original trouble-maker, who noted keenly the growth of the boy in wit
and ingenuity, and presently advised the animals to make an end of him;
“for,” said he, “if you do not, some day he will be the master of us
all!” But they all loved the Little Boy Man because he was so friendly
and so playful. Only the monsters of the deep sea listened, and
presently took his life, hiding his body in the bottom of the sea.
Nevertheless, by the magic power of the First-Born, the body was
recovered and was given life again in the sacred vapor-bath, as
described in a former chapter.
Once more our first ancestor roamed happily among the animal people, who
were in those days a powerful nation. He learned their ways and their
language--for they had a common tongue in those days; learned to sing
like the birds, to swim like the fishes, and to climb sure-footed over
rocks like the mountain sheep. Notwithstanding that he was their good
comrade and did them no harm, Unk-to-mee once more sowed dissension
among the animals, and messages were sent into all quarters of the
earth, sea, and air, that all the tribes might unite to declare war upon
the solitary man who was destined to become their master.
After a time the young man discovered the plot, and came home very
sorrowful. He loved his animal friends, and was grieved that they should
combine against him. Besides, he was naked and unarmed. But his Elder
Brother armed him with a bow and flint-headed arrows, a stone war-club
and a spear. He likewise tossed a pebble four times into the air, and
each time it became a cliff or wall of rock about the teepee.
“Now,” said he, “it is time to fight and to assert your supremacy,
for it is they who have brought the trouble upon you, and not you upon
them!”
Night and day the Little Boy Man remained upon the watch for his enemies
from the top of the wall, and at last he beheld the prairies black with
buffalo herds, and the elk gathering upon the edges of the forest. Bears
and wolves were closing in from all directions, and now from the sky the
Thunder gave his fearful war-whoop, answered by the wolf’s long howl.
The badgers and other burrowers began at once to undermine his rocky
fortress, while the climbers undertook to scale its perpendicular walls.
Then for the first time on earth the bow was strung, and hundreds of
flint-headed arrows found their mark in the bodies of the animals, while
each time that the Boy Man swung his stone war-club, his enemies fell in
countless numbers.
Finally the insects, the little people of the air, attacked him in a
body, filling his eyes and ears, and tormenting him with their poisoned
spears, so that he was in despair. He called for help upon his Elder
Brother, who ordered him to strike the rocks with his stone war-club.
As soon as he had done so, sparks of fire flew upon the dry grass of the
prairie and it burst into flame. A mighty smoke ascended, which drove
away the teasing swarms of the insect people, while the flames terrified
and scattered the others.
This was the first dividing of the trail between man and the animal
people, and when the animals had sued for peace, the treaty provided
that they must ever after furnish man with flesh for his food and skins
for clothing, though not without effort and danger on his part. The
little insects refused to make any concession, and have ever since been
the tormentors of man; however, the birds of the air declared that they
would punish them for their obstinacy, and this they continue to do unto
this day.
Our people have always claimed that the stone arrows which are found so
generally throughout the country are the ones that the first man used in
his battle with the animals. It is not recorded in our traditions, much
less is it within the memory of our old men, that we have ever made
or used similar arrow-heads. Some have tried to make use of them
for shooting fish under water, but with little success, and they are
absolutely useless with the Indian bow which was in use when America was
discovered. It is possible that they were made by some pre-historic race
who used much longer and stronger bows, and who were workers in stone,
which our people were not. Their stone implements were merely natural
boulders or flint chips, fitted with handles of raw-hide or wood, except
the pipes, which were carved from a species of stone which is soft when
first quarried, and therefore easily worked with the most primitive
tools. Practically all the flint arrow-heads that we see in museums
and elsewhere were picked up or ploughed up, while some have been
dishonestly sold by trafficking Indians and others, embedded in trees
and bones.
We had neither devil nor hell in our religion until the white man
brought them to us, yet Unk-to-mee, the Spider, was doubtless akin to
that old Serpent who tempted mother Eve. He is always characterized as
tricky, treacherous, and at the same time affable and charming, being
not without the gifts of wit, prophecy, and eloquence. He is an adroit
magician, able to assume almost any form at will, and impervious to any
amount of ridicule and insult. Here we have, it appears, the elements of
the story in Genesis; the primal Eden, the tempter in animal form, and
the bringing of sorrow and death upon earth through the elemental sins
of envy and jealousy.
The warning conveyed in the story of Unk-to-mee was ever used with
success by Indian parents, and especially grandparents, in the
instruction of their children. Ish-na-e-cha-ge, on the other hand, was
a demigod and mysterious teacher, whose function it was to initiate the
first man into his tasks and pleasures here on earth.
After the battle with the animals, there followed a battle with the
elements, which in some measure parallels the Old Testament story of
the flood. In this case, the purpose seems to have been to destroy the
wicked animal people, who were too many and too strong for the lone man.
The legend tells us that when fall came, the First-Born advised his
younger brother to make for himself a warm tent of buffalo skins, and
to store up much food. No sooner had he done this than it began to snow,
and the snow fell steadily during many moons. The Little Boy Man made
for himself snow-shoes, and was thus enabled to hunt easily, while the
animals fled from him with difficulty. Finally wolves, foxes, and ravens
came to his door to beg for food, and he helped them, but many of the
fiercer wild animals died of cold and starvation.
One day, when the hungry ones appeared, the snow was higher than the
tops of the teepee poles, but the Little Boy Man’s fire kept a hole open
and clear. Down this hole they peered, and lo! the man had rubbed ashes
on his face by the advice of his Elder Brother, and they both lay silent
and motionless on either side of the fire.
Then the fox barked and the raven cawed his signal to the wandering
tribes, and they all rejoiced and said: “Now they are both dying or
dead, and we shall have no more trouble!” But the sun appeared, and a
warm wind melted the snow-banks, so that the land was full of water. The
young man and his Teacher made a birch-bark canoe, which floated upon
the surface of the flood, while of the animals there were saved only a
few, who had found a foothold upon the highest peaks.
The youth had now passed triumphantly through the various ordeals of his
manhood. One day his Elder Brother spoke to him and said: “You have now
conquered the animal people, and withstood the force of the elements.
You have subdued the earth to your will, and still you are alone! It is
time to go forth and find a woman whom you can love, and by whose help
you may reproduce your kind.”
“But how am I to do this?” replied the first man, who was only an
inexperienced boy. “I am here alone, as you say, and I know not where to
find a woman or a mate!”
“Go forth and seek her,” replied the Great Teacher; and forthwith the
youth set out on his wanderings in search of a wife. He had no idea how
to make love, so that the first courtship was done by the pretty and
coquettish maidens of the Bird, Beaver, and Bear tribes. There are some
touching and whimsical love stories which the rich imagination of the
Indian has woven into this old legend.
It is said, for example, that at his first camp he had built for himself
a lodge of green boughs in the midst of the forest, and that there his
reverie was interrupted by a voice from the wilderness--a voice that was
irresistibly and profoundly sweet. In some mysterious way, the soul of
the young man was touched as it had never been before, for this call of
exquisite tenderness and allurement was the voice of the eternal woman!
Presently a charming little girl stood timidly at the door of his
pine-bough wigwam. She was modestly dressed in gray, with a touch of jet
about her pretty face, and she carried a basket of wild cherries which
she shyly offered to the young man. So the rover was subdued, and love
turned loose upon the world to upbuild and to destroy! When at last she
left him, he peeped through the door after her, but saw only a robin,
with head turned archly to one side, fluttering away among the trees.
His next camp was beside a clear, running stream, where a plump and
industrious maid was busily at work chopping wood. He fell promptly in
love with her also, and for some time they lived together in her cosy
house by the waterside. After their boy was born, the wanderer wished
very much to go back to his Elder Brother and to show him his wife and
child. But the beaver-woman refused to go, so at last he went alone
for a short visit. When he returned, there was only a trickle of water
beside the broken dam, the beautiful home was left desolate, and wife
and child were gone forever!
The deserted husband sat alone upon the bank, sleepless and faint with
grief, until he was consoled by a comely young woman in glossy black,
who took compassion upon his distress and soothed him with food and
loving attentions. This was the bear-woman, from whom again he was
afterward separated by some mishap. The story goes that he had children
by each of his many wives, some of whom resembled their father, and
these became the ancestors of the human race, while those who bore the
characteristics of their mother returned to her clan. It is also said
that such as were abnormal or monstrous in form were forbidden to
reproduce their kind, and all love and mating between man and the animal
creation was from that time forth strictly prohibited. There are some
curious traditions of young men and maidens who transgressed this law
unknowingly, being seduced and deceived by a magnificent buck deer,
perhaps, or a graceful doe, and whose fall was punished with death.
The animal totems so general among the tribes were said to have
descended to them from their great-grandmother’s clan, and the legend
was often quoted in support of our close friendship with the animal
people. I have sometimes wondered why the scientific doctrine of man’s
descent has not in the same way apparently increased the white man’s
respect for these our humbler kin.
Of the many later heroes or Hiawathas who appear in this voluminous
unwritten book of ours, each introduced an epoch in the long story
of man and his environment. There is, for example, the Avenger of the
Innocent, who sprang from a clot of blood; the ragged little boy who won
fame and a wife by shooting the Red Eagle of fateful omen; and the Star
Boy, who was the off-spring of a mortal maiden and a Star.
It was this last who fought for man against his strongest enemies,
such as Wazeeyah, the Cold or North-Wind. There was a desperate battle
between these two, in which first one had the advantage and then the
other, until both were exhausted and declared a truce. While he rested,
Star Boy continued to fan himself with his great fan of eagle feathers,
and the snow melted so fast that North-Wind was forced to arrange a
treaty of peace, by which he was only to control one half the year. So
it was that the orderly march of the seasons was established, and every
year Star Boy with his fan of eagle feathers sets in motion the warm
winds that usher in the spring.
VI. ON THE BORDER-LAND OF SPIRITS
Death and Funeral Customs. The Sacred Lock of Hair.
Reincarnation and the Converse of Spirits. Occult and
Psychic Powers. The Gift of Prophecy.
The attitude of the Indian toward death, the test and background of
life, is entirely consistent with his character and philosophy. Death
has no terrors for him; he meets it with simplicity and perfect calm,
seeking only an honorable end as his last gift to his family and
descendants. Therefore he courts death in battle; on the other hand, he
would regard it as disgraceful to be killed in a private quarrel. If one
be dying at home, it is customary to carry his bed out of doors as the
end approaches, that his spirit may pass under the open sky.
Next to this, the matter that concerns him most is the parting with his
dear ones, especially if he have any little children who must be left
behind to suffer want. His family affections are strong, and he
grieves intensely for the lost, even though he has unbounded faith in a
spiritual companionship.
The outward signs of mourning for the dead are far more spontaneous and
convincing than is the correct and well-ordered black of civilization.
Both men and women among us loosen their hair and cut it according to
the degree of relationship or of devotion. Consistent with the idea of
sacrificing all personal beauty and adornment, they trim off likewise
from the dress its fringes and ornaments, perhaps cut it short, or cut
the robe or blanket in two. The men blacken their faces, and widows
or bereaved parents sometimes gash their arms and legs till they are
covered with blood. Giving themselves up wholly to their grief, they are
no longer concerned about any earthly possession, and often give away
all that they have to the first comers, even to their beds and their
home. Finally, the wailing for the dead is continued night and day to
the point of utter voicelessness; a musical, weird, and heart-piercing
sound, which has been compared to the “keening” of the Celtic mourner.
The old-time burial of the Plains Indians was upon a scaffold of poles,
or a platform among the boughs of a tree--their only means of placing
the body out of reach of wild beasts, as they had no implements with
which to dig a suitable grave. It was prepared by dressing in the finest
clothes, together with some personal possessions and ornaments, wrapped
in several robes, and finally in a secure covering of raw-hide. As a
special mark of respect, the body of a young woman or a warrior was
sometimes laid out in state in a new teepee, with the usual household
articles and even with a dish of food left beside it, not that they
supposed the spirit could use the implements or eat the food but merely
as a last tribute. Then the whole people would break camp and depart to
a distance, leaving the dead alone in an honorable solitude.
There was no prescribed ceremony of burial, though the body was carried
out with more or less solemnity by selected young men, and sometimes
noted warriors were the pall-bearers of a man of distinction. It was
usual to choose a prominent hill with a commanding outlook for the last
resting-place of our dead. If a man were slain in battle, it was an old
custom to place his body against a tree or rock in a sitting position,
always facing the enemy, to indicate his undaunted defiance and bravery,
even in death.
I recall a touching custom among us, which was designed to keep the
memory of the departed near and warm in the bereaved household. A lock
of hair of the beloved dead was wrapped in pretty clothing, such as it
was supposed that he or she would like to wear if living. This “spirit
bundle,” as it was called, was suspended from a tripod, and occupied a
certain place in the lodge which was the place of honor. At every meal
time, a dish of food was placed under it, and some person of the same
sex and age as the one who was gone must afterward be invited in to
partake of the food. At the end of a year from the time of death, the
relatives made a public feast and gave away the clothing and other
gifts, while the lock of hair was interred with appropriate ceremonies.
Certainly the Indian never doubted the immortal nature of the spirit
or soul of man, but neither did he care to speculate upon its
probable state or condition in a future life. The idea of a “happy
hunting-ground” is modern and probably borrowed, or invented by the
white man. The primitive Indian was content to believe that the spirit
which the “Great Mystery” breathed into man returns to Him who gave it,
and that after it is freed from the body, it is everywhere and pervades
all nature, yet often lingers near the grave or “spirit bundle” for
the consolation of friends, and is able to hear prayers. So much of
reverence was due the disembodied spirit, that it was not customary with
us even to name the dead aloud.
It is well known that the American Indian had somehow developed occult
power, and although in the latter days there have been many impostors,
and, allowing for the vanity and weakness of human nature, it is fair
to assume that there must have been some even in the old days, yet there
are well-attested instances of remarkable prophecies and other mystic
practice.
A Sioux prophet predicted the coming of the white man fully fifty
years before the event, and even described accurately his garments and
weapons. Before the steamboat was invented, another prophet of our race
described the “Fire Boat” that would swim upon their mighty river, the
Mississippi, and the date of this prophecy is attested by the term
used, which is long since obsolete. No doubt, many predictions have been
colored to suit the new age, and unquestionably false prophets, fakirs,
and conjurers have become the pest of the tribes during the transition
period. Nevertheless, even during this period there was here and there a
man of the old type who was implicitly believed in to the last.
Notable among these was Ta-chank-pee Ho-tank-a, or His War Club Speaks
Loud, who foretold a year in advance the details of a great war-party
against the Ojibways. There were to be seven battles, all successful
except the last, in which the Sioux were to be taken at a disadvantage
and suffer crushing defeat. This was carried out to the letter. Our
people surprised and slew many of the Ojibways in their villages, but in
turn were followed and cunningly led into an ambush whence but few came
out alive. This was only one of his remarkable prophecies.
Another famous “medicine-man” was born on the Rum River about one
hundred and fifty years ago, and lived to be over a century old. He was
born during a desperate battle with the Ojibways, at a moment when, as
it seemed, the band of Sioux engaged were to be annihilated. Therefore
the child’s grandmother exclaimed: “Since we are all to perish, let him
die a warrior’s death in the field!” and she placed his cradle under
fire, near the spot where his uncle and grandfathers were fighting, for
he had no father. But when an old man discovered the new-born child, he
commanded the women to take care of him, “for,” said he, “we know not
how precious the strength of even one warrior may some day become to his
nation!”
This child lived to become great among us, as was intimated to the
superstitious by the circumstances of his birth. At the age of about
seventy-five years, he saved his band from utter destruction at the
hands of their ancestral enemies, by suddenly giving warning received in
a dream of the approach of a large war-party. The men immediately sent
out scouts, and felled trees for a stockade, barely in time to meet and
repel the predicted attack. Five years later, he repeated the service,
and again saved his people from awful slaughter. There was no confusion
of figures or omens, as with lesser medicine-men, but in every incident
that is told of him his interpretation of the sign, whatever it was,
proved singularly correct.
The father of Little Crow, the chief who led the “Minnesota massacre”
of 1862, was another prophet of some note. One of his characteristic
prophecies was made only a few years before he died, when he had
declared that, although already an old man, he would go once more upon
the war-path. At the final war-feast, he declared that three of the
enemy would be slain, but he showed great distress and reluctance in
foretelling that he would lose two of his own men. Three of the Ojibways
were indeed slain as he had said, but in the battle the old war prophet
lost both of his two sons.
There are many trustworthy men, and men of Christian faith, to vouch
for these and similar events occurring as foretold. I cannot pretend to
explain them, but I know that our people possessed remarkable powers of
concentration and abstraction, and I sometimes fancy that such nearness
to nature as I have described keeps the spirit sensitive to impressions
not commonly felt, and in touch with the unseen powers. Some of us
seemed to have a peculiar intuition for the locality of a grave, which
they explained by saying that they had received a communication from the
spirit of the departed. My own grandmother was one of these, and as far
back as I can remember, when camping in a strange country, my brother
and I would search for and find human bones at the spot she had
indicated to us as an ancient burial-place or the spot where a lone
warrior had fallen. Of course, the outward signs of burial had been long
since obliterated.
The Scotch would certainly have declared that she had the “second
sight,” for she had other remarkable premonitions or intuitions within
my own recollection. I have heard her speak of a peculiar sensation
in the breast, by which, as she said, she was advised of anything of
importance concerning her absent children. Other native women have
claimed a similar monitor, but I never heard of one who could interpret
it with such accuracy. We were once camping on Lake Manitoba when we
received news that my uncle and his family had been murdered several
weeks before, at a fort some two hundred miles distant. While all our
clan were wailing and mourning their loss, my grandmother calmly bade
them cease, saying that her son was approaching, and that they would see
him shortly. Although we had no other reason to doubt the ill tidings,
it is a fact that my uncle came into camp two days after his reported
death.
At another time, when I was fourteen years old, we had just left Fort
Ellis on the Assiniboine River, and my youngest uncle had selected
a fine spot for our night camp. It was already after sundown, but my
grandmother became unaccountably nervous, and positively refused to
pitch her tent. So we reluctantly went on down the river, and camped
after dark at a secluded place. The next day we learned that a family
who were following close behind had stopped at the place first selected
by my uncle, but were surprised in the night by a roving war-party,
and massacred to a man. This incident made a great impression upon our
people.
Many of the Indians believed that one may be born more than once,
and there were some who claimed to have full knowledge of a former
incarnation. There were also those who held converse with a “twin
spirit,” who had been born into another tribe or race. There was
a well-known Sioux war-prophet who lived in the middle of the last
century, so that he is still remembered by the old men of his band.
After he had reached middle age, he declared that he had a spirit
brother among the Ojibways, the ancestral enemies of the Sioux. He even
named the band to which his brother belonged, and said that he also was
a war-prophet among his people.
Upon one of their hunts along the border between the two tribes, the
Sioux leader one evening called his warriors together, and solemnly
declared to them that they were about to meet a like band of Ojibway
hunters, led by his spirit twin. Since this was to be their first
meeting since they were born as strangers, he earnestly begged the young
men to resist the temptation to join battle with their tribal foes.
“You will know him at once,” the prophet said to them, “for he will not
only look like me in face and form, but he will display the same totem,
and even sing my war songs!”