which is in the Intervale or the summer bed of the Saco River, in the
El-now-e-bit, the White Mountains, between Geh-sit-wah-zuch [Footnote:
_Geh-sit-wah-zuch_, "many mountains" (Pen.). Mount Kearsarge, so
called from the several lesser peaks around it.] and K'tchee penahbesk,
[Footnote: _K'tchee penabesk_, "the great rock," a much more
sensible and appropriate name than that of "Cathedral Rocks," which has
been bestowed upon it; also _chee penabsk_.] and near Oonahgemessuk
weegeet, the Home of the Water Fairies. [Footnote: Also called from a
legend, _Oonahgemessuk k'tubbee_, the Water Fairies' Spring. This
appropriate and beautiful name has been rejected in favor of the
ridiculously rococo term "Diana's Bath." As there is a "Diana's Bath"
at almost every summer watering place in America, North Conway must of
course have one. The absolute antipathy which the majority of Americans
manifest for the aboriginal names, even in a translation, is really
remarkable.] Now the old man, the father of the evil magicians and his
adopted father, had only one eye, and was half gray. [Footnote: This would
directly connect him with the beings which are half stone, like the
Oonahgemessuk, or water-goblins, the dwellers in Katahdin, and the Eskimo
elves. This will be referred to again.] And Glooskap made himself like
him,--there was not between them the difference of a hair; and having
this form, he entered the wigwam and sat down by the old man. And the
brothers, who killed everybody, not sparing one living soul, hearing a
talking, looked in slyly, and seeing the new-comer, so like their father
that they knew not which was which, said, "This is a great magician. But
he shall be tried ere he goes, and that bitterly."
Then the sister took the tail of a whale, and cooked it for the
stranger to eat. But as it lay before him, on the platter and on his
knees, the elder brother entered, and saying rudely, "This is too good
for a beggar like you," took it away to his own wigwam. Then Glooskap
spoke: "That which was given to me was mine; therefore I take it
again." And sitting still he simply _wished_ for it, and it came
flying into the platter where it was before. So he ate it.
Then the brothers said, "Indeed, he is a great magician. But he shall
be tried ere he goes, and that bitterly."
When he had eaten, they brought in a mighty bone, the jaw of a whale,
and the eldest brother, with great ado, and using both his arms and all
his strength, bent it a little. Then he handed it to Glooskap, who with
his thumb and fingers, snapped it like a pipe-stem. And the brothers
said again, "Truly, this is a great magician. But he shall for all that
be tried ere he goes, and that bitterly."
Then they brought a great pipe full of the strongest tobacco; no man
not a magician could have smoked it. And it was passed round: every one
smoked; the brothers blew the smoke through their nostrils. But
Glooskap filled it full, and, lighting it, burnt all the tobacco to
ashes at one pull, and blew all the smoke through his nostrils at one
puff. Then the brothers said again in anger, "This is indeed a great
magician. Yet he shall be tried again ere he goes, and that bitterly."
But they never said it again.
And they still tried to smoke with him, and the wigwam was closed; they
hoped to smother him in smoke, but he sat and puffed away as if he had
been on a mountain-top, till they could bear it no longer. And one
said, "This is idle; let us go and play at ball." The place where they
were to play was on the sandy plain of Samgadihawk, or Saco, on the
bend of the river. [Footnote: I have an Indian stone pestle, or hominy
pounder, which I picked up on the site of this ball-play.] And the game
begun; but Glooskap found that the ball with which they played was a
hideous skull; it was alive and snapped at his heels, and had he been
as other men and it had bitten him, it would have taken his foot off.
Then Glooskap laughed, and said, "So this is the game you play. Good,
but let us all play with our own balls." So he stepped up to a tree on
the edge of the river-bed and broke off the end of a bough, and it
turned into a skull ten times more terrible than the other. And the
magicians ran before it as it chased them as a lynx chases rabbits;
they were entirely beaten. Then Glooskap stamped on the sand, and the
waters rose and came rushing fearfully from the mountains adown the
river-bed; the whole land rang with their roar. Now Glooskap sang a
magic song, which changes all beings, and the three brothers and their
father became the _chinahmess_, a fish which is as long and large
as a man, and they went headlong down on the flood, to the deep sea, to
dwell there forever. And the magicians had on, each of them, a wampum
collar; wherefore the _chinahmess_ has beneath its head, as one
may say, round its neck, the wampum collar, as may be seen to this day.
And they were mighty _m'teoulin_ in their time; but they were
tried before they went, and that bitterly.
Yes, _seewass_, my brother, this is a true story. For Glus-gah-be
was a great man in his day, and the day will come when I shall go to
him and see him. [Footnote: This legend is from a single authority,
Maria Saksis.]
_How Glooskap went to England and France, and was the first to make
America known to the Europeans_.
(Passamaquoddy.)
There was an Indian woman: she was a Woodchuck (Mon-in-kwess, P.). She
had lost a boy; she always thought of him. Once there came to her a
strange boy; he called her mother.
He had a pipe with which he could call all the animals. He said,
"Mother, if you let any one have this pipe we shall starve."
"Where did you get it?"
"A stranger gave it to me."
One day the boy was making a canoe. The woman took the pipe and blew
it. There came a deer and a _qwah-beet_,--a beaver. They came
running; the deer came first, the beaver next. The beaver had a stick
in his mouth; he gave it to her, and said, "Whenever you wish to kill
anything, though it were half a mile off, point this stick at it." She
pointed it at the deer; it fell dead.
The boy was Glooskap. He was building a stone canoe. Every morning he
went forth, and was gone all day. He worked a year at it. The mother
had killed many animals. When the great canoe was finished he took his
(adopted) mother to see it. He said that he would make sails for it.
She asked him, "Of what will you make them?" He answered, "Of leaves."
She replied, "Let the leaves alone. I have something better." She had
many buffalo skins already tanned, and said, "Take as many as you
need."
He took his pipe. He piped for moose; he piped for elk and for bear:
they came. He pointed his stick at them: they were slain. He dried
their meat, and so provisioned his great canoe. To carry water he
killed many seals; he filled their bladders with water.
So they sailed across the sea. This was before the white people had
ever heard of America. The white men did not discover this country
first at all. Glooskap discovered England, and told them about it. He
got to London. The people had never seen a canoe before. They came
flocking down to look at it.
The Woodchuck had lost her boy. This boy it was, who first discovered
America (England?). This boy could walk on the water and fly up to the
sky. [Footnote: This tale was taken down in very strange and confused
English. The first part is in my notes almost unintelligible.] He took
his mother to England. They offered him a large ship for his stone
canoe. He refused it. He feared lest the ship should burn. They offered
him servants. He refused them. They gave him presents which almost
overloaded the canoe. They gave him an anchor and an English flag.
He and his mother went to France. The French people fired cannon at him
till the afternoon. They could not hurt the stone canoe. In the night
Glooskap drew all their men-of-war ashore. Next morning the French saw
this. They said, "Who did this?" He answered, "I did it."
They took him prisoner. They put him into a great cannon and fired it
off. They looked into the cannon, and there he sat smoking his stone
pipe, knocking the ashes out.
The king heard how they had treated him. He said it was wrong. He who
could do such deeds must be a great man. He sent for Glooskap, who
replied, "I do not want to see your king. I came to this country to
have my mother baptized as a Catholic." They sent boats, they sent a
coach; he was taken to the king, who put many questions to him.
He wished to have his mother christened. It was done. They called her
Molly. [Footnote: The Indians pronounce the word Marie Mahli or Molly.
Mahlinskwess, "Miss Molly," sounds like Mon-in-kwess, a woodchuck.
Hence this very poor pun.] Therefore to this day all woodchucks are
called Molly. They went down to the shore; to please the king Glooskap
drew all the ships into the sea again. So the king gave him what he
wanted, and he returned home. Since that time white men have come to
America.
* * * * *
This is an old Eskimo tale, greatly modernized and altered. The Eskimo
believe in a kind of sorcerers or spirits, who have instruments which
they merely point at people or animals, to kill them. I think that the
Indian who told me this story (P.) was aware of its feebleness, and was
ashamed to attribute such nonsense to Glooskap, and therefore made the
hero an Indian named Woodchuck. But among Mr. Rand's Micmac tales it
figures as a later tribute to the memory of the great hero.
One version of this story was given to me by Tomah Josephs, another by
Mrs. W. Wallace Brown. In the latter Glooskap's canoe is a great ship,
with all kinds of birds for sailors. In the Shawnee legend of the
Celestial Sisters (Hiawatha Legends), a youth who goes to the sky must
take with him one of every kind of bird. This indicates that the
Glooskap voyage meant a trip to heaven.
_How Glooskap is making Arrows, and preparing for a Great Battle. The
Twilight of the Indian Gods._
(Passamaquoddy.)
"_Is Glooskap living yet_?" "Yes, far away; no one knows where.
Some say he sailed away in his stone canoe beyond the sea, to the east,
but he will return in it one day; others, that he went to the west. One
story tells that while he was alive those who went to him and found him
could have their wishes given to them. But there is a story that if one
travels long, and is not afraid, he may still find the great sagamore
(_sogmo_). Yes. He lives in a very great, a very long wigwam. He
always making arrows. One side of the lodge is full of arrows now. They
so thick as that. When it is all quite full, he will come forth and
make war. He never allows any one to enter the wigwam while he is
making these arrows."
"_And on whom will he make war_?" "He will make war on all, kill
all; there will be no more world,--world all gone. Dunno how quick,--
mebbe long time; all be dead then, mebbe,--guess it will be long time."
"_Are any to be saved by any one_?" "Dunno. _Me hear_ how
some say world all burn up some day, water all boil all fire; some good
ones be taken up in good heavens, but me dunno,--me just _hear_
that. Only hear so."
It was owing to a mere chance question that this account of the Last
Day was obtained from an Indian. It was related to Mrs. W. Wallace
Brown, of Calais, Maine, by Mrs. Le Cool, an old Passamaquoddy Indian.
It casts a great light on the myth of Glooskap, since it appears that a
day is to come when, like Arthur, Barbarossa, and other heroes in
retreat, he is to come forth at a new twilight of the gods, exterminate
the _Iglesmani_, and establish an eternal happy hunting-ground.
This preparing for a great final battle is more suggestive of Norse or
Scandinavian influence than of aught else. It is certainly not of a
late date, or Christian, but it is very much like the Edda and
Ragnarok. Heine does not observe, in the Twilight of the Gods, that
Jupiter or Mars intend to return and conquer the world. But the
Norsemen expected such a fight, when arrows would fly like hail, and
Glooskap is supposed to be deliberately preparing for it.
A very curious point remains to be noted in this narration. When the
Indians speak of Christian, or white, or civilized teachings, they say,
"I heard," or, "I have been told." This they never do as regards their
own ancient traditions. When Mrs. Le Cool said that she "had heard"
that some were to be taken up into _good_ heavens, she declared,
in her way, that this was what Christians said, but that she was not so
sure of it. The Northeastern Algonquin always distinguish very accurately
between their ancient lore and that derived from the whites. I have often
heard French fairy tales and Aesop's fables Indianized to perfection, but
the narrator always knew that they were not _N'Karnayoo_, "of the
old time."
Glooskap is now living in a Norse-like Asa-heim; but there is to come a
day when the arrows will be ready, and he will go forth and slay all
the wicked. Malsum the Wolf, his twin brother, the typical colossal
type of all Evil, will come to life, with all the giant cannibals,
witches, and wild devils slain of old; but the champion will gird on
his magic belt, and the arrows will fly in a rain as at Ragnarok: the
hero will come sailing in his wonderful canoe, which expands to hold an
army. Thus it will be on
"That day of wrath, that dreadful day,
When heaven and earth shall pass away,"
with all things, in blood and death and fire. Then there will come the
eternal happy hunting-grounds.
If this was derived from Christian priests, it must be admitted that it
has changed wonderfully on the way. It is to me very heathen, grimly
archaic, and with the strong stamp of an original. Its resemblance to
the Norse is striking. Either the Norsemen told it to the Eskimo and
the Indians, or the latter to the Norsemen. None know, after all, what
was going on for ages in the early time, up about Jotunheim, in the
North Atlantic! Vessels came to Newfoundland to fish for cod since
unknown antiquity, and, returning, reported that they had been to
Tartary.
It may be assumed at once that this Indian Last Battle of the Giants,
or of the good hero giants against the Evil, led by the Malsum-Fenris
Wolf, was not derived from the Canadian French. The influence of, the
latter is to be found even among the Chippewas, but they never dealt in
myths like this.
It is very remarkable indeed that the one great principle of the Norse
mythology is identical with that of the Indian. So long as man shall
make war and heroism his standard, just so long his hero god exists.
But there will come a day when mankind can war no more,--when higher
civilization must prevail. Then there will be a great final war, and
death of the heroes, and death of their foes, and after all a new
world.
"Then shall another come
yet mightier,
although I dare not
his name declare.
Few may see
further forth
than when Odin
meets the Wolf."
(Hyndluloid, 42.)
The Norsemen may have drawn this from a Christian source; but the
Indian, to judge by form, spirit, and expression, would seem to have
taken it from the Norse.
_How Glooskap found the Summer._
In the long ago time when people lived always in the early red morning,
before sunrise, before the _Squid to neck_ was peopled as to-day,
Glooskap went very far north, where all was ice.
He came to a wigwam. Therein he found a giant, a great giant, for he
was Winter. Glooskap entered; he sat down. Then Winter gave him a pipe;
he smoked, and the giant told tales of the old times.
The charm was on him; it was the Frost. The giant talked on and froze,
and Glooskap fell asleep. He slept for six months, like a toad. Then
the charm fled, and he awoke. He went his way home; he went to the
south, and at every step it grew warmer, and the flowers began to come
up and talk to him.
He came to where there were many little ones dancing in the forest;
their queen was Summer. I am singing the truth: it was Summer, the
inmost beautiful one ever born. He caught her up; he kept her by a
crafty trick. The Master cut a moose-hide into a long cord; as he ran
away with Summer he let the end trail behind him.
They, the fairies of Light, pulled at the cord, but as Glooskap ran,
the cord ran out, and though they pulled he left them far away. So he
came to the lodge of Winter, but now he had Summer in his bosom; and
Winter welcomed him, for he hoped to freeze him again to sleep. I am
singing the song of Summer.
But this time the Master did the talking. This time his _m'teoulin_
was the strongest. And ere long the sweat ran down Winter's face, and
then he melted more and quite away, as did the wigwam. Then every thing
awoke; the grass grew, the fairies came out, and the snow ran down the
rivers, carrying away the dead leaves. Then Glooskap left Summer with
them, and went home.
This poem--for it is such--was related to Mrs. W. Wallace Brown by an
Indian named Neptune. It appears to be the completer form of the
beautiful allegory of Winter and Spring given in the Hiawatha Legends
as Peboan and Seegwum (Odjibwa). The struggle between Spring and
Winter, Summer and Winter, or Heat and Cold, represented as incarnate
human or mythic beings, forms the subject of several Indian legends, as
it does a part of the Hymiskrida, in the Edda. The German J. B.
Friedreich (Symbolik der Natur, Wurzburg, 1859) remarks that in the
Bible, Job xxxviii. 28, and in the Song of the Three in the Fiery
Furnace, Ice and Snow are spoken of as intelligences.
Heat and cold, in classic times, were supposed to be united, yet in
conflict, in the lightning and hail (Virgil, Aen, VIII. 429), the symbol
for this being a twisted horn. In the legend of the _Culloo_ the
frost giantess can only be killed by a crooked horn thrust into her
ear. The horn darts out at once into incredible, irregular length, and
evidently means lightning. In the Edda the he-goat is, on account of
his horns, the symbol of lightning and storm. (Schwenk, Sinnbilden der
alten Volker.) The Giala-horn of the Edda (Nyer up. Dict Scan. Mythol.)
is the thunder which summons the Elves. "Miolner, the hammer of Thor,
with which he kills frost giants, is the lightning." (Kirchner, Thor's
Donnerkeil, Neu Strelitz, 1853, p. 60.) The coincidence of the symbols
in the Edda with that of the lightning horn in the Indian legend is
very curious, if nothing more.
The cord which Glooskap unrolls, and with which he deceives the
fairies, who think they have him fast, while he is escaping, means
delusive speech or plausible talk. To "talk like paying out rope" is an
old simile.
"Speech runes thou must know,
If thou wilt that no one
for injury with hate requite thee.
Those thou must wind,
Those thou must wrap round (thee),
Those thou must altogether place
in the assembly,
where people have
into full court to go."
(Sigrdrifumal.)
This is a merely accidental coincidence, but it illustrates the meaning
of the myth. In both cases it is "wound or wrapped around" and rapidly
unrolled, and the same simile.
The following poem on Glooskap may be appropriately placed in this
work. The allusion to the agates of Cape Blomidon refers to a tradition
given by S. T. Rand, which states that when Glooskap would make his
adopted grandmother young again he created the brilliant stones, which
are still found at that place, to adorn her. [Footnote: _Youth's
Companion_.]
THE LEGEND OF GLOOSKAP.
Bathed in the sunshine still as of yore
Stretches the peaceful Acadian shore;
Fertile meadows and fields of grain
Smile as they drink the summer rain.
There like a sentinel, grim and gray,
Blomidon stands at the head of the bay,
And the famous Fundy tides, at will,
Sweep into Minas Basin still.
With wondrous beauty the Gaspereanx
Winds its way to the sea below,
And the old Acadian Grand Pre
Is the home of prosperous men to-day.
The place where Basil the blacksmith wrought,
In the glow of his forge, is a classic spot,
And every summer tourists are seen
In the fairy haunts of Evangeline.
But the old Acadian woods and shores,
Rich in beautiful legend stores,
Were once the home of an older race,
Who wore their epics with untaught grace.
Long ere the dikes that guard for aye
From the merciless tides the old Grand Pre,
Built by the Frenchman's tireless hands,
Grew round the rich Acadian lands.
The Micmac sailed in his birch canoe
Over the Basin, calm and blue;
Speared the salmon, his heart's desire,
Danced and slept by his wigwam fire;
Far in the depth of the forest gray
Hunted the moose the livelong day,
While the mother sang to her Micmac child
Songs of the forest, weird and wild.
Over the tribe, with jealous eye,
Watched the Great Spirit from on high,
While on the crest of Blomidon
Glooskap, the God-man, dwelt alone.
No matter how far his feet might stray
From the favorite haunts of his tribe away,
Glooskap could hear the Indian's prayer,
And send some message of comfort there.
Glooskap it was who taught the use
Of the bow and the spear, and sent the moose
Into the Indian banter's hands;
Glooskap who strewed the shining sands
Of the tide-swept beach of the stormy bay
With amethysts purple and agates gray,
And brought to each newly wedded pair
The Great Spirit's benediction fair.
But the white man came, and with ruthless hand
Cleared the forests and sowed the land,
And drove from their haunts by the sunny shore
Micmac and moose, forevermore.
And Glooskap, saddened and sore distressed,
Took his way to the unknown West,
And the Micmac kindled his wigwam fire
Far from the grave of his child and his sire;
Where now, as he weaves his basket gay,
And paddles his birch canoe away,
He dreams of the happy time for men
When Glooskap shall come to his tribe again.
ARTHUR WENTWORTH EATON.
THE MERRY TALES OF LOX, THE MISCHIEF MAKER,
COMMONLY KNOWN AS THE INDIAN DEVIL.
_Of the Surprising and Singular Adventures of two Water Fairies who
were also Weasels, and how they each became the Bride of a Star.
Including the Mysterious and Wonderful Works of Lox, the Great Indian
Devil, who rose from the Dead._
(Micmac and Passamaquoddy.)
_Wee-zig-yik-keseyook_. "Of old times." Far back in the forest, by
a brook, dwelt two young men, Abistanooch, the Marten, and Team, the
Moose. Of these each had a wigwam, and therewith a grandmother who kept
house. And Team hunted and worked industriously, but Master Marten was
greatly _moalet_ (M.), which signifies one who liveth upon his
neighbors, depending on their good nature, even as he that planteth
corn and beans depends upon the pleasant smiles of the sun; whence it
came to pass that wherever victuals were in store there too his presence
did greatly abound.
Now it happened that one day Team, the Moose, had killed a bear, and
brought home a single load of the meat, leaving the rest to be looked
after anon. And being thrifty, and not caring to feed those who fed him
not, neither did they thank, he said unto himself, and also to his
grandmother, "Truly, the eyes of Marten shall not see this thing, his
nose shall not smell thereof, neither shall his tongue taste it; so let
not the tidings of our good luck go forth from the wigwam." "Yes,"
replied the old woman, "and well and wisely thou speakest, my son. But
we have this day broken our kettle, while Marten has brought in a new
one. Behold, I will go and borrow it, and having cooked in it I will
wash and wipe it, so that there shall be no sign of what we did
therewith, and so return it."
Now, this was done, but he who is _moalet_ and a haunter of feasts
is like a hunter of beasts: he knows well from a small sign where there
is a large load, and the borrowing of kettles means the boiling of
victuals therein. So having in him somewhat of sorcery, he did but step
to his friend's wigwam, and, peeping through a crevice, saw a great
store of bear's meat. And when the grandmother of Moose came unto him
to return the kettle, just as she entered the lodge there arose from it
a savory steam, and looking in it was full of well-cooked food. And
Marten thanked her greatly, yet she, being put to shame, fled to her
own home. But Moose said it was no matter, so the next day they went to
the woods together, and all was well.
Now it befell Marten, as it might have befallen any other man, that one
day he came to a distant and lonely lake in the mountains. Yet there,
stepping softly as a cat behind the rocks bung with grapevines, he
heard laughing and splashing, and a pleasant sound as of girls' voices.
So, peeping carefully, he saw many maids merrily bathing in the lake:
and these were of the fairy race, who dwell in deep waters and dark
caves, and keep away from mankind. And seeing their garments lying on
the shore, and beholding among the damsels one whom he desired to
obtain, [Footnote: There are many of these stories which indicate
passionate and deeply seated attachment, but I never once heard a real
Indian say that man or woman loved, though they have words which fully
express it. "He wanted her" is the nearest approach to tenderness which
I have ever heard from them. This is not the result of a want of
feeling, but of the suppression of all manifestation of it, to which
every red man is trained from earliest infancy.] Marten quietly slipped
along unseen, as all of his species can do, till he had the clothes in
his hands. For being tinctured with magic and learned in the lore of
all kind of goblins, elves, and witches, Master Marten knew that when
Naiads are naked and a man has their garments he holds them at his
mercy. For in the apparel lies their fairy power; and if you doubt it,
do but give it a trial and see for yourself!