Part 20

The Indians have but one way to account for atmospherical phenomena; it is always by the intervention of a Supreme or Spiritual Being of the earth, the air, or the waters. Thus they ascribe earthquakes to the moving of the Great Tortoise which bears the Island (continent) on its back. They say he shakes himself or changes his position. The Missouri Indians believe earthquakes to be the effect of supernatural agency, connected like the thunder with the immediate operations of the Master of Life. Thunder and lightning impress them with inconceivable terror. Their opinions of the cause are various. Some take it for a voice of a particular species of men who fly in the air. Others say the noise comes from certain birds that are unknown to them. The Montagnais say it is the effort of a genius to bring up a snake which he hath swallowed; and they found this notion on observing that when the thunder falls upon a tree, it leaves something like, the shape of a snake.

The Konzas believe that, when a man is killed in battle, the thunder takes him up, they do not know whither. In going to battle each man traces an imaginary figure of the thunder on the soil, and he who represents it incorrectly is killed by the thunder.

The Delawares, who knew nothing of the cause of natural phenomena, nor do they desire to be informed of them, conceived thunder to be a spirit dwelling in the mountains, and now and then sallying forth to make himself heard. Some of them imagined it to proceed from the crowing of a monstrous turkey-cock in the heavens; others from enraged evil spirits.

Carver says in his Travels: "We had just landed, and were preparing to set up our tents for the night, when a heavy cloud overspread the heavens, and the most dreadful thunder, lightning, and rain, issued from it that ever I beheld. The Indians were greatly terrified, and ran to seek such shelter as they could. The Indian chiefs themselves, though their courage in war is usually invincible, could not help trembling at the horrid combustion."--Carver, 56. The southern Indians believe thunder to be the voice of the Almighty.--Adair, 86. They believe that Minggo Ishto Eloa, "the great chieftain of thunder" sometimes binds up the clouds and withholds rain.--Ibid., 89.

Eclipses they attribute to the attempts of the Evil Spirits to embarrass the labours of the luminary which is eclipsed. "The first lunar eclipse," says Adair, "I saw, after I lived with the Indians, was among the Cherokees in 1736; and, during the continuance of it, their conduct appeared surprising to one who had not seen the like before; they all ran wild, this way and that way, like lunatics, firing their guns, whooping and hallooing, beating of kettles, ringing horse-bells, and making the most horrid noises that human beings possibly could. This was done to assist the suffering moon."--Adair, 65.

(6) The chief gives her to him.--p. 156.

Marriages among the Indians are proposed and concluded in different ways. Thus, among the Delawares, the parents on both sides, having observed an attachment growing up between two young persons, negotiate for them. This generally commences from the house where the bridegroom lives, whose mother is the negotiatrix for him, and begins her duties by taking a good leg of venison or bear's meat, or something else of the same kind, to the house where the bride dwells, not forgetting to mention that her son has killed it. In return for this, the mother of the bride, if she otherwise approves the match, which she well understands by the presents to be intended, will prepare a good dish of victuals, the produce of the labour of women--such as beans, Indian corn, or the like--and then, taking it to the house where the bridegroom lives, will say, "This is the produce of my daughter's field, and she also prepared it." From this time (if the presents be accepted) not only presents of this kind are continued on both sides, but articles of clothing are presented to the parents of each party by way of return for what they have received, and of these the young people always have a share. The friendship between the two families daily increasing, they do their domestic and field-work jointly, and when the young people have agreed to live together, the parents supply them with necessaries, such as a kettle, dishes, bowls, &c. &c.

The men who have no parents to negotiate for them, or who otherwise choose to manage the matter for themselves, have two simple ways of attaining their object. The first is by stepping up to the woman whom they wish to marry, saying, "If you are willing, I will take you as wife;" when, if she answers in the affirmative, she either goes with him immediately, or meets him at an appointed time or place. The other method is--(I give it in their bad English)--"Indian, when he see industrious squaw, which he like, he go to him, place his two fore-fingers close aside each other, make two look like one--look squaw in the face--see him smile, which is all one he say yes! So he take him home."

Among the Iroquois, Miamis, &c. treaties of marriage are entirely carried on by the parents; the parties interested do not appear at all, but give themselves up entirely to the will of those on whom they depend. The parents, however, do not conclude any thing without their consent, but this is only a formality. The first advances must be made by the matrons. Not but that, if any girl were to continue too long without being sued for, her family would act underhand to procure her a suitor.

In some places the young man is contented to go and sit by the side of the young woman in her cabin; and, if she suffers it and continues in her place, it is taken for her consent, and the marriage is concluded. The customs of the different tribes do not essentially vary. What should you say, my fair readers, at being "wooed and won" in this way?

(7) Indian farm of marriage.--p. 156.

The Indian nations differ but little from each other in their marriage ceremonies. The tribes that inhabit the borders of Canada have the following custom:--When every preliminary is agreed on, and the day appointed, the friends and acquaintance of both parties assemble at the house or tent of the oldest relation of the bridegroom, where a feast is prepared on the occasion. The company who meet to assist at the festival are sometimes very numerous; they dance, they sing, and enter into every other diversion usual at any of their public rejoicings. When these are finished, all those who attended merely out of ceremony depart, and the bridegroom and the bride are left alone with three or four of the nearest and oldest relations on either side; those of the bridegroom being men, and those of the bride women.

Presently the bride, attended by these few friends, having withdrawn herself for the purpose, appears at one of the doors of the house, and is led to the bridegroom, who stands ready to receive her. Having now taken their station on a mat, placed in the centre of the room, they lay hold of the extremities of a wand about four feet long, by which they continue separated, whilst the old men pronounce some short harangues suitable to the occasion. The married couple after this make a public declaration of the love and regard they entertain for each other, and still holding the rod between them they dance and sing. When they have finished this part of the ceremony, they break the rod into as many pieces as there are witnesses present, who each take a piece, and preserve it with great care. The bride is then re-conducted out of the door as she entered, where her young companions wait to attend her to her father's house; there the bridegroom is obliged to seek her.

Another manner of performing the ceremony is said to be peculiar to the Naudowessies. When one of their young men has fixed on a young woman he approves of, he discovers his passion to her parents, who give him an invitation to come and live with them in their tents. He accordingly accepts their offer, and by so doing engages to reside in it for a whole year in the character of a menial servant. During this time he hunts, and brings all the game he kills to the family; by which means the father has an opportunity of seeing whether he can provide for the support of his daughter and the children that might be the consequence of their union. When this period is expired, the marriage is solemnized after the custom of the country, in the following manner:--Three or four of the oldest male relations of the bridegroom, and as many of the bride's, accompany the young couple from their respective tents to an open part in the centre of the camp. The chiefs and warriors being here assembled to receive them, a party of the latter are drawn up into two ranks on each side of the bride and bridegroom, immediately on their arrival. The principal chief then acquaints the whole assembly with the design of their meeting, and tells them that the couple before them, mentioning at the same time their names, are come to avow publicly their intention of living together as man and wife. He then asks the young people alternately whether they desire that the union may take place. Having declared, with an audible voice, that they do so, the warriors fix their arrows, and discharge them over the needs of the married pair; this done, the chief pronounces them man and wife. The bridegroom then turns around, and, bending his body, takes his wife upon his back, in which manner he carries her, amidst the acclamations of the spectators, to his tent. The ceremony is concluded by the most plentiful feast the new-married man can afford, and songs and dances, according to the usual custom, conclude the festival.

Among the Quapaws, as I have been informed, the husband, on the consummation of his marriage, presents his wife with a leg of deer, and she in return offers him an ear of maize.

THE IDOLS.

A TRADITION OF THE RICARAS.

"Whither goest thou, valiant warrior? Whither goest thou, Son of the Beaver? Man whom the Mahas fear; Man whom the Pawnees shun; Man of the red and painted cheek; Man of the fierce and fearful shout; Whither goest thou?" "I go to make an offering, I go to give to the Idols a bow, An arrow, and a spear, The Man, and Woman, and Dog of Stone, That stand on the willow bank, On the willow bank, that o'erlooks the stream, The shallow and turbid stream; I go to ask that my heart may be made, Like the heart of the panther, fierce and stout, And my soul as clean as the soul of a child, And my foot as swift as the foot of a buck, That victory may be mine, That the pole of my lodge may bend with scalps, And the song of my lips Be the song of a Brave, Who sings of bright deeds in the ears of his tribe." "Go! Warrior, go!"

"Whither goest thou, Hunter? Whither goest thou, keen eyed-man? Man whom the Beaver fears; Man whom the Panther shuns; Man of the fleet and ardent foot, And the firm and patient heart, And the never blanching-cheek, Whither goest thou?" "I go to make an offering, I go to give to the Idols flesh, The juicy flesh of the elk, The Man, and Woman, and Dog of Stone, That stand on the willow bank, On the willow bank that o'erlooks the stream, The shallow and turbid stream; I go to ask that my eye maybe true To follow the trail of the deer, And to lead in the fox's track, And strong my arm to send the dart To the life of the bison-ox, And stout my heart, when I list to the growl Of the cubs in the panther's den." "Go! Hunter, go!"

"Whither goest thou, Priest? Man of wisdom, whither goest thou? Man that commun'st with the Voice, And notest the lightning's words; Man that hast knowledge of things unseen By the eye of thy brothers, Whither goest thou?"

"I go to make an offering: I go to lay my magic robe, My shaggy hide of the old black bear, Before the Idols, The Man, and Woman, and Dog of Stone, That stand on the willow bank, On the willow bank that o'erlooks the stream, The shallow and turbid stream; I go to ask my Okkis to give To the sleep of my nights the dream that shows The image of things to come, That I may behold the fate of my tribe, And the fate of the Indian race; And count the scalps from Mahas torn, And the prisoners brought from Pawnee lands, And the beads from the town of the Rock; And number the coal-black horses, The Ricara Braves shall steal From the men who wear the cross, That shines like the cold, pale moon". "Go! Priest, go!"

"And whither goest thou, Maiden? Dove of the forest, whither goest thou? Maiden, as bright as the Hunter's Star, Maiden, whose hair is the grape-clustered vine, Whose neck is the neck of the swan, Whose eyes are the eyes of the dove, Whose hand is as small as the red-oak's leaf, Whose foot is the length of the lark's spread wing, Whose step is the step of the antelope's child, Whose voice is the voice of a rill in the moon, Of the rill's most gentle song; Whither goest thou?"

"I go to make an offering. I go to lay the gifts of my Brave, The crest of the Song Sparrow, that which sang From her bower in the bush, on the beautiful night, When he called me "dearest," And the rainbow-tail of the Spirit Bird, And the shells that were dyed in the sunset's blush, And the beads that he brought from a far-off land, And the skin of the striped lynx that he slew Ere the mocassins deck'd his feet, Before the Idols, The Man, and Woman, and Dog of Stone, That stand on the willow-bank, On the willow-bank that o'erlooks the stream, The shallow and turbid stream. I make them my Okkis to guard my Brave; I go to ask them to shield his breast Against the Maha's darts; To give to his arm the strength of two; To give to his foot the fleetness of two; To wring from his heart the drop of blood, If he hath such drop, that causes fear To make his cry like the Serpent's hiss, Among the hills of the setting sun, And when there is Maha blood on his hand, And a bunch of Maha scalps at his back. To send him back to these longing arms, That I may wipe from his weary brow The drops that spring from his toil." "Go! Maiden, go!"

With the above characteristic and wild song, chanted with the action and in the tones peculiar to the Indian story-teller, and which, in truth, is always the manner in which their traditions are related, the Little Snake, the principal chief of the Ricaras, and who was as celebrated throughout the wilds of the west for his skill in song as Carolan in the palace of his mountain lord, or Blondel at the court of Coeur de Lion, commenced his tale. As far as the visual organ was concerned, Mr. Verdier was before acquainted with the curious images to which it referred. He had seen, a few miles back, from the Mississippi, a small "willow-bank," rising in the words of the song above a "shallow and turbid stream," upon which were two stones bearing a great resemblance to the human form, and a third having a still greater resemblance to a dog. He knew that they were objects of exceeding veneration with all the tribes of the west, especially with the Ricaras, and that whenever they passed them, and they often deviated many miles from their path for that purpose, they never failed to make an offering, generally of some ornament, or valued part of their dress, or martial equipment, to propitiate the intelligences supposed to inhabit the statues, and render them favourable to their wants and wishes, and to their success in war, or the chace He saw that the continued observance of this rite for a long period, probably for ages, had collected around the "Idols" a large heap of stones, sticks, blankets, deer-skins, eagle's' feathers, &c., but he had remained till now in ignorance of the tradition, which assigned to them a past existence as human beings. He knew that every thing which is not in the common order of things, even a tree singularly shaped, or presenting an unusual excrescence, a blade of grass twisted into an uncommon form, a berry or a stalk of maize growing to an unusual size, become, in the eyes of these wild and superstitious children of the forest, invested with supernatural interest; but he had supposed that it was the mere resemblance which these statues bore to human beings that had caused the Indians to regard them as objects worthy of the most hallowed form of their rude worship.

It may be as well to say in this place, what I had contemplated making the subject of a note. It is this--that Indian poetry always wants the correspondence of the last sound of one verse with the last sound or syllable of another. There cannot, I imagine, be found a single instance of their having attempted to produce the "harmonical succession of sounds," which has imparted so much richness and beauty to the cultivated languages. It is necessary to state this, that my readers may not suppose that the omission to make the lines rhyme grew out of an attempt to give to the poetry an appearance of greater originality, and of greater singularity and wildness, the supposed first step to success. I could not, consistently with my determination to represent truly the manners and customs of that interesting and hard-used race in their own style and method, attempt to introduce rhyme into their rude lyrics. The poetry I have given, though it may want the inspiration of Indian poetry, will be found to possess its method. Another trait of Indian poetry to be noticed is the frequent repetition of favourite passages and incidents.

The Indian story-teller, having paused a moment to recruit his strength and voice, which had suffered by his energy, and to gather the opinion of the audience, which, for the first time in the present assembly, was expressed by audible signs of satisfaction, an unusual occurrence in an Indian audience, resumed his tale as follows:--

And who are they To whom the Brave has given his bow, His arrow, and his spear; To whom the Hunter has given the flesh, The juicy flesh of the elk, At whose feet the Priest has laid his robe, The shaggy skin of the old black bear, Where she, as bright as the Hunter's Star, The Maid with hair like the clustering grapes, Whose neck is the neck of the swan, Whose eyes are the eyes of the dove, Whose hand is as small as the red-oak's leaf, Whose foot is the length of the lark's spread wing. Whose step is the step of the antelope's child, Whose voice is the voice of a rill in the moon, Of the rill's most gentle song, Has cast the gifts of her Brave, Cast, without a tear, The tuft of the Song Sparrow, that which sang From its bower in the bush on the beautiful night, That he called his maiden, "dearest," And the rainbow-tail of the Spirit Bird, And the shells that were dyed in the sunset's blush, And the beads that he brought from a far-off land, And the skin of the striped lynx that he slew, Ere the mocassins decked his feet? I will tell you who they are: Listen, brother! Thou from the distant land, Pour oil into thine ears, for I Will fill them with a song.

They both were Ricaras, And the Dog was a Ricara Dog; It was many suns ago, Yet ask me not how long, For the warrior cannot tell, But this do I know the rivers ran Through forest, and prairie, and copse, And the mountains were piled to the base of the clouds, And the waters were deep, And the winter was cold, And the summer was hot; Grass grew on the prairies, Flowers bloomed on the lea, The lark sang in the morning, The owl hooted at night, And the world was such a world As the Ricara world is now:-- My brother hears.