INDIAN MYTHOLOGY.
The Indians consider the earth as their universal mother. They believe
that they were created within its bosom, where for a long time they had
their abode, before they came to live on its surface. They say that the
great, good, and all powerful Spirit, when he created them, undoubtedly
meant at a proper time to put them in the enjoyment of all the good
things which he had prepared for them upon the earth, but he wisely
ordained that their first stage of existence should be within it, as
the infant is formed and takes its first growth in the womb of its
natural mother. This fabulous account of the creation of man needs only
to be ascribed to the ancient Egyptians or to the Brahmins of India,
to be admired and extolled for the curious analogy which it observes
between the general and individual creation; but as it comes from the
American savage, I doubt whether it will even receive the humble praise
of ingenuity, to which, however, it appears to me to be justly entitled.
The Indian Mythologists are not agreed as to the form under which
they existed while in the bowels of the earth. Some assert that they
lived there in the human shape, while others, with greater consistency
contend that their existence was in the form of certain terrestrial
animals, such as the ground-hog, the rabbit, and the tortoise. This was
their state of preparation, until they were permitted to come out and
take their station on this island[202] as the Lords of the rest of the
Creation.
Among the Delawares, those of the _Minsi_, or Wolf tribe, say that
in the beginning, they dwelt in the earth under a lake, and were
fortunately extricated from this unpleasant abode by the discovery
which one of their men made of a hole, through which he ascended to
the surface; on which, as he was walking, he found a deer, which he
carried back with him into his subterraneous habitation; that there the
deer was killed,[203] and he and his companions found the meat so good,
that they unanimously determined to leave their dark abode, and remove
to a place where they could enjoy the light of heaven and have such
excellent game in abundance.
The other two tribes, the _Unamis_ or Tortoise, and the _Unalachtigos_
or Turkey, have much similar notions, but reject the story of the lake,
which seems peculiar to the Minsi tribe.
These notions must be very far extended among the Indians of North
America generally, since we find that they prevail also among the
Iroquois, a nation so opposed to the Delawares, as has been shewn in
the former parts of this work, and whose language is so different from
theirs, that not two words, perhaps, similar or even analogous of
signification may be found alike in both. On this subject I beg leave
to present an extract from the manuscript notes of the late Reverend
Christopher Pyrlæus, whom I am always fond of quoting with respect,
as he was a man of great truth, and besides well acquainted with the
Six Nations and their idioms.[204] The account that he here gives of
the traditions of that people concerning their original existence, was
taken down by him in January 1743, from the mouth of a respectable
Mohawk chief named _Sganarady_, who resided on the Mohawk river.
THE EXTRACT.
“_Traditio._--That they had dwelt in the earth where it was dark and
where no sun did shine. That though they followed hunting, they ate
mice, which they caught with their hands. That _Ganawagahha_ (one of
them) having accidentally found a hole to get out of the earth at, he
went out, and that in walking about on the earth he found a deer, which
he took back with him, and that both on account of the meat tasting
so very good, and the favourable description he had given them of the
country above and on the earth, their mother, concluded it best for
them all to come out; that accordingly they did so, and immediately set
about planting corn, &c. That, however, the _Nocharauorsul_, that is,
the _ground-hog_, would not come out, but had remained in the ground as
before.”
* * * * *
So far Mr. Pyrlæus. From these traditions of the Iroquois, and those
of the Delawares and Mohicans, it seems to follow that they must have
considered their numbers very small, when they dwelt in the earth;
perhaps, no more than one family of each tribe, and that the custom of
giving to their tribes the names of particular animals, must have been
very ancient. The _ground-hog_, say the Mohawks, would not come out.
But who was this hog? Might it not formerly have been the name of one
of their tribes, who was made the subject of this fable?
However ridiculous these stories are, the belief of the Indians in them
is not to be shaken. When I was a boy between twelve and fifteen years
of age, I had often heard of white people conversant with the Indians,
who at that time would continually come to this place, (Bethlehem) in
great numbers, even by hundreds, that the Indians did not eat rabbits,
because they thought them infected with the venereal disease, and that
whoever ate of their flesh, was sure to take that disorder. Being then
myself fond of catching those animals in traps, I asked questions on
this subject of several Mohican Indians, who spoke the German language;
but though they said nothing about the disease that rabbits were
said to be infected with, yet they advised me by no means to eat of
their flesh. They gave me no reason whatever to induce me to abstain
from this food; but afterwards, in the year 1762, when I resided at
Tuscorawas on the Muskingum, I was told by some of them, that there
were some animals which Indians did not eat, and among them were the
_rabbit_ and the _ground-hog_; for, said they, they did not know but
that they might be _related_ to them!
I found also that the Indians, for a similar reason, paid great respect
to the rattle-snake, whom they called their _grandfather_, and would
on no account destroy him. One day, as I was walking with an elderly
Indian on the banks of the Muskingum, I saw a large rattle-snake lying
across the path, which I was going to kill. The Indian immediately
forbade my doing so; “for,” said he, “the rattle-snake is grandfather
to the Indians, and is placed here on purpose to guard us, and to give
us notice of impending danger by his rattle, which is the same as if
he were to tell us ‘look about!’ Now,” added he, “if we were to kill
one of those, the others would soon know it, and the whole race would
rise upon us and bite us.” I observed to him that the white people were
not afraid of this; for they killed all the rattle-snakes that they
met with. On this he enquired whether any white man had been bitten by
these animals, and of course I answered in the affirmative. “No wonder,
then!” replied he, “you have to blame yourselves for that! you did as
much as declaring war against them, and you will find them in _your_
country, where they will not fail to make frequent incursions. They are
a very dangerous enemy; take care you do not irritate them in _our_
country; they and their grandchildren are on good terms, and neither
will hurt the other.”
These ancient notions have, however in a great measure died away with
the last generation, and the Indians at present kill their grandfather
the rattle-snake without ceremony, whenever they meet with him.
That the Indians, from the earliest times, considered themselves in a
manner connected with certain animals, is evident from various customs
still preserved among them, and from the names of those animals which
they have collectively, as well as individually, assumed. It might,
indeed, be supposed that those animals’ names which they have given
to their several tribes were mere badges of distinction, or “coats of
arms” as Pyrlæus calls them; but if we pay attention to the reasons
which they give for those denominations, the idea of a supposed family
connexion is easily discernible. The Tortoise, or as it is commonly
called, the _Turtle_ tribe, among the Lenape, claims a superiority
and ascendency over the others, because their _relation_, the great
Tortoise, a fabled monster, the Atlas of their mythology, bears
according to their traditions this great _island_ on his back, and also
because he is amphibious, and can live both on land and in the water,
which neither of the heads of the other tribes can do. The merits of
the _Turkey_, which gives its name to the second tribe, are that he is
stationary, and always remains with or about them. As to the _Wolf_,
after whom the third tribe is named, he is a rambler by nature, running
from one place to another in quest of his prey; yet they consider him
as their benefactor, as it was by his means that the Indians got out
of the interior of the earth. It was he, they believe, who by the
appointment of the Great Spirit, killed the deer whom the Monsey found
who first discovered the way to the surface of the earth, and which
allured them to come out of their damp and dark residence. For that
reason, the wolf is to be honoured, and his name preserved for ever
among them. Such are their traditions, as they were related to me by an
old man of this tribe more than fifty years ago.
These animals’ names, it is true, they all use as national badges, in
order to distinguish their tribes from each other at home and abroad.
In this point of view Mr. Pyrlæus was right in considering them as
“coats of arms.” The Turtle warrior draws either with a coal or paint
here and there on the trees along the war path, the whole animal
carrying a gun with the muzzle projecting forward, and if he leaves a
mark at the place where he has made a stroke on his enemy, it will be
the picture of a tortoise. Those of the Turkey tribe paint only one
foot of a turkey, and the Wolf tribe, sometimes a wolf at large with
one leg and foot raised up to serve as a hand, in which the animal also
carries a gun with the muzzle forward. They, however, do not generally
use the word “wolf,” when speaking of their tribe, but call themselves
_Pauk-sit_[205] which means _round-foot_, that animal having a round
foot like a dog.
The Indians, in their hours of leisure, paint their different marks or
badges on the doors of their respective houses, that those who pass by
may know to which tribe the inhabitants belong. Those marks also serve
them for signatures to treaties and other documents. They are as proud
of their origin from the tortoise, the turkey, and the wolf, as the
nobles of Europe are of their descent from the feudal barons of ancient
times, and when children spring from intermarriages between different
tribes, their genealogy is carefully preserved by tradition in the
family, that they may know to which tribe they belong.
I have often reflected on the curious connexion which appears to
subsist in the mind of an Indian between man and the brute creation,
and found much matter in it for curious observation. Although they
consider themselves superior to all other animals and are very proud of
that superiority; although they believe that the beasts of the forest,
the birds of the air, and the fishes of the waters, were created by
the Almighty Being for the use of man; yet it seems as if they ascribe
the difference between themselves and the brute kind, and the dominion
which they have over them, more to their superior bodily strength and
dexterity than to their immortal souls. All beings endowed by the
Creator with the power of volition and self-motion, they view in a
manner as a great society of which they are the head, whom they are
appointed, indeed, to govern, but between whom and themselves intimate
ties of connexion and relationship may exist, or at least did exist in
the beginning of time. They are, in fact, according to their opinions,
only the first among equals, the legitimate hereditary sovereigns of
the whole animated race, of which they are themselves a constituent
part. Hence, in their languages, these inflections of their nouns which
we call _genders_, are not, as with us, descriptive of the _masculine_
and _feminine_ species, but of the _animate_ and _inanimate_ kinds.
Indeed, they go so far as to include trees, and plants within the first
of these descriptions. All animated nature, in whatever degree, is in
their eyes a great whole, from which they have not yet ventured to
separate themselves. They do not exclude other animals from their world
of spirits, the place to which they expect to go after death.
I find it difficult to express myself clearly on this abstruse subject,
which, perhaps, the Indians themselves do not very well understand, as
they have no metaphysicians among them to analyse their vague notions,
and perhaps confuse them still more. But I can illustrate what I have
said by some characteristic anecdotes, with which I shall conclude this
chapter.
I have already observed[206] that the Indian includes all savage beasts
within the number of his _enemies_. This is by no means a metaphorical
or figurative expression, but is used in a literal sense, as will
appear from what I am going to relate.
A Delaware hunter once shot a huge bear and broke its back-bone. The
animal fell and set up a most plaintive cry, something like that of the
panther when he is hungry. The hunter instead of giving him another
shot, stood up close to him, and addressed him in these words: “Hark
ye! bear; you are a coward, and no warrior as you pretend to be. Were
you a warrior, you would shew it by your firmness and not cry and
whimper like an old woman. You know, bear, that our tribes are at war
with each other, and that yours was the aggressor.[207] You have found
the Indians too powerful for you, and you have gone sneaking about in
the woods, stealing their hogs; perhaps at this time you have hog’s
flesh in your belly. Had you conquered me, I would have borne it with
courage and died like a brave warrior; but you, bear, sit here and cry,
and disgrace your tribe by your cowardly conduct.” I was present at
the delivery of this curious invective; when the hunter had despatched
the bear, I asked him how he thought that poor animal could understand
what he said to it? “Oh!” said he in answer, “the bear understood me
very well; did you not observe how _ashamed_ he looked while I was
upbraiding him?”
Another time I witnessed a similar scene between the falls of the Ohio
and the river Wabash. A young white man, named _William Wells_,[208]
who had been when a boy taken prisoner by a tribe of the Wabash
Indians, by whom he was brought up, and had imbibed all their notions,
had so wounded a large bear that he could not move from the spot,
and the animal cried piteously like the one I have just mentioned.
The young man went up to him, and with seemingly great earnestness,
addressed him in the Wabash language, now and then giving him a slight
stroke on the nose with his ram-rod. I asked him, when he had done,
what he had been saying to this bear? “I have,” said he, “upbraided him
for acting the part of a coward; I told him that he knew the fortune of
war, that one or the other of us must have fallen; that it was his fate
to be conquered, and he ought to die like a man, like a hero, and not
like an old woman; that if the case had been reversed, and I had fallen
into the power of _my enemy_, I would not have disgraced my nation as
he did, but would have died with firmness and courage, as becomes a
true warrior.”
I leave the reader to reflect upon these anecdotes, which, I think,
convey more real information than any further attempts that I could
make to explain the strange notions which gave them rise.