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THE MYTH OF HIAWATHA,
AND
OTHER ORAL LEGENDS, MYTHOLOGIC AND ALLEGORIC,
OF THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS.
BY
HENRY R. SCHOOLCRAFT, LL.D.
PHILADELPHIA:
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.
LONDON:
TRÜBNER & CO.
1856.
Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by
HENRY R. SCHOOLCRAFT,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States in and
for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
TO PROF. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.
SIR:--
Permit me to dedicate to you, this volume of Indian myths and
legends, derived from the story-telling circle of the native
wigwams. That they indicate the possession, by the Vesperic tribes,
of mental resources of a very characteristic kind--furnishing, in
fact, a new point from which to judge the race, and to excite
intellectual sympathies, you have most felicitously shown in your
poem of Hiawatha. Not only so, but you have demonstrated, by this
pleasing series of pictures of Indian life, sentiment, and
invention, that the theme of the native lore reveals one of the
true sources of our literary independence. Greece and Rome, England
and Italy, have so long furnished, if they have not exhausted, the
field of poetic culture, that it is, at least, refreshing to find
both in theme and metre, something new.
Very truly yours,
HENRY R. SCHOOLCRAFT.
PREFACE.
There is but one consideration of much moment necessary to be premised
respecting these legends and myths. It is this: they are versions of
oral relations from the lips of the Indians, and are transcripts of the
thought and invention of the aboriginal mind. As such, they furnish
illustrations of Indian character and opinions on subjects which the
ever-cautious and suspicious minds of this people have, heretofore,
concealed. They place the man altogether in a new phasis. They reflect
him as he is. They show us what he believes, hopes, fears, wishes,
expects, worships, lives for, dies for. They are always true to the
Indian manners and customs, opinions and theories. They never rise
above them; they never sink below them. Placing him in almost every
possible position, as a hunter, a warrior, a magician, a pow-wow, a
medicine man, a meda, a husband, a father, a friend, a foe, a stranger,
a wild singer of songs to monedos or fetishes, a trembler in terror of
demons and wood genii, and of ghosts, witches, and sorcerers--now in
the enjoyment of plenty in feasts--now pale and weak with abstinence in
fasts; now transforming beasts and birds, or plants and trees into men,
or men into beasts by necromancy; it is impossible not to perceive what
he perpetually thinks, believes, and feels. The very language of the
man is employed, and his vocabulary is not enlarged by words and
phrases foreign to it. Other sources of information depict his exterior
habits and outer garb and deportment; but in these legends and myths,
we perceive the interior man, and are made cognizant of the secret
workings of his mind, and heart, and soul.
To make these collections, of which the portions now submitted are but
a part, the leisure hours of many seasons, passed in an official
capacity in the solitude of the wilderness far away from society, have
been employed, with the study of the languages, and with the very best
interpreters. They have been carefully translated, written, and
rewritten, to obtain their true spirit and meaning, expunging passages,
where it was necessary to avoid tediousness of narration, triviality of
circumstance, tautologies, gross incongruities, and vulgarities; but
adding no incident and drawing no conclusion, which the verbal
narration did not imperatively require or sanction. It was impossible
to mistake the import of terms and phrases where the means of their
analysis were ample. If the style is sometimes found to be bald, and of
jejune simplicity, the original is characteristically so. Few
adjectives are employed, because there are few in the original.[1] The
Indian effects his purposes, almost entirely, by changes of the verb
and demonstrative pronoun, or by adjective inflections of the
substantive. Good and bad, high and low, black and white, are in all
cases employed in a transitive sense, and with strict relation to the
objects characterized. The Indian compound terms are so descriptive, so
graphic, so local, so characterizing, yet so flexible and transpositive,
that the legends derive no little of their characteristic features as
well as melody of utterance from these traits. Sometimes these terms
cannot be literally translated, and they cannot, in these cases, be
left out without damaging the stories.
With regard to the thought-work of the legends, those who have deemed
the Indians exclusively a cruel and blood-thirsty race, always seeking
revenge, always invoking evil powers, will not be disappointed that
giants, enchanters, demons, and dark supernatural agencies, should form
so large a part of the dramatis personæ. Surprise has been
expressed,[2] that the kindlier affections come in for notice at all,
and particularly at the occurrence of such refined and terse allegories
as the origin of Indian Corn, Winter and Spring, and the poetic
conception of the Celestial Sisters, &c. I can only add, that my own
surprise was as great when these traits were first revealed. And the
trait may be quoted to show how deeply the tribes have wandered away
from the type of the human race in which love and affection absorb the
heart;[3] and how little, indeed, we know of their mental character.
These legends have been out of print several years. They are now
reproduced, with additional legendary lore of this description from the
portfolios of the author, in a revised, and, it is believed, a more
terse, condensed, and acceptable form, both in a literary and business
garb.[4]
HENRY R. SCHOOLCRAFT.
Washington, D.C., _April 28, 1856_.
[1] If Edwards the younger, to whom the Mohican was familiar from
his childhood, could say, that he doubted whether there were any
true adjectives in that language, it can easily be imagined that
the subtlety of the transitive principle had not been
sufficiently analyzed; but the remark is here quoted in relation
to the paucity of adjectives.
[2] _Vide_ Criterion.
[3] When the volumes of Algic Researches, in 1839, were
published, the book-trade had hardly awakened to that wide and
diffusive impulse which it has since received. No attention had
been given to topics so obscure as inquiries into the character
of the Indian mind--if, indeed, it was thought the Indian had any
mind at all. It was still supposed that the Indian was, at all
times and in all places, "a stoic of the woods," always
statuesque, always formal, always passionless, always on stilts,
always speaking in metaphors, a cold embodiment of bravery,
endurance, and savage heroism. Writers depicted him as a man who
uttered nothing but high principles of natural right, who always
harangued eloquently, and was ready, with unmoved philosophy on
all occasions, to sing his death song at the stake to show the
world how a warrior should die.
[4] The songs and chants which form so striking a part of the
original legends, and also the poetic use of aboriginal ideas,
are transferred to the end of the volume, and will thus, it is
apprehended, relieve and simplify the text.
CONTENTS.
Page
Hiawatha; or, Manabozho 13
Paup-puk-keewiss 52
Osseo; or, the Son of the Evening Star 71
Kwasind; or, the fearfully Strong Man 77
The Jeebi; or, Two Ghosts 81
Iagoo 85
Shawondasee 88
Puck Wudj Ininees; or, the Vanishing Little Men 90
Pezhiu and Wabose; or, the Lynx and Hare 95
Peboan and Seegwun. An Allegory of Winter and Spring 96
Mon-daw-min; or, the Origin of Indian Corn 99
Nezhik-e-wa-wa-sun; or, the Lone Lightning 105
The Ak Uk O Jeesh; or, the Groundhog Family 107
Opeechee; or, the Origin of the Robin 109
Shingebiss. An Allegory of Self-reliance 113
The Star Family; or, the Celestial Sisters 116
Ojeeg Annung; or, the Summer-Maker 121
Chileeli; or, the Red Lover 129
Sheem, the forsaken Boy, or Wolf Brother 136
Mishemokwa; or, the War with the Gigantic Bear wearing
the precious prize of the Necklace of Wampum, or the
Origin of the Small Black Bear 142
The Red Swan 161
Tau-wau-chee-hezkaw; or, the White Feather 180
Pauguk, and the mythological interpretation of Hiawatha 188
Iëna, the Wanderer; or, Magic Bundle 194
Mishosha; or, the Magician of Lake Superior 202
Peeta Kway, the Foam-Woman 213
Pah-hah-undootah, the Red Head 216
The White Stone Canoe 223
Onaiazo, the Sky-Walker. A Legend of a Visit to the Sun 228
Bosh-kwa-dosh; or, the Mastodon 233
The Sun-Catcher; or, the Boy who set a Snare for the Sun.
A Myth of the Origin of the Dormouse 239
Wa-wa-be-zo-win; or, the Swing on the Pictured Rocks of
Lake Superior 243
Mukakee Mindemoea; or, the Toad-Woman 246
Eroneniera; or, an Indian Visit to the Great Spirit 251
The Six Hawks; or, Broken Wing 258
Weeng, the Spirit of Sleep 262
Addik Kum Maig; or, the Origin of the White Fish 265
Bokwewa; or, the Humpback Magician 269
Aggodagauda and his Daughter; or, the Man with his Leg
tied up 274
Iosco; or, the Prairie Boys' Visit to the Sun and Moon 278
The Enchanted Moccasins 293
Leelinau. A Chippewa Tale 299
* * * * *
Wild Notes of the Pibbigwun 303
INTRODUCTION.
Hitherto, Indian opinion, on abstract subjects, has been a sealed book.
It has been impossible to extract the truth from his evasive replies.
If asked his opinion of religion in the abstract, he knows not the true
meaning of the term. His ideas of the existence of a Deity are vague,
at best; and the lines of separation between it and necromancy, medical
magic, and demonology are too faintly separated to allow him to speak
with discrimination. The best reply, as to his religious views, his
mythology, his cosmogony, and his general views as to the mode and
manifestations of the government and providences of God, are to be
found in his myths and legends. When he assembles his lodge-circle, to
hear stories, in seasons of leisure and retirement in the depths of the
forest, he recites precisely what he believes on these subjects. That
restlessness, suspicion, and mistrust of motive, which has closed his
mind to inquiry, is at rest here. If he mingles fiction with history,
there is little of the latter, and it is very easy to see where history
ends and fiction begins. While he amuses his hearers with tales of the
adventures of giants and dwarfs, and the conflicts of Manito with
Manito, fairies and enchanters, monsters and demons, he also throws in
some few grains of instruction, in the form of allegory and fable,
which enable us to perceive glimpses of the heart and its affections.
It is also by his myths that we are able to trace connections with the
human family in other parts of the world. Yet, where the analogies are
so general, there is a constant liability to mistakes. Of these foreign
analogies of myth lore, the least tangible, it is believed, is that
which has been suggested with the Scandinavian mythology. That
mythology is of so marked and peculiar a character, that it has not
been distinctly traced out of the great circle of tribes of the
Indo-Germanic family. Odin, and his terrific pantheon of war-gods and
social deities, could only exist in the dreary latitudes of storms and
fire, which produce a Hecla and a Maelstrom. These latitudes have
invariably produced nations, whose influence has been felt in an
elevating power over the world; and whose tracks have everywhere been
marked by the highest evidences of inductive intellect, centralizing
energy, and practical wisdom and forecast. From such a source the
Indian could have derived none of his vague symbolisms and mental
idiosyncrasies, which have left him, as he is found to-day, without a
government and without a God. Far more probable is it, in seeking for
analogies to his mythology and cosmogony, to resort to the era of that
primal reconstruction of the theory of a Deity, when the human
philosophy in the oriental world ascribed the godship of the universe
to the subtile, ineffable, and indestructible essences of fire and
light, as revealed in the sun. Such were the errors of the search for
divine truth, power, and a controllable Deity, which early developed
themselves in the dogmas of the Assyrians, Egyptians, Persians, and
wandering hordes of Northern Asia.
Authors inform us that the worship of the sun lies at the foundation of
all the ancient mythologies, deeply enveloped as they are, when
followed over Asia Minor and Europe, in symbolic and linguistical
subtleties and refinements. The symbolical fires erected on temples and
altars to Baal, Chemosh, and Moloch, burned brightly in the valley of
the Euphrates,[5] long before the pyramids of Egypt were erected, or
its priestly-hoarded hieroglyphic wisdom resulted in a phonetic
alphabet. In Persia, these altars were guarded and religiously fed by a
consecrated body of magical priesthood, who recognized a Deity in the
essence of an eternal fire and a world-pervading light.
The same dogma, derived eastwardly and not westwardly through Europe,
was fully installed at Atacama and Cuzco, in Peru, at Cholulu, on the
magnificent and volcano-lighted peaks of Mexico; and along the fertile
deltas of the Mississippi valley. Altar-beds for a sacred fire, lit to
the Great Spirit, under the name and symbolic form of Ceezis, or the
sun, where the frankincense of the nicotiana was offered, with hymns
and genuflections, have been discovered, in many instances, under the
earth-heaps and artificial mounds and places of sepulture of the
ancient inhabitants. Intelligent Indians yet living, among the North
American tribes, point out the symbol of the sun, in their ancient
muzzinabikons, or rock-inscriptions, and also amid the idiographic
tracery and bark-scrolls of the hieratic and magical medicine songs.
With a cosmogony which ascribes the creation of the Geezha Monedo, who
is symbolized by the sun, the myth of Hiawatha is almost a necessary
consequence in carrying out his mundane intentions to the tribes, who
believed themselves to be peculiar objects of his love and benevolence.
This myth is noticed by the earliest explorers of this continent, who
have bestowed attention on the subject, under the various names of
Inigorio, Yoskika, Taren-Yawagon, Atahentsic, Manabozho, and Micabo. A
mythology appears indispensable to a rude and ignorant race like the
Indians. Their vocabulary is nearly limited to objects which can be
seen and handled. Abstractions are only reached by the introduction of
some term which restores the idea. The Deity is a mystery, of whose
power they must chiefly judge by the phenomena before them. Everything
is mysterious which is not understood; and, unluckily, they understand
little or nothing. If any phenomenon, or existence not before them, is
to be described, the language must be symbolic. The result is, that the
Indian languages are peculiarly the languages of symbols, metaphors,
and figures. Without this feature, everything not in the departments of
eating, drinking, and living, and the ordinary transactions of the
chase and forest, would not be capable of description.
When the Great Sacred White Hare of Heaven, the Manabozho of the
Algrics, and Hiawatha of the Iroquois, kills the Great Misshikinabik,
or prince of serpents, it is understood that he destroys the great
power of evil. It is a deity whom he destroys, a sort of Typhon or
Ahriman in the system. It is immediately found, on going to his lodge,
that it is a man, a hero, a chief, who is sick, and he must be cured by
simples and magic songs like the rest of the Indians. He is surrounded
with Indian doctors, who sing magic songs. He has all the powers of a
deity, and, when he dies, the land is subjected to a flood; from which
Hiawatha alone escapes. This play between the zoonic and mortal shapes
of heroes must constantly be observed, in high as well as in ordinary
characters. To have the name of an animal, or bird, or reptile, is to
have his powers. When Pena runs, on a wager of life, with the Great
Sorcerer, he changes himself sometimes into a partridge, and sometimes
into a wolf, to outrun him.
The Indian's necessities of language at all times require
personifications and linguistic creations. He cannot talk on abstract
topics without them. Myths and spiritual agencies are constantly
required. The ordinary domestic life of the Indian is described in
plain words and phrases, but whatever is mysterious or abstract must be
brought under mythological figures and influences. Birds and quadrupeds
must be made to talk. Weeng is the spirit of somnolency in the lodge
stories. He is provided with a class of little invisible emissaries,
who ascend the forehead, armed with tiny war-clubs, with which they
strike the temples, producing sleep. Pauguk is the personification of
death. He is armed with a bow and arrows, to execute his mortal
functions. Hosts of a small fairy-like creation, called Ininees, little
men, or Pukwudj Ininees, vanishing little men, inhabit cliffs, and
picturesque and romantic scenes. Another class of marine or water
spirits, called Nebunabaigs, occupy the rivers and lakes. There is an
articulate voice in all the varied sounds of the forest--the groaning
of its branches, and the whispering of its leaves. Local Manitos, or
fetishes, inhabit every grove; and hence he is never alone.
To facilitate allusion to the braggadocio, or the extravagant in
observation, the mythos of Iagoo is added to his vocabulary. The North
and the South, the East and the West, are prefigured as the brothers of
Hiawatha, or the laughter-provoking Manubozho. It is impossible to
peruse the Indian myths and legends without perceiving the governing
motives of his reasons, hopes, wishes, and fears, the principles of his
actions, and his general belief in life, death, and immortality. He is
no longer an enigma. They completely unmask the man. They lay open his
most secret theories of the phenomena of spirit life; of necromancy,
witchcraft, and demonology; and, in a special manner, of the deep and
wide-spread prevalence throughout the world of Indian opinion, of the
theory and power of local Manitos. It is here that the Indian prophet,
powwow, or jossakeed, throws off his mask, and the Indian religionist
discloses to us the secrets of his fasts and dreams. His mind
completely unbends itself, and the man lives over, in imagination, both
the sweet and the bitter scenes of a hunter's life. To him the clouds,
which chase each other, in brilliant hues and constantly changing
forms, in the heavens, constitute a species of wild pictography, which
he can interpret. The phenomena of storms and meteorological changes
connect themselves, in the superstitious mind, with some engrossing
mythos or symbol. The eagle, the kite, and the hawk, who fly to great
heights, are deemed to be conversant with the aerial powers, who are
believed to have an influence over men, and hence the great regard
which is paid to the flight of these birds in their war and hieratic
songs.
Fictitious tales of imaginary Indian life, and poems on the aboriginal
model, have been in vogue almost from the days of the discovery. But
what has been fancied as life in the forest, has had no little
resemblance to those Utopian schemes of government and happiness which
rather denote the human mind run mad, than supply models to guide
judgment or please philosophy. In general, these attempts have held up
high principles of thought and action in a people, against truth,
observation, and common sense. High heroic action, in the Indian, is
the result of personal education in endurance, supported by pride of
character; and if he can ever be said to rejoice in suffering, it is in
the spirit of a taunt to his enemy. This error had been so long
prevalent, that when, in 1839, the author submitted a veritable
collection of legends and myths from the Indian wigwams, which
reflected the Indian life as it is, it was difficult, and almost
impossible, to excite interest in the theme, in the trade. He went to
England and the continent, in hopes of better success. But, although
philanthropists and men of letters and science appreciated the subject,
as historical elements in the history of the human mind, the
booksellers of London, Paris, Leipsic, and Frankfort-on-the-Main, to
whose notice the subject was brought, exhibited very nearly the same
nonchalant tone; and had it not been for the attractive poetic form in
which one of our most popular and successful bards has clothed some of
these wild myths, the period of their reproduction is likely to have
been still further postponed.
In now submitting so large a body of matter, respecting the mental
garniture of a people whose fate and fortunes have excited so much
interest, the surprise is not that we know so little of their mental
traits, but that, with so little research and inquiry, we should know
anything at all. They have only been regarded as the geologist regards
boulders, being not only out of place, but with not half the sure
guides and principles of determining where they came from, and where
the undisturbed original strata remain. The wonder is not that, as
boulder-tribes, they have not adopted our industry and Christianity,
and stoutly resisted civilization, in all its phases, but that, in
spite of such vital truths, held up by all the Colonies and States, and
by every family of them, they have not long since died out and become
extinguished. No English colony could live three or four centuries, in
any isolated part of the world, without the plough, the school-book,
and the Bible; it would die out, of idleness and ignorance. If one
century has kicked the Indian in America harder than another, it is
because the kicks of labor, art, and knowledge are always the hardest,
and in the precise proportion to the contiguity of the object.
By obtaining--what these legends give--a sight of the inner man, we are
better able to set a just estimate on his character, and to tell what
means of treatment are best suited for his reclamation. That
forbearance, kindness, and teaching are best adapted to the object,
there is no doubt. We are counselled to forgive an erring brother
seventy and seven times. If, as some maintain, wrongfully, we believe,
the Indian is not, in a genealogical sense, of the same stock, yet is
he not, in a moral sense, a brother? If the knowledge of his
story-telling faculty has had any tendency to correct the evils of
false popular opinion respecting him, it has been to show that the man
talks and laughs like the rest of the human family; that it is fear
that makes him suspicious, and ignorance superstitious; that he is
himself the dupe of an artful forest priesthood; and that his cruelty
and sanguinary fury are the effects of false notions of fame, honor,
and glory. He is always, and at all times and places, under the strong
influence of hopes and fears, true or false, by which he is carried
forward in the changing scenes of war and peace. Kindness never fails
to soften and meliorate his feelings, and harshness, injury, and
contempt to harden and blunt them. Above all, it is shown that, in the
recesses of the forest, he devotes a portion of his time to domestic
and social enjoyment, in which the leading feature is the relation of
traditionary legends and tales. Heroes and heroines, giants and dwarfs,
spirits, Monetos or local gods, demons, and deities pass in review. It
is chiefly by their misadventures and violations of the Indian
theories, that the laugh is sought to be raised. The _dramatis personæ_
are true transcripts of Indian life; they never rise above it, or
express a sentiment or opinion which is not true to Indian society; nor
do they employ words which are not known to their vocabulary. It is in
these legends that we obtain their true views of life and death, their
religion, their theory of the state of the dead, their mythology, their
cosmogony, their notions of astrology, and often of their biography and
history--for the boundaries between history and fiction are vaguely
defined. These stories are often told, in seasons of great severity in
the depth of the winter, to an eagerly listening group, to while away
the hour, and divert attention from the pressing claims of hunger.
Under such circumstances to dole away time which has no value to him,
and to cheat hunger and want, is esteemed a trait of philosophy. If
there is a morsel to eat in the lodge, it is given to the children. The
women imitate this stoicism and devotion of the men. Not a tone in the
narration tells of dismay in their domestic circumstances, not an eye
acknowledges the influence of grief. Tell me whether the dignity of
this position is not worthy of remembrance. The man, it may be, shall
pass away from the earth, but these tributes to the best feelings of
the heart will remain, while these simple tales and legendary creations
constitute a new point of character by which he should be judged. They
are, at least, calculated to modify our views of the man, who is not
always a savage, not always a fiend.
[5] Gross.
HIAWATHA;
OR,
MANABOZHO.
The myth of the Indians of a remarkable personage, who is called
Manabozho by the Algonquins, and Hiawatha by the Iroquois, who was the
instructor of the tribes in arts and knowledge, was first related to me
in 1822, by the Chippewas of Lake Superior. He is regarded as the
messenger of the Great Spirit, sent down to them in the character of a
wise man, and a prophet. But he comes clothed with all the attributes
of humanity, as well as the power of performing miraculous deeds. He
adapts himself perfectly to their manners, and customs, and ideas. He
is brought up from a child among them. He is made to learn their mode
of life. He takes a wife, builds a lodge, hunts and fishes like the
rest of them, sings his war songs and medicine songs, goes to war, has
his triumphs, has his friends and foes, suffers, wants, hungers, is in
dread or joy--and, in fine, undergoes all the vicissitudes of his
fellows. His miraculous gifts and powers are always adapted to his
situation. When he is swallowed by a great fish, with his canoe, he
escapes by the exertion of these powers, but always, as much as
possible, in accordance with Indian maxims and means. He is provided
with a magic canoe, which goes where it is bid; yet, in his fight with
the great wampum prince, he is counselled by a woodpecker to know where
the vulnerable point of his antagonist lies. He rids the earth of
monsters and giants, and clears away windfalls, and obstructions to the
navigation of streams. But he does not do these feats by miracles; he
employs strong men to help him. When he means to destroy the great
serpents, he changes himself into an old tree, and stands on the beach
till they come out of the water to bask in the sun. Whatever man could
do, in strength or wisdom, he could do. But he never does things above
the comprehension or belief of his people; and whatever else he is, he
is always true to the character of an Indian.
This myth is one of the most general in the Indian country. It is the
prime legend of their mythology. He is talked of in every winter
lodge--for the winter season is the only time devoted to such
narrations. The moment the leaves come out, stories cease in the lodge.
The revival of spring in the botanical world opens, as it were, so many
eyes and ears to listen to the tales of men; and the Indian is far too
shrewd a man, and too firm a believer in the system of invisible
spirits by which he is surrounded, to commit himself by saying a word
which they, with their acute senses on the opening of the spring, can
be offended at.
He leaps over extensive regions of country like an ignis fatuus. He
appears suddenly like an avatar, or saunters over weary wastes a poor
and starving hunter. His voice is at one moment deep and sonorous as a
thunder-clap, and at another clothed with the softness of feminine
supplication. Scarcely any two persons agree in all the minor
circumstances of the story, and scarcely any omit the leading traits.
The several tribes who speak dialects of the mother language from which
the narration is taken, differ, in like manner, from each other in the
particulars of his exploits. His birth and parentage are mysterious.
Story says his grandmother was the daughter of the moon. Having been
married but a short time, her rival attracted her to a grape-vine swing
on the banks of a lake, and by one bold exertion pitched her into its
centre, from which she fell through to the earth. Having a daughter,
the fruit of her lunar marriage, she was very careful in instructing
her, from early infancy, to beware of the west wind, and never, in
stooping, to expose herself to its influence. In some unguarded moment
this precaution was neglected. In an instant, the gale accomplished its
Tarquinic purpose.
Very little is told of his early boyhood. We take him up in the
following legend at a period of advanced youth, when we find him living
with his grandmother. And at this time he possessed, although he had not
yet _exercised_, all the anomalous and contradictory powers of body and
mind, of manship and divinity, which he afterward evinced. The timidity
and rawness of the boy quickly gave way in the courageous developments
of the man. He soon evinced the sagacity, cunning, perseverance, and
heroic courage which constitute the admiration of the Indians. And he
relied largely upon these in the gratification of an ambitious,
vainglorious, and mischief-loving disposition. In wisdom and energy he
was superior to any one who had ever lived before. Yet he was simple
when circumstances required it, and was ever the object of tricks and
ridicule in others. He could transform himself into any animal he
pleased, being man or manito, as circumstances rendered necessary. He
often conversed with animals, fowls, reptiles, and fishes. He deemed
himself related to them, and invariably addressed them by the term "my
brother;" and one of his greatest resources, when hard pressed, was to
change himself into their shapes.
Manitoes constitute the great power and absorbing topic of Indian lore.
Their agency is at once the groundwork of their mythology and
demonology. They supply the machinery of their poetic inventions, and
the belief in their multitudinous existence exerts a powerful influence
upon the lives and character of individuals. As their manitoes are of
all imaginary kinds, grades, and powers, benign and malicious, it seems
a grand conception among the Indians to create a personage strong
enough in his necromantic and spiritual powers to baffle the most
malicious, beat the stoutest, and overreach the most cunning. In
carrying out this conception in the following myth, they have, however,
rather exhibited an incarnation of the power of Evil than of the genius
of Benevolence.
Manabozho was living with his grandmother near the edge of a wide
prairie. On this prairie he first saw animals and birds of every kind.
He there also saw exhibitions of divine power in the sweeping tempests,
in the thunder and lightning, and the various shades of light and
darkness, which form a never-ending scene of observation. Every new
sight he beheld in the heavens was a subject of remark; every new
animal or bird an object of deep interest; and every sound uttered by
the animal creation a new lesson, which he was expected to learn. He
often trembled at what he heard and saw. To this scene his grandmother
sent him at an early age to watch. The first sound he heard was that of
the owl, at which he was greatly terrified, and, quickly descending the
tree he had climbed, he ran with alarm to the lodge. "Noko! Noko!"[6]
he cried, "I have heard a monedo." She laughed at his fears, and asked
him what kind of a noise it made. He answered, "It makes a noise like
this: Ko-ko-ko-ho." She told him that he was young and foolish; that
what he had heard was only a bird, deriving its name from the noise it
made.
He went back and continued his watch. While there, he thought to
himself, "It is singular that I am so simple, and my grandmother so
wise, and that I have neither father nor mother. I have never heard a
word about them. I must ask and find out." He went home and sat down
silent and dejected. At length his grandmother asked him, "Manabozho,
what is the matter with you?" He answered, "I wish you would tell me
whether I have any parents living, and who my relatives are." Knowing
that he was of a wicked and revengeful disposition, she dreaded telling
him the story of his parentage, but he insisted on her compliance.
"Yes," she said, "you have a father and three brothers living. Your
mother is dead. She was taken without the consent of her parents by
your father the West. Your brothers are the North, East, and South,
and, being older than yourself, your father has given them great power
with the winds, according to their names. You are the youngest of his
children. I have nourished you from your infancy, for your mother died
in giving you birth, owing to the ill treatment of your father. I have
no relations besides you this side of the planet in which I was born,
and from which I was precipitated by female jealousy. Your mother was
my only child, and you are my only hope."
He appeared to be rejoiced to hear that his father was living, for he
had already thought in his heart to try and kill him. He told his
grandmother he should set out in the morning to visit him. She said it
was a long distance to the place where Ningabiun[7] lived. But that had
no effect to stop him, for he had now attained manhood, possessed a
giant's height, and was endowed by nature with a giant's strength and
power. He set out and soon reached the place, for every step he took
covered a large surface of ground. The meeting took place on a high
mountain in the West. His father was very happy to see him. He also
appeared pleased. They spent some days in talking with each other. One
evening Manabozho asked his father what he was most afraid of on earth.
He replied, "Nothing." "But is there not something you dread here? tell
me." At last his father said, yielding, "Yes, there is a black stone
found in such a place. It is the only thing earthly I am afraid of; for
if it should hit me or any part of my body, it would injure me very
much." He said this as a secret, and in return asked his son the same
question. Knowing each other's power, although the son's was limited,
the father feared him on account of his great strength. Manabozho
answered, "Nothing!" intending to avoid the question, or to refer to
some harmless object as the one of which he was afraid. He was asked
again and again, and answered, "Nothing!" But the West said, "There must
be something you are afraid of." "Well! I will tell you," says
Manabozho, "what it is." But, before he would pronounce the word, he
affected great dread. "_Ie-ee_--_Ie-ee_--it is--it is," said he, "yeo!
yeo![8] I cannot name it; I am seized with a dread." The West told him
to banish his fears. He commenced again, in a strain of mock
sensitiveness repeating the same words; at last he cried out, "It is the
root of the _apukwa_."[9] He appeared to be exhausted by the effort of
pronouncing the word, in all this skilfully acting a studied part.
Some time after he observed, "I will get some of the black rock." The
West said, "Far be it from you; do not do so, my son." He still
persisted. "Well," said the father, "I will also get the apukwa root."
Manabozho immediately cried out, "_Kago! Kago!_"[10] affecting, as
before, to be in great dread of it, but really wishing, by this course,
to urge on the West to procure it, that he might draw him into combat.
He went out and got a large piece of the black rock, and brought it
home. The West also took care to bring the dreaded root.
In the course of conversation he asked his father whether he had been
the cause of his mother's death. The answer was "Yes!" He then took up
the rock and struck him. Blow led to blow, and here commenced an
obstinate and furious combat, which continued several days. Fragments
of the rock, broken off under Manabozho's blows, can be seen in various
places to this day."[11] The root did not prove as mortal a weapon as
his well-acted fears had led his father to expect, although he suffered
severely from the blows. This battle commenced on the mountains. The
West was forced to give ground. Manabozho drove him across rivers, and
over mountains and lakes, and at last he came to the brink of this
world.
"Hold!" cried he, "my son; you know my power, and that it is impossible
to kill me. Desist, and I will also portion you out with as much power
as your brothers. The four quarters of the globe are already occupied;
but you can go and do a great deal of good to the people of this earth,
which is infested with large serpents, beasts, and monsters,[12] who
make great havoc among the inhabitants. Go and do good. You have the
power now to do so, and your fame with the beings of this earth will
last forever. When you have finished your work, I will have a place
provided for you. You will then go and sit with your brother
Kabibboonocca in the north."
Manabozho was pacified. He returned to his lodge, where he was confined
by the wounds he had received. But from his grandmother's skill in
medicines he was soon recovered. She told him that his grandfather,
who had come to the earth in search of her, had been killed by
Megissogwon,[13] who lived on the opposite side of the great lake. "When
he was alive," she continued, "I was never without oil to put on my
head, but now my hair is fast falling off for the want of it." "Well!"
said he, "Noko, get cedar bark and make me a line, whilst I make a
canoe." When all was ready, he went out to the middle of the lake to
fish. He put his line down, saying, "Me-she-nah-ma-gwai (the name of the
kingfish), take hold of my bait." He kept repeating this for some time.
At last the king of the fishes said, "Manabozho troubles me. Here,
Trout, take hold of his line." The trout did so. He then commenced
drawing up his line, which was very heavy, so that his canoe stood
nearly perpendicular; but he kept crying out, "Wha-ee-he! wha-ee-he!"
till he could see the trout. As soon as he saw him, he spoke to him.
"Why did you take hold of my hook? Esa! esa![14] you ugly fish." The
trout, being thus rebuked, let go.
Manabozho put his line again in the water, saying, "King of fishes,
take hold of my line." But the king of the fishes told a monstrous
sunfish to take hold of it; for Manabozho was tiring him with his
incessant calls. He again drew up his line with difficulty, saying as
before, "Wha-ee-he! wha-ee-he!" while his canoe was turning in swift
circles. When he saw the sunfish, he cried, "Esa! esa! you odious fish!
why did you dirty my hook by taking it in your mouth? Let go, I say,
let go." The sunfish did so, and told the king of fishes what Manabozho
said. Just at that moment the bait came near the king, and hearing
Manabozho continually crying out, "Me-she nah-ma-gwai, take hold of my
hook," at last he did so, and allowed himself to be drawn up to the
surface, which he had no sooner reached than, at one mouthful, he took
Manabozho and his canoe down. When he came to himself, he found that he
was in the fish's belly, and also his canoe. He now turned his thoughts
to the way of making his escape. Looking in his canoe, he saw his
war-club, with which he immediately struck the heart of the fish. He
then felt a sudden motion, as if he were moving with great velocity.
The fish observed to the others, "I am sick at stomach for having
swallowed this dirty fellow Manabozho." Just at this moment he received
another severe blow on the heart. Manabozho thought, "If I am thrown up
in the middle of the lake, I shall be drowned; so I must prevent it."
He drew his canoe and placed it across the fish's throat, and just as
he had finished the fish commenced vomiting, but to no effect. In this
he was aided by a squirrel, who had accompanied him unperceived until
that moment. This animal had taken an active part in helping him to
place his canoe across the fish's throat. For this act he named him,
saying, "For the future, boys shall always call you Ajidaumo."[15]
He then renewed his attack upon the fish's heart, and succeeded, by
repeated blows, in killing him, which he first knew by the loss of
motion, and by the sound of the beating of the body against the shore.
He waited a day longer to see what would happen. He heard birds
scratching on the body, and all at once the rays of light broke in. He
could see the heads of gulls, who were looking in by the opening they
had made. "Oh!" cried Manabozho, "my younger brothers, make the opening
larger, so that I can get out." They told each other that their brother
Manabozho was inside of the fish. They immediately set about enlarging
the orifice, and in a short time liberated him. After he got out he
said to the gulls, "For the future you shall be called Kayoshk[16] for
your kindness to me."
The spot where the fish happened to be driven ashore was near his
lodge. He went up and told his grandmother to go and prepare as much
oil as she wanted. All besides, he informed her, he should keep for
himself.
Some time after this, he commenced making preparations for a war
excursion against the Pearl Feather, the Manito who lived on the
opposite side of the great lake, who had killed his grandfather. The
abode of this spirit was defended, first, by fiery serpents, who hissed
fire so that no one could pass them; and, in the second place, by a
large mass of gummy matter lying on the water, so soft and adhesive,
that whoever attempted to pass, or whatever came in contact with it,
was sure to stick there.
He continued making bows and arrows without number, but he had no heads
for his arrows. At last Noko told him that an old man who lived at some
distance could make them. He sent her to get some. She soon returned
with her conaus or wrapper full.[17] Still he told her he had not
enough, and sent her again. She returned with as much more. He thought
to himself, "I must find out the way of making these heads." Cunning and
curiosity prompted him to make the discovery. But he deemed it necessary
to deceive his grandmother in so doing. "Noko," said he, "while I take
my drum and rattle, and sing my war songs, go and try to get me some
_larger_ heads for my arrows, for those you brought me are all of the
same size. Go and see whether the old man cannot make some a little
larger." He followed her as she went, keeping at a distance, and saw the
old artificer at work, and so discovered his process. He also beheld the
old man's daughter, and perceived that she was very beautiful. He felt
his breast beat with a new emotion, but said nothing. He took care to
get home before his grandmother, and commenced singing as if he had
never left his lodge. When the old woman came near, she heard his drum
and rattle, without any suspicion that he had followed her. She
delivered him the arrow-heads.
One evening the old woman said, "My son, you ought to _fast_ before you
go to war, as your brothers frequently do, to find out whether you will
be successful or not."[18] He said he had no objection, and immediately
commenced a fast for several days. He would retire every day from the
lodge so far as to be out of reach of his grandmother's voice. It seems
she had indicated this spot, and was very anxious he should fast there,
and not at another place. She had a secret motive, which she carefully
hid from him. Deception always begets suspicion. After a while he
thought to himself, "I must find out why my grandmother is so anxious
for me to fast at this spot." Next evening he went but a short distance.
She cried out, "A little farther off;" but he came nearer to the lodge,
and cried out in a low, counterfeited voice, to make it appear that he
was distant. She then replied, "That is far enough." He had got so near
that he could see all that passed in the lodge. He had not been long in
his place of concealment, when a paramour in the shape of a bear entered
the lodge. He had very long hair. They commenced talking about him, and
appeared to be improperly familiar. At that time people lived to a very
great age, and he perceived, from the marked attentions of this visitor,
that he did not think a grandmother too old to be pleased with such
attentions. He listened to their conversation some time. At last he
determined to play the visitor a trick. He took some fire, and when the
bear had turned his back, touched his long hair. When the animal felt
the flame, he jumped out, but the open air only made it burn the
fiercer, and he was seen running off in a full blaze.
Manabozho ran to his customary place of fasting, and assuming a tone of
simplicity, began to cry out, "Noko! Noko! is it time for me to come
home?" "Yes," she cried. When he came in she told him what had taken
place, at which he appeared to be very much surprised.
After having finished his term of fasting and sung his war-song--from
which the Indians of the present day derive the custom--he embarked in
his canoe, fully prepared for war. In addition to the usual implements,
he had a plentiful supply of oil. He travelled rapidly night and day,
for he had only to will or speak, and the canoe went. At length he
arrived in sight of the fiery serpents. He stopped to view them. He saw
they were some distance apart, and that the flame only which issued
from them reached across the pass. He commenced talking as a friend to
them; but they answered, "We know you, Manabozho, you cannot pass." He
then thought of some expedient to deceive them, and hit upon this. He
pushed his canoe as near as possible. All at once he cried out, with a
loud and terrified voice, "What is that behind you?" The serpents
instantly turned their heads, when, at a single word, he passed them.
"Well!" said he, placidly, after he had got by, "how do you like my
exploit?" He then took up his bow and arrows, and with deliberate aim
shot them, which was easily done, for the serpents were stationary, and
could not move beyond a certain spot. They were of enormous length and
of a bright color.
Having overcome the sentinel serpents, he went on in his magic canoe
till he came to a soft gummy portion of the lake, called Pigiu-wagumee
or Pitchwater. He took the oil and rubbed it on his canoe, and then
pushed into it. The oil softened the surface and enabled him to slip
through it with ease, although it required frequent rubbing, and a
constant reapplication of the oil. Just as his oil failed, he extricated
himself from this impediment, and was the first person who ever
succeeded in overcoming it.
He now came in view of land, on which he debarked in safety, and could
see the lodge of the Shining Manito, situated on a hill. He commenced
preparing for the fight, putting his arrows and clubs in order, and
just at the dawn of day began his attack, yelling and shouting, and
crying with triple voices, "Surround him! surround him! run up! run
up!" making it appear that he had many followers. He advanced crying
out, "It was you that killed my grandfather," and with this shot his
arrows. The combat continued all day. Manabozho's arrows had no effect,
for his antagonist was clothed with pure wampum. He was now reduced to
three arrows, and it was only by extraordinary agility that he could
escape the blows which the Manito kept making at him. At that moment a
large woodpecker (the ma-ma) flew past, and lit on a tree. "Manabozho,"
he cried, "your adversary has a vulnerable point; shoot at the lock of
hair on the crown of his head." He shot his first arrow so as only to
draw blood from that part. The Manito made one or two unsteady steps,
but recovered himself. He began to parley, but, in the act, received a
second arrow, which brought him to his knees. But he again recovered.
In so doing, however, he exposed his head, and gave his adversary a
chance to fire his third arrow, which penetrated deep, and brought him
a lifeless corpse to the ground. Manabozho uttered his saw-saw-quan,
and taking his scalp as a trophy, he called the woodpecker to come and
receive a reward for his information. He took the blood of the Manito
and rubbed it on the woodpecker's[19] head, the feathers of which are
red to this day.