The days of Mishikinakwa, or the Little Turtle, were numbered, and the
signs made visible of his approaching dissolution. There had been
voices calling from the hills in the hour of the silent night, "Come,
Mishikinakwa! she waits for thee." The _Nant-e-na_, or little spirits,
which inhabit the earth, and the air, and the fire, and the water,
according to their different natures, had all been busy, proclaiming
the approaching translation of the chief from the troubles and
hardships of this world to the happiness and quiet of another and a
better. There were the rattling of their voices in the brook, and
their whisperings in the air, and their hissings in the fire and their
groanings in the earth. There were the falling of green leaves in the
hour of calm, and the whirl of dry ones in the wind, the hoot of the
grey owl on the ridge of his cabin, and the cry of the muckawiss in
the hollow woods. The _Hottuk Ishtohoollo_ or Holy People(1), with
their relations the _Nana Ishtohoollo_, proclaimed from the clouds
the threatened danger to the life of the warrior; while the _Nana
Ookproose_, or accursed beings, howled out the tidings from their
dwellings in the far west.
His years were not the years of an aged man; his hair was yet
unstained by the frost of tune, his eye yet flashed with the fire of
manhood, his step remained strong and steady. Yet, without hunger,
without want, without pain, without disease, without a wound, in the
prime of life, in the vigour of manhood, beloved by his friends, and
feared by his enemies, the pride of the Winnebagoes was seen fast
approaching the house of the dead.
None knew why, yet from one fatal day he was seen to droop, as a lily
bends before, a fervid sun. From one fatal day his joy forsook him,
and his eye became like a troubled water. His laugh had no more the
joyousness of his healthful hour; his step was no more light and
buoyant; food no more pleased his palate; sleep refreshed him no more.
They came and sang the war-song at the door of his cabin, and he
suffered them to depart without the answering shout. It was sung in
his ears, "The Potowatomies are in in our war-path," but he raised not
his head--"The Hurons have the scalp of thy brother's son," and no cry
of vengeance burst from his lips. Slowly and gradually he faded away,
and the time soon came that he could move no more from his bed of
soft grass, but lay in silent expectation of the sound of the voice
that calls the spirit home. It was while he was thus laid on the couch
of death that he called the tribe around him, and told them why peace
had departed from his soul, and why he waited anxiously the moment of
his release from the chains of the flesh.
"I launched my canoe," said he, "upon the lake which has given its
name to our nation, when the sun was getting low in the latter part of
the month of the blooming lilies. Stilness was abroad upon the face of
the waters, and the lake lay as calm as a babe rocked to sleep on the
breast of its mother. Not the slightest ripple broke upon its surface,
which was smooth as a field of ice frozen in a calm. Nothing marred
its beauty, save now and then a sportive fish gliding over its bosom,
or the swallow skimming along, catching the flies as they rose from
the quenching of their thirst. The brown eagle was wheeling in spiral
mazes towards his beloved sun, and I heard the chirping of the
grasshopper, and the hum of the bee, each carolling away in his
light-hearted labour. Afar lay the headlands, jutting into the lake,
and the precipitous cliffs which rise over the deeper portion of its
waters. Behind me were the smokes of the cabins of my people, and
before me the beautiful expanse of the unruffled lake.
"As I brushed my light bark along, I saw, standing on the water at a
distance from me, a very beautiful woman. My tongue has not the power
to paint the charms of this stately and bright-eyed creature. She was
tall, and as straight as a youthful fir, and her eyes shone with such
brilliancy, that you could not endure to look upon them, any more than
upon the sun, but turned away to contemplate other objects. She was
clothed in a garment which glittered in the sun like the sparkling
sand of the Spirits' Island[A], and her locks, which were yellow as
the beams of that sun falling upon the folds of a cloud, flowed down
her beautiful form till they swept the surface of the waters. Filled
with sudden love for this beautiful creature, and anxious to secure
her to myself, I spread the blanket of friendship to the wind[B], and
paddled my canoe towards her. As I came near her, I could perceive a
strange alteration in her appearance. Her shape gradually altered, her
arms imperceptibly disappeared, her complexion assumed a different
hue, her cheek no more glowed with life, her eyes had lost their
brilliancy, her before glittering locks glittered no longer, and, when
I came to the spot where she stood, I found only a shapeless monument
of stone, having a human face and the fins and tail of a fish. For a
long time I sat in amazement and uncertainly of purpose, fearing
either to approach nearer, or to speak to the once loved, but now
fearful object. At length, having made an offering of tobacco to
propitiate the spirit, and deprecated its wrath for having dared to
love it, I addressed it in these words:
[Footnote A: See note, vol. i. page 59.]
[Footnote B: See note, vol. i. page 253.]
"'Spirit, that wast beautiful but now, and hast only become divested of
thy unequalled brilliancy because a poor mortal approaches thee!
guardian spirit of our nation! messenger to myself from the Great
Spirit! or whatever other name thou bearest, tell me why thou art
changed. Why has thy form, but now straight as the fir and scarcely
less tall, become crooked and misshapen, and no higher than the oak of
two summers? why has thine eye, but now so bright that my own were
pained by its brilliance, faded, and become of the lack-lustre colour
of stone? And thy garments, which glittered like the folds of a cloud
tinged by the beams of the setting sun--why have they partaken of the
change? And thy locks, which were yellow and shining as the sparkling
sand of the Spirits' Island, why have they become of the hue of the
brown moth? Is it because I dared to think thee beautiful--because my
heart dared to feel for thee the flame of sudden love! If thine anger
hath been aroused at my presumption, forgive me, so thou wearest again
the beautiful form that was thine when I first saw thee.'
"Having addressed the beautiful spirit thus, I paused for her reply.
It came in tones soft and sweet as the wind of summer lightly sweeping
the bosom of a prairie, and these were the words which belonged to
them:
"'Mishikinakwa, it is not hatred of thee that makes me refuse to be
seen by thee save at a distance, it is not hatred of thee which makes
me refuse to re-animate that mass of stone and re-shape it to the
proportions thou didst say were so beautiful. Oh no! I have seen thee
before, chief of the Winnebagoes, and spirit as I am, have beheld thee
with the eyes of love. But the beings which are not of clay are not
allowed to associate with flesh and blood. I permitted thee a distant
view of my face and form, that if thou thoughtest them worth the pains
of death, thou mightst encounter those pains, and thy spirit, divested
of its fleshly form, might fly to the arms of thy Light of the Shades,
and rove with her through the valley of endless bliss. Choose, then,
between me, and a longer stay upon earth--between the pains of a life
which must be assailed by woes and sorrows, by continual storm, angry
winter, parching thirst, pinching hunger, and chilling nakedness, and
the joys which will attend thee when thou art clasped in the arms of
her thou lovest, and who will return thy love with equal ardour.
Unlike the maidens of the earth, my charms can never fade; never, like
theirs, can my love be turned into hatred, or my heart grow cold, or
my eyes cease to regard the beloved object with favour. Loving on
through all changes, and loving on for ever, thy mind cannot fancy
half the bliss which will be thine--mine--ours--if thou darest to
die.'
"She ceased speaking, but my pleased ears remained listening long
after her gentle voice had died away. And the delighted breeze softly
returned from the calm and transparent waters, and the spirit of the
echo gently repeated from the neighbouring hills, 'Unlike the maidens
of the earth, my charms can never fade; never like theirs can my love
be turned into hatred, or my heart grow cold, or my eyes cease to
regard the beloved object with favour. Loving on through all changes,
and loving on _for ever_, thy mind cannot fancy half the bliss which
will be thine--mine--ours--if thou darest to die.
'Come to me, lover, come!
I'll wait thy death,
In the evening's breath,
On the brow of the mountain,
That shadows the fountain,
Come, my lover, come!
'Come to me, lover, come!
Again will I wear
Bright gold in my hair,
And my eyes shall be bright
As the beam of light.
Come, my lover, come!
'Come quick, my lover, come!
And thou shall be prest
To a faithful breast,
And thou shalt be led
To a bridal bed.
Mishikinakwa, come!'
"Thus called to the shades of happiness by so bright, and beautiful,
and beloved, a being, how can I remain on the earth? Since that moment
I have wished much to die; every day have I asked the Master of Life
to take from me the breath he has given, and permit me to go to the
land that holds the spirit of my affianced wife. I loathe the vile
chain which binds me from her; I hate all the things I see, for they
are all less beautiful than she; and all sounds pain mine ear, for is
it not filled with her voice, a hundred times sweeter than aught ever
heard on earth? Ha! her voice again! She calls me to her arms! She
bids me come and drink of the crystal streams in the land of souls;
she bids me come and chase with her the fawn and the kid, to bring her
berries from the hills, and flowers from the vales, and to brush with
our mingled footsteps, in early morning, the dew from the glades, and
to blend in early evening the music of our lips, and the breath of our
sighs, by the sides of the grass-wrapt fountain. She bids me come, and
be clasped to a faithful breast, and called to a bridal bed. I come,
beautiful spirit, to the appointed spot,
To the brow of the mountain,
That shadows the fountain.
Put then the bright gold in thy rolling locks, and let thine eyes
shine as when I first saw thee. Be again as straight as the young fir,
and array thyself in the garment which glittered like the sands of the
Spirits' Island."
With a convulsive start, the warrior raised himself upon his couch to
an upright posture. Gazing wildly around for a moment, he threw his
arms forward, shouting "I come, beloved, I come!" and then falling
back he lay a lifeless corpse. And so died Mishikinakwa, the Little
Turtle of the Winnebagoes, of love for a phantom woman.
Note.
(1) _The Hottuk Ishtohoollo, or Holy People._--p. 273.
Almost every hill and cavern has, in the eye of the Indian, its
tutelary deity. The tradition entitled "The Mountain of Little
Spirits" is one which paints a genuine belief.
Adair, in his History of the North American Indians, says, "They (viz.
the Cherokees, Creeks, Choctaws, &c.) believe the higher regions to be
inhabited by good spirits, whom they call _Hottuk Ishtohoollo_, and
_Nana Ishtohoollo_, 'Holy People,' and relations to the 'Great Holy
One?' The _Hottuk Ookproose_, or _Nana Ookproose_, 'accursed people,'
or 'accursed beings,' they say possess the dark regions of the West;
the former attend and favour the virtuous; and the latter in like
manner accompany and have power over the vicious. Several warriors
have told me," he says, "that their _Nana Ishtohoollo_, 'concomitant
Holy Spirits,' or angels, have forewarned them, as by intuition, of a
dangerous ambuscade, which must have been attended with certain death,
when they were alone and seemingly out of danger; and, by virtue of
the impulse, they immediately darted off, and with extreme difficulty
escaped the crafty, pursuing enemy."
All the Northern Indians are very superstitious with respect to the
existence of fairies. One of their tribes, the Chepewyans, speak of a
race whom they call _Nant-e-na_, whom they say they frequently see,
and who are supposed by them to inhabit the different elements of
earth, sea, and air, according to their several qualities. To one or
the other of these fairies they usually attribute any change in their
circumstances either for better or worse; and, as they are led into
this way of thinking entirely by the art of the conjurors, there is no
such thing as any general mode of belief; for those jugglers differ so
much from each other in their accounts of these beings, that those who
believe any thing they say have little to do but change their opinions
according to the will and caprice of the conjuror, who is almost daily
relating some new whim or extraordinary event.
Every thing which is not easily understood is a spirit. Among the
Creek Indians the Whip-poor-will is a spirit; the Jack o' Lantern is
the same: and, with regard to the latter, they agree with the remnant
of the Massachusett Indians, who believe it is the shape which the
Evil Spirit takes in his visits to the sons of men. An old Indian
woman, who lived some time as a domestic in my father's family, and
was possessed of all the genuine traits of Indian character, was
nearly thrown into convulsions by being caught a few rods from the
house when one of these meteors made its appearance.
Tonti, in his account of De la Salle's Expedition, says: "They are so
extravagant as to believe that every thing in the world has a spirit.
It is upon this principle that are grounded all the foolish
superstitions of their jugglers or Manitous, who are their priests or
magicians."