter and
one foot deep, which contained the fire over which the pot was boiling.
I was led near the edge of this curb, and seated on a very handsome
robe, most ingeniously garnished and painted with hieroglyphics; and he
seated himself gracefully on another one at a little distance from me;
with the feast prepared in several dishes, resting on a beautiful rush
mat, which was placed between us (+plate+ 62).
The simple feast which was spread before us consisted of three dishes
only, two of which were served in wooden bowls, and the third in
an earthen vessel of their own manufacture, somewhat in shape of a
bread-tray in our own country. This last contained a quantity of
_pem-i-can_ and _marrow-fat_; and one of the former held a fine
brace of buffalo ribs, delightfully roasted; and the other was filled
with a kind of paste or pudding, made of the flour of the “_pomme
blanche_,” as the French call it, a delicious turnip of the prairie,
finely flavoured with the buffalo berries, which are collected in great
quantities in this country, and used with divers dishes in cooking,
as we in civilized countries use dried currants, which they very much
resemble.
[Illustration: 62]
A handsome pipe and a tobacco-pouch made of the otter skin, filled with
k’nick-k’neck (Indian tobacco), laid by the side of the feast; and when
we were seated, mine host took up his pipe, and deliberately filled
it; and instead of lighting it by the fire, which he could easily have
done, he drew from his pouch his flint and steel, and raised a spark
with which he kindled it. He drew a few strong whiffs through it, and
presented the stem of it to my mouth, through which I drew a whiff or
two while he held the stem in his hands. This done, he laid down the
pipe, and drawing his knife from his belt, cut off a very small piece
of the meat from the ribs, and pronouncing the words “Ho-pe-ne-chee
wa-pa-shee” (meaning a _medicine_ sacrifice), threw it into the fire.
He then (by signals) requested me to eat, and I commenced, after
drawing out from my belt my knife (which it is supposed that every man
in this country carries about him, for at an Indian feast a knife is
never offered to a guest). Reader, be not astonished that I sat and ate
my dinner _alone_, for such is the custom of this strange land. In all
tribes in these western regions it is an invariable rule that a chief
never eats with his guests invited to a feast; but while they eat, he
sits by, at their service, and ready to wait upon them; deliberately
charging and lighting the pipe which is to be passed around after the
feast is over. Such was the case in the present instance, and while
I was eating, Mah-to-toh-pa sat cross-legged before me, cleaning his
pipe and preparing it for a cheerful smoke when I had finished my meal.
For this ceremony I observed he was making unusual preparation, and I
observed as I ate, that after he had taken enough of the k’nick-k’neck
or bark of the red willow, from his pouch, he rolled out of it also a
piece of the “_castor_,” which it is customary amongst these folks to
carry in their tobacco-sack to give it a flavour; and, shaving off a
small quantity of it, mixed it with the bark, with which he charged his
pipe. This done, he drew also from his sack a small parcel containing a
fine powder, which was made of dried buffalo dung, a little of which he
spread over the top, (according also to custom,) which was like tinder,
having no other effect than that of lighting the pipe with ease and
satisfaction. My appetite satiated, I straightened up, and with a whiff
the pipe was lit, and we enjoyed together for a quarter of an hour the
most delightful exchange of good feelings, amid clouds of smoke and
pantomimic signs and gesticulations.
The dish of “pemican and marrow-fat,” of which I spoke, was thus:—The
first, an article of food used throughout this country, as familiarly
as we use bread in the civilized world. It is made of buffalo meat
dried very hard, and afterwards pounded in a large wooden mortar until
it is made nearly as fine as sawdust, then packed in this dry state in
bladders or sacks of skin, and is easily carried to any part of the
world in good order. “Marrow-fat” is collected by the Indians from
the buffalo bones which they break to pieces, yielding a prodigious
quantity of marrow, which is boiled out and put into buffalo bladders
which have been distended; and after it cools, becomes quite hard like
tallow, and has the appearance, and very nearly the flavour, of the
richest yellow butter. At a feast, chunks of this marrow-fat are cut
off and placed in a tray or bowl, with the pemican, and eaten together;
which we civilized folks in these regions consider a very good
substitute for (and indeed we generally so denominate it) “bread and
butter.” In this dish laid a spoon made of the buffalo’s horn, which
was black as jet, and beautifully polished; in one of the others there
was another of still more ingenious and beautiful workmanship, made of
the horn of the mountain-sheep, or “Gros corn,” as the French trappers
call them; it was large enough to hold of itself two or three pints,
and was almost entirely transparent.
I spoke also of the earthen dishes or bowls in which these viands were
served out; they are a familiar part of the culinary furniture of
every Mandan lodge, and are manufactured by the women of this tribe
in great quantities, and modelled into a thousand forms and tastes.
They are made by the hands of the women, from a tough black clay, and
baked in kilns which are made for the purpose, and are nearly equal in
hardness to our own manufacture of pottery; though they have not yet
got the art of glazing, which would be to them a most valuable secret.
They make them so strong and serviceable, however, that they hang them
over the fire as we do our iron pots, and boil their meat in them with
perfect success. I have seen some few specimens of such manufacture,
which have been dug up in Indian mounds and tombs in the southern and
middle states, placed in our Eastern Museums and looked upon as a great
wonder, when here this novelty is at once done away with, and the whole
mystery; where women can be seen handling and using them by hundreds,
and they can be seen every day in the summer also, moulding them into
many fanciful forms, and passing them through the kiln where they are
hardened.
Whilst sitting at this feast the wigwam was as silent as death,
although we were not alone in it. This chief, like most others, had a
plurality of wives, and all of them (some six or seven) were seated
around the sides of the lodge, upon robes or mats placed upon the
ground, and not allowed to speak, though they were in readiness to obey
his orders or commands, which were uniformly given by signs manual, and
executed in the neatest and most silent manner.
When I arose to return, the pipe through which we had smoked was
presented to me; and the robe on which I had sat, he gracefully raised
by the corners and tendered it to me, explaining by signs that the
paintings which were on it were the representations of the battles of
his life, where he had fought and killed with his own hand fourteen
of his enemies; that he had been two weeks engaged in painting it for
me, and that he had invited me here on this occasion to present it to
me. The robe, readers, which I shall describe in a future epistle, I
took upon my shoulder, and he took me by the arm and led me back to my
painting-room.
LETTER—No. 17.