man who loved a pipe of good tobacco so much as he. In those days the
summers were longer in the land of the Wabanaki, the sun was warmer,
and the Indians raised _tomawe_ (tobacco, P.), and solaced
themselves mightily therewith. [Footnote: I have met with an old Indian
woman in New Brunswick who told me that her grandmother remembered to
have seen tobacco raised there by the Passamaquoddy.] And there came to
Glooskap a certain evil-minded magician, who sought to take his life,
as the Master very well knew, for he read the hearts of men as if they
had been strings of wampum. And this _m'teoulin_ (P., magician),
believing himself to be greatest in all things, thought to appall
Glooskap by outdoing him at first in something at which he excelled;
for a fish is frightened when another swims faster, but not till then.
And the man sat down to smoke with an exceeding long pipe with a great
bowl, but that of Glooskap grew to be much greater. Then, having filled
his pipe, the sorcerer exhausted and burnt it out at one pull, and then
blew all the smoke out of his nose at one puff. So he sat and looked at
the Master. But Glooskap, whose pipe held ten times as much tobacco,
did the same, and blowing it out split the rocky ground, so that a
great chasm opened before them. Then they were silent awhile, till the
Master said, "If you can do that you may kill me." But he could not,
and so went back with shame to those who had sent him. [Footnote: In
this "tale of tobacco," told me by John Gabriel, the evil-minded
magician is described as a Black Cat. This is probably an error, as
Glooskap himself appears as chief of the Black Cats in another tale. It
may be, however, that this was Pook-jin-skwess in disguise.]
_How Glooskap sailed through the great Cavern of Darkness._
(Micmac.)
Now it is told in another tradition--and men tell even this
differently--that _pitche_, in these old times (P.) Glooskap's
seven neighbors, who were all so many different animals, took away his
family, and that he followed them, even as it has been written, unto
Newfoundland. And when he came there it was night, and, finding Marten
alone, he took him forth into the forest to seek food, putting his belt
on the boy, which gave him such power that he hunted well and got much
meat.
So it came to pass that the next morning Dame Kah-kah-gooch, the
Crow, [Footnote: _Kah-kah-gooch_, Micmac, _Kah-kah-goos_,
Passamaquoddy. The Crow is represented in several stories as always
peeping, spying, begging, pilfering, and tale-bearing about a town. The
Passamaquoddy Indians hare peculiar superstitions as regards killing
the crow.] observed that Marten was drying meat on his wigwam. And this
she spread abroad. But when the people learned that the child had done
this, a great fear came upon them all, and they sat every man in his
lodge and awaited death, for they knew that the Master had come.
And he indeed came; but when he saw them all as frightened as rabbits
before the wild-cat, he laughed aloud and forgave them, for he was
noble and generous. And as they were hungry--for he had come in hard
times--he gave them much venison, and sorrow departed from their
wigwams. But as they had left him of old, he now left them. When they
knew him not they left him to die; now that they knew him they feared
lest they should perish without him. But he turned his steps towards
other paths.
Now having made a canoe, the Master, with Marten and Dame Bear, went
upon a mighty river. As the story says, it was broad and beautiful at
first, and so they sailed away down towards its mouth. Then they came
to great cliffs, which gathered round and closed over them. But the
river ran on beneath these, and ever on far underground, deeper and
deeper in the earth, till it dashed headlong into rapids, among rocks
and ravines, and under cataracts which were so horrible that death
seemed to come and go with every plunge of the canoe. And the water
grew narrower and the current more dreadful, and fear came upon Marten
and the woman, so that they died. But the Master sat with silent soul,
though he sang the songs of magic, and so passed into the night, but
came forth again into sunlight. And there was a lonely wigwam on the
bank, into which he bore Marten and the grandmother, and saying,
"_Numchahse_! arise!" lo, they arose, and deemed they had only
slept. And now Glooskap had gained the greatest power. [Footnote: This
incident of the passage underground is deeply suggestive of Wabeno
mystery and initiation. It will strike every student of classic lore as
almost identical with much that he has read. If it has not the same
symbolical meaning here, it has apparently none whatever.]
This incident of passing through darkness, on a roaring stream in a
frail bark, before emerging to sunlight or illumination, was not only
in the ancient heathen myths. We are reminded of it by the storm
through which Jesus passed with the disciples. That it made a great
impression upon the Indians is shown by its being told of Pulewech, the
Partridge, who is a type of Glooskap, and who, like him, makes war on
the powers of evil, set forth in the Porcupines. The Indians, who
imagined and selected so many wild and terrible tests to form the
Shaman, or sorcerer, as well as the warrior, would hardly neglect that
of _de profundis clamari_, the storm, the waves, darkness, and the
roaring flood.
If there is really any Norse influence in this tale, this river must be
the one mentioned in the Vafthrudnismal,--
"Ifing the stream is called
which earth divides between
the Jotuns and the gods.
Open it shall run
throughout all time.
On that stream no ice shall he."
It will be observed that, having gone down or across this stream,
Pulewech finds himself in the country of the Evil sorcerers; that is,
Jotunheim. To conquer a river among the Norse, in a dream, was a sign
of victory; to be carried away by one was a terrible omen.
"Methought a river ran
Through the whole house,
that it roared violently,
rushed over the benches,
brake the feet of yon
brothers twain;
Nothing the water spared;
Something that will portend."
(Atlamal, in Groenlewzku, 25.)
_Of the Great Works which Glooskap made in the Land._
(Micmac, Passamaquoddy, Penobscot.)
Over all the Land of the Wabanaki there is no place which was not
marked by the hand of the Master. And it is to be seen on hills and
rivers and great roads, as well as mighty rocks, which were in their
day living monsters.
For there is a very wonderful highway from Cwesowra legek [Footnote:
Hardwood Point, Fort Cumberland.] to Parrsborough, running parallel
with the river now called Hebert, and this road is called by Indians
Ou-wokun, the Causeway, but by white men, or the Iglesmani, the Boar's
Back. For it is said that he meant to visit Partridge Island and Cape
Blomidon, but they who were with him had got tired of the sea, and
wished to cross over by land. And while they were resting and getting
ready for their trip across, the Master, raising his magic power to a
great deed to be spoken of forever, went away a little time, and cast
up a great and beautiful level ridge, throwing it over bogs and
streams; and on this they traveled, rejoicing, and, having reached the
island, awaited him.
And yet again the Master did a mighty deed. It came to pass in those
days that the Beavers had built a dam across from Utkoguncheek, or Cape
Blomidon, to the opposite shore, and thereby made a pond that filled
all the valley of Annapolis. Now in those times the Beavers were
monstrous beasts, and the Master, though kind of heart, seems to have
had but little love for them ever since the day when Qwah-beetsis, the
son of the Great Beaver, tempted Malsum to slay his brother. Now the
bones of these Beavers may be found to this day, and many there are on
Oonamahgik, and their teeth are six inches across, and there are no
such _qwah-beet_ to-day. [Footnote: Both Mr. Rand and myself have
been solemnly assured by Indians who had seen these antediluvian
remains that they are the petrified relics of Glooskap's victims.] And
these are the remains of the Beavers who built the dam at Cape Blomidon
and forded the Annapolis Valley. Now Glooskap would have a hunt and do
a deed which should equal the great whale-fishing of Kit-pooseeog-unow.
So he cut the great dam near the shore, and bade Marten watch; for he
said, "I mistrust that there is a little Beaver hiding hereabouts." And
when the dam was cut from where it joined the shore there was a mighty
rush of many waters, so that it swung round to the westward, yet it did
not break away from the other shore. Therefore the end of it lodged
with a great split therein when the flood had found a free course, and
the whole may be seen there still, even to this day, and may be seen by
all of those who pass up the bay; and this point, or Cape Split, is
called by the Micmacs Pleegun, which, being interpreted, means the
opening of a beaver dam.
Then, to frighten the Beaver, Glooskap threw at it a few handfuls of
earth, and these, falling somewhat to the eastward of Partridge Island,
became the Five Islands. And the pond which was left was the Basin of
Minas.
And yet another tradition tells that, after cutting the dam, Glooskap
sat and watched, but no beaver came out; [Footnote: This is the
Anglo-Indian manuscript, already referred to.] for _Qwah-beet_
had gone out of a back door. So he took a rock and threw it afar,
[Footnote: "He took Rock tructed 150 miles ip River to sker beaber
bock down, but beaber has gone ober granfalls."]--one hundred and
fifty miles,--to scare the Beaver back again; but the Beaver had gone
over the Grand Falls, and the stone remaineth there even to this day.
_The Story of Glooskap as told in a few Words by a Woman of the
Penobscots._
"Glus-gahbe gave names to everything. He made men and gave them life,
and made the winds to make the waters move. The Turtle was his uncle;
the Mink, _Uk-see-meezel_, his adopted son; and _Monin-kwessos_,
the Woodchuck, his grandmother. The Beaver built a great dam, and
Glus-gahbe turned it away and killed the Beaver. At Moose-tchick he
killed a moose; the bones may be seen at Bar Harbor turned to stone.
He threw the entrails of the Moose across the bay to his dogs, and they,
too, may be seen there to this day, as I myself have seen them; and there,
too, in the rock are the prints of his bow and arrow." [Footnote: Many a
place is pointed out as the locality of the same legend. In addition to
those in New Brunswick and Bar Harbor, Thoreau found another in Maine,
which he thus describes:--
"While we were crossing this bay" (that is, the mouth of Moose River),
"where Mount Kineo rose dark before us, within two or three miles, the
Indian repeated the tradition respecting this mountain's having been
anciently a cow-moose,--how a mighty Indian hunter, whose name I
forget, succeeded in killing this queen of the moose tribe with great
difficulty, while her calf was killed somewhere among the islands in
Penobscot Bay; and to his eyes this mountain had still the form of the
moose in a reclining posture, its precipitous side presenting the
outline of her head. He told this at some length, though it did not
amount to much, and with apparent good faith, and asked us how we
supposed the hunter could have killed such a mighty moose as that; how
we could do it. Whereupon a man-of-war to fire broadsides into her was
suggested, etc. An Indian tells such a story as if he thought it
deserved to have a good deal said about it, only he has not got it to
say; and so he makes up for the deficiency by a drawling tone,
long-windedness, and a dumb wonder which he hopes will be contagious."
This concluding criticism is indeed singularly characteristic of Mr.
Thoreau's own nasal stories about Nature, but it is as utterly untrue
as ridiculous when applied to any Indian storytelling to which I have
ever listened, and I have known the near relatives of the Indians of
whom he speaks, and heard many of them tell their tales. This writer
passed months in Maine, choosing Penobscot guides expressly to study
them, to read Indian feelings and get at Indian secrets, and this
account of Glooskap, whose name he forgets, is a fair specimen of what
he learned. Yet he could in the same book write as follows: "The
Anglo-American can indeed cut down and grub up all this waving forest,
And make a stump and vote for Buchanan on its ruins; but he cannot
Converse with the spirit of the tree he fells, he cannot read the
poetry and mythology which retires as he advances."
If Mr. Thoreau had known the Indian legend of the spirit of the fallen
tree--and his guide knew it well--he might have been credited with
speaking wisely of the poetry and _mythology_ which he ridicules
the poor rural Yankees for not possessing.
Such a writer can, indeed, peep and botanize on the grave of Mother
Nature, but never evoke _her_ spirit.
The moving the island is evidently of Eskimo origin, since Crantz
(_History of Greenland_) heard nearly the same story of some
magician-giant. It was probably suggested by the very common floating
away of ice-islands.]
_How Glooskap, leaving the World, all the Animals mourned for him,
and how, ere he departed, he gave Gifts to Men._
(Micmac.)
Now Glooskap had freed the world from all the mighty monsters of an
early time: the giants wandered no longer in the wilderness; the
_cullo_ terrified man no more, as it spread its wings like the
cloud between him and the sun; the dreadful Chenoo of the North
devoured him not; no evil beasts, devils, and serpents were to be found
near his home. And the Master had, moreover, taught men the arts which
made them happier; but they were not grateful to him, and though they
worshiped him they were not the less wicked.
"Now when the ways of men and beasts waxed evil they greatly vexed
Glooskap, and at length he could no longer endure them, and he made a
rich feast by the shore of the great Lake Minas. All the beasts came to
it, and when the feast was over he got into a great canoe, and the
beasts looked after him till they saw him no more. And after they
ceased to see him, they still heard his voice as he sang; but the
sounds grew fainter and fainter in the distance, and at last they
wholly died away; and then deep silence fell on them all, and a great
marvel came to pass, and the beasts, who had till now spoken but one
language, were no longer able to understand each other, and they fled
away, each his own way, and never again have they met together in
council. Until the day when Glooskap shall return to restore the Golden
Age, and make men and animals dwell once more together in amity and
peace, all Nature mourns. And tradition says that on his departure from
Acadia the Great Snowy Owl retired to the deep forests, to return no
more until he could come to welcome Glooskap; and in those sylvan
depths the owls even yet repeat to the night _Koo-koo-skoos_!
which is to say in the Indian tongue, 'Oh, I am sorry! Oh, I am sorry!'
And the Loons, who had been the huntsmen of Glooskap, go restlessly up
and down through the world, seeking vainly for their master, whom they
cannot find, and wailing sadly because they find him not." [Footnote:
This passage is one of seven on the subject of Glooskap, cited in
Osgood's _Maritime Provinces_, without giving either the name of
the author or the book from which they were taken.]
But ere the Master went away from life, or ceased to wander in the ways
of men, he bade it be made known by the Loons, his faithful messengers,
that before his departure years would pass, and that whoever would seek
him might have one wish granted, whatever that wish might be. Now,
though the journey was long and the trials were terrible which those
must endure who would find Glooskap, there were still many men who
adventured them. [Footnote: There is a great embarrassment of riches,
or rather a great wealth of embarrassment, as regards this chapter. In
the Rand manuscript there are three histories of the adventures of the
pilgrims who sought Glooskap. Another and very different was given to
me by John Gabriel. In one account there are three travelers, in
another four; others speak of seven and twelve. Finally, there are many
incidents which apparently belong to this part of the Glooskap cycle,
scattered here and there in different disconnected legends.
Mrs. W. Wallace Brown was told by the Passamaquoddy Indians that when
Glooskap departed he took with him the king of each of the different
kinds of animals; so that the wolves, loons, etc., mourn not only for
the lord, but for their masters.]
Now ye shall hear who some of these were and what happened to them. And
this is the first tale as it was told me in the tent of John Gabriel,
the Passamaquoddy.
When all men had heard that Glooskap would grant a wish to any one who
would come to him, three Indians resolved to try this thing; and one
was a Maliseet from St. John, and the other two were Penobscots from
Old Town. And the path was long and the way was hard, and they suffered
much, and they were seven years on it ere they came to him. But while
they were yet three months' journey from his dwelling, they heard the
barking of his dogs, and as they drew nearer, day by day, it was
louder. And so, after great trials, they found the lord of men and
beasts, and he made them welcome and entertained them.
But, ere they went, he asked them what they wanted. And the eldest, who
was an honest, simple man, and of but little account among his people,
because he was a bad hunter, asked that he might excel in the killing
and catching of game. Then the Master gave him a flute, or the magic
pipe, which pleases every ear, and has the power of persuading every
animal to follow him who plays it. And he thanked the lord, and left.
Now the second Indian, being asked what he would have, replied, 'The
love of many women.' And when Glooskap asked how many, he said, "I care
not how many; so that there are but enough of them, and more than
enough." At hearing this the Master seemed displeased, but, smiling
anon, he gave him a bag which was tightly tied, and told him not to
open it until he had reached his home. So he thanked the lord, and
left.
Now the third Indian was a gay and handsome but foolish young fellow,
whose whole heart was set on making people laugh, and on winning a
welcome at every merry-making. And he, being asked what he would have
or what he chiefly wanted, said that it would please him most to be
able to make a certain quaint and marvelous sound or noise, [Footnote:
Pedere, crepitare.] which was frequent in those primitive times among
all the Wabanaki, and which it is said may even yet be heard in a few
sequestered wigwams far in the wilderness, away from men; there being
still here and there a deep magician, or man of mystery, who knows the
art of producing it. And the property of this wondrous sound is such
that they who hear it must needs burst into a laugh; whence it is the
cause that the men of these our modern times are so sorrowful, since
that sound is no more heard in the land. And to him Glooskap was also
affable, sending Marten into the woods to seek a certain mystical and
magic root, which when eaten would make the miracle the young man
sought. But he warned him not to touch the root ere he got to his home,
or it would be the worse for him. And so he kindly thanked the lord,
and left.
It had taken seven years to come, but seven days were all that was
required to tread the path returning to their home, that is, for him
who got there. Only one of all the three beheld his lodge again. This
was the hunter, who, with his pipe in his pocket, and not a care in his
heart, trudged through the woods, satisfied that so long as he should
live, there would always be venison in the larder.
But he who loved women, and had never won even a wife, was filled with
anxious wishfulness. And he had, not gone very far into the woods
before he opened the bag. And there flew out by hundreds, like white
doves, swarming all about him, beautiful girls, with black burning eyes
and flowing hair. And wild with passion the winsome witches threw their
arms about him, and kissed him as he responded to their embraces; but
they came ever more and more, wilder and more passionate. And he bade
them give way, but they would not, and he sought to escape, but he
could not; and so panting, crying for breath, smothered, he perished.
And those who came that way found him dead, but what became of the
girls no man knows.
Now the third went merrily onward alone, when all at once it flashed
upon his mind that Glooskap had given him a present, and without the
least heed to the injunction that he was to wait till he had reached
his home drew out the root and ate it; and scarce had he done this ere
he realized that he possessed the power of uttering the weird and
mystic sound to absolute perfection. And as it rang o'er many a hill
and dale, and woke the echoes of the distant hills, until it was
answered by the solemn owl, he felt that it was indeed wonderful. So he
walked on gayly, trumpeting as he went, over hill and vale, happy as a
bird.
But by and by he began to weary of himself. Seeing a deer he drew an
arrow and stealing silently to the game was just about to shoot, when
despite himself the wild, unearthly sound broke forth like a demon's
warble. The deer bounded away, and the young man cursed! And when he
reached Old Town, half dead with hanger, he was worth little to make
laughter, though the honest Indians at first did not fail to do so, and
thereby somewhat cheered his heart. But as the days went on they
wearied of him, and, life becoming a burden, he went into the woods and
slew himself. And the evil spirit of the night-air even Bumole,
[Footnote: For an account of Bumole, or Pamola, see the chapter on
Supernatural Beings. Bumole seems to have been the personification
of the night-hawk.] or Pamola, from whom came the gift, swooped down
from the clouds and bore him away to 'Lahmkekqu', the dwelling place of
darkness, and he was no more heard of among men.
As regards the destruction of the giants by Glooskap, it may be
observed that the same tradition exists among the Six Nations. Cusick
tells us that about 1250 years before Columbus discovered America a
powerful tribe called Otne-yar-heh, that is, Stone Giants, who were
ravenous cannibals, overran the country, and nearly exterminated the
inhabitants. These Stone Giants practiced, themselves in rolling on the
sand; by this means their bodies became hard. Then Tas-enyawa-gen, the
Holder of the Heavens, came to earth as a giant, and being made their
chief, led them into a hollow, where he overwhelmed them with rocks.
Only one escaped to the far North. The reader will recognize in these
the Chenoos, or Kewahqu', who cover themselves with pitch and roll on
the ground. But no one can deny that, while that which Cusick narrates
has much in common with the mythology of the Wabanaki, it is much less
like that of the Edda; that Indian grotesqueness has in it greatly
perverted an original: and finally, that it certainly occupies a
position midway between the mythology of the Northeastern Algonquins
and that of the Chippewas, Ottawas, and other Western tribes.
Examination shows this in every story. Thus the Wabanaki warrior makes
his bow infallible in aim by stringing it with a cord made of his
sister's hair. This is Norse, as it was of old Latin. But in the
Iroquois the young man "adorns his arms with the hairs of his sister."
Here the tradition has begun to weaken.
It may be interesting to visitors to Niagara to know that the army of
Stone Giants crossed the river during their journey just below the
Falls.
_How Glooskap had a great Frolic with Kitpooseagunow, a Mighty Giant
who caught a Whale._
(Micmac.)
_N'kah-nee-oo_. In the old time (P.) Glooskap came to Pulewech
Munegoo (M., Partridge Island), and here he met with Kitpooseagunow,
[Footnote: _Kitpooseagunow_, "one born after his mother's death," is
a magician-giant, who plays in the Algonquin mythology a part only inferior
to that of Glooskap, whom he in every way resembles. Both are benevolent,
both make war on wicked sorcerers and evil wild beasts, and both, finally,
are much like Gargantua and Pantagruel in their sense of humor. They are
sometimes made the heroes of the same adventure in different stories. The
true origin of the name, according to Mr. Rand, is as follows: "After a
cow moose or caribou has been killed, her calf is sometimes taken out
alive, and reared by hand. As may be supposed, the calf is very easily
tamed. The animal thus born is called _Kitpooseagunow_, and from
this a verb is formed which denotes the act."--_Legends of the Mic Macs,
Old Dominion Monthly_, 1871.