So they returned safely. And Glooskap met them at the landing, and his

first words were, "Well, my friends, I see that you have brought back

my canoe." And they answered, "We have, indeed." Then he inquired," Has

all gone well with ye?" And they replied that it had. Then Glooskap,

laughing, let them know that in all they had experienced he had been

busy, and that in all their triumphs he had had a hand. And to the

Mikumwess he said, "Go now thy ways, thou and these, and ever lead

happy lives: thou amid the Elfin, they among mankind. And be sure of

this, that if danger or trouble should come to you, you have but to

think of me, and verily aid will come." So they rose and went to their

wigwams. [Footnote: In its earlier form this must have been a very

remarkable narrative, or poem. That the two combatants in the race were

originally the personified Northern Lights and Lightning, and that

these were _not_ merely names assumed for boasting, is shown by

the incident that the Lightning actually _passed round the world_,

while the Aurora Borealis only covered a portion of it. The diving is

either a later addition, or it represents the same stupendous spirits

taking on the appearance of mastering the element of water as well as

that of fire. Without carrying the Solar myth theory to extremes, it

cannot be denied that Glooskap appears in several of these stories as

Spring, or as the melter of ice, the conqueror of the frozen stream and

of the iceberg. In this narrative he is active and creative Nature

itself, directing and sporting with the warring elements. His vast

practical joking cannot fail to remind the reader yet again of the

Norse deities and their jovial household godhood.

This tradition is Micmac, and taken almost entirely from Mr. Rand's

manuscript. It should be borne in mind that it is not from a single

story of this collection, but from a careful analysis and comparison of

them all, that their entire value is to be ascertained.

Certain incidents in this tale deserve special attention. The young men

go to a land of evil sorcerers, of _boo-oin_. When one is required

to run a race he conquers because he is really the Lightning. When Thor

visits Utgard Loki, there is also a race, in which Hugi wins, because

he is _Thought_ disguised as a man. Glooskap has a canoe, which is

sometimes immensely large, but which at other times shrinks to a very

small size. In the Edda, Odin is said to have had made for him by the

dwarfs a boat, Skidbladnir, which, like Glooskap's bark, expanded or

diminished. Sigurd, in the New Edda, is obliged to kill a dragon, and

it is very remarkable that he does it by a special previous

preparation. That is to say, he digs a little ditch, and when the

dragon crawls over it the hero pierces him with his sword. In this

story the Indian lays a log over the dragon's hole, to enable him to

chop his head off. The dragon, or horned snake, is an old-time

tradition in America, or pre-Columbian.]

_How a Certain Wicked Witch sought to cajole the Great and Good

Glooskap, and of her Punishment._

(Micmac.)

_N'karnayoo_, of old time. Once it came to pass that Glooskap met

with an evil witch, and she had made herself like unto a fair young

girl, and believed that he could not know who she was. And she asked

him to take her with him in his canoe. So they sailed out over a summer

sea: and as they went the witch sought to beguile him with sweet words;

but he answered naught, for he wist well what kind of passenger he had

on board. And as they went on she played her cajoleries, but he

remained grim as a bear. Then she, being angry, showed it, and there

arose a great storm. The wind howled over the waves as they rose and

fell, like white wolves jumping while they run, the first lightnings

flashed, and the sky grew dark as night. The Master was angered that so

mean a creature dared to play him such tricks, and, paddling the canoe

to the beach, he leaped ashore. Then giving the bark, with the witch in

it, a push out to sea, he cried to her, "Sail thou with the devil! But

never be in human form again, O she-beast!"

Then she, being frightened, said, "Master, what wilt thou that I

become?" And he replied, "Whatever thou wilt; that grace alone I give

thee." And in despair she plunged into the waters, and became a

_keegunibe_, a ferocious fish, which has upon its back a great

fin, which it shows like a sail when swimming through the water. So the

canoe and the witch became one in the evil fish, and the Indians to

this day when they see it, cry, "See the witch, who was punished by the

great Master!"

Now of sinful men, evil beasts, foul sorcerers, witches, and giants,

there were in those days many who sought to do great harm to Glooskap;

but of them all there did not escape any; verily, no, not one.

[Footnote: A Micmac story, from the Rand manuscript. I believe that the

fish here spoken of is a shark.]

_Of other Men who went to Glooskap for Gifts_.

(Micmac.)

_N'karnayoo: wood-enit-atokhagen Glooskap_. Of the old times: this

is a story of Glooskap. Now there went forth many men unto Glooskap,

hearing that they could win the desires of their hearts; and all got

what they asked for, in any case; but as for having what they wanted,

that depended on the wisdom with which they wished or acted.

The good Glooskap liked it not that when he had told any one evenly and

plainly what to do, that man should then act otherwise, or double with

him. And it came to pass that a certain fool, of the kind who can do

nothing unless it be in his own way, made a long journey to the Master.

And his trials were indeed many. For he came to an exceeding high

mountain in a dark and lonely land, where he heard no sound. And the

ascent thereof was like a smooth pole, and the descent on the other

side far worse, for it hung over the bottom. Yet it was worse beyond,

for there the road lay between the heads of two huge serpents, almost

touching each other, who darted their terrible tongues at those who

went between. And yet again the path passed under the Wall of Death.

Now this wall hung like an awful cloud over a plain, rising and falling

at times, yet no man knew when. And when it fell it struck the ground,

and that so as to crush all that was beneath it.

But the young man escaped all these trials, and came to the island of

the Great Master. And when he had dwelt there a certain time, and was

asked what he would have, he replied, "If my lord will, let him give me

a medicine which will cure all disease." More than this he asked not.

So the Master gave him a certain small package, and said, "Herein is

that which thou seekest; but I charge thee that thou lettest not thine

eyes behold it until thou shalt reach thy home." So he thanked the

Master, and left.

But he was not far away ere he desired to open the package and test the

medicine, and, yet more, the truth of the Master. And he said to

himself, "Truly, if this be but a deceit it was shrewdly devised to bid

me not open it till I returned. For he knew well that once so far I

would make no second journey to him. Tush! if the medicine avail aught

it cannot change in aught." So he opened it, when that which was

therein fell to the ground, and spread itself like water everywhere,

and then dried away like a mist. And when he returned and told his

tale, men mocked him.

Then again there were three brothers, who, having adventured, made

known their wishes. Now the first was very tall, far above all his

fellows, and vain of his comeliness. For he was of those who put bark

or fur into their moccasins, that they may be looked up to by the

little folk and be loved by the squaws; and his hair was plastered to

stand up on high, and on the summit of it was a very long turkey-tail

feather. And this man asked to become taller than any Indian in all the

land. [Footnote: This story has been told to me in three different

forms. I have here given it with great care in what I conceive to be

the original. In one version it is the pine, in another the cedar-tree.]

And the second wished that he might ever remain where he was to behold

the land and the beauty of it, and to do naught else.

And the third wished to live to an exceeding old age, and ever to be in

good health.

Now the three, when they came to the island, had found there three

wigwams, and in two of these were dwellers, not spoken of in other

traditions. In one lived _Cool-puj-ot_, a very strange man. For he

has no bones, and cannot move himself, but every spring and autumn he

is _rolled over with handspikes_ by the order of Glooskap, and

this is what his name means in the Micmac tongue. And in the autumn he

is turned towards the west, but in the spring towards the east, and

this is a figure of speech denoting the revolving seasons of the year.

With his breath he can sweep down whole armies, and with his looks

alone he can work great wonders, and all this means this weather,--

frost, snow, ice, and sunshine. [Footnote: Mr. Rand (manuscript, p.

471) says that all of this explanation was given _verbatim_ by a

Micmac named Stephen Flood, who was a "very intelligent and reliable

Indian." Cool-puj-ot is almost identical with Shawandasee, the guardian

of the South. "He is represented as an affluent, plethoric old man, who

has grown unwieldy from repletion, and seldom moves. He keeps his eyes

steadfastly fixed on the north. When he sighs in autumn, we have those

balmy southern airs, which communicate warmth and delight over the

northern hemisphere, and make the Indian summer." The "affluence" and

"grown unwieldy from repletion," in this account, are probably due to

Schoolcraft's florid style. (_Hiawatha Legends_.) Shawandasee is

identical with Svasud of the Edda. (Vafthrudnisnal, 27.)]

And in the other wigwam dwelt _Cuhkw_ (M.), which means

Earthquake. And this mighty man can pass along under the ground, and

make all things shake and tremble by his power.

Now when Glooskap had heard what these visitors wished for, he called

Earthquake, and bid him take them all three and put them with their

feet in the ground. And he did so, when they at once became three

trees: as one tradition declares, pines; and another, cedars.

So that he that would be tall became exceeding tall, for his head rose

above the forest; and even the turkey-feather at the top thereof is not

forgotten, since to this day it is seen waving in the wind. And he who

will listen in a pine-wood may hear the tree murmuring all day long in

the Indian tongue of the olden time,--

"Ee nil Etuchi nek m'kilaskitopp

Ee nil Etuche wiski nek n'kil ooskedjin."

[Footnote: Passamaquoddy.]

Oh, I am such a great man!

Oh, I am such a great Indian!

And the second, who would remain in the land, remains there; for while

his roots are in the ground he cannot depart from it.

And the third, who would live long in health, unless men have cut him

down, is standing as of yore. [Footnote: In another version of this

tale, Glooskap transformed him into an old gnarled and twisted cedar,

with limbs growing out rough and ugly all the way from the bottom.

"There," he said to the cedar-tree, "I cannot say how long you will

live; only the Great Spirit above can tell that; but you will not be

disturbed for a good while, as no one can have any object in cutting

you down. You are yourself unfit for any earthly purpose, and the land

around you is useless for cultivation. I think you will stand there for

a long while." (Rand manuscript.)

It should be added that in one version we are told that the seeds from

these cedars or pines were blown by the wind, and so spread forth all

over the earth. The planting of the cedar by Earthquake possibly

indicates the storms by which seeds are blown afar.]

_Of Glooskap and the Three Other Seekers_.

(Micmac.)

Of old time. Now when it was noised abroad that whoever besought

Glooskap could obtain the desire of his heart, there were three men who

said among themselves, "Let us seek the Master." So they left their

home in the early spring when the bluebird first sang, and walked till

the fall frosts, and then into winter, and ever on till the next

midsummer. And having come to a small path in a great forest, they

followed it, till they came out by a very beautiful river; so fair a

sight they had never seen, and so went onward till it grew to be a

great lake. And so they kept to the path which, when untrodden, was

marked by blazed trees, the bark having been removed, in Indian

fashion, on the side of the trunk which is _opposite_ the place

where the wigwam or village lies towards which it turns. So the mark

can be seen as the traveler goes towards the goal, but not while

leaving it.

[Illustration: GLOOSKAP TURNING A MAN INTO A CEDAR-TREE]

Then after a time they came to a long point of land running out into

the lake, and, having ascended a high hill, they saw in the distance a

smoke, which guided them to a large, well-built wigwam. And, entering,

they found seated on the right side a handsome, healthy man of middle

age, and by the other a woman so decrepit that she seemed to be a

hundred years old. Opposite the door, and on the left side, was a mat,

which seemed to show that a third person had there a seat.

And the man made them welcome, and spoke as if he were _weleda'asit

kesegvou_ (M.)--well pleased to see them, but did not ask them

whence they came or whither they were going, as is wont among Indians

when strangers come to their homes or are met in travel. Erelong they

heard the sound of a paddle, and then the noise of a canoe being drawn

ashore. And there came in a youth of fine form and features and well

clad, bearing weapons as if from hunting who addressed the old woman as

_Kejoo_, or mother, and told her that he had brought game. And

with sore ado--for she was feeble--the old dame tottered out and

brought in four beavers; but she was so much troubled to cut them up

that the elder, saying to the younger man _Uoh-keen_! (M.), "My

brother," bade him do the work. And they supped on beaver. So they

remained for a week, resting themselves, for they were sadly worn with

their wearisome journey, and also utterly ragged. And then a wondrous

thing came to pass, which first taught them that they were in an

enchanted land. For one morning the elder man bade the younger wash

their mother's face. And as he did this all her wrinkles vanished, and

she became young and very beautiful; in all their lives the travelers

had never seen so lovely a woman. Her hair, which had been white and

scanty, now hung to her feet, dark and glossy as a blackbird's breast.

Then, having been clad in fine array, she showed a tall, lithe, and

graceful form at its best.

And the travelers said to themselves, "Truly this man is a great

magician!" They all walked forth to see the place. Never was sunshine

so pleasantly tempered by a soft breeze; for all in that land was fair,

and it grew fairer day by day to all who dwelt there. Tall trees with

rich foliage and fragrant flowers, but without lower limbs or

underbrush, grew as in a grove, wide as a forest, yet so far apart that

the eye could pierce the distance in every direction.

Now when they felt for the first time that they were in a new life and

a magic land, he that was host asked them whence they came and what

they sought. So they said that they sought Glooskap. And the host

replied, "Lo, I am he!" And they were awed by his presence, for a great

glory and majesty now sat upon him. As the woman had changed, so had

he, for all in that place was wonderful.

Then the first, telling what he wanted, said, "I am a wicked man, and I

have a bad temper. I am prone to wrath and reviling, yet I would fain

be pious, meek, and holy."

And the next said, "I am very poor, and my life is hard. I toil, but

can barely make my living. I would fain be rich."

Now the third replied, "I am of low estate, being despised and hated by

all my people, and I wish to be loved and respected." And to all these

the Master made answer, "So shall it be!"

And taking his medicine-bag (_Upsakumoode_, M.) he gave unto each

a small box, and bade them keep it closed until they should be once

more at home. [Footnote: In this version (Rand manuscript) there is a

fourth Indian introduced,--he who would fain be tall and long-lived,

and is changed to a tree. As it is precisely the same tale as that of

the three who became cypresses or pines, I have not repeated it.] And

on returning to the wigwam he also, gave to each of them new garments;

in all their lives they had never seen or heard of such rich apparel or

such ornaments as they now had. Then when it was time to depart, as

they knew not the way to their home, he arose and went with them. Now

they had been more than a year in coming. But he, having put on his

belt, went forth, and they followed, till in the forenoon he led them

to the top of a high mountain, from which in the distance they beheld

yet another, the blue outline of which could just be seen above the

horizon. And having been told that their way was unto it, they thought

it would be a week's journey to reach it. But they went on, and in the

middle of the afternoon of the same day they were there, on the summit

of the second mountain. And looking from this afar, all was familiar to

them--hill and river, and wood and lakes; all was in their memory. "And

there," said the Master, pointing unto it,--"there is your own village!"

So he left them alone, and they went on their way, and before the sun had

set were safe at home.

Yet when they came no one knew them, because of the great change in

their appearance and their fine attire, the like of which had never

been seen by man in those days. But having made themselves known to

their friends, all that were there of old and young gathered together

to gaze upon and hear what they had to say. And they were amazed.

Then each of them, having opened his box, found therein an unguent,

rich and fragrant, and with this they rubbed their bodies completely.

And they were ever after so fragrant from the divine anointing that all

sought to be near them. Happy were they who could but sniff at the

blessed smell which came from them.

Now he who had been despised for his deformity and weakness and

meanness became beautiful and strong and stately as a pine-tree. There

was no man in all the land so graceful or of such good behavior.

And he who had desired abundance had it, in all fullness, his wish. For

the moose and caribou came to him in the forest, the fish leaped into

his nets, all men gave unto him, and he gave unto all freely, to the

end.

And he that had been wicked and of evil mind, hasty and cruel, became

meek and patient, good and gentle, and he made others like himself. And

he had his reward, for there was a blessing upon him as upon all those

who had wished wisely even unto the end of their days. [Footnote: This

beautiful story, in its original simplicity, reminds one of the

tenderest biblical narratives. There is in it nothing reflected or

second-hand; it is a very ancient or truly aboriginal tale. I can but

sincerely regret my utter inability to do justice to it. The pen of a

great master would be required to describe the fairyland freshness and

light of Glooskap's home as it is _felt_ in the original by men

far more familiar with the forest in all its loveliness at all seasons

than any white writer can be. The _naivete_ or simplicity of the

pilgrims is as striking as that of the narrator or poet, to whom fine

clothes--a Homeric trait--are as wonderful as all the deeds of magic

which he describes.

In this and other tales a man is represented as being punished by being

turned into a tree, so that he can never leave a certain spot. This is

a kind of imprisonment. In the Edda the Ash Yggdrasil is the prison of

Iduna.

"She ill brooked

her descent

under the hoar tree's

trunk confined."

(_Hrofnagaldr Odins_, 7.)

It is to keep a man or a woman in a certain place, as prisoner, that

the characters described in the Indian and Norse myths are put into

trees.

This was related to Mr. Rand by Benjamin Brooks, a Micmac.]

_Of Glooskap and the Sinful Serpent._

(Passamaquoddy.)

Of old time it befell that Glooskap had an enemy, an evil man, a sinful

beast, a great sorcerer. And this man, after trying many things, made

himself a great serpent, hoping so to slay the Master.

Of old time Glooskap met a boy whose name was _'Nmmokswess_, the

Sable. [Footnote: Evidently no other than Marten, or the Abistanooch of

the Micmac mythology.] And the boy had a flute: whoever played on it

could entice unto him all the animals. And once, when the Master was

afar, the boy broke the flute, and in his great sorrow he would not

return home, but wandered away into the wilderness. Now Glooskap knew

in his heart that the flute was broken: he who is a magician knows at

once of a great evil. And coming home, he asked of the grandmother

where the boy was, and she could only weep. Then the Master said,

"Though I roam forever, yet will I find the boy." So he went forth, and

he tracked him in the snow for three days; and on the third night he

heard some one singing in a hollow; and it was a magic song, that which

the _m'teoulin_ sings when he is in dire need and death is near.

And making a circle round about the place, Glooskap looked down and saw

a wigwam, and heard the voice more distinctly as he drew nearer; and it

was the voice of the boy, and he was singing a song against all of the

snake kind. And he was wandering about the wigwam, seeking a straight

stick.

Then Glooskap understood all the thing, and how the boy had been

enticed into the wilderness by the evil arts of At-o-sis, the Snake,

and that the Great Serpent was in the wigwam, and had sent him out to

seek a straight stick. Then Glooskap, singing again softly, bade him

get a very crooked one, and told what more to do. So the boy got an

exceedingly crooked one; and when he entered, the Snake, seeing it,

said, "Why hast thou got such a bad stick?" And the boy, answering,

said, "Truly, it is very crooked, but that which is crookedest may be

made straightest, and I know a charm whereby this can be done; for I

will but heat this stick in the fire, and, then I will make it quite

straight, as you shall see." Now At-o-sis was very anxious to behold

this wonderful thing, and he looked closely; but the boy, as soon as

the end of the stick was red-hot, thrust it into his eyes and blinded

him, and ran forth. Yet the Snake followed him; but when he was without

the wigwam he met the Master, who slew him out of hand. [Footnote: This

curious legend is suggestive of Ulysses and the Cyclops. The enemies of

Glooskap are all cannibals; the boy is sent out for a straight stick to

serve as a spit to roast him on. It is not impossible that the Snake,

in some perfect version of the tale, has but a single eye since many of

the evil creatures of red Indian mythology are half stone lengthwise.

But the whole story is full of strange hints. It was told me by Tomah

Josephs, at Campobello, N. B.]

Of old times. This is an end of the story.

_The Tale of Glooskap as told by another Indian. Showing how the Toad

and Porcupine lost their Noses._

(Micmac.)

In the old time. Far before men knew themselves, in the light before

the sun, Glooskap and his brother were as yet unborn; they waited for

the day to appear. Then they talked together, and the youngest said,

"Why should I wait? I will go into the world and begin my life at

once." Then the elder said, "Not so, for this were a great evil." But

the younger gave no heed to any wisdom: in his wickedness he broke

through his mother's side, he rent the wall; his beginning of life was

his mother's death.

Now, in after years, the younger brother would learn in what lay the

secret of the elder's death. And Glooskap, being crafty, told the truth

and yet lied; for his name was the Liar, yet did he never lie for evil

or aught to harm. So he told his brother that the blow of a ball, or

handful of the down of feathers, would take away his life; and this was

true, for it would stun him, but it would not prevent his returning to

life. Then Glooskap asked the younger for his own secret. And he, being

determined to give the elder no time, answered truly and fearlessly, "I

can only be slain by the stroke of a cat-tail or bulrush."

And then the younger, having gathered the down of bird's feathers,

struck the elder, so that he fell dead, and therein he told the truth.

But he soon recovered, and in that was his deceit. Howbeit it was well

for the world and well for him that he then gathered bulrushes and

smote his younger brother, so that he died. But the plant never grew

that could harm the Master, wherefore he is alive to this day.

Who was his mother? The female Turtle was his mother.

Algonquin Legends of New England · 第 6 / 22 段