arrow-heads, earthen pots, and skin clothes. Their fish-nets are
represented as being made of the bark of trees. No mention is made of a
blanket, gun, knife, or any metallic instrument; we do not hear of their
cutting down trees, except in a single instance, yet there is nothing to
indicate that their economical labours were not well performed. _Au_ is
an original, causitive particle, and appears to be the root of a
numerous class of words, sometimes with, and sometimes without a
consonant added. _Aukee_ is earth, and may be, but is rather too remote
for a derivative from [**Hebrew]. By adding _k_ to this root the term is
made specific, and denotes an earthen pot or kettle. _Aubik_ is the
radix for metal, ore, rock. By prefixing the particle _Pe_, we have the
name for iron, _Misk_ for copper, and so forth; but as euphony requires,
in forming compounds, that two vowels should not come together, the
sound of _w_ is interposed in these particular instances. _Gunzh_ is the
radix for plant; _Tig_ for tree; _Asee_ for animal, &c.; and either by
suffixing or prefixing syllabical increments, the terminology of the
three great departments of nature is formed. The terms of consanguinity
are derived from _Ai_, a heart, hence _Si-ai_, elder brother,
_Sheem-ai_, younger brother, or younger sister, &c. _Konaus_, a loose
wrapper, is the most ancient and generic term for a garment which has
been found. The principal female garment, leggon, &c., are derivatives
from it. _Muttataus_, a beaver robe, is from the same root. _Wyaun_, a
furred skin, and _Waigin_, a dressed skin, appear to form the bases of
the nomenclature for the Indian wardrobe. Blanket is a modern term,
meaning white furred skin. Woollen cloth took the name of dressed skin,
and its various colours and qualities are indicated by adjective
prefixes. Calicoes or printed cottons are named from a generic, meaning
speckled or spotted. All these are modern terms, as modern as those for
a horse, a sheep, or a hog, and, like the latter, are descriptive and
polysyllabic. Tobacco and the zea mays, both indigenous productions, are
mentioned. The latter is the subject of a simple allegoric tale.
These particulars may suffice to indicate the importance of etymological
analysis in examining the antiquity of the tales. Narrations of a later
era are denoted by the introduction of the modern compounds, such as
their names for the domestic animals of Europe, a gun, a rifle, a ship,
a spyglass, compass, watch, hat, &c. The bow and arrow, club and lance,
are the only species of arms actually described as in use, except in a
single instance, and this tale is manifestly an interpolated version of
an ancient story. The father of the winds makes battle with a huge
flagroot, and the king of reptiles is shot with a dart.
Geographical terms and allusions to the climate supply another branch of
comparison. Some of the grand features of the country are referred to by
their modern Indian names, but this is nearly restricted to what may be
termed the historical legends. There are frequent allusions to the
Northern hemisphere. Snow, ice, and lakes are referred to. Warm
latitudes are once or twice mentioned, and the allusions are coupled
with admonitions against the danger of corrupt and effeminate manners
and habits.
Astronomy and cosmogony constitute subjects of frequent notice; and this
might naturally be expected from a people who are quick in their
perceptions of external nature, and pass a large share of their time
under the open sky. The phenomena of thunder, lightning, the aurora
borealis, meteors, the rainbow, the galaxy of the milky way, the morning
and evening stars, and the more prominent groups of the fixed and minor
stars, are specifically named and noticed. The cardinal points are
accurately distinguished. They entertain the semi-ancient theory that
the earth is spheroidal, and the sun and moon perform their circuits
round it. The visiters to these luminaries, described in the text,
personify the former as a male and the latter as a female, under the
idea of brother and sister. We are left to infer, from another passage,
that they believe the sky revolves. Nothing, however, in the "open
firmament," is a subject of more constant and minute observation, and a
more complex terminology, than the clouds. Their colour, shape,
transparency or obscurity, movements, and relative position to the sun
and to each other, constitute objects of minute notice and deep
importance. A large proportion of the names of individuals in the Algic
tribes is drawn from this fruitful source of Indian observation. The
Great Spirit is invariably located in the sky, and the Evil Spirit, and
the train of minor malignant Spirits, in the earth. Their notions of the
position of seas and continents are altogether vague and confused. Nor
has it been observed that they have any knowledge of volcanic action.
The idea of a universal deluge appears to be equally entertained by the
tribes of North and South America.[9] The Algics certainly have it
incorporated in their traditionary tales, and I have found the belief in
these traditions the most firmly seated among the bands the farthest
removed from the advances of civilization and Christianity.
It is the mythology, however, of these tribes which affords the deepest
insight into their character, and unfolds, perhaps, some of the clearest
coincidences with Oriental rites and opinions. Were the terms Baalim and
Magii introduced into the descriptions of their worship, instead of
Manito and Meeta, this coincidence would be very apparent. Medical magic
spread the charms of its delusion over the semi-barbaric tribes who, at
a very early epoch, spread from the Persian and the Arabian Gulfs to the
Mediterranean; and it would not be a light task to find branches of the
human race who are more completely characterized by its doctrines and
practices than the wide-spreading members of the Algic stock of this
Continent. Their prophets, jugglers, and meetays occupy the same
relative importance in the political scale. They advise the movement of
armies, and foretell the decrees of fate to individuals. They interpret
dreams, affect the performance of miraculous cures, and preside over the
most sacred rites. Oracles alike to chiefs and kings, warriors and
hunters, nothing can be accomplished without their aid, and it would be
presumptuous and impious to attempt anything, in war or peace, which
they had decreed to be wrong. But our more immediate object is the class
of oral fictions among the Western tribes, and for the growth and
development of which their peculiar belief in the doctrine of spirits
and magicians has furnished so wide a field. Come from what quarter of
the world they may, the propensity to amusing and serio-comic fiction
appears to have been brought with them. What traits, if any, of the
original threadwork of foreign story remain, it would be premature, in
the present state of these collections, to decide. The character and
incidents of the narrations are adapted to the condition they are now
in, as well as the position they now occupy. There is, it is true, a
spirit of reminiscence apparent which pleases itself in allusions to the
past; they speak of a sort of golden age, when all things were better
with them than they now are; when they had better laws and leaders; when
crimes were more promptly punished; when their language was spoken with
greater purity, and their manners were freer from barbarism. But all
this seems to flit through the Indian mind as a dream, and furnishes him
rather the source of a pleasing secret retrospection than any spring to
present and future exertions. He pines away as one that is fallen, and
despairs to rise. He does not seem to open his eyes on the prospect of
civilization and mental exaltation held up before him, as one to whom
the scene is new or attractive. These scenes have been pictured before
him by teachers and philanthropists for more than two centuries; but
there has been nothing in them to arouse and inspire him to press onward
in the career of prospective civilization and refinement. He has rather
turned away with the air of one to whom all things "new" were "old," and
chosen emphatically to re-embrace his woods, his wigwam, and his canoe.
Perhaps the trait that was least to have been anticipated in the tales
is the moral often conveyed by them. But, on reflection, this is in
accordance with the Indian maxim, which literally requires "an eye for
eye, and a tooth for a tooth." And the more closely this feature of
poetic justice is scrutinized, the more striking does it appear.
Cruelty, murder, and sorcery are eventually punished, although the
individual escapes for the time and his career may be long drawn out.
Domestic infidelity meets the award of death in the only instance
narrated. Religious vows are held inviolate. Respect for parents and for
age, fraternal affection, hospitality, bravery, self-denial, endurance
under fatigue or suffering, and disinterestedness, are uniformly
inculcated. Presumption and pride are rebuked, and warnings given
against the allurements of luxury and its concomitant vices. With a
people who look back to some ancient and indefinite period in their
history as an age of glory, an adherence to primitive manners and
customs naturally occupies the place of virtue. The stories are
generally so constructed as to hold up to admiration a bold and
independent spirit of enterprise and adventure. Most of their heroes are
drawn from retired or obscure places, and from abject circumstances.
Success is seen to crown the efforts of precocious boys, orphans, or
castaways. But whatever success is had, it is always through the
instrumentality of the spirits or Manitoes--the true deities worshipped
by all the Algic tribes.
The legend of Manabozho reveals, perhaps, the idea of an incarnation. He
is the great spirit-man of northern mythology. The conception of the
character reveals rather a monstrosity than a deity, displaying in
strong colours far more of the dark and incoherent acts of a spirit of
carnality than the benevolent deeds of a god. His birth is shrouded in
allegoric mystery. He is made to combine all that is brave, warlike,
strong, wise, and great in Indian conception, both of mortal and
immortal. He conquers the greatest magician, overcomes fiery serpents,
and engages in combats and performs exploits the most extravagant. He
has no small share in the Adamic-like labour of naming the animals. He
destroys the king of the reptile creation, is drawn into the mouth of a
gigantic fish with his canoe, survives a flood by climbing a tree, and
recreates the earth from a morsel of ground brought up in the paws of a
muskrat. In contrast with these high exploits, he goes about playing low
tricks, marries a wife, travels the earth, makes use of low subterfuges,
is often in want of food, and, after being tricked and laughed at, is at
one time made to covet the ability of a woodpecker, and at another
outdone by the simple skill of a child. The great points in which he is
exultingly set forth in the story-telling circle, are his great personal
strength, readiness of resource, and strong powers of necromancy.
Whatever other parts he is made to play, it is the Indian Hercules,
Samson, or Proteus that is prominently held up to admiration. It is
perhaps natural that rude nations in every part of the world should
invent some such mythological existence as the Indian Manabozho, to
concentrate their prime exploits upon; for it is the maxim of such
nations that "the race _is_ always to the swift, and the battle to the
strong."
In closing these remarks, it will not be irrelevant to notice the
evidence of the vernacular character and antiquity of the tales, which
is furnished by the Pontiac manuscript, preserved in the collections of
the Historical Society of Michigan. By this document, which is of the
date of 1763, it is shown that this shrewd and talented leader of the
Algic tribes, after he had formed the plan of driving the Saxon race
from the Continent, appealed to the mythologic belief of the tribes to
bring them into his views. It was the Wyandots whom he found it the
hardest to convert; and in the general council which he held with the
Western chiefs, he narrated before them a tale of a Delaware magician,
which is admirably adapted in its incidents to the object he had in
view, and affords proof of his foresight and powers of invention. It is
deemed of further interest in this connexion, as carrying back the
existence of the tales and fables to a period anterior to the final fall
of the French power in the Canadas, reaching to within a fraction more
than sixty years of their establishment at Detroit.[10] While, however,
the authenticity of this curious politico-mythologic tale is undisputed,
the names and allusions would show it to be of the modern class of
Indian fictions, were not the fact historically known. The importance of
this testimony, in the absence of any notice of this trait in the
earlier writers, has induced me to submit a literal translation of the
tale, from the original French MS., executed by Professor Fasquelle.
FOOTNOTES:
[8] Some specimens of these tales were published in my "Travels in the
Central Portions of the Mississippi Valley" in 1825, and a "Narrative of
the Expedition to Itasca Lake" in 1834, and a few of them have been
exhibited to literary friends, who have noticed the subject. Vide Dr.
Gilman's "Life on the Lakes," and Mrs. Jameson's "Winter Studies and
Summer Rambles," received at the moment these sheets are going through
the press.
[9] Humboldt found it among the traditions of the Auricanians.
[10] Although Quebec was taken in 1759, the Indians did not acquiesce in
the transference of power, in the upper lakes, till the _raising of the
siege_ of Detroit in 1763. This is the true period of the Pontiac war.
NOTE.
The materials of these tales and legends have been derived from the
aborigines, and interpreted from their languages by various individuals,
among whom it is deemed important to name the following: Mrs. Henry R.
Schoolcraft, Mr. William Johnston, of Mackinac; Mrs. James Lawrence
Schoolcraft, Henry Connor, Esq., of Detroit; Mrs. [Rev.] William
M'Murray, of Dundas, George C. Martin, of Amherstburg, U. Canada; Mrs.
La Chapelle, of Prairie du Chien; Mr. John Quinney, Stockbridge Reserve,
Wisconsin; John H. Kinzie, Esq., of Chicago; Miss Eleanor Bailly, of
Konamik, Illinois; Mr. George Johnston, Miss Mary Holiday, of Sault Ste.
Marie, Michigan. These persons are well versed in the respective tongues
from which they have given translations; and being residents of the
places indicated, a reference to them for the authenticity of the
materials is thus brought within the means of all who desire it.
It is also deemed proper to refer, in this connexion, to Gen. Cass,
American Minister at Paris, and to C. C. Trowbridge, Esq., of Detroit,
and James D. Doty, Esq., Green Bay, whose inquiries have been, at my
instance, respectively directed to this new feature in the oral
traditions of the Indians.
New-York, January 31, 1839.
OJEEG ANNUNG;[11]
OR,
THE SUMMER-MAKER.
AN ODJIBWA TALE.[12]
There lived a celebrated hunter on the southern shores of Lake Superior,
who was considered a Manito by some, for there was nothing but what he
could accomplish. He lived off the path, in a wild, lonesome place, with
a wife whom he loved, and they were blessed with a son, who had attained
his thirteenth year. The hunter's name was Ojeeg, or the Fisher, which
is the name of an expert, sprightly little animal common to the region.
He was so successful in the chase, that he seldom returned without
bringing his wife and son a plentiful supply of venison, or other
dainties of the woods. As hunting formed his constant occupation, his
son began early to emulate his father in the same employment, and would
take his bow and arrows, and exert his skill in trying to kill birds and
squirrels. The greatest impediment he met with, was the coldness and
severity of the climate. He often returned home, his little fingers
benumbed with cold, and crying with vexation at his disappointment.
Days, and months, and years passed away, but still the same perpetual
depth of snow was seen, covering all the country as with a white cloak.
One day, after a fruitless trial of his forest skill, the little boy was
returning homeward with a heavy heart, when he saw a small red squirrel
gnawing the top of a pine bur. He had approached within a proper
distance to shoot, when the squirrel sat up on its hind legs and thus
addressed him:
"My grandchild, put up your arrows, and listen to what I have to tell
you." The boy complied rather reluctantly, when the squirrel continued:
"My son, I see you pass frequently, with your fingers benumbed with
cold, and crying with vexation for not having killed any birds. Now, if
you will follow my advice, we will see if you cannot accomplish your
wishes. If you will strictly pursue my advice, we will have perpetual
summer, and you will then have the pleasure of killing as many birds as
you please; and I will also have something to eat, as I am now myself on
the point of starvation.
"Listen to me. As soon as you get home you must commence crying. You
must throw away your bow and arrows in discontent. If your mother asks
you what is the matter, you must not answer her, but continue crying and
sobbing. If she offers you anything to eat, you must push it away with
apparent discontent, and continue crying. In the evening, when your
father returns from hunting, he will inquire of your mother what is the
matter with you. She will answer that you came home crying, and would
not so much as mention the cause to her. All this while you must not
leave off sobbing. At last your father will say, 'My son, why is this
unnecessary grief? Tell me the cause. You know I am a spirit, and that
nothing is impossible for me to perform.' You must then answer him, and
say that you are sorry to see the snow continually on the ground, and
ask him if he could not cause it to melt, so that we might have
perpetual summer. Say it in a supplicating way, and tell him this is the
cause of your grief. Your father will reply, 'It is very hard to
accomplish your request, but for your sake, and for my love for you, I
will use my utmost endeavours.' He will tell you to be still, and cease
crying. He will try to bring summer with all its loveliness. You must
then be quiet, and eat that which is set before you."
The squirrel ceased. The boy promised obedience to his advice, and
departed. When he reached home, he did as he had been instructed, and
all was exactly fulfilled, as it had been predicted by the squirrel.
Ojeeg told him that it was a great undertaking. He must first make a
feast, and invite some of his friends to accompany him on a journey.
Next day he had a bear roasted whole. All who had been invited to the
feast came punctually to the appointment. There were the Otter, Beaver,
Lynx, Badger, and Wolverine. After the feast, they arranged it among
themselves to set out on the contemplated journey in three days. When
the time arrived, the Fisher took leave of his wife and son, as he
foresaw that it was for the last time. He and his companions travelled
in company day after day, meeting with nothing but the ordinary
incidents. On the twentieth day they arrived at the foot of a high
mountain, where they saw the tracks of some person who had recently
killed an animal, which they knew by the blood that marked the way. The
Fisher told his friends that they ought to follow the track, and see if
they could not procure something to eat. They followed it for some
time; at last they arrived at a lodge, which had been hidden from their
view by a hollow in the mountain. Ojeeg told his friends to be very
sedate, and not to laugh on any account. The first object that they saw
was a man standing at the door of the lodge, but of so deformed a shape
that they could not possibly make out who or what sort of a man it could
be. His head was enormously large; he had such a queer set of teeth, and
no arms. They wondered how he could kill animals. But the secret was
soon revealed. He was a great Manito. He invited them to pass the night,
to which they consented.
He boiled his meat in a hollow vessel made of wood, and took it out of
this singular kettle in some way unknown to his guests. He carefully
gave each their portion to eat, but made so many odd movements that the
Otter could not refrain from laughing, for he is the only one who is
spoken of as a jester. The Manito looked at him with a terrible look,
and then made a spring at him, and got on him to smother him, for that
was his mode of killing animals. But the Otter, when he felt him on his
neck, slipped his head back and made for the door, which he passed in
safety; but went out with the curse of the Manito. The others passed the
night, and they conversed on different subjects. The Manito told the
Fisher that he would accomplish his object, but that it would probably
cost him his life. He gave them his advice, directed them how to act,
and described a certain road which they must follow, and they would
thereby be led to the place of action.
They set off in the morning, and met their friend, the Otter, shivering
with cold; but Ojeeg had taken care to bring along some of the meat that
had been given him, which he presented to his friend. They pursued their
way, and travelled twenty days more before they got to the place which
the Manito had told them of. It was a most lofty mountain. They rested
on its highest peak to fill their pipes and refresh themselves. Before
smoking, they made the customary ceremony, pointing to the heavens, the
four winds, the earth, and the zenith; in the mean time, speaking in a
loud voice, addressed the Great Spirit, hoping that their object would
be accomplished. They then commenced smoking.
They gazed on the sky in silent admiration and astonishment, for they
were on so elevated a point, that it appeared to be only a short
distance above their heads. After they had finished smoking, they
prepared themselves. Ojeeg told the Otter to make the first attempt to
try and make a hole in the sky. He consented with a grin. He made a
leap, but fell down the hill stunned by the force of his fall; and the
snow being moist, and falling on his back, he slid with velocity down
the side of the mountain. When he found himself at the bottom, he
thought to himself, it is the last time I make such another jump, so I
will make the best of my way home. Then it was the turn of the Beaver,
who made the attempt, but fell down senseless; then of the Lynx and
Badger, who had no better success.
"Now," says the Fisher to the Wolverine, "try your skill; your ancestors
were celebrated for their activity, hardihood, and perseverance, and I
depend on you for success. Now make the attempt." He did so, but also
without success. He leaped the second time, but now they could see that
the sky was giving way to their repeated attempts. Mustering strength,
he made the third leap, and went in. The Fisher nimbly followed him.
They found themselves in a beautiful plain, extending as far as the eye
could reach, covered with flowers of a thousand different hues and
fragrance. Here and there were clusters of tall, shady trees, separated
by innumerable streams of the purest water, which wound around their
courses under the cooling shades, and filled the plain with countless
beautiful lakes, whose banks and bosom were covered with water-fowl,
basking and sporting in the sun. The trees were alive with birds of
different plumage, warbling their sweet notes, and delighted with
perpetual spring.
The Fisher and his friend beheld very long lodges, and the celestial
inhabitants amusing themselves at a distance. Words cannot express the
beauty and charms of the place. The lodges were empty of inhabitants,
but they saw them lined with mocuks[13] of different sizes, filled with
birds and fowls of different plumage. Ojeeg thought of his son, and
immediately commenced cutting open the mocuks and letting out the birds,
who descended in whole flocks through the opening which they had made.
The warm air of those regions also rushed down through the opening, and
spread its genial influence over the north.
When the celestial inhabitants saw the birds let loose, and the warm
gales descending, they raised a shout like thunder, and ran for their
lodges. But it was too late. Spring, summer, and autumn had gone; even
perpetual summer had almost all gone; but they separated it with a blow,
and only a part descended; but the ends were so mangled, that, wherever
it prevails among the lower inhabitants, it is always sickly.[14]