is that of Will. It manifests itself in many forms, mere courage being
one. Thus the _Weewillmekq'_ confers supernatural ability or other
favors only on those who are not afraid of it. The demon Log, as we
have just seen, gives strength and prosperity to a man for simply
fighting like a bull-dog. Beyond courage, pluck or bottom is with these
Indians as nearly allied to magic as poetry was among the Greeks, or
with an Eschenwaya. When the true magician "gets mad," and continues to
get madder till the end, he is invincible. Allied to this is
perseverance. The Rabbit is rewarded with skill as an enchanter merely
for continuing to try. His very failures have this in them, that he
keeps on resolutely, though in a wrong road. No one can fail to be
struck, in these legends of the Northeast Algonquins, how often a boy,
or adult, when asked if he can do a difficult thing, replies, "I can
try." All of this apotheosis of pluck, perseverance, and patience is
_far_ more developed among these legends than in those of the
Chippewas or other western and southern tribes, at least so far as I am
familiar with them. It exists wherever there are red Indians, but the
Eastern Algonquin seems to have thought it out more and made more of it
than others have done. Therefore his cycle of myths, or his Edda,
occupies a higher place. It is less chaotic; it is more consistent; it
is a chorus in which every voice is trained to respond to or correspond
with the leader. In this respect it has a remarkable resemblance to the
Scandinavian myths and poems. In its theory that magic power may be
obtained by "penitence,"--I do not mean here "repentance,"--that is by
self-inflicted pain, it agrees with the Hindoo, and in fact more or
less with all religions. But it is only, I believe, in the red Indian
and Hindoo creeds that it is distinctly admitted that man can attain
the power to do both good and evil, or whatever he pleases, if he will
only pay for it by suffering. The doctrine of power through penance is
so simple and obvious in its origin that it would long precede
monotheism. A man exercises himself with great exertion in lifting
stones, as in an Eskimo tale, till he is strong; he practices shooting
arrows and running after them, as in the story of the Chief's Son, till
he can outrun them. Then the secret of such marvelous deeds is supposed
to exist in the bow, and it becomes a fetich.
A very important part of _m'teoulin_ is the materials employed. In
Old World magic these are exclusively objects which startle or disgust,
parts of the human body, dead reptiles, or things singular and rare.
Among the Indians, very commonplace articles are employed indifferently
with those of the former kind. The magic consists not in them, but in
the magician and his methods. He has had, let us say, his dreams, or
received, while alone in the forest, his inspirations, which have told
him what to do. He takes the objects suggested, and with them performs
his wonder works. Sometimes he tells others to do the same with the
same things, but in this case he is still the motive force; it is
_his_ enchantment. In illustration of this I give the following
legend:--
Far in the woods was an Indian town; near it lived two old people, who
had two beautiful daughters, and no son. The girls were very shy. They
seldom let themselves be seen. They would not listen to the young men.
The chief of the tribe had a fine son, a great hunter, and skilled in
mysteries. [Footnote: In Passamaquoddy, _N'paowlin_: a man learned
in mysteries, a scholar. This is my own Indian name. It is apparently
the same with: _boo-oin_; that is, pow-wow man.] The young man
wanted one of the girls. His father went to their parents and obtained
their consent, but the girls refused to be married.
There lived in the village a young man who was neither strong,
handsome, nor clever at any kind of work. Hearing that the chief's son
had failed to get one of the shy or proud girls, he said--but all in
jest, for he had but a poor opinion of himself--that he was the right
kind of a man to get them. "If they had, for example, only seen
_me_, now," he exclaimed, "they would have wished to be married at
once!" Then they all laughed, and proposed that they should go that
night and try to see the girls, and how they would receive the plain
looking youth.
So they went quietly, about supper-time, and entered so suddenly that
the girls had not time to hide behind the curtain, and so were obliged
to receive the visitors. After supper they engaged in playing
_Mingwadokadjik_. In this game a ring is hidden in the ashes or
sand, and each player, with a pointed stick, makes a plunge until the
ring is hit, and brought out. (This is Indian _poker_.--T. B.)
So the evening passed, and nothing was said of marriage; and at last
the guests went away, and for some time the young man made a jest of
his having gone courting. One day he was far and alone in the woods,
when he met an old woman of very strange appearance. She was wrinkled
and bent with extreme age, and her head was braided up with a very
great number of _sakalobeek_, or hair-strings, which hung down to
her heels. After greeting him civilly, she asked him if he was really
anxious to marry one of the beauties whom he had visited. "O
_Nugumee_" (grandmother), he replied, "I do not care about it."
"Only if you did," she replied, "I can give you the one you want, if
you will only say so."
Now the young man saw that the old woman was in earnest, and he replied
that in fact he would be very glad to get one of the girls, but that no
girl worth having would look at him. Then the old dame, taking one of
her hair-strings, said, "Roll this up, and carry it in your pouch for a
while; [Footnote: One of the infallible ancient methods to make
anything into a fetich, or amulet, is to carry it a long time about the
person. Familiarity, as Heine observes (_Reisebilder_), gives a
silent life, or apparent sympathy, to even old clothes. Thus domestic
well-known objects become fairies, and thus they talk to children.] and
then go, and, catching an opportunity, toss the cord upon her back. But
take care that she does not know that you have done this, and let it be
indeed a secret to all."
So he took the _sakalobe_, and, visiting the girls once again,
threw it on one of them, more hopeful of success this time. And the
cast succeeded, though she said nothing then. But the next day, alone
in the woods, he met her, for she had followed him. And she said,
"_Tamealeen_?" "Where are you going?" "I am going hunting," he
replied. "But, if you have not lost your way, what are you doing here?"
"I am not lost in the woods," she replied, but said no more. Then he,
seeing how it was, said, "It would be better, though, if I returned
with you to your parents, and told them that I found you lost, and
showed you the way home." And having done this, the girl's father,
noting that she liked the young man, asked him if he wished to marry
her; and as both were willing, and something more, the wedding feast
was soon ready, the friends invited, and the couple settled down.
Some days after, the husband, seeing his wife wearing the magic
hair-string, asked her, "Where did you get that pretty _sakalobe_?"
"I found it," she replied, "in my _'ntuboonk_" (usual sitting place
in the wigwam). This caused the young man to reflect how kindly he had
been treated by the old fairy or witch, and how easily he, without any
merit, had won his wife, and then to think of the deserving young
chiefs son who had failed. So, taking him into the woods, they found
the old woman, who, kind as ever, did for the chief's son what she had
already done for his friend, and gave him also a magic hair-string. And
using it in the same way he in like manner won the other sister; and it
was indeed well, for she was the one whom he wanted most. And the two
men whose wives were sisters (_wechoosjik_), were on the best of
terms and much together.
Now the young chief reflected that his brother-in-law had been very
kind to him, for little cause, and thought how he could repay him. So
he asked him one day if he would like to be a swift runner. "Truly I
would," replied the other. "Then go and gather some feathers, and let
them blow when the wind is high, and chase them. You will soon be able
to outstrip the wind, and when the art comes it will never depart from
you." Then he did this, and became so swift that no man or beast could
escape him.
Yet again the chiefs son said, "Would you like to become strong and
very active?" And as he of course said "Yes," the friend replied,
"Dress yourself in the worst and raggedest garments, and attack the
first man you find. He will catch you by the clothes; but do you slip
out of them and run." This he did; the first man whom he met was a
lunatic, who gladly grappled for a fight. So he slipped out of the
clothes and ran; but the madman thought the apparel made the man, and
beat it a long time, and left it for dead. But after he had done this
with many men he indeed became strong and active.
Then the chief's son said, "I will teach you quickness of sight, so
that you may perceive animals while hunting, though other men may not.
Take a handful of moose's hairs; hold them firmly in a roll between
your thumb and finger; hold them up in a high wind and let them go. So
you will be able to perceive, in time, all the moose. And to see deer,
or any other animal, you must take their hair and treat it in the same
way." So he did; and by means of this magic became so keen of sight
that he beheld every beast.
Yet again the chief's son said, "Would you see birds where no other men
can?" And he, assenting, was told to strip the feathery part from a
bird's quills (_chekakadega_), and, blowing it into the air, look
carefully in the direction in which it flew. And having practiced this
also, he became very perfect in the art. [Footnote: The secret of these
spells is very apparent. But the teacher would make the pupil believe
that the successful result would greatly depend on the color and kind
of the fur or feathers employed. It is curious to observe how, in the
over-refinement of "sport" among gentlemen, the idea that this or that
is "good form" and "the correct thing," which _must_ be done, has
had the effect of establishing much which is mere fetich. A fox in
England and a bear in Canada must be killed in a certain way by men of
caste.]
Now, having learned all these things, he asked the chief's son how he
could learn to see the fishes of the sea. And being told that he must
collect all kinds of fishes' bones, and burn them and pound them to
dust, he did so; and, having blown them up into the wind, he could see
all manner of fish and call them to him.
This young man went afar in his thoughts; for reflecting that the
whales were giant-like in power, he wondered what might be done by
magic with them. And his friend said that it was true that the whales
could give to man unearthly power and exceeding long life. "For," said
he, "they never die till they are killed, and by their aid one may live
on till life borders on immortality." So burning a piece of whale-bone
(_pootup-awigun_), he pounded it to powder, and, standing on a
rock that jutted out into the sea, the sorcerer blew the dust seawards.
And erelong he saw dark spots far away, and as they grew to be more
numerous they became larger, and yet more numerous anon, and for every
grain of dust which he blew there came a whale; and yet he blew again
seven times. Then the whole school of immense creatures came towards
him; and he that was largest, or the sagamore of the whales, swimming
close to the man on the rock, said, "Why hast thou called me?" And he
replied, "Make me strong."
And the Whale answered, "It is well. Put thy hand in my mouth!" And,
doing this, he found and took out a golden key. [Footnote: This is a
manifestly modern addition. There is every indication that the story
itself is ancient, probably Eskimo.] "Keep that," said the Whale.
"While you have it you will be safe against man, beast, or illness. The
foe shall not harm you; the spirits which haunt the wilderness shall
pass you by; hunger and pain shall not know you; death shall not be in
your road."
So the young man thanked the great magician, and went home; and as it
had been promised it came to pass. All was ever well with him; trouble
and trial were with him no more. Those who were, in his village never
knew hunger; the wild game abounded, and came to them when called; no
enemy attacked them; the sun and moon smiled on them; they sang the
songs of the olden time, and played the flute in peace.
In time the old chief drew near the end of his life, and his son asked
the friend if his father's days could not be prolonged. But the
magician thought it best to let him pass in peace; and he did so. Then
the young chief offered his place and power to his brother-in-law
(_wechoosul_); but he refused it, and passed his, life in aiding
his friend in every way by his power and wisdom. _Kespeahdvoksit_
(here the story ends).
This legend is little more than an enumeration of the recipes popularly
employed to obtain certain powers. It may be observed that it is
limited to all that a real Indian requires. It is very different from
what a white man or an Asiatic savage would have wanted; and there is
just enough truth and common sense in the methods recommended to make
the whole plausible. The reader will observe that the magic hair-string
and locks of hair play the same important part in _m'teoulin_ that
they did in Old World magic. This is hardly one of the coincidences
which can be attributed to spontaneous development from similar causes.
It may be such, but there may be also an Eskimo sidegate through which
it entered from the other side.
Another magic means was the influencing high and mysterious powers. Of
this the following is an admirable illustration:--
_Tumilkoontaoo, or the Broken Wing._
(Micmac.)
An Indian family lived on the sea-shore. They had two sons; the eldest
of these was married, and had many small children. They lived by
fishing; they chiefly caught eels.
It came to pass that the weather was so stormy that they could not
fish. The wind blew terribly night and day; the waves were like dancing
hills. Hunger made them fierce. One day the father told his boys to
walk along the shore and see if no fish had been cast on the beach.
A young man went; he went far along; and as he went the wind was ever
worse; it blew so fiercely that he could hardly stand. It seemed to
come from a point of land. He resolved to pass it, and when there he
saw the cause of the tempest. Upon a _kwesopskeak'_--a high and
rocky ledge, a bold cliff, but surrounded by the water--sat the
Wind-Bird, or storm-sagamore himself, flapping his wings, and thereby
raising all the wind.
Then the young man, who was brave and wise, resolved to outwit the
wind-god. And approaching him and addressing him as _Nikskamich_,
"My grandfather," he inquired, "are you cold!" And he answered, "Nay;"
but the young man insisted that he must be suffering, and offered to
carry him on his back to the main-land. [Footnote: It would appear that
while the bird flapped his wings he did not fly. I believe this was the
same with the Norse Hrosvelgar.] And the offer being accepted, he
carried the mighty bird from one weedy, slippery rock to another, up
and down, jumping anon, and wading through the pools. But at the last
rock he, with full intention, stumbled and fell as if by accident, yet
managed it so well as to break one of the wings of the eagle, as he
indeed meant to do. Yet he made great show of being very sorry, and,
having set the wing, bade the bird keep quiet, and not move his wings
for many days; not till the wound was healed should he stir them. "Sit
still, _Nikskamich_," he said, "and I will bring you food; I will
be attentive; you shall want nothing." And the god sat still: there was
a calm on the water; no leaves moved in the forest; there was no wind
in all the world.
The young man went home; there was not a breeze, the canoe went
smoothly over the sea, the eels could be seen in the depths, the
Indians caught fish by thousands; never before had they caught so many.
And the sagamore of the birds sat still; the Wind-Bird waited to get
well; the young man fed him every day.
There can be too much of what is good; good turns to evil, sweet to
sour. After many days of quiet calm the sea was covered with
_Ogokpegeak_, a scum which is caused by sickness among the fish,
and which is thrown off by them, for they suffer in still water. Then
the fisherman can no longer look down into the sea; then he cannot use
the spear.
Then the young man, examining the wing of the storm-bird, said,
"Grandfather, it is much better; move it but a little now, that I may
see!" So he moved it; he gave a flap, and lo! a slight ripple passed
over the surface of the sleeping sea. And striking lightly with his
wings, again there came a breeze, and the _Ogokpegeak_, or the
scum, was blown away, and the Indians fished again, and all was well.
So they had the Wind-Bird for a friend, and the sea was smooth or
stormy as they willed. But these Indians wished for more than they
could manage. They grew tired of catching small fish; they wanted
whales. "Let us go and catch the Bootup!" said the elder brother. "How
will you take him?" asked the younger. "I will entice him with the
_peepoogwokan_," said the elder, "with my pipe." So he sat by the
sea; he played on the pipe; he played, but no whale came. So they went
back to their small fishery.
This is manifestly the beginning and end of a very ancient Indian mythical
tale. The Micmacs have tacked on to it a ridiculous fragment of an
indifferent French nursery tale, without an end and without any connection
with the Indian beginning. The tradition is probably entirely Eskimo.
Among the Greenlanders there is a caste of whale-fishers, separate and
apart, and this story, in its second stage, was applied to teach, _Ne
sutor ultra crepidam_,--that all should stick to their trades, and that
though a sorcerer might rule the winds it did not follow that he could win
the whales.
I have spoken before of the curious identity of the Indian storm-king,
or Wind-Bird, with that of the Norse Hrosvelgar. When among the
Chippewas, west of Lake Superior, I met with a white man who had
received the name of Thunder-Bird from the Indians still further west.
The magicians of all countries, be they of Africa, Asia, or North
America, are invariably represented by travelers as holding their flock
in subjection, and never being doubted as to power or skill. But there
are skeptics or Agnostics among the men of the woods as well as among
those of civilized cities. There are shrewd fellows who cannot only
detect impostors, but turn their tricks to their own advantage. An
amusing illustration of this is given in the following story:
_Fish-Hawk and Scapegrace_. [Footnote: Wiskumagwasoo and Mahgwis.
The Mahgwis, or "Scapegrace," is a kind of sea-gull.]
(Micmac.)
Two men met and talked: one was Fish-Hawk, the other was Scapegrace.
Now the Fish-Hawk can fly higher than any other ocean bird, and he is
proud and particular as to his food; he is only beaten by the eagle.
When he dives and takes a fish the eagle pursues him; he lets it drop;
the great sagamore of the birds catches it; but to less than the chief
he yields nothing. But the Scapegrace will eat anything he is heavy in
flying; he is slow and of low degree.
So when the Scapegrace proposed to the Fish-Hawk that they should
become partners the proud bird was angry in his heart, but said
nothing, as he was crafty, and as it occurred to him that he could
punish the other; and this he was the more willing to do because the
Scapegrace actually proposed to fly a race with him! So he said, "Let
us go together to a certain Indian village." And they went off
together.
The Fish-Hawk arrived there far before the other. And on arriving he
said, "Beware of him who will come after me. You will know him by these
signs: he is ugly and heavy; he will bring with him his own food. It is
coarse and common; in fact it is poison. He wishes to kill you; he will
offer it. Do not eat of it, or you will die."
Then having been very well entertained himself, he took his departure.
Scapegrace soon appeared, but was treated with great reserve. He
offered his food, and the people pretended to eat it, but took good
care to quietly throw it away. Then he told the chief that he was
seeking a wife, and asked if there were girls to marry in the town. To
which the chief replied, "Yes, there is a mother with several
daughters, of the _Amalchoogwech'_ or Raccoon tribe."
He went to see the girls. A bad name had gone before him. One of them
stood before the lodge. She saw him, and cried, "_Mahgwis
wechooveet_!" "Scapegrace is coming!" They received him as if he had
been Sickness. He was welcomed like filth on fine clothes. They cried
out, "_Ulummeye_!" "Go home!" He asked the mother if she had
daughters. She answered, "Yes." He asked her if she would give him one.
She replied, "I will not." So he went his way.
Now when he had gone Fish-Hawk came again, and asked if Scapegrace had
been there. He inquired if all had passed as he predicted. They said it
had. Then it occurred to him to pass himself off for a great prophet, a
wise magician, well knowing that he could make much of it. So he said,
"It is well. Remember that you would have all died but for my
foresight. That wizard would have poisoned you all. But have no fear.
In future I will watch over you."
Then, he said to a man of the people that if at any time he should see
a large bird flying over the village it would be an omen of great
coming danger. "Then," he said, "think of me; call on me, and I will
come." So he departed.
The man thought it all over for a long time. He was shrewd and wise.
"He foretold the coming of Scapegrace," he reflected. "Now he pretends
to be a very great sorcerer. We shall see!"
Sure enough, in a few days he saw a bird flying on high. "That," said
he, "must be the _Wis-kuma-gwasoo_." He called him, and he came.
"You spoke," he said, "of danger to our town. What is it?"
"There is great danger. In a few days your town will be attacked by a
Kookwes. [Footnote: In Passamaquoddy _Kewahqu'_, a cannibal giant,
who is also a sorcerer.] Unless you save yourselves you will all be
devoured."
"What shall we do to be saved?" asked the man. "When will he come?"
"In seven days," replied the Fish-Hawk. "Before that time you must take
to your canoes and flee afar. You may get beyond his reach, but you
cannot before that time get beyond the horrible roar of his voice. And
all who hear it will drop dead."
"How can we escape this second danger?" asked the man.
"You must all close your ears, so that you can hear nothing. When the
time is over you may return."
The man's name was Oscoon. [Footnote: Oscoon (M.): the Liver.] He led
the people away. He closed their ears; he did not close his own. Once
he heard-a far-away whoop. It was not very terrible. But he said
nothing. After a time, the scouts who were sent out returned. They
reported that the Kookwes had departed. They had not even seen him. It
was a great escape.
The people thought much of Oscoon. They made him their chief. In a few
days the Fish-Hawk returned. He spoke to Oscoon: "Did the giant come?"
"He did." "You escaped?" "By following your advice, we did." "And in
which direction did he go?" [Footnote: Here the Fish-Hawk inadvertently
betrays himself. In the Edda, Loki changes himself into a falcon and
flies to Jotunheim to make mischief, as usual. Odin also changes
himself to a hawk or eagle when he is chased by the giant Suttung.
There is a strong Norse color to all this tale. The Fish-Hawk is very
Loki-like and tricky.] "Surely you, who know so much about him, must
know that better than we do." Then the Fish-Hawk saw that he was found
out. He flew away, and never returned to the town to play the prophet.
He who would cheat must watch his words well.
As in the preceding tradition, there has been tacked to this a fragment
of a very poor French tale about a king, a great city, a royal
carriage, and the forest of wild beasts, borrowed from so many old
European romances. But what is here given is apparently really Indian,
and it shows with spirit and humor how men tricked one another and rose
in life by trickery, in the days of old.