Thought how when he was born
Malsumsis in his pride
Had slain his mother;
And he said: “If Wolf knew
The secret of my life,
That life would soon be o’er.”
And therefore he agreed
To tell Malsum the Wolf
The secret of his death,
If he the younger born
Would tell him in return
The secret of his own.
Therefore the elder said,
To test his brother’s truth:
“The feather of an owl
Is the one thing on earth
Which e’er can end my life.”
In sooth, this was a lie
Although no evil one,
And yet from uttering it
Kulóskap got his name
Which means the Liar, or,
As Indians mean the word:
A wise and crafty man.
And then it came to pass
That in the after-days
Kwâbîtsis the son
Of the Great Beaver, or
As others tell the tale
Miʿko the squirrel, or else
The very devil himself
Who dwelt within his heart,
Tempted Malsum to slay
His brother Kulóskap;
For in those early days
All men were wicked--all
Lived but in evil deeds.
So Malsum took his bow
And, stealing through the woods
Into his dark retreat,
Shot Koʿkoʿkhas, the owl,
And with his feathers struck
Kulóskap while asleep.
Up leaped the Lord enraged,
Yet even in his wrath
He spoke right craftily:
“Thou ever evil One!
Thou murderer of all!
Know that no feather can
E’er take my life. ’Tis by
A pine-root and a blow
That I am doomed to die,
By that, and that alone.”
So on another day
When both together went
A-hunting in the woods
Kulóskap laid him down
To sleep upon the leaves
Where all was very still;
Then Malsum, ever bent
On evil and on death,
With a great pine-tree root
Smote with his giant strength
His brother on the head.
Up leapt the Lord again
Unharmèd as before,
And drove the Wolf away,
Away in bitter scorn,
Away into the woods.
Then sitting by a brook
He saw the flowering rush,
Or cat-tail, in the stream--
Of all the plants on earth
The weakest, softest thing--
And said unto himself,
Although he spoke aloud:
“What soul would ever dream
That in that plant abides
The secret of my death?”
The Beaver who lay hid
Deep down among the reeds.
Heard what the Lord had said,
And hastening to Malsumsis
Told him the whole. For this
Malsum had freely sworn
To give the Beaver aught
Or all that he might wish.
But when the Beaver asked
For wings, that he might fly
Even as pigeons do,
Malsum replied in scorn,
And laughing from his heart:
“Thou with a sorry tail
Like any rugged rasp,
What need hast _thou_ of wings!
Mud-scraper! Get thee gone!”
In a bitter rage
Forth the Beaver ran,
Ran by night and day,
Till he found the Lord,
Kulóskap the Wise,
Unto whom he told
All that he had done,
Sorrowing that he
Had so evil been,
Sorrowing that he
Had ever heard and told
The secret of his life.
Then in sorrow too,
And yet in anger grim,
Up the Lord arose,
Rose all in his might,
And plucking up a fern,
Sought in the deep dark wood
For Malsumsis the Wolf:
And having found him there
Smote him a single blow;
Down fell the demon dead.
Then Kulóskap sang a song,
Lamenting for the dead;
Though ever unto him
He had so evil been,
And as a bitter foe
Had sought to end his life;
Sung over him a song,
Then homewards went his way. L.
FOOTNOTES:
[13] This is an ancient story of Kulóskap which they told long ago.
II
THE CREATION OF MAN AND THE ANIMALS
[_Passamaquoddy and Micmac_]
_Kulóskap nitamk naga nit kʾchi pechies
Yut kilun kʾmʾt-kinansnok._[14]
Kulóskap was first,
First and greatest,
To come into our land--
Into Nova Scotia, Canada,
Into Maine, into Wabanaki,
The land of sunrise, or light.
There were no Indians like us,
Here in those early days;
Only far in the West
Lived red men strange and wild.
First born were the Miʿkumwessuk
The fairies of the forest,
The Wʾnâgʾmeswuk, elves,
The little men, dwellers in rocks.
Thus it was Kulóskap the Great
Made man: He took his arrows
And shot at a tree--the ash,
Known as the basket-tree.
[Illustration: =The Creation of Man=]
From the hole made by the arrow
Came forth new forms, and these
Were the first of human kind.
And so the Lord gave them a name
Meaning “those born from trees.”
Kulóskap the Lord of Light
Made all the animals.
First, he created
All of giant size;
Such was the beginning.
Then he said to Teâm, the Moose,
Who was tall as the Kiwaʿkw,
The colossal giant of the mountain,
The awful king of the forest,
The lord of the roaring river:
“What wouldst thou do, Teâm,
Shouldst thou see man a-coming?”
Answered the monstrous Teâm,
“I would tear the trees down on him.”
Then the Lord Kulóskap
Saw that the Moose was too strong;
So he made him smaller and weaker
So that the Indians could kill him.
Even so with the Squirrel
Who was as large in those days
As the great wolf in our time;
“What would you do, Sâkskadu?”
Asked the Lord of Beasts and Men,
“If you should meet an Indian?”
“I would scratch up trees by their roots
That they might fall upon him.”
Answered the Squirrel undaunted.
“Thou also art far too strong,”
Replied the mighty Master;
So he smoothed him down in his hands,
And, as he was smoothed, the Squirrel
Grew ever smaller and smaller,
Till he was as we see him now.
Then he asked the Great White Bear:
“And thou, Kʾchî Mūʾūin!
What wouldst thou do if ever
A man should come in thy way?”
And the Bear replied: “I would eat him.”
Then the Master bade him go
And live among rocks and ice,
Very far away in the North,
Where he would see no Indians.
And there he is ever in snow.
So Kulóskap the Great,
Lord of all things that are,
Did question all the beasts,
Changing their size or strength,
Or measuring out their lives,
According to their answers.
He took the Loon for his hunter
To serve him as a dog;
But the Loon was often absent,
Not to be found when wanted;
So he took in his place two Wolves,
One black, the other white;
And these wild dogs are his messengers
Who bear to him tidings of all.
Many years ago,
Yet still within our time,
Very far to the North,
An Indian in his canoe
Was about to cross a bay
To a distant place;
When, just before he launched,
There came in haste a stranger
Followed by two great dogs,
Who asked to be taken over.
“You may come,” replied the Indian,
“Come over the bay and welcome,
But what will you do with your dogs?
For we cannot take them with us!”
The stranger replied, “They may go
Around by land and meet us.”
“That cannot be,” said the other,
“No dogs could run such a distance,
Not even in weeks of running.”
But as there was no answer
He paddled, saying nothing,
Over the bay to the landing,
And there the dogs were waiting!
But when he turned his head
He found the stranger had vanished,
And then he said to himself:
“Now have I seen Kulóskap,
The Lord of Beasts and Men.”
And yet at a later day
At a place afar in the North,
There were many Indians assembled
When there came a strange commotion.
The ground was heaving and rumbling,
The rocks were shaking and falling,
And even the boldest among them
Felt faint at heart with terror;
When lo, they saw before them
The Lord of all, Kulóskap!
And he said to them: “Lo, I am here,
And when you feel the ground
Trembling again as to-day,
Then know that I have returned.”
So it is that man will know
When the last great war shall be,
The war of the Final Day!
For then Kulóskap the Lord
Will make the plain and the mountains
Shake with an awful noise.
The Beaver had been the foe
Of the Lord in the beginning;
Hence it came that Kulóskap slew
Full many of the tribe.
Away up in the Tobaic
Are two salt water rocks--
That is, they stand by the ocean
Near a fresh water stream--
A spot which to the Beaver
Had ever been forbidden.
But one day when far away,
So far that none could see
Who had not the magic vision,
Kulóskap saw the Beaver
Defying his injunction,
And drinking from the stream.
Then with his might, in anger,
The god tore up a rock
And hurled it at the Beaver.
It was many leagues away,
The Beaver deftly dodged it--
Few beasts are so quick at dodging--
But when another boulder
Came after the first one, Kwâbît
Ran deep into a mountain
From which he came forth no more.
But the rocks which the Master threw,
And the mountain and the fountain,
Are shown unto this day;
And the Indians say in reverence;
“Kulóskap once was here!”
FOOTNOTES:
[14] Kulóskap was the greatest one who ever came into our land.
III
THE ORIGIN OF THE RATTLESNAKES
[_Passamaquoddy_]
_Ntʾladwewâgʾnuk aʿtosis yut the snake._[15]
You know Aʿtosis, the Snake?
Truly all snakes are evil,
But worst among them all
Is the Rattlesnake their master.
Well! In the olden time,
The Rattlesnakes were Indians,
And they were very saucy:
Men said they were all face,
And never could be frozen;
They could not be put down by much,
And they rose for very little.
When the Great Flood was coming,
Kulóskap the awful prophet,
Gave them full warning of it.
They answered, “They did not care.”
He told them that the water
Would rise o’er the heads of all;
They said, “Should this come to pass,
We shall all be very wet.”
He bade them be good and quiet,
And pray to escape from drowning;
They whooped and hurrahed to mock him.
He said, “The Great Flood is coming!”
They gave three cheers for the Flood.
Then he added, “’Twill drown you all!”
The Indians whooped again,
And got out all their rattles,
Which were made of turtle shell
Containing little pebbles,
And rattled with all their might
In a daring dance to the Flood.
Yes, ’twas a rattling dance!
The rain began to fall,
But the Indians danced on.
The thunder roared, and they answered
With rattles and with war-cries
The Indians danced on.
To the flash and crash of lightning
Amid the rising waters
The Indians danced on!
Then Kulóskap was angry
Yet in the rising flood
He did not drown a soul,
But for their arrogance
Changed all to serpent form--
That of the Rattlesnake,
Which crawls about the rocks,
And so unto this day,
Whene’er they see a man,
They lift their heads and hiss;
And move them up and down--
That is the way snakes dance,
Shaking their rattles, too,
As we do when we dance.
How do you like the sound? L.
[Illustration: =The Origin of the Rattlesnakes=]
FOOTNOTES:
[15] In my language _aʿtosis_ is the snake.
IV
HOW KULÓSKAP NAMED THE ANIMALS, AND DISCOVERED
THAT MAN WAS THE LORD OF THEM ALL
[_Passamaquoddy_]
_Wut ktagʾnodʾmul uch Kulóskap._[16]
This is an ancient tale of the Lord,
Told ’mid the tales of the spirit time,
How the Master of Beasts and Men
Was born in the Sunrise land,
The land of the Wabanaki;
Though other traditions tell
That he came from across the ocean
In a great stone canoe,
A barque which was all of granite,
Covered with trees for masts.
When the great Lord of All,
The Chief of Beasts and Men,
Descended from this ark,
He went into the land
Of the Wabanaki,
The children of the Light;
And calling all the Beasts
Gave unto each a name:
Unto the Bear, Mūūin;
And as he gave it, asked:
“Oh Bear, what would’st thou do,
If thou should’st meet a man?”
To which Mūūin replied
Simply and honestly:
“I fear him and should run.”
“Well spoken,” said the Lord,
“Man should be feared by all.”
Now at that time, Miʿko,
The Squirrel, was as great,
Or, some say, far more great
Than even the Northern Bear;
So the Lord Kulóskap
Took Miʿko ’neath his hands,
And softly smoothed him down;
And as he felt the touch
Miʿko grew less and less,
And dwindled until he
Was what we see him now.
Howbeit in later days,
Miʿko was Kulóskap’s dog,
And, when the Master willed,
He oft grew large again
Touched by the Master’s hand,
And slew his fiercest foes.
But, being asked what he
Would do if chased by Man,
Miʿko at once exclaimed:
“I would climb up a tree
As fast as legs could run.”
“Well answered,” said the Lord,
“And therefore, I ordain
That from this day henceforth
Thou and thy kind at large
Shall ever dwell in trees.”
The Moose was standing by,
Intently looking on,
With great, soft, staring eyes,
Attending to it all
With deepest interest.
Calling then Kchi Mūs,
Big Moose, the Master said:
“But say what would’st thou do
If thou should’st meet with Man?”
“In faith,” replied Kchi Mūs,
“I’d canter through the woods
Fast as my legs would fly.”
“Well spoken,” said the god,
“So shalt thou ever live
In shade and forests wild.”
The Beaver being asked
What he would do, replied
That he would seek a stream
Ere he would face mankind.
So the great Lord perceived
That of all creatures born
Who walked upon the earth
The first and best was Man. L.
FOOTNOTES:
[16] This I will tell you about Kulóskap.
=Canto Second=
THE MASTER’S KINDNESS TO MAN
I
WHAT KULÓSKAP DID FOR THE INDIANS
[_Passamaquoddy_]
_Piche mesogw Kulóskap nemiquosikw._[17]
[Illustration]
In the very olden time
Before Kulóskap the Master,
The Lord of Beasts and Men,
Had come into the world,
Or man was by him instructed,
All lived in wonderful darkness;
Men could not even see
To slay their enemies;
But the Lord brought light unto them,
The daybreak and the dawn.
Therefore, for this his people
Are known as the Wabanaki,
The Men of the Early Dawn.
And many a thing he taught them:
The noble art of hunting,
How to build huts and canoes,
And weirs to catch the fishes,
And how to trap the beaver,
And net the shad and salmon.
Before he came they knew not
How to make nets or weapons;
Then he, the Mighty Master,
Showed them the hidden virtues
Of plants and roots and blossoms,
And all the herbs which Indians
Could use for any purpose;
And also every creature,
Beasts, birds, and all the fishes,
All things which could be eaten
Or serve for joy to man.
Then, pointing to the heaven,
He taught the names of the stars,
With all the wonderful stories,
The very old traditions,
Of all that the planets had been.
He greatly loved mankind,
And wherever he might be,
Though afar in the wilderness,
He never was far away,
Away from his Indian children.
He dwelt in a lonely land,
But whoever went to seek him
The Master ever found. L.
FOOTNOTES:
[17] Long ago before Kulóskap was seen.
II
HOW KULÓSKAP GRANTED GIFTS AND FAVORS TO MANY INDIANS
[_Micmac and Passamaquoddy_]
Long ere Kulóskap the Master
Had left the land and his people,
And before he had ceased to wander
In the ways of man, he called
The loons his faithful servants,
And bade them make it known
That for many years to come
He would still remain on earth,
And that whoever would seek him
Might have one wish full granted,
Whatever that wish might be.
Although the journey was long
And the trials were terrible
Which all must endure who would find
The Lord of Men and Beasts,
There were many who ventured on
The wonderful pilgrimage.
Now you may hear what happened
To several of these seekers,
Even as I heard the tales
From a Passamaquoddy _Sénap_.
When all the land had heard
That the Master would grant a wish
To any who would seek him,
Three Indians resolved
That they would try this thing.
One was a Milicete
Who came from near St. John,
And the other two were Penobscots
From Oldtown, that is in Maine.
And they went upon the journey
And found that the path was long,
And the way was very hard;
Their sufferings were great,
It was well nigh seven years
Before they saw the Lord.
But while it was yet three months
Ere they came unto his dwelling,
They heard the bark of his dogs,
And, as day by day they drew nearer
The sound grew louder and louder,
Till after many trials
Led by the bay of the hounds
They found the mighty one,
The Lord of Men and Beasts,
And he made them very welcome
And entertained them all.
Then in due time he asked them
What was it they desired.
And then the first replied--An
honest simple man
Who was of but little account
Among the Indian people
Because he hunted badly--
He prayed that he might excel
In killing or catching game;
Then the Master gave him a flute,
Or the magic pipe which pleases
The ear of everyone,
And has the power to bring
By wonderful fascination
All animals to that piper
Who plays it in their haunts.
He thanked the Lord and left.
[Illustration:
But, smiling anew, he gave him
A bag which was tightly tied.]
Now the second of the three,
A reckless amorous youth
Yet who never could succeed
In winning women’s love,
When asked what he would have
Said: “I would win my way
To many maidens’ hearts!”
And being questioned, “How many?”
Replied, “I would know no limit.
Let there be only enough,
And more than enough beside.”
Thereat the Master frowned,
But, smiling anew, he gave him
A bag which was tightly tied,
And said to him, “Do not open
Till you shall have reached your home.”
So he thanked the Lord and left.
Now the third who had come with these
Was a gay and handsome youth,
Yet very foolish withal
Since he cared for nothing whatever
Save to make the Indians laugh,
And to cut a figure with jests
At every gathering.
He, being asked what he sought,
Replied that he fain would have
The power to make a sound
Which when uttered would startle all,
And make them laugh indeed
As they never had laughed before.
This was a wondrous cry
Which the sorcerers of yore
Uttered to gladden hearts,
But now that the art is lost.
That is indeed the cause
That our times are so sorrowful,
Since that magic, merry cry
Is heard no more in the land.
And unto him likewise
The Master was truly kind
Sending Marten into the woods
To seek for a certain root
Which, when eaten by any one,
Conferred the mystic power
Of making the wondrous sound.
But when it was bestowed
He was warned not to touch
The root till he reached his home.
It had taken them seven years
To reach the Master’s lodge,
But seven days were enough
To tread the path to their huts--
That is, for him who got there,
For indeed there was only one,
And that was the hunter, who
With his marvellous pipe in his pocket,
And never a care in his heart,
Trudged on well satisfied
To think that all his life
He never should want a joint
Of venison in his cabin
Or a bear-skin to lie upon,
As indeed he never did.
Now the one who so loved women
And never had won a wife,
Was wild with wistfulness
And great anxiety.
Therefore he could not wait,
And he had not gone very far
Into the woods, ere he
Sat down and opened the bag.
There was a whirr as of wings
And they came flying forth
By hundreds round his head
Like beautiful white doves
Swarming all about--
Wonderful lovely girls
With large black burning eyes,
And torrents of flowing hair.
Wild with passion the witches
Threw their fair arms around him
And kissed him as he responded
To their ardent, fond embraces.
But ever more and more
They came, more glowing with love,
Till he bade them give way for a space,
Till he bade them let him be;
But they only pressed the more.
So, panting, crying for breath,
And smothered in love, he died,
And those who came that way
Found him a silent corpse,
But what became of the witches
Kulóskap only can tell!
Now the third went merrily on,
Tramping along through the woods,
When it flashed upon his mind
In an instant, that Kulóskap
Had bestowed on him a gift;
And, without the slightest heed
To what the Master had said
Of waiting till he got home,
He took out the magic root
And ate it, then and there;
When all at once he found
He could utter the magic cry
Which startles all who hear it,
Inspiring them to joy
And making them laugh aloud;
Then, as it rang afar
O’er many a forest dale
Waking the ringing echo
Of the far-distant hill,
Until it was answered by
A solemn snowy owl,
He felt that he had won
A wondrous power indeed;
So he walked gayly on
O’er many a hill and dale,
Whistling or trumpeting
As happy as a bird.
But he ere long began
To weary of himself,
When, seeing in a glade
A deer, he bent his bow;
When, just as he would shoot,
The wild unearthly sound
Broke out, despite himself,
Even like a demon warble,
The deer took flight and fled;
And the young man cursed aloud!
And when he reached the town
Half dead with hunger, he
Indeed was little worth
To make the others laugh,
Though for a time he did,
Which somewhat cheered his heart,
But, as the days went on,
They wearied of the sound,
And, when they saw him come,
Turned off another way;
Which vexed him to the heart,
So that one day he went
Alone into the woods
And there he slew himself.
The dark and evil demon,
The sprite of the night-air,
Pʾmûla named by some,
From whom the gift had come,
Swooped down from clouds on high,
And bore his soul away
To the dwelling place of darkness
And men heard of him no more.
Now ’tis a thing well known
To all the Indians
Who keep the holy faith
Of the good olden time,
That there are wondrous dwellers
Deep in the silent woods,
Such as the elves and fairies
Who are called by different names;
In Micmac Wigŭladŭmūchŭk
But by the Passamaquoddy
Wʾnâgʾméswuk. They
Can work strange deeds and sing
Such songs of magic power
As charm the wildest beasts
And tame the wolf and bear
And soothe the wolverine.
From them and them alone
Are brought the magic pipes,
Or flutes, which sometimes pass
To sorcerers or great braves.
When these are played upon
Women who hear the tone
Are all bewitched with love,
And the moose and caribou
Follow the winning sound,
Yes, even to their death;
And when the forest elves
Are pleased with anyone
They make of him an elf
E’en like unto themselves.
Back in the olden time
There was an Indian town
In which dwelt two young men,
Kekwâjû the Badger,
And the other Kâktugwââsis,
The Little Thunder. They
Chanced to hear that Kulóskap
Would give to anyone
Whatever he desired:
And so they went their way
On the long pilgrimage
For many years, until
They reached the wondrous isle
Where the great Master dwelt,
Where first they met Dame Bear,
Then Marten, and at last
The mighty Lord himself
Who welcomed them with grace.
Then all sat down to a meal,
But all that was placed before them
Was one small dish of meat,
A very tiny morsel.
Then the elder of the pilgrims,
A reckless jolly fellow,
Thinking it was a joke
And that he was mocked for sport,
Cut off nearly all the meat,
And ate it. Then what was left
Grew at once to its former size;
So it went on, and all
Ate all that they desired,
And found the food of the best,
And when the meal was over
The dish was as full as before.
Now of these two, the Badger
Had set his heart on becoming
A wigʾladʾmûch or fairy,
Which would give him magic power
While the other wished to win
A very beautiful girl,
The daughter of a chief,
A most powerful Sagamore,
Who set such cruel tasks
To all who came to woo her
That all who had made the trial
Thus far had come to their deaths.
Then the Master took the Badger
Who sought initiation
Into the occult art,
And by a wondrous trick
Covered him all with filth
And put him to utter shame
Then led him down to the river
Where he washed him clean, and gave him
A beautiful change of clothing.
And, combing his hair, placed on it
A fillet of wondrous virtue;
For when he had bound it on
He became a wigʾladʾmûch
A fairy and enchanter,
No longer a common mortal,
But one of the elfin world.[18]
And as he wished to excel
In magic song and music,
The Master gave him a flute,
Which would charm all living beings;
And, singing, he bade him join
In the air, and as he did so,
He found he knew all the art;
And from that day, thereafter,
He had a wondrous voice.
Now to seek the beautiful girl
It was needful that the lover
Should sail far over the sea;
And during this adventure
The Būʾūin or magician
Was charged to take all care
Of Kâktugwââs, the Thunder;
And therefore he begged the Master
To lend him his canoe,
To which Kulóskap answered,
“I will gladly lend it to thee
If thou’lt honestly return it
When thou needest it no more.
For I tell thee in very truth
I never yet did intrust it
To any mortal man
But what in the end I had to
Go after it myself.”
Then the Badger solemnly swore
That, as he was an honest Indian,
He would, when the need was over,
Indeed return the canoe.
For never in all his life
Had he stolen any _Kwédŭn_
(Canoe) nor borrowed anything
Without returning it promptly.
But when they came to the bay
There was no canoe to be seen,
But not very far away,
There arose a little island
Of granite which was covered
With pine-trees, tall and waving.
“See--that is my canoe!”
The Master said to them smiling,
And when he took them on it
They found that it was indeed
A great and large canoe
With lofty masts, and sails--
So the two went forth rejoicing.
Then they sailed on and came
To a large and beautiful island
Where they carefully hid the canoe.
Ere long they came to a village
That of the Sagamore,
The father of the girl
For whom many had lost their lives.
And, having come to his wigwam,
They entered and were welcomed
And placed on the seat of honor,
And sat at the evening meal.
Now ’tis of old the custom
When an Indian seeks a wife,
Be it from her father or friends,
He makes small ado about it,
And only utters two words
Which mean in the Micmac language:
“I am tired of living alone.”