The Soul of the Indian
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Charles A. Eastman >> The Soul of the Indian
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!"
They sent out scouts, who soon returned with news of the
approaching party. Then the leading men started with their
peace-pipe for the Ojibway camp, and when they were near at hand
they fired three distinct volleys, a signal of their desire for a
peaceful meeting.
The response came in like manner, and they entered the camp,
with the peace-pipe in the hands of the prophet.
Lo, the stranger prophet advanced to meet them, and the people
were greatly struck with the resemblance between the two men, who
met and embraced one another with unusual fervor.
It was quickly agreed by both parties that they should camp
together for several days, and one evening the Sioux made a
"warriors' feast" to which they invited many of the Ojibways. The
prophet asked his twin brother to sing one of his sacred songs, and
behold! it was the very song that he himself was wont to sing.
This proved to the warriors beyond doubt or cavil the claims of
their seer.