priest. He found the Chenoo as ignorant of all religion as a wild
beast. At first he would repel the father in anger. Then he listened
and learned the truth. So the old heathen's heart changed; he was
deeply moved. He asked to be baptized, and as the first tear which he
had ever shed in all his life came to his eyes he died. [Footnote: This
strange and touching tale was told to Mr. Rand by a Micmac Indian,
Louis Brooks, who heard it from his grandfather, Samuel Paul, a chief,
who died in 1843, at the age of eighty. He was a living chronicle of
ancient traditions. The Chenoo can be directly identified with the
so-called Inlander of the Greenland Eskimo. He is a cannibal, a giant,
a mysterious being who haunts the horrible and almost unexplored
interior. He assumes different forms; in one shape he is supposed to be
a man who has become a recluse and a misanthrope. But no such being as
a Chenoo could ever have been imagined out of an arctic country. The
conception of the heart of hardest ice and the gradual civilization of
the savage by kindness; the tact with which this is done, as only a
woman could do it; the indication of the old nature, as shown by eating
the liver of his conquered foe, and his final conversion, display a
genius which is greatly heightened by the simplicity of the narrative.]
As there is actually a tribe of Indians in the Northwest called Chenoo,
there can be little doubt as to the derivation of the name. Such a
character could have originated, as I have said, only in the icy north;
it could never have grown in the milder regions of the west and south.
But the Chenoo, the monstrous, ferocious cannibal giant, with an icy
heart, is the central figure of the evil supernatural beings of the
north. The Schoolcraft traditions and Hiawatha have little to say of
Titans whose heads top the clouds, who tear up forests and rend rocks,
and change the whole face of Nature in their hideous battles or
horrible revels. But such scenes are continually described by the
Passamaquoddy and Micmac story-tellers, and they would be natural
enough to Greenlanders, familiar with whales, icebergs, frozen wastes,
long winter nights, and all the frozen desolation of the north.
There is a mystery connected with the _eating of the liver_, which
is to be explained, like many other Indian mysteries, by having
recourse to the Eskimo Shamanism. "In Greenland a man who has been
murdered can revenge himself by _rushing into_ him," that is,
entering his soul, "which can only be prevented by eating a piece of
his liver." (Rink, T. and T. of the Eskimo, page 45.) The Chenoo is in
all essentials identical with the _Kivigtok_ of Greenland, "a man
who has fled mankind, and acquired extraordinary mental and physical
powers." The story which I have here given is probably that of the
Eskimo tale of the Blind Man who recovered his sight (Rink, page 99),
in which a _Kivigtok_, after becoming incredibly old, returns to
mankind to seek a Shaman priest and repent. In both stories there is a
"Chenoo," and in both there is atonement with mankind and the higher
powers.
It may be observed that while the Chenoo is a giant with a heart of ice
as hard as stone, the giant Hrungnir, of the Edda, has a heart of
stone. The Chenoo agrees with the Jotuns in many respects.
_The Story of the Great Chenoo, as told by the Passamaquoddies._
(Passamaquoddy.)
What the Micmacs call a Chenoo is known to the Passamaquoddies as a
_Kewahqu'_ or _Kewoqu'_. And this is their origin. When the
_k'tchi m'teoulin_, or Great Big Witch, [Footnote: When legends
from the Anglo-Indian manuscript collection of Mitchell are given, many
of the phrases or words in the original are retained, without regard to
style or correctness. Wizard is here placed for witch.] is conquered by
the smaller witches, or _M'teoulinssisk_, they can kill him or
turn him into a _Kewahqu'_. He still fights, however, with the
other _Kewaquiyck_. When they get ready to fight, they suddenly
become as tall as the highest trees; their weapons are the trees
themselves, which they uproot with great strength. And this strength
depends upon the quantity or size of the piece of ice which makes the
heart of the _Kewahqu'_. This piece of ice is like distance.
"There is a great female Kewahqu' coming to fight me. In the struggle I
may not know you, and may hurt you." So they went away as fast and as
far as they could, but they heard the fighting, the most frightful
noises, howls, yells, thundering and crashing of wood and rocks. After
a time the man determined to see the fight. When he got to the place he
saw a horrible sight: big trees uprooted, the giants in a deadly
struggle. Then the Indian, who was very brave, and who was afraid that
his father-in-law would be killed, came up and helped as much as he
could, and in fact so much that between them they killed the enemy. The
old Kewahqu' was badly but not fatally hurt, and the woman was very
glad her father came off victorious. She had always heard that a
Kewahqu' had a piece of ice for a heart. If this can be taken out, the
Kewahqu' can be tamed and cured. So she made a preparation or medicine,
and offered it to him. He did not know what it was, nor its strength,
so he swallowed it, and it gave him a vomit. She saw something drop, so
quietly picked it up: it was the figure of a man of ice; it was the
Kewahqu's heart. She, not being seen or noticed, put it in the fire,
when he cried," Daughter, you are killing me now; you destroy my
strength." Yet she made him take more of the medicine, and a second
heart came out. This she also put on the fire. But when a third came he
grabbed it from her hand, and swallowed it. However, he was almost
entirely cured.
Another time an Indian village was visited by a Kewahqu', but he was
driven away by magic. The people marked _crosses_ on the trees
where they expected the Kewahqu' to come. There was a great excitement
among the Indians, expecting to hear their strange visitor with his
frightful noises. It was the old people who gave the advice to mark
crosses on the trees.
Another time an Indian of either the Passamaquoddy or Mareschite tribe
was turned to a Kewahqu'. The last time he was seen was by a party of
Indian hunters, who recognized him. He had only small strips of
clothing. "This country,"' he said," is too warm for me. I am going to
a colder one."
This story from the Passamaquoddy Anglo-Indian, manuscript of Mitchell
supplies some very important deficiencies in the preceding Micmac
version. We are told that the _heart_ of the Chenoo is of ice in
human figure. This human figure is that of the Kewahqu' himself, or
rather his very self, or microcosm. It is this, and not the liver,
which is swallowed by the victor, who thus adds another frozen "soul"
to his own. Of the three vomited by the Kewahqu', two were the hearts
of enemies whom he had conquered. He could not give up his own,
however. It is much more according to common sense that the woman
should have given the cannibal the magic medicine which made him yield
his heart than that he should voluntarily have purged himself. In the
Micmac tale he merely relieves his stomach; in the Passamaquoddy
version he, by woman's influence, loses his icy _heart_. It is
interesting to observe that the use of the Christian cross is in the
additional anecdote described as _magic_.
It is the main point in the Chenoo stories that this horrible being,
this most devilish of devils, is at first human; perhaps an unusually
good girl, or youth. From having the heart once chilled, she or he goes
on in cruelty, until at last the sufferer eats the heart of another
Chenoo, especially a female's. Then utter wickedness ensues. It is more
than probable that this leads us back to some dark and terrible Shaman
superstition, older than we can now fathom. There is a passage in the
Edda which its translator, Thorpe, thinks can never be explained. "I
believe," he writes, "the difficulty is beyond help." The lines are as
follows:--
"Loki scorched up [Footnote: The _Edda_, p. 112.]
In his heart's affections,
Had found a half-burnt
Woman's heart.
Loki became guileful
from that wicked woman:
thence in the world
are all giantesses come."
Of which Thorpe writes, "The sense of this and the following line is
not apparent. They stand thus in the original: _Loki of hiarta lyrdi
brendu, fann hann halfsvidthin hugstein konu_, for which Grimm
(Myth. Vorrede 37) would read _Loki at hiarta lundi brenda_, etc.,
_Lokius comedit cor in nemore assum, invenit semiustum mentis lapidem
mulieris_." Whatever obscurity exists here, it is evident that it
means that Loki, having become bad, grew worse after having got the
half-burnt stone of a woman's soul. That is, his own heart, half
ruined, became utterly so after he had added to it the demoralized
_hugstein_, soul-stone, thought-stone, or _heart_ of a woman.
If we assume that stone and heart are the same, the difficulty
vanishes. And they are one in the Chenoo, who, like Loki, illustrates
or symbolizes the passage from good to evil, which a German writer
declares is quicker than thought, or that very same _Ilugi_ which
the Norse myth puts forwards as swiftest of all runners. Loki, not as
yet lost, gets the stone heart of a giantess, and becomes an utter
devil at once. The Chenoo becomes an utter devil when he has swallowed
the _thought-stone_ of a giantess, and so does Loki.
_The Girl-Chenoo._
(Micmac.)
Of the old time. Far up the Saguenay River a branch turns off to the
north, running back into the land of ice and snow. Ten families went up
this stream one autumn in their canoes, to be gone all winter on a
hunt. Among them was a beautiful girl, twenty years of age. A young man
in the band wished her to become his wife, but she flatly refused him.
Perhaps she did it in such a way as to wound his pride; certainly she
roused all that was savage in him, and he gave up all his mind to
revenge. He was skilled in medicine, or in magic, so he went into the
woods and gathered an herb which makes people insensible. Then stealing
into the lodge when all were asleep, he held it to the girl's face,
until she had inhaled the odor and could not be easily awakened. Going
out he made a ball of snow, and returning placed it in the hollow of
her neck, in front, just below the throat. Then he retired without
being discovered. So she could not awake, while the chill went to her
heart. [Footnote: The Eskimo Shamans and the Indian _boo-oin_ are
familiar with many very ingenious and singular ways of producing
prolonged illness and death. There is one known to a very few old
gypsies, of gradually inducing insanity and death, which I have never
seen noted in any work on toxicology. In a work which I lately read, it
was positively denied that there was any such thing as a "lingering
poison"!]
When she awoke she was chilly, shivering, and sick. She refused to eat.
This lasted long, and her parents became alarmed. They inquired what
ailed her. She was ill-tempered; she said that nothing was the matter.
One day, having been sent to the spring for water, she remained absent
so long that her mother went to seek her. Approaching unseen, she
observed her greedily eating snow. And asking her what it meant, the
daughter explained that she felt within a burning sensation, which the
snow relieved. More than that, she craved the snow; the taste of it was
pleasant to her.
After a few days she began to grow fierce, as though she wished to kill
some one. At last she begged her parents to kill her. Hitherto she had
loved them very much. Now she told them that unless they killed her she
would certainly be their death. Her whole nature was being changed.
"How can we kill you?" her mother asked.
"You must shoot at me," she replied, "with seven arrows. [Footnote: The
Micmac version gives _guns_. But the Chenoo stories are evidently
very ancient, and refer to terrors of the olden time.] And if you can
kill me with seven shots, all will be well. But if you cannot, I shall
kill you."
Seven men shot at her, as she sat in the wigwam. She was not bound.
Every arrow struck her in the breast, but she sat firm and unmoved.
Forty-nine times they pierced her; from time to time she looked up with
an encouraging smile. When the last arrow struck she fell dead.
Then they burned the body, as she had directed. It was soon reduced to
ashes, with the exception of the heart, which was of the hardest ice.
This required much time to melt and break. At last all was over.
She had been brought under the power of an evil spirit; she was rapidly
being changed into a Chenoo a wild, fierce, unconquerable being. But
she knew it all the while, and it was against her will. So she begged
that she might be killed.
The Indians left the place; since that day none have ever returned to
it. They feared lest some small part of the body might have remained
unconsumed, and that from it another Chenoo would rise, capable of
killing all whom she met. [Footnote: Mr. Rand (manuscript) gives a
detailed account of an Indian who went mad during the winter, ran away
naked into the wilderness among the snows, and was unanimously declared
to have turned into a Chenoo. I agree with Mr. Rand that "the
historical basis of these tales, if they have any, may be the same,--a
case of lunacy; fiction and figure adding the incredible details."]
THUNDER STORIES
_Of the Girl who married Mount Katahdin, and how all the Indians
brought about their own Ruin._
(Penobscot.)
Of the old time. There was once an Indian girl gathering blueberries on
Mount Katahdin. And, being lonely, she said, "I would that I had a
husband!" And seeing the great mountain in all its glory rising on
high, with the red sunlight on the top, she added, "I wish Katahdin
were a man, and would marry me!"
All this she was heard to say ere she went onward and up the mountain,
but for three years she was never seen again. Then she reappeared,
bearing a babe, a beautiful child, but his little eyebrows were of
stone. For the Spirit of the Mountain had taken her to himself; and
when she greatly desired to return to her own people, he told her to go
in peace, but forbade her to tell any man who had married her.
Now the boy had strange gifts, and the wise men said that he was born
to become a mighty magician. For when he did but point his finger at a
moose, or anything which ran, it would drop dead; and when in a canoe,
if he pointed at the flocks of wild ducks or swans, then the water was
at once covered with the floating game, and they gathered them in as
they listed, and through that boy his mother and every one had food and
to spare.
Now this was the truth, and it was great wonder, that Katahdin had
wedded this girl, thinking with himself and his wife to bring up a
child who should build up his nation, and make of the Wabanaki a mighty
race. And he said, "Declare unto these people that they are not to
inquire of thee who is the father of thy child; truly they will all
know it by seeing him, for they shall not grieve thee with
impertinence." Now the woman had made it known that she would not be
questioned, and she gave them all what they needed; yet, for all this,
they could not refrain nor restrain themselves from talking to her on
what they well knew she would fain be silent. And one day when they had
angered her, she thought, "Truly Katahdin was right; these people are
in nowise worthy of my son, neither shall he serve them; he shall not
lead them to victory; they are not of those who make a great nation."
And being still further teased and tormented, she spake and said, "Ye
fools, who by your own folly will kill yourselves; ye mud-wasps, who
sting the fingers which would pick ye out of the water, why will ye
ever trouble me to tell you what you well know? Can you not see who was
the father of my boy? Behold his eyebrows; do ye not know Katahdin by
them? But it shall be to your exceeding great sorrow that ever ye
inquired. From this day ye may feed yourselves and find your own
venison, for this child shall do so no more for you."
And she arose and went her way into the woods and up the mountain, and
was seen on earth no more. And since that day the Indians, who should
have been great, have become a little people. Truly it would have been
wise and well for those of early times if they could have held their
tongues.
This remarkable legend was related to me by Mrs. Marie Sakis, a
Penobscot, a very clever story-teller. It gives the Fall of Man from a
purely Indian standpoint. Nothing is so contemptible in Indian eyes as
a want of dignity and idle, loquacious teasing; therefore it is made in
the myth the sin which destroyed their race. The tendency of the lower
class of Americans, especially in New England, to raise and emphasize
the voice, to speak continually in italics and small and large
capitals, with a wide display, and the constant disposition to chaff
and tease, have contributed more than any other cause to destroy
confidence and respect for them among the Indians.
Since writing the foregoing paragraph, I have read The Abnakis, by Rev.
Eugene Vetromile. In his chapter on the Religion and Superstition of
these Indians he gives this story, but, as I think, in a corrupted
form. Firstly, he states that Pamola (that is, Bumole), who is the evil
spirit of the night air, was the Spirit of Mount Katahdin. Now these
are certainly _at present_ two very distinct beings, which are
described as being personally quite unlike. Secondly, in Vetromile's
story the mother and child disappear in consequence of the child having
_inadvertently_ killed an Indian by pointing at him. It will be
seen that this feeble, impotent conclusion utterly spoils the manifest
meaning of the whole legend.
Of this story Vetromile remarks that "it is, of course, a superstitious
tale, made up by the prolific imagination of some Indians, yet we can
perceive in it some vestiges of the fall of the first man in having
transgressed the command of God, and how it could be repaired only by
God. We can also trace some ideas of the mystery of the Incarnation of
the Son of God in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary, mixed with
fables, superstitions, and pagan errors. The appearance of God to Moses
in the Burning Bush may be glimpsed in Pamole appearing to the Indian
on Mount Katahdin, and so forth."
The pilgrims in Rabelais did not point out scriptural coincidences with
greater ingenuity than this. It is deeply to be regretted that the
reverend father's entire knowledge of the mythology of the Abenakis was
limited to this single story. (Vide Bumole, in chapter on Supernatural
Beings.) It may be, however, observed, that if the name Bumole or
Pamola really means "he curses on the mountain," or curse on mountain,
it was natural that the evil spirit should be supposed to be on the
mountain. Pamola was perhaps at an early period the spirit of
lightning, and might thus be very easily confused with Katahdin.
_How a hunter visited the Thunder Spirits who dwell in Mount
Katahdin._
(Passamaquoddy.)
_N'karnayoo_. Of old times. Once an Indian went forth to hunt. And
he departed from the east branch of the Penobscot, and came to the head
of another branch that leads into the east branch, and this he followed
even to the foot of Mount Katahdin. [Footnote: This minuteness of
needless detail is very characteristic of Indian tales. I do not think
that it is introduced for the sake of local color, or to give an air of
truthful seeming, because the Indian simply believes the whole, as it
is. I think the reason may be that, owing to their love of adventure,
they enjoy the mere recitation of topographical details.] And there he
hunted many a day alone, and met none, till one morning in midwinter he
found the track of snow-shoes. So he returned to his camp; but the next
day he met with it again in a far-distant place. And thus it was that,
wherever he went, this track came to him every day. Then noting this,
as a sign to be observed, he followed it, and it went up the mountain,
Katahdin, which, being interpreted, means "the great mountain," until
at last it was lost in a hard snow-shoe road made by many travelers.
And since it was hard and even, he took off his _agahmook_ (P.),
or snow-shoes, and went ever on and up with the road; and it was a
strange path and strange was its ending, for it stopped just before a
high ledge, like an immense wall, on a platform at its foot. And there
were many signs there, as of many people, yet he saw no one. And as he
stayed it seemed to grow stranger and stranger. At last he heard a
sound as of footsteps coming, yet within the wall, when lo! a girl
stepped directly out of the precipice upon the platform. But though she
was beautiful beyond belief, he was afraid. And to his every thought
she answered in words, and that so sweetly and kindly and cleverly that
he was soon without fear, though he saw that she had powerful
_m'teoulin_, or great magic power. And they being soon pleased one
with the other, and wanting each other, she bade him accompany her, and
that by walking directly through the rock. "Have no fear," said she,
"but, advance boldly!" So he obeyed, and lo! the rock was as the air,
and it gave way as he went on. And ever as they went the maiden talked
to him, answering his thoughts, so that he spoke not aloud.
And anon they came to a great cavern far within, and there was an old
man seated by a fire, and the old man welcomed him. And he was very
kindly treated by the strange pair all day: in all his life he had
never been so happy. Now as the night drew near, the old man said to
his daughter, "Can you hear aught of your brothers?" Then she went out
to the terrace, and, returning, said, "No." Then anon he asked her
again, and she, going and returning as before, replied, "Now I hear
them coming." Then they listened, when lo! there came, as at the door
without, a crash of thunder with a flash of lightning, and out of the
light stepped two young men of great beauty, but like giants,
stupendous and of awful mien. And, like their father, their eyebrows
were of stone, while their cheeks were as rocks.
And the hunter was told by their sister that when they went forth,
which was every few days, their father said to them, "Sons, arise! it
is time now for you to go forth over the world and save our friends. Go
not too near the trees, but if you see aught that is harmful to those
whom we love, strike, and spare not!" Then when they went forth they
flew on high among the clouds; and thus it is that the Thunder and
Lightning, whose home is in the mighty Katahdin, are made. And when the
thunder strikes, the brothers are shooting at the enemies of their
friends.
Now when the day was done the hunter returned to his home, and when
there, found he had been gone seven years. All this I have heard from
the old people who are dead and gone.
This tale was told me by Tomah Josephs (P.). It seems to have nothing
in common with the very widely spread myth that the thunder is the
flapping of the wings of a giant bird, and the lightning the flashes of
its eyes. The tradition is probably of Eskimo origin, supernatural
beings partially of stone being common to Greenland and Labrador. There
is a strange but entirely accidental resemblance between this story
and Rip Van Winkle, as in the distant sound of the nine-pins like
low-muttered thunder, the hospitable entertainment, and finally the
seven years as one day. Apparent resemblances are very deceptive. In
the Eskimo mythology the _mersugat_ or _kutadlit_, who are
the higher or benevolent spirits, protecting mortals, are distinguished
from the evil ones by dwelling in cliffs, to which there are invisible
entrances.
There is a remarkable resemblance between Katahdin and Hrungnir of the
Edda. Hrungnir has a face of stone; he is unquestionably a mountain
personified, as Miss Larned declares: "His stony head pierces the blue
sky." [Footnote: _Tales of the Elder Edda_, p. 235.] Both giants
are the typical great mountain of their respective countries. Hrungnir
has also very great affinity with the Chenoo giant. He has a _stony
heart_, an insatiable appetite, and is cruel and brutal.
The Iroquois have the very stone giants--or, as Schoolcraft calls them,
the stonish giants--themselves, and a very curious picture of them has
been preserved. [Footnote: Vide Cusick's _Five Nations_, 2d
edition, and Schoolcraft's _Indian Tribes_, vol. i p: 429.] Of
them he remarks, "Who the giants are intended to symbolize is
uncertain. They are represented as impenetrable by darts." The
connection between the stone giants of the Indians, the Eskimo, and the
Norsemen, if not historical, is at least identical in this, that they
all typify the mountains.
_The Thunder and Lightning Men._
(Passamaquoddy.)
This is truly an old Indian story of old time. Once an Indian was
whirled up by the roaring wind: he was taken up in a thunder-storm, and
set down again in the village of the Thunders. [Footnote: This tale is
transcribed, with very little alteration, from a manuscript collection
of tales written in Indian-English by an Indian. I retain the word
_thunders_ as expressive of the beings in question. It has for
title, _A Story called "An Indian transformed into a Thunder!"_]
In after-times he described them as very like human beings: they used
bows and arrows (_tah-bokque_), and had wings.