constitutes the morality of magic. The old Shaman or Manitou regarded
witchcraft as wicked. The Roman Catholic has taught the Indian that all
sorceries and spells except his own are of the devil. Hence it came
that I got from two Passamaquoddy Indians, next-door neighbors, the
following opinions:--
_Tomah_.--"There was once a man who hated another. So he prayed
until he became a snake," etc.
_Another Indian_.--"If a man wanted to be _m'teoulin_ he must
go without food, or sleep, or saying his prayers, for seven days. Yes,
that certainly. He must go far into the woods. He must go again when
his power was used up."
The faith in and fondness for magic were so great among the Algonquins
that there is not one even of their most serious histories into which
it has not been introduced. The Passamaquoddies will narrate an
incident of their wars with the Mohawks. The first time it will all be
probable enough; but hear it again, when the story-teller has become
more trustful, and some of the actors in it or the scene will be sure
to end like a Christmas pantomime in fairy-land. With them
_m'teoulin_ covered everything; it entered into every detail of
life. I do not think that it was so deeply felt even by the ancient
Babylonians or the modern Arabs and Hindoos as by our red men. It is no
wonder they prefer the Catholic religion to the Protestant.
There is a Micmac legend which is so magical and mystical, so inspired
with Eskimo Shamanism, that it would not be remarkable if it had been
originally a sacred song. This is
_The Giant Magicians._
There was once a man and his wife who lived by the sea, far away from
other people. They had many children, and they were very poor. One day
this couple were in their canoe, far from land. There came up a dense
fog; they were quite lost.
They heard a noise as of paddles and voices. It drew nearer. They saw
dimly a monstrous canoe filled with giants, who greeted the little folk
like friends. "_Uch keen, tahmee wejeaok_?" "My little brother,"
said the leader, "where are you going?" "I am lost in the fog," said
the poor Indian, very sadly. "Ah, come with us to our camp," said the
giant, who seemed to be a good fellow, if there ever was one. "Truly,
ye will be well treated, my small friends, for my father is the chief;
so be of good cheer!" And they, being much amazed at this gentleness,
sat still in awe, while two of the giants, each putting a tip of his
paddle under their bark, lifted it up and put it into their own, as if
it had been a chip. And truly the giants seemed to be as much pleased
with the little folk as a boy would be who had found a flying squirrel.
[Footnote: A story like this of giants in a canoe would very naturally
originate about the Bay of Fundy, where, in the dense and frequent
fogs, all objects assume greatly exaggerated apparent dimensions. One
often beholds there, on the shore, "men as trees walking."]
And as they drew near the beach, lo! they beheld three wigwams, high as
mountains, in size according to that of the giants. And coming to meet
them was the chief, who was taller than the rest.
"Ha!" he cried. "Son, what have you there? Where did you pick up that
little brother?" "_Noo_, my father, I found him lost in the fog."
"Well, bring him home to the lodge, my son!" So the giant took the
small canoe in the palm of his hand, the man and his wife sitting
therein, and carried them home. Then they were taken into the wigwam,
and the canoe was laid carefully in the eaves, but within easy reach,
about a hundred and fifty yards from the ground.
Then an abundant meal was set before them, but the benevolent host,
mindful of their small size, did not give them more to eat than they
would have needed for about ten years to come, and informed them in a
subdued whisper, which could hardly have been heard a hundred miles
off, that his name was Oscoon. [Footnote: Mr. Rand suggests that this
may indicate the dark color of his tribe. Eskimo legends speak of
people among them who were black.]
Now it came to pass, a few days after, that a company of these well-grown
people went hunting, and when they returned the guests must needs pity
them that they had no game in their land which answered to their size;
for they came in with strings of such small affairs as two or three
dozen caribou hanging in their belts, as a Micmac would carry a string
of squirrels, and swinging one or two moose in their hands like rabbits.
Yet, what with these and many deer, bears, and beavers, they made up in
the weight of their game what it lacked in size, and of what they had
they were generous.
Now the giants became very fond of the small folk, and would not for
the world that they should in any way come to harm. And it came to pass
that one morning the chief told them that they were to have a grand
battle, since they expected in three days to be attacked by a Chenoo.
Therefore the Micmac saw that in all things it was even with the giants
as with his own people at home, they having their troubles with the
wicked, and the chiefs their share in being obliged to keep up their
magic and know all that was going on in the world. Yea, for he would be
a poor _powwow_ and a necromancer worth nothing who could not
foretell such a trifle as the day and hour when an enemy would be on
them!
But this time the Sakumow (M.), or sagamore, was forewarned, and bade
his little guests stop their ears and bind up their heads, and roll
themselves in many folds of dressed skins, lest they should hear the
deadly war-scream of the Chenoo. And with all their care they hardly
survived it; but the second scream hurt them less; and after the third
the chief came to them with a cheerful countenance, and bade them arise
and unpack themselves, for the monster was slain, and though his four
sons, with two other giants, had been sorely tried, yet they had
conquered.
But the sorrows of the good are never at an end, and so it was with
these honest giants, who were always being pestered with some kind of
scurvy knaves or others who would not leave them in peace. For anon the
chief announced that this time a Kookwes--a burly, beastly villain, not
two points better than his cousin the Chenoo--was coming to play at
rough murder with them. And, verily, by this time the Micmac began to
believe, without bating an ace on it, that all of these tall people
were like the wolves, who, meeting with nobody else, bite one another.
So they were bound and bundled up as before, and put to bed like dolls.
And again they heard the horrible shout, the moderate shout, and the
smaller shout, until _sooel moonoodooahdigool_, which, being
interpreted, meaneth that they hardly heard him at all.
Then the warriors, returning, gave proof that they had indeed done
something more than kick the wind, for they were covered with blood,
and their legs were stuck full of large pines, with here and there an
oak or hemlock, for the fight had been in a forest; so that they had
been as much troubled as men would be with thistles, nettles, and pine
splinters, which is truly often a great trouble. But this was their
least trial, for, as they told their chief, the enemy had well-nigh
made Jack Drum's entertainment for them, and led them the devil's
dance, had not one of them, by good luck, opened his eye for him with a
rock which drove it into his brain. And as it was, the chiefs youngest
son had been so mauled that, coming home, he fell dead just before his
father's door. Truly this might have been deemed almost an accident in
some families; but lo! what a good thing it is to have an enchanter in
the house, especially one who knows his business, as did the old chief,
who, going out, asked the young man why he was lying there. To which he
replying that it was because he was dead, his father bade him rise and
walk, which he did straight to the supper table, and ate none the less
for it.
Now the old chief, thinking that perhaps, his dear little people found
life dull and devoid of incident with him, asked them if they were
aweary of him. They, with golden truth indeed, answered that they had
never been so merry, but that they were anxious as to their children at
home. He answered that they were indeed right, and that the next
morning they might depart. So their canoe was reached down for them,
and packed full of the finest furs and best meat, when they were told
to _tebah'-dikw'_, or get in. Then a small dog was put in, and
this dog was solemnly charged that he should take the people home,
while the people were told to paddle in the direction in which the dog
should point. [Footnote: Strange as it may seem, there is not the least
exaggeration in this. Lieutenant-Colonel Barclay Kennan told me that
when surveying in the far North Pacific he had an Eskimo dog which, in
the thickest fog, would scent the land at a great distance, and
continually point to it.] And to the Micmac he said, "Seven years hence
you will be reminded of me." And then _tokooboosijik_ (off they
went). The man sat in the stern, his wife in the prow, and the dog in
the middle of the canoe. The dog pointed, the Indian paddled, the water
was smooth. They soon reached home; the children with joy ran to meet
them; the dog as joyfully ran to see the children, wagging his tail
with great glee, just as if he had been like any other dog, and not a
fairy. For, having made acquaintance, he without delay turned tail and
trotted off for home again, running over the ocean surface as if it had
been hard ice; which might, indeed, have once astonished the good man
and his wife, but they had of late days seen so many wonders that they
were past marveling.
Now this Indian, who had in the past been always poor, seemed to have
quite recovered from that complaint. When he let down his lines the
biggest fish bit; all his sprats were salmon; he prayed for goslings,
and got geese; moose were as mice to him now; yea, he had the best in
the land, with all the fatness thereof. So seven years passed away, and
then, as he slept, there came unto him divers dreams, and in them he
went back to the Land of the Giants, and saw all those who had been so
kind to him. And yet again he dreamed one night that he was standing by
his wigwam near the sea, and that a great whale swam up to him and
began to sing, and that the singing was the sweetest he had ever heard.
Then he remembered that the giant had told him he would think of him in
seven years; and it came clearly before him what it all meant, and that
he was erelong to have magical power given to him, and that he should
become a _Megumoowessoo_. This he told his wife, who, not being
learned in darksome lore, would fain know more nearly what kind of a
being he expected to be, and whether a spirit or a man, good or bad;
which was, indeed, not easy to explain, nor is it clearly set down in
the chronicles beyond this,--that, whatever it might be, it was all for
the best, and that there was a great deal of magic in it.
That day they saw a great shark cruising about in their bay, chasing
fish, and this they held for an evil omen. But, soon after, there came
trotting towards them over the sea the same small dog who had been
their pilot from the Land of the Giants. So he, full of joy, as before,
at seeing them and the children, wagged his tail and danced for glee,
and then looked earnestly at the man as if for some message. And to him
the man said, "It is well. In three years' time I will make you a
visit. I will look to the southwest." Then the dog licked the hands and
the ears and the eyes of the man, and went home as before over the sea,
running on the water.
And when the three years had passed the Indian entered his canoe, and,
paddling without fear, found his way to the Land of the Giants. He saw
the wigwams standing on the beach; the immense canoes were drawn up on
the water's edge; from afar he beheld the old giant coming down to
welcome him. But he was alone. And when he had been welcomed, and was
in the wigwam, he learned that all the sons were dead. They had died
three years before, when the shark, the great sorcerer, had been seen.
They had gone, and the old man had but lingered a little longer. They
had made the magic change, they had departed, and he would soon join
them _in his own kingdom_. But ere he went he would leave their
great inheritance, their magic, to the man.
Therewith the giant brought out his son's clothes, and bade the Indian
put them on. Truly this was as if he had been asked to clothe himself
with a great house, since the smallest fold in them would have been to
him as a cavern. But he stepped in, and as he did this he rose to great
size; he filled out the garments till they fitted; he was a giant, of
Giant-Land. With the clothes came the wisdom, the _m'teoulin_, the
_manitou_ power of the greatest and wisest of the olden time. He
was indeed _Megumoowessoo_, and had attained to the Mystery.
This very remarkable and evidently ancient tale is one of that kind
which the keepers of tribe chronicles among the pagan Indians do not
tell to the world, and which they conceal from white men. It is not a
fragment, nor is it unfinished, as some readers may suppose. Its plot
is of a much higher nature than a novel, which ends in a marriage. To
an Indian, whose ideas of earthly happiness were not in money, houses,
and lands, personal power was the one thing to be most desired. As a
Passamaquoddy said once to me, "To be rich in those days meant to be a
great hunter and always have plenty of meat for everybody." Hence the
desire to be great and strong, to be able to entice wild animals, to
run like the wind, to be crafty in all things, especially in making
war; hence to have prophetic dreams. All of this was to be attained by
_m'teoulin_, or magic. The highest ambition of an Indian was to
become a _Megumoowessoo_, a mystical being, which is explained
differently as fairy, faun, sylvan deity, but which means one who
enjoys all the highest privileges of humanity allied to the
supernatural. This is what the hero of this story gets by favor of the
giant.
It may be observed that in this tale the Indian cannot explain to his
wife what he nevertheless perfectly understands; that is, the exact
nature of a _Megumoowessoo_. The giant, by speaking of his own
kingdom, gives the true key of the whole mystery. He has attained magic
power so far as one can exercise it in this life. Like Glooskap he can
be, or unlike him prefers, to be habitually, a giant. He has battled
with the Chenoo and Kookwess; he has, like Hercules, fulfilled his
mission; and now he departs for his own realm, that of the
_Megumoowessoo_, as Arthur went to Fairy-Land, as Buddha to the
unknown Nirvana,--that is, to something beyond the conception of poet
or theosophist.
I suspect that the period of seven years, and again of three years, had
been employed by the Indian in preparing himself by penance for
_m'teoulin_. The respect of the Indians for the number
_seven_ is so remarkable, that if it be true that _Deus
imparibus numeris gaudet_, they are in that respect, at least, like
deities. Whenever _seven_ or a white bear's skin occurs in these
tales, there always lies hidden a magical mystery.
It is not the least remarkable feature of this tale that it abounds in
that quiet small humor which recalls the adventures of Captain Lemuel
Gulliver. The Indian, like, the Norseman, was such an _implicit_
believer in his own myths, and he had evolved them so entirely from
himself without borrowing,--since we may regard him as one in this
respect with the Eskimo,--that no human characteristic detracted from
the dignity of the Manitou.
There is a strong suggestion in this story that the giants were whales.
This and the incident of their inhabiting a mysterious country beyond
the sea and the fog would identify them with the enchanted land of the
Eskimo, visited by the Angakok in their trances, and by others in
_kayaks_. This country was named _Akilinek_, "a fabulous land
beyond the sea." The whole story of Malaise, the man who traveled to
Akilinek, is in every detail extremely like an Indian tale. (Rink, page
169.) It has also a Norse affinity. The land of the giants was supposed
by both Icelanders and Indians to be in the North Atlantic. There is a
Norse tale of a man changed to a whale which indicates a common origin
with the one here given.
It is believed that the _m'teoulin_ can, when speaking, make
themselves heard to whom they will, at any distance. They, can confer
with one another secretly when miles away, or make themselves known to
many. I was informed by an Indian in all faith that an old witch who
died in 1876, twelve miles from Pleasant Point, was heard to speak in
the latter place when at her last. A very intelligent Passamaquoddy
told me that when Osalik (Sarah) Hequin died he himself heard all she
said, though sixty-five miles distant. I am certain that he firmly
believed this. This woman died a strange death, for she was found
standing up, dead, in the snow, with her arms extended and "hands
sticking out." It is generally believed that she was killed by other
_m'teoulin_.
There are really very few ideas in modern mesmerism not known to Eskimo
or Indian Shamans. Clairvoyance is called by the Passamaquoddies
_Meelah bi give he_.
GLINT-WAH-GNOUR PES SAUSMOK.
N'loan pes-sans, mok glint ont-aven
Glint ont-aven, nosh mor-gun
N'loan sep-scess syne-duc
Mach-ak wah le-de-born harlo kirk
Pes-sauk-wa morgun pa-zazeu.
Dout-tu eowall, yu' eke ne-mess comall
Dow-dar bowsee des ge-che-ne-wes skump,
Na-havak dunko to-awk w'che-mon wh'oak
No-saw yu-well _Mooen_ nill
Mask da-ah gawank la me la-tak-a-dea-on
Di-wa godamr Kudunk-ah dea-on
Glor-ba dea-on glom-de-nec
Glint-wah-gnour pes sausmok.
THE SONG OF THE STARS.
We are the stars which sing,
We sing with our light;
We are the birds of fire,
We fly over the sky.
Our light is a voice;
We make a road for spirits,
For the spirits to pass over.
Among us are three hunters
Who chase a bear;
There never was a time
When they were not hunting.
We look down on the mountains.
This is the Song of the Stars.
"Ahboohe b'lo maryna Piel to-marcess"
We poual gee yuaa
Mar-yuon _cordect_ delo son
Ne morn-en nute magk med-agon
On-e-est Molly duse-al _ca-soo-son nen_.
Tumbling end over end, goes Piel to _mercess_,
With feathers on his eyes.
To the maple-sap ridge _we are going_,
Our lunch a cod-fish skin;
_One est_ Molly's daughter goes with us.