magic used by The-one-who-was-First-Created, to give life to the dead
bones of his younger brother, who had been slain by the monsters of the
deep. Upon the shore of the Great Water he dug two round holes, over one
of which he built a low enclosure of fragrant cedar boughs, and here he
gathered together the bones of his brother. In the other pit he made a
fire and heated four round stones, which he rolled one by one into the
lodge of boughs. Having closed every aperture save one, he sang a mystic
chant while he thrust in his arm and sprinkled water upon the stones
with a bunch of sage. Immediately steam arose, and as the legend says,
“there was an appearance of life.” A second time he sprinkled water, and
the dry bones rattled together. The third time he seemed to hear soft
singing from within the lodge; and the fourth time a voice exclaimed:
“Brother, let me out!” (It should be noted that the number four is the
magic or sacred number of the Indian.)
This story gives the traditional origin of the “eneepee,” which has
ever since been deemed essential to the Indian’s effort to purify and
recreate his spirit. It is used both by the doctor and by his patient.
Every man must enter the cleansing bath and take the cold plunge which
follows, when preparing for any spiritual crisis, for possible death, or
imminent danger.
Not only the “eneepee” itself, but everything used in connection with
the mysterious event, the aromatic cedar and sage, the water, and
especially the water-worn boulders, are regarded as sacred, or at
the least adapted to a spiritual use. For the rock we have a
special reverent name--“Tunkan,” a contraction of the Sioux word for
Grandfather.
The natural boulder enters into many of our solemn ceremonials, such
as the “Rain Dance,” and the “Feast of Virgins.” The lone hunter and
warrior reverently holds up his filled pipe to “Tunkan,” in solitary
commemoration of a miracle which to him is as authentic and holy as the
raising of Lazarus to the devout Christian.
There is a legend that the First Man fell sick, and was taught by his
Elder Brother the ceremonial use of the pipe, in a prayer to the
spirits for ease and relief. This simple ceremony is the commonest daily
expression of thanks or “grace,” as well as an oath of loyalty and good
faith when the warrior goes forth upon some perilous enterprise, and
it enters even into his “hambeday,” or solitary prayer, ascending as a
rising vapor or incense to the Father of Spirits.
In all the war ceremonies and in medicine a special pipe is used, but at
home or on the hunt the warrior employs his own. The pulverized weed is
mixed with aromatic bark of the red willow, and pressed lightly into the
bowl of the long stone pipe. The worshiper lights it gravely and takes a
whiff or two; then, standing erect, he holds it silently toward the
Sun, our father, and toward the earth, our mother. There are modern
variations, as holding the pipe to the Four Winds, the Fire, Water,
Rock, and other elements or objects of reverence.
There are many religious festivals which are local and special in
character, embodying a prayer for success in hunting or warfare, or for
rain and bountiful harvests, but these two are the sacraments of our
religion. For baptism we substitute the “eneepee,” the purification by
vapor, and in our holy communion we partake of the soothing incense of
tobacco in the stead of bread and wine.
IV. BARBARISM AND THE MORAL CODE
Silence the Corner-Stone of Character. Basic Ideas of
Morality. “Give All or Nothing!” Rules of Honorable
Warfare. An Indian Conception of Courage.
Long before I ever heard of Christ, or saw a white man, I had learned
from an untutored woman the essence of morality. With the help of dear
Nature herself, she taught me things simple but of mighty import. I
knew God. I perceived what goodness is. I saw and loved what is really
beautiful. Civilization has not taught me anything better!
As a child, I understood how to give; I have forgotten that grace since
I became civilized. I lived the natural life, whereas I now live the
artificial. Any pretty pebble was valuable to me then; every growing
tree an object of reverence. Now I worship with the white man before a
painted landscape whose value is estimated in dollars! Thus the Indian
is reconstructed, as the natural rocks are ground to powder, and made
into artificial blocks which may be built into the walls of modern
society.
The first American mingled with his pride a singular humility. Spiritual
arrogance was foreign to his nature and teaching. He never claimed that
the power of articulate speech was proof of superiority over the dumb
creation; on the other hand, it is to him a perilous gift. He believes
profoundly in silence--the sign of a perfect equilibrium. Silence is
the absolute poise or balance of body, mind, and spirit. The man
who preserves his selfhood ever calm and unshaken by the storms of
existence--not a leaf, as it were, astir on the tree; not a ripple upon
the surface of shining pool--his, in the mind of the unlettered sage, is
the ideal attitude and conduct of life.
If you ask him: “What is silence?” he will answer: “It is the Great
Mystery!” “The holy silence is His voice!” If you ask: “What are the
fruits of silence?” he will say: “They are self-control, true courage or
endurance, patience, dignity, and reverence. Silence is the cornerstone
of character.”
“Guard your tongue in youth,” said the old chief, Wabashaw, “and in age
you may mature a thought that will be of service to your people!”
The moment that man conceived of a perfect body, supple, symmetrical,
graceful, and enduring--in that moment he had laid the foundation of
a moral life! No man can hope to maintain such a temple of the spirit
beyond the period of adolescence, unless he is able to curb his
indulgence in the pleasures of the senses. Upon this truth the Indian
built a rigid system of physical training, a social and moral code that
was the law of his life.
There was aroused in him as a child a high ideal of manly strength and
beauty, the attainment of which must depend upon strict temperance in
eating and in the sexual relation, together with severe and persistent
exercise. He desired to be a worthy link in the generations, and that he
might not destroy by his weakness that vigor and purity of blood which
had been achieved at the cost of much self-denial by a long line of
ancestors.
He was required to fast from time to time for short periods, and to work
off his superfluous energy by means of hard running, swimming, and the
vapor-bath. The bodily fatigue thus induced, especially when coupled
with a reduced diet, is a reliable cure for undue sexual desires.
Personal modesty was early cultivated as a safeguard, together with a
strong self-respect and pride of family and race. This was accomplished
in part by keeping the child ever before the public eye, from his birth
onward. His entrance into the world, especially in the case of the
first-born, was often publicly announced by the herald, accompanied by
a distribution of presents to the old and needy. The same thing occurred
when he took his first step, when his ears were pierced, and when he
shot his first game, so that his childish exploits and progress were
known to the whole clan as to a larger family, and he grew into manhood
with the saving sense of a reputation to sustain.
The youth was encouraged to enlist early in the public service, and to
develop a wholesome ambition for the honors of a leader and feast-maker,
which can never be his unless he is truthful and generous, as well as
brave, and ever mindful of his personal chastity and honor. There were
many ceremonial customs which had a distinct moral influence; the woman
was rigidly secluded at certain periods, and the young husband was
forbidden to approach his own wife when preparing for war or for any
religious event. The public or tribal position of the Indian is entirely
dependent upon his private virtue, and he is never permitted to forget
that he does not live to himself alone, but to his tribe and his clan.
Thus habits of perfect self-control were early established, and there
were no unnatural conditions or complex temptations to beset him until
he was met and overthrown by a stronger race.
To keep the young men and young women strictly to their honor, there
were observed among us, within my own recollection, certain annual
ceremonies of a semi-religious nature. One of the most impressive of
these was the sacred “Feast of Virgins,” which, when given for the
first time, was equivalent to the public announcement of a young girl’s
arrival at a marriageable age. The herald, making the rounds of the
teepee village, would publish the feast something after this fashion:
“Pretty Weasel-woman, the daughter of Brave Bear, will kindle her first
maidens’ fire to-morrow! All ye who have never yielded to the pleading
of man, who have not destroyed your innocency, you alone are invited, to
proclaim anew before the Sun and the Earth, before your companions
and in the sight of the Great Mystery, the chastity and purity of your
maidenhood. Come ye, all who have not known man!”
The whole village was at once aroused to the interest of the coming
event, which was considered next to the Sun Dance and the Grand Medicine
Dance in public importance. It always took place in midsummer, when
a number of different clans were gathered together for the summer
festivities, and was held in the centre of the great circular
encampment.
Here two circles were described, one within the other, about a rudely
heart-shaped rock which was touched with red paint, and upon either side
of the rock there were thrust into the ground a knife and two arrows.
The inner circle was for the maidens, and the outer one for their
grandmothers or chaperones, who were supposed to have passed the
climacteric. Upon the outskirts of the feast there was a great public
gathering, in which order was kept by certain warriors of highest
reputation. Any man among the spectators might approach and challenge
any young woman whom he knew to be unworthy; but if the accuser
failed to prove his charge, the warriors were accustomed to punish him
severely.
Each girl in turn approached the sacred rock and laid her hand upon it
with all solemnity. This was her religious declaration of her virginity,
her vow to remain pure until her marriage. If she should ever violate
the maidens’ oath, then welcome that keen knife and those sharp arrows!
Our maidens were ambitious to attend a number of these feasts before
marriage, and it sometimes happened that a girl was compelled to give
one, on account of gossip about her conduct. Then it was in the nature
of a challenge to the scandal-mongers to prove their words! A similar
feast was sometimes made by the young men, for whom the rules were even
more strict, since no young man might attend this feast who had so much
as spoken of love to a maiden. It was considered a high honor among us
to have won some distinction in war and the chase, and above all to have
been invited to a seat in the council, before one had spoken to any girl
save his own sister.
It was our belief that the love of possessions is a weakness to be
overcome. Its appeal is to the material part, and if allowed its way
it will in time disturb the spiritual balance of the man. Therefore the
child must early learn the beauty of generosity. He is taught to give
what he prizes most, and that he may taste the happiness of giving, he
is made at an early age the family almoner. If a child is inclined to
be grasping, or to cling to any of his little possessions, legends are
related to him, telling of the contempt and disgrace falling upon the
ungenerous and mean man.
Public giving is a part of every important ceremony. It properly belongs
to the celebration of birth, marriage, and death, and is observed
whenever it is desired to do special honor to any person or event.
Upon such occasions it is common to give to the point of utter
impoverishment. The Indian in his simplicity literally gives away all
that he has, to relatives, to guests of another tribe or clan, but
above all to the poor and the aged, from whom he can hope for no return.
Finally, the gift to the “Great Mystery,” the religious offering, may
be of little value in itself, but to the giver’s own thought it should
carry the meaning and reward of true sacrifice.
Orphans and the aged are invariably cared for, not only by their next of
kin, but by the whole clan. It is the loving parent’s pride to have his
daughters visit the unfortunate and the helpless, carry them food, comb
their hair, and mend their garments. The name “Wenonah,” bestowed upon
the eldest daughter, distinctly implies all this, and a girl who failed
in her charitable duties was held to be unworthy of the name.
The man who is a skillful hunter, and whose wife is alive to her
opportunities, makes many feasts, to which he is careful to invite the
older men of his clan, recognizing that they have outlived their period
of greatest activity, and now love nothing so well as to eat in good
company, and to live over the past. The old men, for their part, do
their best to requite his liberality with a little speech, in which
they are apt to relate the brave and generous deeds of their host’s
ancestors, finally congratulating him upon being a worthy successor
of an honorable line. Thus his reputation is won as a hunter and a
feast-maker, and almost as famous in his way as the great warrior is he
who has a recognized name and standing as a “man of peace.”
The true Indian sets no price upon either his property or his labor. His
generosity is only limited by his strength and ability. He regards it as
an honor to be selected for a difficult or dangerous service, and would
think it shame to ask for any reward, saying rather: “Let him whom I
serve express his thanks according to his own bringing up and his sense
of honor!”
Nevertheless, he recognizes rights in property. To steal from one of
his own tribe would be indeed disgrace, and if discovered, the name of
“Wamanon,” or Thief, is fixed upon him forever as an unalterable stigma.
The only exception to the rule is in the case of food, which is always
free to the hungry if there is none by to offer it. Other protection
than the moral law there could not be in an Indian community, where
there were neither locks nor doors, and everything was open and easy of
access to all comers.
The property of the enemy is spoil of war, and it is always allowable to
confiscate it if possible. However, in the old days there was not much
plunder. Before the coming of the white man, there was in fact little
temptation or opportunity to despoil the enemy; but in modern times the
practice of “stealing horses” from hostile tribes has become common, and
is thought far from dishonorable.
Warfare we regarded as an institution of the “Great Mystery”--an
organized tournament or trial of courage and skill, with elaborate rules
and “counts” for the coveted honor of the eagle feather. It was held
to develop the quality of manliness and its motive was chivalric or
patriotic, but never the desire for territorial aggrandizement or the
overthrow of a brother nation. It was common, in early times, for a
battle or skirmish to last all day, with great display of daring and
horsemanship, but with scarcely more killed and wounded than may be
carried from the field during a university game of football.
The slayer of a man in battle was expected to mourn for thirty days
blackening his face and loosening his hair according to the custom. He
of course considered it no sin to take the life of an enemy, and this
ceremonial mourning was a sign of reverence for the departed spirit. The
killing in war of non-combatants, such as women and children, is partly
explained by the fact that in savage life the woman without husband or
protector is in pitiable case, and it was supposed that the spirit of
the warrior would be better content if no widow and orphans were left to
suffer want, as well as to weep.
A scalp might originally be taken by the leader of the war party only
and at that period no other mutilation was practiced. It was a small
lock not more than three inches square, which was carried only during
the thirty days’ celebration of a victory, and afterward given religious
burial. Wanton cruelties and the more barbarous customs of war were
greatly intensified with the coming of the white man, who brought
with him fiery liquor and deadly weapons, aroused the Indian’s worst
passions, provoking in him revenge and cupidity, and even offered
bounties for the scalps of innocent men, women, and children.
Murder within the tribe was a grave offense, to be atoned for as the
council might decree, and it often happened that the slayer was called
upon to pay the penalty with his own life. He made no attempt to escape
or to evade justice. That the crime was committed in the depths of
the forest or at dead of night, witnessed by no human eye, made no
difference to his mind. He was thoroughly convinced that all is known to
the “Great Mystery,” and hence did not hesitate to give himself up, to
stand his trial by the old and wise men of the victim’s clan. His own
family and clan might by no means attempt to excuse or to defend him,
but his judges took all the known circumstances into consideration, and
if it appeared that he slew in self-defense, or that the provocation was
severe, he might be set free after a thirty days’ period of mourning in
solitude. Otherwise the murdered man’s next of kin were authorized to
take his life; and if they refrained from doing so, as often happened,
he remained an outcast from the clan. A willful murder was a rare
occurrence before the days of whiskey and drunken rows, for we were not
a violent or a quarrelsome people.
It is well remembered that Crow Dog, who killed the Sioux chief, Spotted
Tail, in 1881, calmly surrendered himself and was tried and convicted
by the courts in South Dakota. After his conviction, he was permitted
remarkable liberty in prison, such as perhaps no white man has ever
enjoyed when under sentence of death.
The cause of his act was a solemn commission received from his people,
nearly thirty years earlier, at the time that Spotted Tail usurped the
chieftainship by the aid of the military, whom he had aided. Crow Dog
was under a vow to slay the chief, in case he ever betrayed or disgraced
the name of the Brule Sioux. There is no doubt that he had committed
crimes both public and private, having been guilty of misuse of office
as well as of gross offenses against morality; therefore his death was
not a matter of personal vengeance but of just retribution.
A few days before Crow Dog was to be executed, he asked permission to
visit his home and say farewell to his wife and twin boys, then nine
or ten years old. Strange to say, the request was granted, and the
condemned man sent home under escort of the deputy sheriff, who remained
at the Indian agency, merely telling his prisoner to report there on
the following day. When he did not appear at the time set, the sheriff
dispatched the Indian police after him. They did not find him, and his
wife simply said that Crow Dog had desired to ride alone to the prison,
and would reach there on the day appointed. All doubt was removed next
day by a telegram from Rapid City, two hundred miles distant, saying:
“Crow Dog has just reported here.”
The incident drew public attention to the Indian murderer, with the
unexpected result that the case was reopened, and Crow Dog acquitted.
He still lives, a well-preserved man of about seventy-five years, and is
much respected among his own people.
It is said that, in the very early days, lying was a capital offense
among us. Believing that the deliberate liar is capable of committing
any crime behind the screen of cowardly untruth and double-dealing, the
destroyer of mutual confidence was summarily put to death, that the evil
might go no further.
Even the worst enemies of the Indian, those who accuse him of treachery,
blood-thirstiness, cruelty, and lust, have not denied his courage, but
in their minds it is a courage that is ignorant, brutal, and fantastic.
His own conception of bravery makes of it a high moral virtue, for to
him it consists not so much in aggressive self-assertion as in absolute
self-control. The truly brave man, we contend, yields neither to fear
nor anger, desire nor agony; he is at all times master of himself; his
courage rises to the heights of chivalry, patriotism, and real heroism.
“Let neither cold, hunger, nor pain, nor the fear of them, neither the
bristling teeth of danger nor the very jaws of death itself, prevent you
from doing a good deed,” said an old chief to a scout who was about to
seek the buffalo in midwinter for the relief of a starving people. This
was his childlike conception of courage.
V. THE UNWRITTEN SCRIPTURES
A Living Book. The Sioux Story of Creation. The First
Battle. Another Version of the Flood. Our Animal Ancestry.
A missionary once undertook to instruct a group of Indians in the truths
of his holy religion. He told them of the creation of the earth in six
days, and of the fall of our first parents by eating an apple.
The courteous savages listened attentively, and, after thanking him, one
related in his turn a very ancient tradition concerning the origin of
the maize. But the missionary plainly showed his disgust and disbelief,
indignantly saying:--
“What I delivered to you were sacred truths, but this that you tell me
is mere fable and falsehood!”
“My brother,” gravely replied the offended Indian, “it seems that you
have not been well grounded in the rules of civility. You saw that
we, who practice these rules, believed your stories; why, then, do you
refuse to credit ours?”
Every religion has its Holy Book, and ours was a mingling of history,
poetry, and prophecy, of precept and folk-lore, even such as the modern
reader finds within the covers of his Bible. This Bible of ours was our
whole literature, a living Book, sowed as precious seed by our wisest
sages, and springing anew in the wondering eyes and upon the innocent
lips of little children. Upon its hoary wisdom of proverb and fable, its
mystic and legendary lore thus sacredly preserved and transmitted from
father to son, was based in large part our customs and philosophy.
Naturally magnanimous and open-minded, the red man prefers to believe
that the Spirit of God is not breathed into man alone, but that the
whole created universe is a sharer in the immortal perfection of its
Maker. His imaginative and poetic mind, like that of the Greek, assigns
to every mountain, tree, and spring its spirit, nymph, or divinity
either beneficent or mischievous. The heroes and demigods of Indian
tradition reflect the characteristic trend of his thought, and his
attribution of personality and will to the elements, the sun and stars,
and all animate or inanimate nature.
In the Sioux story of creation, the great Mysterious One is not brought
directly upon the scene or conceived in anthropomorphic fashion, but
remains sublimely in the background. The Sun and the Earth, representing
the male and female principles, are the main elements in his creation,
the other planets being subsidiary. The enkindling warmth of the Sun
entered into the bosom of our mother, the Earth, and forthwith she
conceived and brought forth life, both vegetable and animal.
Finally there appeared mysteriously Ish-na-e-cha-ge, the “First-Born,”
a being in the likeness of man, yet more than man, who roamed solitary
among the animal people and understood their ways and their language.
They beheld him with wonder and awe, for they could do nothing without
his knowledge. He had pitched his tent in the centre of the land, and
there was no spot impossible for him to penetrate.
At last, like Adam, the “First-Born” of the Sioux became weary of
living alone, and formed for himself a companion--not a mate, but a
brother--not out of a rib from his side, but from a splinter which
he drew from his great toe! This was the Little Boy Man, who was not
created full-grown, but as an innocent child, trusting and helpless. His
Elder Brother was his teacher throughout every stage of human progress
from infancy to manhood, and it is to the rules which he laid down,
and his counsels to the Little Boy Man, that we trace many of our most
deep-rooted beliefs and most sacred customs.