If my brother has seen the River of Fish, he will know that, at the
distance of a few moons' journey, below the rush of waters which the
white man calls the Falls of St. Anthony, but which the Indians call
the Island of Eagles[A], there is a beautiful lake, which the same
people have named Lake Pepin. It is a place so beautiful to behold,
that distant Indian nations have journeyed thither, and white people
come from the city of Strong Walls, to look at it and admire. On one
side lies the rapid Mississippi, now in foam, and now in eddies,
sweeping every thing thrown upon its current with the rapidity that a
man walks, and winding, in devious courses, among many islands, some
of which are covered with lofty trees, and some are but banks of sand.
On the other side lies the lake, which presents to the eye but a
smooth sheet of water, on which there is neither wave nor ripple, and
unchequered by a single island. As the eye passes along its sluggish
surface, it rests at length upon the lofty bluffs which enclose it.
One of these, a high projecting point, a precipitous crag resting upon
a steep bank, whose base is washed away by the never-ceasing action of
the waters, is called _The Maiden's Rock_. It is known to every Indian
in those regions, by a gloomy story of unfortunate love. It was the
scene of one of the most melancholy transactions that has ever
occurred among our people.
[Footnote A: See the Tradition _post_.]
There was once upon a time in the village of Keoxa, in the tribe of
Wapasha, a young Indian woman, whose name was Winona, which means "the
first-born." She was good and beautiful, and much beloved by all. She
had conceived a strong attachment to a young hunter of her nation, who
loved her as much as she loved him. They had frequently met, sometimes
in the shady coverts of the wood, at others beneath the river's banks,
but, according to the forms of Indian courtship, more frequently at
the side of her couch, when all the village were at rest. They had
confessed their love, and agreed to be united as soon as the consent
of her family could be obtained. But, when he asked her of her parents,
he was denied, and told that she was to become the wife of a warrior
of distinction, who had sued for her. The warrior was a great
favourite with the nation; he had acquired a distinguished name by
the services he had rendered the village when it was attacked by the
Chippewas; yet, notwithstanding all this, and the support which he
received from her parents and brothers, Winona persisted in preferring
the hunter. To all their loud commendations of the warrior, she
replied that she loved another better; that she had made choice of a
man, who, being a professed hunter, would spend his life with her, and
secure to her comfort and subsistence, plenty of food, and abundant
happiness: while the warrior would be constantly intent upon martial
exploits, exposing her, if she staid at home, to the evils of want and
hunger; if she accompanied him, to the dangers of defeat and death.
Winona's expostulations were, however, of no avail; and her parents,
having succeeded in driving away him she preferred to all the world,
began to use harsh measures in order to compel her to marry the man of
their choice. To all her entreaties that she might not be forced into
a union with a man she did not love, they turned a deaf ear--to all
her tears they were blind. She begged to be allowed to live a single
life, and to spend her days watching the sleep, and preventing the
cares, of her father and mother: they answered, No. Winona had at all
times enjoyed a greater share in the affections of her family, and had
been indulged more than is usual among Indian females. She had not
been obliged to join in the labours of the field, nor in the more
arduous of those within doors. She planted no corn, and the fire-wood
and the buffalo's meat were brought home on other shoulders than hers.
Being a favourite with her brothers, they expressed a wish that her
consent to this union should be obtained by persuasive means, rather
than that she should be compelled to it against her inclination. With
a view to remove some of her objections, they took means to provide
for her future maintenance, and presented to the warrior all that in
their simple mode of life an Indian might covet. They furnished his
cabin with the various implements used in Indian housewifery--the
skins to form the bed, the boiling pot, and the roasting spit. About
that time, a party was formed to ascend from the village to Lake
Pepin, in order to lay in a store of the blue clay which is found upon
its banks, and which is used by the Indians to adorn their persons. It
was on the very day that they visited the lake that her brothers made
their presents to the warrior. Encouraged by these fresh signs of
their approbation, and inflamed by the beauties of the charming Indian
girl, he again solicited her in the most passionate language to become
his wife, but with the same ill success. Vexed at what they deemed an
unjustifiable obstinacy on her part--for seldom does love among
Indians urge to lengthened opposition on the part of the female--her
parents remonstrated in strong language, and even used threats to
compel her to obedience. They spoke, as parents always do, who have in
view a husband to their liking, and care little for the peace and
happiness of a daughter, so they see her possessed of what they covet.
"Well," said Winona, "you will drive me to despair. I said I loved not
the man of your choice, the warrior covered with the blood of peaceable
women, and helpless children, and painted to resemble only those
hideous things we see in sleep. I said I could not live with him and
be his wife. I wished to remain a maiden--my father's daughter, and my
brothers' sister--but you will not let me; you wish me to become a
wife. You say you love me; that you are my father, my brothers, my
relations, yet you have driven from my arms, and would now drive from
my heart, the only man with whom I wish to be united--the only man I
ever loved. You have persecuted him with wrongs; you have reviled and
taunted him; you have compelled him to withdraw from the village.
Alone, he now ranges through the gloomy and lonely forests, with no
one to assist him, none to comfort him, none to spread his blanket,
none to build his lodge, none to pound his corn. Yet, he was the man
of my choice, the only beloved of my heart. Often have you taken me on
your knee, and smoothed down my hair, and kissed my cheek, and said
you loved me. Is this your love? But it appears that even this is not
enough; you would have me do more--you would have me rejoice in the
absence of my beautiful hunter. While yet his parting words are in my
ear, the light of his eyes in remembrance beaming on me, and his
tender promises all unforgotten, you wish me to unite with another
man, with one whom I do not love, whose image comes before me but to
make me weep and shudder. Since this is your love, let it be so; but
soon you will have no daughter, sister, or relation, to torment with
your false professions of friendship. I will go to the happy land of
souls, where I shall be free from your threats and reproaches."
As she uttered these words, the canoe touched the shore in the
immediate vicinity of the high precipitous crag of which a description
has been before given. Heedless of her complaints, and wearied out
with what they regarded as a most unreasonable repugnance, her parents
at the moment decreed that Winona should that very day be united to
the warrior. Her resolution was at once taken; it was such a one as
could have been adopted only in a moment of deep love and deep
despair. While all were engaged in busy preparations for the festival,
she wound her way slowly to the top of the hill which overlooked the
scene of their gay and mirthful doings. When she had reached the
summit, boldly approaching the edge of the precipice, she called out
with a loud voice to her friends below, upbraiding them with their
cruelty to herself and her lover, and thanking the Good Spirit that
had put it in her power to baffle their designs, and laugh at their
tyranny. "You," said she, "were not satisfied with opposing my union
with the man whom I had chosen; you endeavoured, by deceitful words,
to make me faithless to him; but when you found me resolved to remain
single, you dared to threaten me: you knew me not, if you thought that
I could be terrified into obedience. Now, you are preparing the bridal
feast, but you shall see how well I can defeat your designs." She then
commenced a plaintive song of death, which ran thus: