=Kulóskap the Master=
_And Other Algonkin Poems_
[Illustration:
And bade the little creature come to him;
Back smiled the baby, but it did not budge.
(_See page 108._)]
Kulóskap the Master
_And Other Algonkin Poems_
_Translated Metrically by_
CHARLES GODFREY LELAND, Hon. F.R.S.L.; M.A.
(Harvard)
Author of “The Algonquin Legends of New England”
AND
JOHN DYNELEY PRINCE, Ph.D. (Johns Hopkins)
Professor in Columbia University and author of various
articles on Algonkin dialects
[Illustration: colophon]
_FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY_
_New York and London_
_1902_
COPYRIGHT, 1902
By FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY
NEW YORK
Registered at Stationers’ Hall, London, England
Printed in the United States of America
Published November, 1902
_ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE VOLUME_
_Half-tone Text Illustrations by F. BERKELEY SMITH_
_Ten Tracings after Indian Designs by
CHARLES GODFREY LELAND_
_Frontispiece by EDWIN WILLARD DEMING_
=Contents=
PAGE
=Preface=--By CHARLES GODFREY LELAND 11
=Introduction=--By JOHN DYNELEY PRINCE 21
_PART FIRST--THE EPIC OF KULÓSKAP_
=Canto First=--_Creation Legends_
I. The Birth of Kulóskap 43
II. The Creation of Man and the Animals 50
III. The Origin of the Rattlesnakes 56
IV. How Kulóskap named the Animals 59
=Canto Second=--_The Master’s Kindness to Man_
I. What Kulóskap did for the Indians 62
II. How Kulóskap granted Gifts and Favors to many
Indians 64
III. Kulóskap and the Fool 90
IV. The Three Brothers who became Trees 94
V. Kulóskap and the Wise Wishers 98
VI. How Kulóskap was conquered by the Babe 107
=Canto Third=--_The Master and the Animals_
I. Kulóskap and the Loons 110
II. Kulóskap and the Beaver 112
III. The Sable and the Serpent 118
IV. Kulóskap and the Turtle 123
V. How Mikchik the Turtle was false to the Master 136
VI. How Kulóskap conquered Aklibimo the Great Bull
Frog 140
VII. How Kulóskap went Whale Fishing 152
VIII. Kulóskap and Wuchōsen the Wind Eagle 158
=Canto Fourth=--_The Master and the Sorcerers_
I. Kulóskap and Winpe 162
II. How a Witch sought to cajole the Master 172
III. How Kulóskap fought the Giant Sorcerers 174
IV. How the Master showed himself a Great Smoker 182
V. Kulóskap and the Witch 185
VI. Kulóskap and the Witch called “The Pitcher” 194
VII. How Kulóskap sailed through the Cavern of Darkness 203
VIII. How the Master found the Summer 208
IX. How Kulóskap left the World 213
X. The Master and the Final Day 217
_PART SECOND--WITCHCRAFT LORE_
I. The Wizard’s Chant 223
II. The Woman and the Serpent 225
III. The Wizard Snake 229
IV. The Measuring Worm 231
V. The Pʾmûla or Air-Demon 236
VI. The Little Boy kidnapped by the Bear 239
VII. The Wizard and the Christian Priest 242
VIII. Wizard Warfare 244
IX. The Wizard’s Hunting 250
X. Six Short Tales of Witchcraft 253
XI. A Delaware Youth and his Uncle 256
XII. The Dance of Old Age 260
XIII. A Tale of the River-Elves 269
_PART THIRD--LYRICS AND MISCELLANY_
I. The Song of Lappilatwan 273
II. The Story of Nipon the Summer 283
III. The Scarlet Tanager and the Leaf 295
IV. The Blind Boy 305
V. A Passamaquoddy Love Song 308
VI. The Song of the Stars 312
VII. How the Indians lost their Power 314
VIII. The Partridge and the Spring 320
IX. Lox, the Indian Devil 325
=L’Envoi= 337
=Appendix=: _The Passamaquoddy Wampum Records_ 340
=Glossary= 361
=Full Page Illustrations=
PAGE
Kulóskap and the Babe _Frontispiece_
The Creation of Man 50
The Origin of the Rattlesnakes 58
What Kulóskap did for the Indians 67
Kulóskap and the Loons 110
Kulóskap and the Beaver 116
The Sable and the Serpent 122
How Kulóskap went Whale Fishing 154
Kulóskap and Winpe 170
How Kulóskap fought the Giant Sorcerers at Saco 178
How Kulóskap sailed through the Cavern of Darkness 205
The Little Boy Kidnapped by the Bear 241
Wizard Warfare 246
The Dance of Old Age 266
Lox, the Indian Devil 333
=Preface=
BY
CHARLES GODFREY LELAND
PREFACE
Very few persons are aware that there has perished, or is rapidly
perishing, among the Red Indians of North America, far more poetry
than was ever written by all the white inhabitants and that this
native verse is often of a very high order. For the Indian sagas, or
legends, or traditions were, in fact, all songs; as is the case to
this day with similar lore in Italy. Indeed, in the latter country,
I have been asked if I would have a fairy tale chanted or repeated
as prose! Thus, all the narratives in my “Algonquin Legends of New
England,” especially those referring to Kulóskap (Klûskâbe), or to
the gods, might have been correctly made into a poetic cycle, as the
Finnish Kalevala was made by Lönnrot.
After I had published my Legends, however, I was made aware by Louis
Mitchell, a Passamaquoddy Indian, who had been in the Legislature
of Maine, and had collected and written out for me, with strictest
literalness, a great number of manuscripts, that there were in
existence certain narratives and poems quite different in kind
from anything which I possessed. Among the former was a History
of the Passamaquoddy Tribe, illustrated with numerous designs of
the birchbark school of art, which I transferred to my friend the
late Dr. D. G. Brinton as its most appropriate possessor. Three of
the poems Mitchell wrote out for me in exact, though often quite
ungrammatical language, which was so close to the original that
the metres betrayed themselves throughout. I regret that, though
I had certainly acquired some knowledge of “Indian,” it was, as a
Passamaquoddy friend one day amiably observed, “only baby Injun
now grow bigger some day like Miʿkumwess s’posin’ you want to,” in
reference to a small goblin who is believed to have the power of
increasing his stature at will. However, I with great care put the
Mitchell Anglo-Algonkin into English metre, having been impressed,
while at the work, with the exquisitely naïve and fresh character of
the original, which, while it often reminded me of Norse poetry, in
many passages had strictly a life and beauty of its own.
Among my varied and most valued small possessions is what was once,
beyond doubt, the sketch book of Salvator Rosa himself, consisting of
a number of blank leaves on one of which still remains an exquisite
pen sketch of a head by Bronzino. There were in it also, at one time,
as appears from a memorandum and on a flyleaf, several sketches
of Salvator, but these have been cut out and sold. The binding or
cover of the book was made from a large folio-thick parchment leaf
from a fourteenth century religious manuscript, whereon are seven
illuminated vermilion capitals still remaining. And, as my manuscript
exactly fitted the cover, I placed it therein, where it rested for
many years, undisturbed even by a thought save when it occurred to me
how the great and savage master, who was himself a poet, would have
rejoiced among Indians and liked their lyrics!
“Io sono pittore
Gar flink mit der Hand
Und bin Salvatore
La Rosa genannt.”
It so befell that I, _per fortuna_, became correspondent with
Professor J. Dyneley Prince, who had come some time after but got
far before me in a knowledge of Algonkin, as was shown in various
papers containing the original text and translations of Algonkin
legends in different dialects. Whereupon, the thought occurred to
me that this fully qualified scholar might revise, correct, and
compare my metrical version with the original text, which task would
be much facilitated by the fact that he also was well acquainted
with Louis Mitchell, and I may here mention that, while I had at one
time obtained an accurate copy of the celebrated Algonkin “Wampum
Record” which was recited annually in bygone days at the Council of
the Tribes, and had it read to me, and written out in Indian English.
Prof. Dyneley Prince has himself translated it and reproduces a
portion of it in the present work. So it came to pass that this book
was written. And I may here mention that my colleague, while his
specialty is the Semitic tongues, also has (like my late friend E. H.
Palmer, who professed Arabic at Cambridge) the gift of the Romany and
even Shelta, which are as the Latin and Greek of the roads!
During more than one-third of a life which began in 1824, I have
passed almost annually over the continent of Europe. I have lived for
the past fifteen years in Florence, in touch with the Apennines, or
opposite Bellosguarda, sung by many a poet, and the Alps and castled
crags of the Rhine come to me often in my dreams; yet I never found
in it all that strange and sweet charm like a song without words
which haunts the hills and valleys of rural New England. That it has
existed and been deeply felt and clearly recognized, is evident in
the works of Hawthorne, with whom we may include Washington Irving,
Judd[1] and indeed many more, every one of whom bears witness of
having been awakened by a spell which he never felt in other lands.
And this spirit of its memory is the most beautiful which I have at
command:
“I feel its magic from afar
Like another life in me;
I hear--though not with living ear
And see the forms which with my eye
I ne’er again shall see!”
Yet with all this, there was still one thing wanting; that which
Nature itself would not give fully, even to a Wordsworth: the subtle
final charm of human tradition, poetry, or romance. True, it may be
the slightest--a mere touch of gold-leaf or an illuminated letter,
or a sun-gleam on the mountain top--but the most inspired poet can
never feel that he is really “heart-intimate” with scenery, if it
has for him no ties of tradition or folk-lore. When I was young, I
felt this lack, and bore in patience the very common reproach of
Europeans that we had a land without ancient legends or song. But
now that I am older grown, I have learned that this want is all in
our own ignorance and neglect of what we had only to put forth our
hand to reach. We bewailed our wretched poverty when we had in our
lap a casket full of treasure which we would not take the pains to
open. Few indeed and far between are those who ever suspected till of
late years that every hill and dale in New England had its romantic
legend, its beautiful poem, or its marvellous myth--the latter
equal in conception and form to those of the Edda--or that a vast
collection of these traditions still survives in perfect preservation
among the few remaining Indians of New England and the Northeast
Coast, or the _Wabano_. This assertion is, I trust, verified by
what is given in the Micmac tales by the late Rev. S. Rand, the
collection made by Miss Abbey Alger of Boston, and my own “Algonquin
Legends of New England,”[2] which I, _sit venia_, may mention was
the first to appear of the series. And I venture to say from the
deepest conviction that it will be no small occasion of astonishment
and chagrin, a hundred years hence, when the last Algonkin Indian of
the _Wabano_ shall have passed away, that so few among our literary
or cultured folk cared enough to collect this connected aboriginal
literature. Unto which I may truly add that, when such collection was
made, there were far more critics to find fault with the way in which
it was done, than persons to do it.
A few of the poems contained in this volume have already appeared
in prose form in the “Algonquin Legends of New England.” As these
were in fact poetry, or chanted in rude measure, I had at first the
intention to give them in English in their original form and to group
all those referring to the divinity in an epic, as Lönnrot made the
Finnish Kalevala, or Homer his own great works. This I have to a
degree accomplished in the present volume.
To render my meaning clear as to the legends having been poems, the
reader may be aware that all rude races make no distinction between
prose narrative and poetry. When an Indian, an Italian mountaineer,
an Arab, and sometimes a Gypsy (I have had experience of all in this
respect) would spin off some long romantic yarn, he either gives you
a choice, or, more frequently, begins to intone or chant the tale in
a manner which is something between plain-song and the singing of
“Captain Kidd” in a northeaster by one who has no vocal gift. Then
the voice falls into one or the other of two measures which I believe
I have accurately followed in the present work. This primitive rhythm
is quite irregular, following only a general cadence rather than
observing any fixed number of beats in each line. I have endeavored
to represent this peculiarity in the English version by not adhering
too strictly to an unvarying measure. These Amerindian[3] metres are
not all like that of Hiawatha, which is, however, quite in accord
with the form of the Slavonic and Spanish romances.
Although not entirely ignorant of Passamaquoddy, Penobscot and
Micmac, I am not proficient therein and have chiefly based my work
on very careful translations executed by others. Here, however, I
avail myself of the assistance and authority of my _collaborateur_,
J. Dyneley Prince, who as these pages witness, has seriously studied
the eastern Algonkin dialects, especially the idiom of the Canadian
Abenakis.
A Penobscot woman once told me that it was _Klûskâbe_--she did not
call him _Kulóskap_, as the Passamaquoddies do--who divided the great
mountain of which Boston originally consisted into _three hills_. I
have since learned from an authentic legend gathered by Miss Roma
Lister that Virgil did the same at Rome. Here the seven hills were
confused with three. Every reader of Scott will recall the great
wizard Michael Scott, who was believed to have worked the same
miracle:
“And, Warrior, I could say to thee
The word that cleft Eildon hills in three.”
These coincidences are very remarkable. I regret that I have not the
Penobscot song in which the division of the Boston hill is described,
but I believe that it exists.
The traditions and, to some extent, the languages and histories
of the aboriginal tribes are quite as worthy of being taught at
our universities to all who propose to become American scholars as
many other branches which are endowed at great expense, and are a
great source of pride. But the true value of work like this is,
that the country will be if those who love it so desire, once more
repeopled with the fairies of yore. Those who will may walk in the
spirit-haunted paths, trodden in the early time by strange beings;
the rocks will have their goblins again and the “Diana’s Bath,” as it
is now styled, will be known by its ancient Indian name of “The Home
of the Water Elves.”[4] It was Bryant, I think, who declared that
the forest trees of New England were all the summer time repeating
in Indian words “their old poetic legends to the wind,” and it is a
tradition that there are ancient Indians who understand the language
of Mūūin the Bear--wherein may lurk more truth than most would deem,
according to the latest faith!--but these were unto all lost tongues,
and the dreams were thinnest air. Now that it is indeed possible from
these poems and such tales as have begun to reappear to see the forms
of olden time once more. I venture to express the hope that all who
love nature in New England will turn to the study of its folk-lore
and thereby secure the final flash of gold on the mountain tops, the
last touch in the picture of which I have spoken. When I was a boy
my happiest hours were spent in the rural scenery of Massachusetts.
Could I have had such books then, I could have enjoyed it all far
more. Therefore, I wish with all my heart, and truly from no selfish
point of view, that every lover of rock and river and greenwood tree
would master these old Indian tales or poems, and see in all Nature
new charms.
CHARLES GODFREY LELAND.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Author of “Margaret” (illustrated beautifully by Felix Darley).
[2] “The Algonquin Legends of New England,” by Charles G. Leland.
Boston (Houghton, Mifflin & Co.), 1885.
[3] Amerindian is a term invented and used by the Americanists of
the Smithsonian Institution, to denote aboriginal American races and
languages.
[4] At the Intervale in the White Mountains, N. H., the Indian
name for the spot known as “Diana’s Bath,” is _Wʾwagʾmeswuk wigît_
(Passamaquoddy), “the fairies’ home.”
=Introduction=
BY
JOHN DYNELEY PRINCE
INTRODUCTION
I became interested in Indian languages and lore at Bar Harbor, Me.,
in 1887, chiefly through my able coadjutor. It was Mr. Leland’s
important work, “The Algonquin Legends of New England” (Boston,
1885), which inspired me to make my first investigations in this
field. Mr. Leland was indeed the pioneer in examining the oral
literature of the northeastern Algonkin tribes, a fact which few
scholars seem to recognize. To him especially, as well as to the late
Rev. Silas Rand of Nova Scotia and to Miss Abbey Alger of Boston,
do we owe some highly valuable additions to our knowledge of early
eastern Algonkin thought. My own researches have been devoted more to
linguistic and phonetic investigations among the Canadian Abenakis
than to comparative mythological study--in which, however, I feel a
very deep interest. In the present work I have had the pleasant task
of arranging and editing Mr. Leland’s material, to which I have added
some of my own collections. Mr. Leland’s poems are indicated by the
letter L and my contributions by the letter P.
I gladly take this opportunity to express my gratitude to my friend,
Mr. A. S. Gatschet of the Smithsonian Institution at Washington,
for a great deal of valuable advice and instruction given to me
at different times during my American researches. His extensive
knowledge of Algonkin philology and folk-lore has always been most
kindly placed at my disposal.
The existing representatives of the Algonkin or Algic race may be
separated linguistically into three great divisions: the Blackfeet
of the extreme west, whose idiom differs most greatly from all
the other dialects;[5] the Cree-Ojibwe of the middle west, which
embraces a number of closely allied linguistic variations[6] and
the Wabanaki races of the eastern coast, with whom the present work
is concerned. It should be noted that the Algonkin languages, like
all American idioms, are polysynthetic, i.e., either by means of
prefixes and suffixes which were themselves separate words, or, by
combining the radicals with other radicals, they build up words and
often sentences from original radicals which, in all probability,
were primitively monosyllabic. These original stems were in reality
only indifferent themes which might be used practically in any sense,
be it nominal or verbal. An excellent example of polysynthesis is
seen in the combination _ndalagaʿkimzi Alsigontegok_, “I learned it
at St. Francis” (Abenaki), which may be analyzed as follows: _n_,
inseparable prefix of the first person, _dal_ the prepositional
element “in” or “at” (cf. the separable post-position _tali_, “in”),
√_agaʿkim_, the root “to learn, teach”--itself a reduplicated form
of original √_kim_, “learn”--and, finally, -_zi_, the reflexive
ending. _Alsigontegok_ is the locative case of _Alsigontegw_, “river
of empty habitations,” the Abenaki name for the Indian village of
St. Francis, near Pierreville. The termination -_tegw_, locative
_tegok_, always means “river,” but cannot be used separately. If the
reader will reflect that the entire linguistic structure is arranged
on this plan, the immense physical difficulty of these idioms will be
appreciated. On the other hand, the Algonkin languages, by reason of
their very power to form these long idea-words, are admirably adapted
for narration and song, however poor a medium they might be for
modern business.
Among the following poems and tales will be found selections taken
from Passamaquoddies, Penobscots, Abenakis, Micmacs and Delawares,
all of which tribes are members of the so-called Wabanaki branch of
the Algonkin stock and are consequently nearly related in language
and folk-lore. This term _Wabanaki_ or _Oñbanaki_ (Abenaki) means
“land of the dawn or east,” and undoubtedly points to that section
of country in which these people first established tribal relations.
_Wabanaki_ (_Oñbanaki_) is also a common term for “a man from the
east.”[7]
The Passamaquoddy Indians of Pleasant Point, Me., numbering about
five hundred in all, are identical with the Milicetes or Etchemins
of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. The name Passamaquoddy is a
purely local term, meaning “spearers of pollock fish” (_peskátum_).
The correct form is _Pestumokádyik_. These people are by far the
most interesting remnant of the Wabanaki, as they still retain
an unusually extensive oral literature, embracing love poems,
legends, and historical tales of considerable value. It will be
noticed, moreover, that, of the material given in the present
work, that coming from the Passamaquoddy is by far the best from
a literary point of view. I need only call the reader’s attention
to the very remarkable song recording the attack of the squirrels
on _Lappilatwan_, who dwelt in the birch tree, “ever sitting with
his mouth open” (_wechkutonébit_), a song of which Mr. Leland gives
a most charming version. I know no parallel to this in any other
literature. The wonderful song of _Nipon_, the summer, and the truly
tender legend of the loves of the Leaf and the Firebird will serve
still further to illustrate the purity of Passamaquoddy thought and
diction.
The following brief historical sketch, taken from the manuscripts
of the Passamaquoddy Louis Mitchell, will give some idea of the
conditions which prevailed among the Wabanaki previous to the coming
of the Europeans.
“In former days the Wabanaki nation, the Indians called Megʾwek, or
Mohawks, and other members of the Iroquoian Six Nations, were wont to
wage bloody and unceasing war with one another. The Wabanaki nation
consisted of five tribes: Passamaquoddies, Penobscots, Micmacs,
Milicetes, and the tribe, now extinct, which formerly inhabited the
banks of the Kennebec River. The bitterest foes of the Wabanaki were
undoubtedly the Megʾwek or Mohawks, who on the slightest provocation
would send bands to harry them and destroy their crops. The Mohawks
invariably treated their prisoners with the most merciless severity,
showing no pity even to the women and children. A favorite torture
which they frequently practised was to build a large fire of hemlock
coals, into the flames of which they drove their captives, compelling
them to walk back and forth over the glowing embers until relieved by
death. No case is on record where a brave of the Wabanaki succumbed
to the fearful pain and begged for mercy. The warriors would always
pace the fiery path with undaunted resolution and without uttering a
sound, until nature put an end to their agony. Tortures of this sort
were practised by all the tribes, but the Mohawks exceeded the others
in cruelty.”
“The cause of the strife was an hereditary dispute about hunting
grounds. Besides the enmity which they nourished in common against
the Six Nations, the Wabanaki had also internal disputes. Thus, the
Penobscots were at feud with the Milicetes and the Micmacs with the
Passamaquoddies.”
“The first war between the last two tribes was brought about by
the quarrel of two boys, sons of chiefs. On this occasion the
Passamaquoddies were on a friendly visit to the Micmacs, during
which the sons of the Passamaquoddy and Micmac chiefs went shooting
together. They both shot at a white sable, killing the animal by
their joint effort, but each lad claimed it as his game. Finally,
the Passamaquoddy boy, becoming enraged, killed the son of the
Micmac chief. The latter on hearing of the murder could think only
of vengeance, and positively refused to listen to the Passamaquoddy
chief’s attempt at reconciliation. The latter even offered the
life of his own son who had been guilty of the murder, but all to
no purpose. In consequence of this unfortunate occurrence, the
celebrated ‘great war’ was then declared, which lasted many years.”
“The Micmacs although more numerous than their enemies, were inferior
warriors, so that the victory was always won (_sic!_) by the
Passamaquoddies. So great was the hostile spirit that the two tribes
fought whenever they met, paying no heed to the time of year. On one
occasion, the Passamaquoddies went to Tlancowatik, thirty miles west
of St. John, N. B., with a small party consisting principally of
women and children, with the chief and a few braves. At this place
they met a number of Micmacs on their way to Passamaquoddy Bay. The
Micmac chief being a lover of fair play ordered his men to land on an
island to await the coming of a messenger. The other chief sent word
that on the following day ‘the boys would come out to play.’ As the
Passamaquoddy chief had very few men able to bear arms, he made the
women attire themselves like warriors so that from a distance they
might be mistaken for men, and directed them to play on the beach
shouting and laughing as if entirely fearless. The Micmac chief,
deceived by this stratagem and being afraid, summoned his braves to
council, and setting forth the disasters which had been caused by the
long war advised a treaty of peace. This proposition was made to the
Passamaquoddies who, wearied by the perpetual state of unrest, gladly
acceded to the request. A general council was accordingly called, by
which it was decided that ‘as long as the sun rises and sets, as
long as the great lakes send their waters to the sea, so long should
peace reign over the two tribes.’
“The usual ceremonies for making peace were then observed, as
follows: (1) a marriage was contracted between a brave of the
challenging people and a maiden of the challenged people. This was
regarded as a type of perpetual future good will. (2) A feast lasting
two months was celebrated nightly; and (3) games of ball, canoe and
foot races and other sports were carried on. After such ceremonies
were over no breach of a treaty is on record, not even a single
murder.”
“After the great Micmac war was ended, the Passamaquoddies lived at
peace except for occasional raids of Mohawks, but the latter finally
received a blow from which they never recovered, the details of
which are as follows: It was the custom of the Mohawks to make night
attacks, and at one time, when the Passamaquoddies were at the head
of Passamaquoddy Bay, the Mohawks approached the camp, which was
called Quenasquamcook, with the purpose of utterly destroying it.
On this occasion, however, they were seen by a Passamaquoddy brave
whose people lay in ambush for them. It was the custom of chiefs to
wear medallions of white wampum shells which were visible at a long
distance, particularly in the moonlight. Picking out in this way
the person of the Mohawk chief whose name was Lox (‘Wolverine’) the
watching braves shot him first, owing to which calamity the Mohawks
were thrown into confusion and fled. The Passamaquoddies followed
them as soon as day broke, but the tracks were so scattered that
they could not find the refugees. It was ascertained afterwards that
the Mohawks had quarrelled among themselves, one party being in favor
of making peace with the enemy, while another faction was strongly
opposed to such a measure. The discussion of the question ended
in a fierce combat. This was the final blow to the Mohawk cause,
so that the nation ever afterward sought to be at peace with the
Passamaquoddies.”
“After this battle the Passamaquoddies were never again molested, but
the Penobscot tribe was still at war with the Milicetes and Mohawks
and, in fact, was nearly destroyed three times by their ruthless
foes.”[8]
After this period of intertribal enmity came the ratification of the
Wampum Laws preserved in the so-called “Wampum Record,” part of which
is given in the Appendix. This _Wababi Agʾnodmâgon_, as I received
it, is really an historical account transmitted orally by elderly
men whose memories had been especially trained for the purpose from
early youth. The laws themselves are not given in my version. It
was customary for these keepers of tribal history from time to time
to instruct the younger members of their clan in the annals of the
people. The Passamaquoddy accounts were kept in the memory of the
historians by means of wampum shells arranged on strings in such a
manner that certain combinations suggested certain sentences or ideas
to the narrator or “reader” who, of course, already knew his record
by heart and was merely aided by the association in his mind of the
arrangement of the wampum beads with incidents or sentences in the
tale, song, or ceremony which he was rendering. This explains such
expressions as “marriage wampum” or “burial wampum,” which are common
among the Passamaquoddies, and simply mean combinations of wampum
which suggested to the initiated interpreter the ritual of the tribal
marriage and burial ceremonies. Passamaquoddy tradition has it that
the Wampum Records (i.e., the actual laws) were read ceremonially
every year at Caughnawauga, the Iroquois headquarters.
This custom of preserving records by means of a mnemonic system was
peculiar to all the tribes of the Algonkin race as well as to the
Iroquoian clans. Brinton refers to the record or tally sticks of the
Crees and Chippeways as the “rude beginning of a system of mnemonic
aids.” It seems to have been customary in early times to burn a
mark or rude figure on a stick, suggestive of a sentence or idea.
Brinton adds: “In later days, instead of burning the marks upon the
stick, they were painted, the colors as well as the figures having
certain conventional meanings. The sticks are described as about six
inches in length, slender, although varying in shape, and tied up in
bundles.” Among the more cultured tribes the sticks were eventually
replaced by wooden tablets, on which the symbols were engraved with
a sharp instrument, such as a flint or knife. The Passamaquoddies,
however, appear never to have advanced beyond the use of wampum
strings as mnemonic aids.
I obtained the Wampum Records at Bar Harbor, Me., in 1887, from
the Passamaquoddy Indian mentioned above by Mr. Leland, Mr.
Louis Mitchell, who was at that time Indian member of the Maine
Legislature. The manuscripts which he sent me contained both the
Indian text and a translation into Indian-English, which I have
rearranged in an idiom I trust somewhat more intelligible to the
general reader.[9]
The Penobscot Indians of Maine number at present not more than three
hundred and fifty, most of whom are resident at the Indian village
of Oldtown on Penobscot River, near Bangor. These people still speak
a characteristic Algonkin language which bears more resemblance
to the idiom of the Abenakis at St. Francis, near Pierreville,
Quebec, than it does to that of the nearer Algonkin neighbors of the
Penobscots, the Passamaquoddies. Moreover, a philological examination
of Penobscot and Abenaki shows that both of these forms of Algonkin
speech are sister dialects, which have sprung from a common original
at a comparatively recent date.[10] It is well known that the
Abenakis of Canada are the direct descendants (of course with some
admixture of French and other blood) of the majority of the savages
who escaped from the great battle of the Kennebec in Maine, where
the English commander Bradford overthrew their tribe on December 3,
1679. Many of the survivors at once fled to French Canada, where they
settled themselves in their present village of St. Francis, near
Pierreville, Quebec (_Alsigontegok_, “river of empty habitations”).
Others again may have wandered into Canada at a slightly later date.
There can be little doubt that the Indians now called Penobscots
from their residence near the river of that name are the descendants
of those of the early Abenakis who, instead of fleeing to French
dominions, eventually submitted themselves to the victorious English.
It is interesting to notice that the Canadian Abenakis are the only
one of the Wabanaki clans which calls itself by the generic name
(_Abenaki-Wabanaki_).
The Micmacs are the easternmost and by far the most numerous of the
Wabanaki remnants. They are to be found in various places in the
Canadian provinces of Quebec, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Prince
Edward’s Island, and Newfoundland. Their grade of intelligence is
much lower than that of the other members of the same family, but
they still have a vast store of folk-lore, legends, and poems which
is perishing for want of interested collectors. Their language
differs so greatly from the dialects of the Penobscots, Abenakis, and
Passamaquoddies that the members of these clans always use English
or French when communicating with their Micmac neighbors, while
an intelligent Passamaquoddy can without difficulty understand a
Penobscot or Abenaki, if the dialect is pronounced slowly.
The story of the enforced westward wanderings of the ill-fated
Delawares or Lenâpe has been told in detail by my late friend Dr.
Brinton (“The Lenâpe and their Legends,” pp. 122–6).
At the present day this famous tribe, whose three clans--the Minsi,
the Unami, and the Unalachtigo--were once the dominant native race
in Delaware, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and parts of New York State
is represented by but a few bands living on scattered reservations,
some in Indian Territory and some in Ontario, Canada. The Delawares
of Indian Territory have quite lost their identity as a tribe of
Indians, as they have been incorporated with the Cherokee Nation,
by whose chief and council they are governed. The last recognized
Delaware chief of this division of the tribe was Charles Jurney-cake,
whose daughters are now married to white men. These Indians occupy
lands in the Muskogee Agency, situated in the northwestern part of
the Cherokee Nation. There are still about eight hundred Delawares in
this region, all of whom moved to the Cherokee country from Kansas,
in 1867. I am informed that a few members of the race linger on at
New Westfield, near Ottawa, Kansas, most of whom are under the charge
of the Moravian Church.
In Ontario, Canada, there are only about three hundred in all; one
hundred at Hagersville, on the Six Nations’ (Iroquois) Reserve (Chief
Nelles Montour), one hundred at Munceytown, and the same number at
Moraviantown, which is the seat of a Moravian mission. The Canadian
Delawares are all Protestants, belonging, for the most part, either
to the Church of England or to the Moravians.[11]
Brinton (_op. cit._, pp. 91 ff.) has pointed out the chief
differences between the two ancient dialects of the Lenâpe, viz.:
the Unami-Unalachtigo and the Minsi. Of these, the Minsi is spoken
by all the Canadian Delawares. In this connection, however, it
is interesting to note that, in a letter to Dr. Brinton, dated
Moraviantown, 1884, Chief Gottlieb Tobias states that three aged
persons were then living who could still talk the other dialect. It
is evident that most of the Delawares of Indian Territory use the
Unami-Unalachtigo, since Chief Montour, of Hagersville, Ont., writes
that, when he visited the Cherokee settlement of his race some years
ago, he could only understand with difficulty the speech of his
congeners resident there. On the other hand, he asserts that the
Delawares near Ottawa, Kansas, use pure Minsi.
Chief Montour is a highly intelligent and well educated Indian who
takes a deep interest in the language and lore of his tribe. The
Delaware witchcraft tale given in the following collection about the
Muttóntoe was sent to me by him.
The lore of the Maine and eastern Canadian Wabanaki may be said
to center chiefly around the clown-like being known to the
Passamaquoddies as Kulóskap and to the Penobscots as Klûskâbe. My
coadjutor, Mr. Leland, has ably treated of the nature of this purely
American creation in his Algonquin Legends, pp. 15–139. Kulóskap
(Klûskâbe) is a god-man of truly Indian type who undoubtedly
represents the principle of good, and particularly good nature,
as opposed to his twin-brother Malsum the Wolf, who may be called
the Ahrimân of the Wabanaki, although this is almost too dignified
a term. It is highly interesting to notice that these twins were
born from an unknown divine mother, the good Kulóskap in the natural
manner, and the evil Wolf through the woman’s side, a method which
he deliberately chose in order to kill his mother. The tendency of
Kulóskap, in spite of his name, was essentially benevolent. Oddly
enough Kulóskap means “the liar,” from a stem √_klûsk_, “lie” +
_ap_, “a man, person, one who stands.” The stem appears in Penobscot
only in compounds; cf. _klûskachemuwâgon_, “a lie falsehood.” This
appellation, uncomplimentary as it sounds to our ears, was not really
meant in this sense by the Indians. Kulóskap is called the deceiver,
not because he deceives or injures man, but because he is clever
enough to lead his enemies astray, the highest possible virtue to
the early American mind. Kulóskap was at once the creator and friend
of Man, and, strangely enough, he made the Indian (or Man; the terms
are synonymous) from the ash tree. The following collection of
songs, mostly from Micmac sources, bearing especially on the doings
of Kulóskap, has been arranged by Mr. Leland and myself into a sort
of epic embracing all the native lore known to us concerning this
personage. The same culture-hero appears in the legends of the entire
Algonkin family, although often under another name. In the present
collection, to secure uniformity, the single name of Kulóskap has
been used throughout.
Wabanaki mythology was really pure Shamanism, seeing a spirit in
every tree and waterfall, and a malignant or benevolent influence
in many animals. Like most barbaric races, these people were also
fervent believers in witchcraft, a superstition which still survives
in the minds of many of the older Indians. Any missionary to the
Passamaquoddies, or to their kindred, the New Brunswick Milicetes,
the Penobscots of Oldtown, Me., or to the Micmacs and Abenakis
of Quebec, will admit that belief in the ancient Shamanistic
sorcery among these Indians has by no means died out. Among the
Passamaquoddies and Milicetes particularly, there is still a perfect
mine of material relating to the wizards and their power over other
men and over the curious beings with which the Indians have peopled
the mysterious forests of their country.
In pre-Christian times the Passamaquoddies, like their other Algic
kindred, were firm believers in the almost unlimited power of their
_Mʾdeolinʾwuk_ or wizards, belief in the existence of many of whom
still remains, subordinate, of course, to the Catholic doctrine,
which nearly all the Indians profess--there being, I am informed,
only three or four Protestant Passamaquoddy families.
A few examples of these sorcerers’ power are described below in
the curiously curt style of Algic narrative.[12] We see from these
tales that the wizards could transform themselves into animals at
will; that they could cast a spell or curse on an enemy, even though
he might also be a _Mʾdeolin_; that they could violate the laws of
nature so far as to walk in hard ground, sinking up to the ankles
or knees at every step, and, finally--that they could communicate
with each other telepathically. I need hardly comment on the first
two and the fourth of these wonders, as they are common among all
Shamanistic conjurers, but the third phenomenon, the power to sink
into hard ground while walking, is, I believe, characteristically
American. Rink states that this is not an unusual feat among the
conjurers of the Greenland Eskimo, who frequently sink into rocky and
frozen ground “as if in snow.” The trick is probably done by some
peculiar way of stooping, or is merely suggested, possibly by means
of hypnotic influence. Leland compares here, however, the Old Norse
statements regarding their wizards, who occasionally sank into the
ground and who had power to pass through earth with the same ease as
through air or water (Algonquin Legends, p. 342). It would be hardly
permissible to draw a parallel between the ancient Norsemen and the
northern Indians on this account, as the case Leland cites is that of
a conjurer who disappeared into the ground head downwards, when he
was stabbed at by a foe. It should be noticed that in the following
tale, my Passamaquoddy authority did not see the actual feat, but
only the deep tracks of the wizard where he had sunk into the earth
“the night before.”
The anecdote of a cannibalistic feast is highly interesting. The
wizards here eat their murdered comrade, evidently with the idea of
absorbing into themselves some or all of his power. The cannibalistic
orgies of the South Sea Islanders should be compared with this
practice. For example, the Fijis and the New Zealand Maoris ate their
enemies with the same object in view, viz., to become as brave as
the fallen foe had been. All authorities tend to show, however, that
cannibalism was extremely rare among the American races, and was only
resorted to in isolated cases like the one here noted.
In the Delaware tale given below, a similar instance of cannibalism
is cited; only in this case, the wizard, who is evidently a being
similar in nature to the Passamaquoddy _Kiwaʿkw_ or the Micmac
_Chînu_, desires to devour a very old, worn-out man. I can only look
upon this feature as a highly interesting relic from very primitive
times, when it was probably not unusual to devour the aged, perhaps
for a double purpose: both to get rid of them, as was the case until
recently among the islanders of Tierra del Fuego, and also, perhaps,
to absorb sacramentally into the living members of the family the
essence of the dead parent, whose soul is thus prevented from
becoming entirely extinct. The fact that a giant ghoul desires to
eat the Delaware old man is, however, a distinctly Algonkin feature,
quite in accord with the ideas prevalent among the Passamaquoddies,
Penobscots and Micmacs regarding the _Kiwaʿkw-Chînu_.
The Passamaquoddy tale given below of the _Kiwaʿkw_ or snow demon is
one of a great number. The Algonkin Indian believed in many spirits,
some benevolent like the _Wʾnagʾmeswuk_ or “little people,” who were
wont to warn the tribesmen of impending danger; some neutral, like
the wandering _Kiwaʿkw_ in this tale, or the _Chibelaʿkwe_, the
tree sprite who sits in the crotch of the large branches; and some
again distinctly malevolent, like the _Appodumken_ or spirit of the
deep water, who lurks in the lakes to drag down the unwary swimmer.
The _Kiwaʿkw_, however, as remarked above, was often an evil being.
Compare also Leland’s wonderful tales of the _Chînu_ (Algonquin
Legends, pp. 233 ff).
The reader’s attention should be called at this point to the
remarkable ideas prevalent among the Wabanaki regarding the
cohabitation of women and serpents (see below, and also Leland, _op.
cit._, pp. 268 ff). These may seem strange coming from a land where
there are no ophidians large enough to warrant such a superstition.
It is not impossible, however, that in these hideous tales we have
some relic of far distant prehistoric days when huge serpents were
not unknown. It should be added, moreover, that in every case of
such sexual relations between snakes and man among the Wabanaki the
serpent was always a wizard (_Mʾdeolin_) in disguise, a fact which
shows that in the later superstition at least the unusual character
of such monstrous serpents was fully appreciated.
The following points should be noted with regard to the pronunciation
of the Indian words herein given. The vowels have the Italian values,
except that _ö_ = German _ö_ in _schön_. The apostrophe ʾ is a very
short _u_-vowel. The consonants are equivalent to the same consonants
in English, except that _ñ_ represents the French nasal _n_ in _mon_,
and the final combination _kw_ or final _q_ must be uttered as a _k_
followed by _w_ accompanied by a gentle indeterminate short vowel.
The inverted apostrophe ʿ has the value of a softly breathed _h_.
Thus _kiwâʿkw_ must be pronounced _kee-wah-kwᵘ_.
As explained the name of the culture-hero is spelled _Kulóskap_
for the sake of uniformity, but so far as possible, the Indian
expressions used in the different stories have been kept in harmony
with the original languages. The reason for this discrepancy lies in
the fact that some of the Passamaquoddy and Micmac tales were related
by Penobscots, who frequently inadvertently used their own forms. For
the same reason, in some stories labelled as Micmac, Passamaquoddy
words will occasionally be found. In every such case the Micmac tales
came through a Passamaquoddy medium, who, whenever he was ignorant
of the proper Micmac word, used the corresponding Passamaquoddy
expression, but elsewhere employed Micmac words. The Indian
headings to the stories are nearly all in Passamaquoddy because the
_raconteurs_ generally began in this dialect, even when they broke
into Micmac or Penobscot in continuing the tale in question. The
Glossary explains every Indian word occurring in the midst of the
English text.
We present these selections from the still vast storehouse of
Wabanaki lore, not to prove any preconceived theory as to their
origin, or as to the origin of the eastern coast tribes themselves.
No man can ever know now whence the Algonkin races came. Whether
they with other peoples were emigrants from palaeolithic Europe,
crossing by way of some long since vanished land-bridge, or whether
they wandered into their present habitat from the western part of
our own continent, having had their origin in pre-historic Asia,
it is impossible to say and, in view of the absolute darkness in
which we grope, all theories are futile. I cannot see a meaning in
the word _Wabanaki_, “land of the dawn or east,” which points to any
period further back than the time of these peoples’ first tribal
centralization on the present eastern coast of North America.
Let then our labor in this work suffice merely to present to the
English-speaking public a few interesting and characteristic
specimens of the traditions of a rapidly perishing race--a race which
fifty years from now will have hardly a single living representative.
JOHN DYNELEY PRINCE.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] Cf. J. W. Tims, “Grammar and Dictionary of the Blackfoot
Language,” London, 1889.
[6] Cf. Horden, “Grammar of the Cree Language,” London, 1881; Wilson,
“The Ojebway Language,” Toronto, 1874.
[7] Cf. Prince, in _Misc. Linguistica Ascoliana_, Turin, 1901, p. 344.
[8] See Prince, Annals N. Y. Academy of Sciences, XI., No. 15, pp.
370–374.
[9] See Prince, Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society,
XXXVI., pp. 479 ff.
[10] See Prince, American Anthropologist, IV., No. 1.
[11] See Prince, American Journal of Philology, XXI., pp. 295, 296.
[12] See also Prince, Proceedings of the American Philosophical
Society, XXXVIII., pp. 181–189.
PART FIRST
=The Epic of Kulóskap=
=Canto First=
CREATION LEGENDS
I
THE BIRTH OF KULÓSKAP, THE LORD OF BEASTS AND MEN,
AND THE DEATH OF MALSUM THE WOLF
[_Passamaquoddy_]
_Yut nit nʾkani akʾnodʾmâgon
Uch Kulóskap elaknotmotits piche._[13]
[Illustration]
Wonderful traditions
Of the olden time;
Very old indeed,
Ere the world began:
The great lord Kulóskap
Who in after days
Was worshipped everywhere
By the Wabanaki
Or Children of the Dawn,
Was as yet unborn,
Living as a twin
With another named
Malsumsis--the Wolf.
Wolf, the lesser one,
As his brother was good
So was this one bad;
One, the Lord of Light,
One, of Darkness dire.
Now ere they were born,
The two a council held
That they might decide
How they would be born.
And Kulóskap said:
“I shall be content
If I may come to life
Even as others come.”
But Malsum, the Wolf,
Said: “Just as you will;
But I am too great
E’er to see the light
As common creatures do;
I will burst to light
Rending everything
E’en through death to life.”
So it came to pass
Kulóskap, the Lord,
Came in peace to light;
Malsum kept his word,
And the mother died.
So the two grew up,
Till one day the Wolf,
Who knew that both were given
Strange mysterious lives
Charmed ’gainst everything
Save one concealèd death,
Asked of the elder what
His hidden bane might be?