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« on: August 03, 2019, 07:53:47 PM »
The world is peopled, however, with other wonder-folk besides the magic animals, and many of these mythic beings belong to ancient and wide-spread systems. Thus, the Chero- kee Flint (Tawiskala) is obviously the evil twin of the north- ern Iroquois cosmogony; and although he has ceased to be remembered as a demiurgic Titan, his evil and unsociable na- ture remains the same.'*’’ In Choctaw tales, the Devil who is drowned by a maiden whom he has lured from her home, and whose body breaks into stony fragments, is apparently the same being.®* The Ice Man, with his northerly winds and sleety rains, who quenched the fire that threatened to consume the world; the North who kept the South for Bride until the hot sun forced him to release her; Untsaiyi, the Gambler, who games away his life, and flees to the world’s end, where he is bound and pinned by the two brothers who have pursued him, there to writhe until the world’s end — all these are tales with familiar heroes, known in many tribes and lands.
Nor are the tribes of magic folk different in kind from those found elsewhere. There are the helpful spirit warriors, who dwell in rock and hill, the Nunnehi; there are the Little People, fairies good and evil; ** there are the Tsundigewi, the Dwarfs who lived in nests scooped from the sand, and who fought with and were overcome by the cranes;* the Water- Cannibals, who live upon human flesh, especially that of children; ® the Thunderers, whose steed is the great Uktena;
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the horned snake with a diamond in his forehead,®^ and to whose cave a young man was lured by the Thunder^s sister, only to find, when he returned to his folk to tell his story and die, that the night he had spent there comprised long years. Kanati, Lucky Hunter, the husband of Selu, Corn, and Tsui- kalu, the slant-eyed giant, held dominion over the animals and were gods of the hunter; while the different animals, each in its kind, were under the supervision of the animal Elders,^® such as the Little Deer, invisible to all except the greatest hunters, the White Bear, to whom wounded bears go to be cured of their hurts, Tlanuwa, the Hawk impervious to arrows, Dakwa, the great fish which swallowed the fisherman and from which he cut himself out, and the man-eating Leech, as large as a house.
Such Is the general complexion of the Cherokee pantheon — hordes or kinds of nature-powers, with a few mightier per- sonalities emerging above them, embryonic gods. Altogether similar are the conceptions of the Muskhogean tribes — giants and dwarfs, fairies and wizards, now human, now animal in shape, peopling hill and stream, forest and bayou.
VIL MYTHIC HISTORY57
Tribes, such as the Cherokee, Creek, and allied nations, with settled towns and elaborate institutions are certain to show some development of the historical sense. It is true that the Cherokee have no such wealth of historic tradition as have their northern cousins, the peoples of the Iroquois Con- federacy; but at the same time they possess a considerable lore dealing with their past. Hero tales, narrating the deeds of redoubtable warriors of former days, and incidentally keeping alive the memory of the tribes with whom the Cherokee were at war in early days, naturally form the chief portion of such tra- ditions; but there are also fabulous stories of abandoned towns, ancient mounds, and strange peoples formerly encountered.
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In one particular the Cherokee are distinguished above all other tribes. In the first years of the nineteenth century Sequoya, having observed the utility of the white man’s art of writing, invented the Cherokee alphabet, still employed for the native literature. He submitted his syllabary to the chief men of the nation; it was adopted, and in a few months thou- sands of the Cherokee had learned its use. Nevertheless, this innovation was not made without antagonism; and the oppo- nents, to make strong their case, told a tale of how, when In- dian and white man were created, the Indian, who was the elder, received a book, while the white was given bow and arrows. But since the Indian was neglectful of his book, the white man stole it, leaving the bow in its place, so that thence- forth the book belonged legitimately to the white man, while hunting with the bow was the Indian’s rightful life. A similar tale makes the white man’s first gift a stone, and the Indian’s a piece of silver, these gifts becoming exchanged; while an- other story tells how the negro invented the locomotive, which the white man, after killing the negro, took from him.
To an entirely different stratum of historical myth belongs the story of the massacre of the Anikutani. These were a priestly clan having hereditary supervision of all religious ceremonies among the Cherokee. They abused their powers, taking advantage of the awe in which they were held, to over- ride the most sacred rights of their fellow tribesmen, until finally, after one of the Anikutani had violated the wife of a young brave, the people rose in wrath and extirpated the clan. In later versions it is a natural calamity which is made re- sponsible for the destruction of the wicked priests; so that here we seem to have a tale which records not only a radical change in the religious institutions of the tribe, but which is well on the way toward the formation of a story of divine retribution.®
The Creek “Migration Legend,” edited by Gatschct, and recorded from a speech delivered in 1735 by Chekilli, head chief of the Creek, is a much more comprehensive historical
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myth than anything preserved for us by the kindred tribes. The legend begins with the account of how the Cussitaw (the Creek) came forth from the Earth in the far West; how they crossed a river of blood, and came to a singing mountain where they learned the use of fire and received their mysteries and laws. After this the related nations disputed as to which was the eldest, and the Cussitaw, having been the first to
Copper plate found in Etowah Mound, Georgia, representing a Birdlike Deity. Now in the United States National Museum, Washington
cover their scalp-pole with scalps, were given the place of honour. Since a huge blue bird was devouring the folk, the people gave it a clay woman to propitiate it and to induce it to cease its depredations. By this woman the bird became the father of a red rat, which gnawed its parent’s bowstring. Thus the bird was una.ble to defend itself, and the people slew it, though they regarded it as a king among birds, like the eagle. They came to a white path, and thence to the town of
X— 7
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Coosaw, where they dwelt four years. A man-eating lion preyed upon the people of this town. “The Cussitaws said they would try to kill the beast. They digged a pit and stretched over it a net made of hickory bark. They then laid a number of branches crosswise, so that the lion could not follow them, and going to the place where he lay they threw a rattle into his den. The lion rushed forth in great anger and pursued them through the branches. Then they thought it better that one should die rather than all, so they took a motherless child and threw it before the lion as he came near the pit. The lion rushed at it, and fell in the pit, over which they threw the net, and killed him with blazing pinewood. His bones, however, they keep to this day; on one side they are red, on the other blue. The lion used to come every seventh day to kill the people. Therefore, they remained there seven days after they had killed him. In remembrance of him, when they prepare for war they fast six days and start on the seventh. If they take his bones with them they have good fortune.” After this, the tribe continued its journey, seeking the people who had made the white path. They passed several rivers, and came to various towns; but when they shot white arrows into these towns, as a sign of peace, the inhabitants shot back red arrows. Sometimes the Cussitaw went on without fight- ing, sometimes they fought and destroyed the hostile people. Finally, “they came again to the white path, and saw the smoke of a town, and thought that this must be the people they had so long been seeking. This is the place where nowthe tribe of Palachucolas live. . . . The Palachucolas gave them black drink, as a sign of friendship, and said to them: Our hearts are white and yours must be white, and you must lay down the bloody tomahawk, and show your bodies, as a proof that they shall be white.” The two tribes were united under a common chief. “Nevertheless, as the Cussitaws first saw the red smoke and the red fire and made bloody towns, they cannot yet leave their red hearts, which are, however, white on one
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side and red on the other. They now know that the white path was the best for them.”
Such is the migration-legend of the Creek, altogether similar to other tales of tribal wandering both in the New World and the Old. Partly it is a mythical genesis ; partly it is an exodus from a primitive land of tribulation and war into a land of peace; partly it is historical reminiscence, the tale of a conquer- ing tribe journeying in search of richer fields. The sojourn by the mountain of marvels whence came the talismanic pole,®^ as well as knowledge of the law and the mysteries, recalls the story of Sinai, while the white path and the search for the land of peace suggest the promise of Canaan. The episodes of the man-devouring bird and the man-eating lion possess many mythic parallels, while both seem to hark back to a time when human sacrifice was a recognized rite.^® Doubtless the whole tale is a complex of fact and ritual, partly veritable recollection of the historic past, partly a fanciful account of the beginnings of the rites and practices of the nation. Last of all, comes the bit of psychological analysis represented by the allegory of the parti-coloured heart of the Red Man who knows the better way, but, because of his divided nature, is not wholly capable of following it. This gives to the whole myth an aetiological rationality and a dramatically appro- priate finish. The fall of man is narrated; his redemption re- mains to be accomplished.
Unquestionably many myths of the type of this Creek legend have been lost, for it is only by rare chance that such heroic tales survive the vicissitudes of time.
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Coosaw, whei'c they dwelt four years. A man-eating Hon preyed upon the people of this town. “The Cussitaws said they would try to kill the beast. They digged a pit and stretched over it a net made of hickory bark. They then laid a number of branches crosswise, so that the lion could not follow them, and going to the place where he lay they threw a rattle into his den. The lion rushed forth in great anger and pursued them through the branches. Then they thought it better that one should die rather than all, so they took a motherless child and threw it before the lion as he came near the pit. The lion rushed at it, and fell in the pit, over which they threw the net, and killed him with blazing pinewood. His bones, however, they keep to this day; on one side they are red, on the other blue. The lion used to come every seventh day to kill the people. Therefore, they remained there seven days after they had killed him. In remembrance of him, when they prepare for war they fast six days and start on the seventh. If they take his bones with them they have good fortune.” After this, the tribe continued its journey, seeking the people who had made the white path. They passed several rivers, and came to various towns; but when they shot white arrows into these towns, as a sign of peace, the inhabitants shot back red arrows. Sometimes the Cussitaw went on without fight- ing, sometimes they fought and destroyed the hostile people. Finally, “they came again to the white path, and saw the smoke of a town, and thought that this must be the people they had so long been seeking. This is the place where nowthe tribe of Palachucolas live. . . . The Palachucolas gave them black drink, as a sign of friendship, and said to them: Our hearts are white and yours must be white, and you must lay down the bloody tomahawk, and show your bodies, as a proof that they shall be white.” The two tribes were united under a common chief. “Nevertheless, as the Cussitaws first saw the red smoke and the red fire and made bloody towns, they cannot yet leave their red hearts, which are, however, white on one'
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side and red on the other. They now know that the white path was the best for them.”
Such is the migration-legend of the Creek, altogether similar to other tales of tribal wandering both in the New World and the Old. Partly it is a mythical genesis; partly it is an exodus from a primitive land of tribulation and war into a land of peace; partly it is historical reminiscence, the tale of a conquer- ing tribe journeying in search of richer fields. The sojourn by the mountain of marvels whence came the talismanic pole,®’- as well as knowledge of the law and the mysteries, recalls the story of Sinai, while the white path and the search for the land of peace suggest the promise of Canaan. The episodes of the man-devouring bird and the man-eating lion possess many mythic parallels, while both seem to hark back to a time when human sacrifice was a recognized rite.*® Doubtless the whole tale is a complex of fact and ritual, partly veritable recollection of the historic past, partly a fanciful account of the beginnings of the rites and practices of the nation. Last of all, comes the bit of psychological analysis represented by the allegory of the parti-coloured heart of the Red Man who knows the better way, but, because of his divided nature, is not wholly capable of following it. This gives to the whole myth an aetiological rationality and a dramatically appro- priate finish. The fall of man is narrated; his redemption re- mains to be accomplished.
Unquestionably many myths of the type of this Creek legend have been lost, for it is only by rare chance that such heroic tales survive the vicissitudes of time.
CHAPTER V THE GREAT PLAINS I. THE TRIBAL STOCKS
T he broad physlographical divisions of the North Ameri- can continent are longitudinal. The region bounded on the east by the Atlantic seaboard extends westward to parallel mountain ranges which slope away on the north into the Labrador peninsula and Hudson’s Bay, and to the south into the peninsula of Florida and the Gulf of Mexico. West of the eastward mountains, stretching as far as the vast ranges of the Rockies, is the great continental trough, whose southern half is drained by the Mississippi into the Gulf, while the Macken- zie and its tributaries carry the waters from the northern divi- sion into the Arctic Ocean. The eastern portion of this trough, to a line lying roughly between longitudes 90 and 95, is a part of what was originally the forest region; the western part, from far beyond the tree line in the north to the des- erts of northern Mexico, comprises the Great Plains of North America, the prairies, or grass lands, which, previous to white settlement, supported innumerable herds of buffalo to the south and caribou to the north, as well as a varied and prolific life of lesser animals — antelope, deer, rabbits, hares, fur-bearing animals, and birds in multitude. Coupled with this plenitude of game was a paucity of creatures formidable to man, so that aboriginally the Great Plains^ afforded a hunting-ground with scarcely an equal on any continent. It was adapted to and did support a hale population of nomadic huntsmen.
As in similar portions of the earth having no natural bar- riers to passage and intercourse, the human aboriginals of the
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region fell into few and vast linguistic stocks. Territorially the greatest of these was the Athapascan, which occupied all central Alaska and, in Canada, extended from the neighbour- hood of the Eskimo southward through the greater part of British Columbia and Athabasca into Alberta, and which, curiously enough, also bounded the Great Plains population to the south, Athapascan tribes, such as the Navaho and Apache, occupying the plains of southern Texas, New Mexico, and northern Mexico. Just south of the northern Athapascans a stratum of the Algonquian stock, including the important Cree and Blackfoot tribes, penetrated as far west as the moun- tains of Alberta and Montana, while north of the southern Athapascans, as it were reciprocally, a layer of the western Shoshonean stock extended eastward into central Texas, the Shoshonean Comanche forming one of the fiercest of the Plains tribes. Between these groups, occupying the greatest and richest portion of the prairie region in the United States, were the powerful and numerous Siouan and Caddoan peoples, the former, probably immigrants from the eastern forests, having their seat in the north, while the Caddo, whose provenance seems to have been southern, were divided into three segre- gated groups, Texan, Nebraskan, and Dakotan. The Pawnee, Wichita, Arikara, and Caddo proper are the principal tribes of the Caddoan stock; the Siouan stock is represented by many tribes and divisions, of whom the most famous are the Dakota or Sioux, the Omaha, Assinaboin, Ponca, Winnebago, Mandan, Crow, and Osage. It is of interest to note that five states, Missouri, Kansas, Nebraska, and the two Dakotas, either bear the designations of Siouan tribes or appellations of Siouan origin, while many towns, rivers, and counties are similarly named. Other important Plains tribes, occupying the region at the base of the Rocky Mountains, from Wyoming south to northern Texas, are the Arapaho and Cheyenne of the intrusive Algonquian stock and the Kiowa, linguistically un- related to any other people.
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In the opening ceremony (according to one authority) the fire-maker is said to converse with “the Master of Breath.” Doubtless the cane tipped with white feathers is (as white feathers are elsewhere) a symbol of the breath of life, and the rite at the riverbank is thus to be interpreted as the death of the year throughout the world’s quarters.
That the Indians regarded the Busk as a period of momen- tous change is clear from its attendant social consequences. The women burned or otherwise destroyed old vessels, mats, and the like, replacing them with new and unused ones; the town was cleansed; and all crimes, except murder, were for- given. The new fire was the symbol of the new life of the new year, whose food was now for the first time taken; while the fasting and purgation were purificatory rites to prepare men for new undertakings. The usual date for the ceremony was in July or August, though it varied from town to town with the ripening of the maize. Ceremonies similar to the Creek Busk, though less elaborate, were observed by the Chickasaw, Seminole, and, doubtless, by other Muskho- gean tribes.
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IV. COSMOGONIES «
The Gulf States, representing a region into which tribes from both the north and the west had pressed, naturally show diverse and contradictory conceptions, even among neighbour- ing tribes. Perhaps most interesting is the contrast of cos- mogonic ideas. The Forest tribes of the north commonly find the prototype of the created world in a heaven above the heavens, whose floor is the visible Armament; the tribes of the South-West very generally regard the habitable earth as an upper storey into which the ancestors of man ascended from their pristine underground abodes. Both of these types of cos- mogony are to be found in the Gulf region.
Naturally the Cherokee share with their Iroquoian cousins the belief in an original upper world, though their version of the origin of things is by no means as rich and complicated as the Iroquois account. “The earth,” they say, “is a great island floating in a sea, and suspended at each of the four cardinal points by a cord hanging down from the sky vault, which is of solid rock. When the world grows old and worn out, the people will die and the cords will break and let the earth sink down into the ocean, and all will be water again.” Originally the animals were crowded into the sky-world; everything was flood below. The Water-Beetle was sent on an exploration, and after darting about on the surface of the waters and find- ing no rest, it dived to the depths, whence it brought up a bit of mud, from which Earth developed by accretion.^® “When the earth was dry and the animals came down, it was still dark, so they got the sun and set it in a track to go every day across the island from east to west, just overhead. It was too hot this way, and Tsiskagili, the Red Crayfish, had his shell scorched a bright red, so that his meat was spoiled; and the Cherokee do not eat it. The conjurers put the sun another handbreadth higher in the air, but it was still too hot. They raised it another time, and another, until it was seven hand-
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breadths high and just under the sky arch. Then it was right, and they left it so. This Is why the conjurers call the highest place ‘the seventh height,’ because it Is seven handbreadths above the earth. Every day the sun goes along under this arch, and returns at night on the upper side to the starting place.” ^
The primeval sky-world and the chaos of waters, the episode of the diving for earth, and the descent of life from heaven all indicate a northern origin; but there are many features of this myth suggestive of the far South-West, such as the crowding of the animals in their original home, the seven heights of heaven, and the raising of the sun. Furthermore, the Cherokee myth continues with an obvious addition of south-western ideas: “There is another world under this, and It is like ours in everything — animals, plants, and people — save that the seasons are different. The streams that come down from the mountains are the trails by which we reach this under- world, and the springs at their heads are the doorways by which we enter it, but to do this one must fast and go to water and have one of the underground people for a guide. We know that the seasons in the underworld are different from ours, because the water in the springs is always warmer in winter and cooler in summer than the outer air.”
Among other Cherokee myths having to do with the begin- nings of things is a legend of the theft of fire — a tale widely distributed throughout America. The world was cold, says the myth, until the Thunders sent their lightnings to implant fire in the heart of a sycamore, which grew upon an island. The animals beheld the smoke and determined to obtain the fire to warm the world. First the birds attempted the feat, Raven and Screech Owl and Horned Owl and Hooting Owl, but came away only with scorched feathers or blinking eyes. Next the snakes. Black Racer and Blacksnake, in succession swam through the waters to the Island, but succeeded only in black- ening their own skins. Finally, Water-Spider spun a thread from her body and wove it into a tusti bowl which she fastened
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on her back and in which she succeeded in bringing home a live coal.®^ Game and Corn came into the world through the activities of two bo7s, one the son and one the foster-son of old man Lucky Hunter and his wife Corn. The boys followed their father into the woods, saw him open the rock entrance of the great cave in which the animals were confined, and after- ward in mischief loosed all the animals, to people the world with game.^^ Their mother Corn they slew, and wherever her blood fell upon the ground there maize sprang up.^® The parents went to the East and dwelt with the sunrise, but the boys themselves became the Thunderers and abode in the darkening West, and the songs which they taught to the hunters are still used in the chase of deer.
Like the Cherokee, the Yuchi held to the northern cosmog- ony — an upper world, containing the Elders of men and ani- mals, and a waste of waters below. Animal after animal attempts to bring up earth from the deep, until, in this legend, the crayfish succeeds in lifting to the surface the embryonic ball whence Earth is to grow. The Yuchi add, however, an interesting element to the myth: The new-formed land was semi-fluid. Turkey-Buzzard was' sent forth to inspect it, with the warning that he was not to flap his wings while soaring above earth’s regions. But, becoming wearied, he did so, to avoid falling, and the effect upon the fluid land of the winds so created was the formation of hill and valley.
In contrast to these tales of a primeval descent or fall from an upper world are the cosmogonic myths of an ascent from a subterranean abode, which the Muskhogean tribes share with the Indians of the South-West. “At a certain time, the Earth opened in the West, where its mouth is. The earth opened and the Cussitaws came out of its mouth, and set- tled near by.” This is the beginning of the famous migra- tion-legend of the Creeks, as preserved by Gatschet.®^ The story recounts how the earth became angry and ate up a por- tion of her progeny; how the people started out on a journey
PLATE XIII
Human figure in stone, probably representing a deity ; height 2 i }4 inches. Found in Bartow County, Georgia. After Report of the United States National Museum^ 1896, Plate XLIV.
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toward the sunrise; how they crossed a River of Slime, then a River of Blood, and came to the King of Mountains, whence a great fire blazed upward with a singing sound. Here there was an assembly of the Nations, and a knowledge of herbs and of fire was given to men : from the East came a white fire, which they would not use; from the South a blue fire, neither would they have this; from the West came a black fire, and this, too, was refused; but the fire from the North, which was red and yellow, they took and mingled with the fire from the mountain, “and this is the fire they use today; and this, too, sometimes sings.” On the mountain they found a pole which was rest- less and made a noise; they sacrificed a motherless child to it,^® and then took it with them to be their war standard.'*® At this same place they received from singing plants knowl- edge of the herbs and purifications which they employ in the Busk.
The Choctaw, like the Creek, regard themselves as earth- born. In very ancient times, before man lived, Nane Chaha (“high hill”) was formed, from the top of which a passage led down into the caverns of earth from which the Choctaw emerged, scattering to the four points of the compass. With them the grasshoppers also appeared, but their mother, who had stayed behind, was killed by men, so that no more of the insects came forth, and ever after those that remained on earth were known to the Choctaw as “mother dead.” The grasshoppers, however, in revenge, persuaded Aba, the Great Spirit, to close the mouth of the cave; and the men who re- mained therein were transformed into ants.'*®
The Louisiana Choctaw continue their myth with the story of how men tried to build a mound reaching to the heavens, how the mound was thrown down and a confusion of tongues ensued, how a great flood came, and how the Choctaw and the animals they had taken ?with them into a boat were saved from the universal deluge — all elements of an obviously OldrWorld origin; though the story of the smoking mountain,
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and of the cavern peopled by the ancestral animals and men, is to be found far in the North and West on the American continent, to which it is undoubtedly native.
V. ANIMAL STORIES
To the most primitive stratum of myth belong those tales of the beginnings of things which have to do, not with the source of the world — for the idea that man’s habitat is itself a single being, with beginning and end, is neither a simple nor a very primitive concept — but which recount the origins of animal traits. How Snake got his poison, why ’Possum has a large mouth, why Mole lives underground, why Cedar is red-grained — these are titles representative of a multitude of stories nar- rating the beginnings of the distinctive peculiarities of ani- mals and plants as the Indian’s fancy conjectures them. The Gulf-State region is particularly rich in tales of this type, and it has been urged very plausibly that the prevalence of similar and identical animal stories among the Indians and negroes points to a common and probably American source for most of them.
The snakes, the bees, and the wasps got their venom, ac- cording to the Choctaw story, when a certain water- vine, which had poisoned the Indians who came to the bayou to bathe, surrendered its poison to these creatures out of commisera- tion for men; the opossum got his big mouth, as stated by these same Indians, from laughter occasioned by a malev- olent joke which he perpetrated upon the deer; the mole lives underground, say the Cherokee, for fear of rival magicians jealous of his powers as a love-charmer; and in Yuchi story the red grain of the cedar is due to the fact that to its top is fastened the bleeding head of the wizard who tried to kill the sun.
The motives inspiring the animal stories are various. Doubt- less, the mere love of story-telling, for entertainment’s sake, is
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a fundamental stimulus; the plot is suggested \>y nature, and the fancy enlarges upon it, frequently with a humorous or satirical vein. But from satire to moralizing is an easy turn; the story-teller who sees human foible in the traits of animals is well on the way to become a fabulist. Many of the Indian stories are intended to point a moral, just as many of them are designed to give an answer, more or less credible, to a natural difference that stimulates curiosity. Thus we find morals and science, mingling instruction with entertainment, in this most primitive of literary forms.
Vanity is one of the motives most constantly employed. The Choctaw story of the raccoon and the opossum tells how, long ago, both of these animals possessed bushy tails, but the opossum’s tail was white, whereas the raccoon’s was beauti- fully striped. At the raccoon’s advice, the opossum undertook to brown the hairs of his tail at a fire, but his lack of caution caused the hair to burn, and his tail has been smooth ever since. A similar theme, with an obvious moral, is the Chero- kee fable of the buzzard’s topknot: “The buzzard used to have a fine topknot, of which he was so proud that he refused to eat carrion, and while the other birds were pecking at the body of a deer or other animal which they had found he would strut around and say: ‘You may have it all, it is not good enough for me.’ They resolved to punish him, and with the help of the buffalo carried out a plot by which the buzzard lost not his topknot alone, but nearly all the other feathers on his head. He lost his pride at the same time, so that he is willing enough now to eat carrion for a living.”
Vengeance, theft, gratitude, skill, and trickery in contest are other motives which make of these tales not only explana- tions but lessons. The fable of the lion and the mouse has a Cherokee analogue in the story of the wolf whose eyes were plastered shut, while he slept, by a malicious raccoon; a bird, taking pity on the wolf, pecked the plaster from his eyes; and the wolf rewarded the bird by telling him where to find red
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paint with which he might colour the sombre feathers of his breast. This was the origin of the redbird. The story of the hare and the tortoise is recalled by the race of the crane and the humming-bird; the swift humming-bird outstripped the crane by day but slept at night; the lumbering crane, because of his powers of endurance, flying night and day, won the race. Even more suggestive of the same fable is the tale of how the terrapin beat the rabbit, who had challenged him to a race, by posting at each station on the course a member of his family, himself awaiting his antagonist at the finish.
Magic and transformation stories form still another class presenting many analogies to similar Old-World tales.^® The Cherokee have a story, immediately reminiscent of German folk-tales, of a girl who found a bullfrog sitting beside the spring where she went for water; the bullfrog transformed himself into a young man, whom she married, but his face always had a froggish look. In other cases transformation is for the sake of revenge, as the eagle who assumed human form after his mate had been killed, and who took vengeance upon the tribe of the hunter. Probably the moral of the broken tabu lies at the basis of this story, for this is a frequent motive in tales where men are transformed into animals or animals assume human shape. Thus, a hungry hunter is turned into a snake for eating squirrel meat, which was tabu to him; another has his death foretold by a katydid whose song he ridicules; another is lured by a doe, which comes to life after he has slain her, to the cavern of the deer, and is there himself trans- formed into a deer, returning to his own people only to die. Stories of the Rip Van Winkle type develop from this theme of the hunter lured away by animals, as in the instance of the man who spent a night with the panthers, and found, upon his return, that he had been lost a whole season; while Euro- pean tales of merfolk find their parallels in stories of under- water towns to which fishermen are dragged or lured by wizard fishes.
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VI. TRICKSTERS AND WONDER-FOLK«
The telling of animal stories leads naturally to the formation of groups of tales in which certain animals assume constant and characteristic rUes, and attain to the rank of mythic be- ings. The Brer Rabbit stories, made famous as negro tales by Joel Chandler Harris, appear as a veritable saga cycle among the Cherokee, from whom they are doubtless borrowed. There can be little question that “ Brer Rabbit” — vain, tricky, malicious — is a southern and humorous debasement of the Great Hare, the Algonquian demiurge and trickster; while the Turtle, also important in northern cosmogony, is repre- sented by the put-upon, but shifty, “Brer Terrapin” of the southern tales. The “tar baby” by which the thieving Rabbit was tricked and caught appears in Cherokee lore as a “tar wolf,” set as a trap ; the Rabbit, coming upon it by night, kicks it and is stuck fast; the wolf and the fox find him caught, and debate how he shall be put to death; the Rabbit pleads with them not to cast him into the thicket to perish, which accord- ingly they do, and thus he makes off. The escape of an animal from his captors through pretending fear of his natural ele- ment and thus inducing them to throw him into it is a frequent incident in animal tales, while the “tar baby” story has va- riants, as Mooney says, “not only among the Cherokee, but also in Mexico, Washington, and southern Alaska — wher- ever, in fact, the pinon or the pine supplies enough gum to be molded into a ball for Indian uses.” Another legend found from coast to coast, and known to Cherokee and Creek, is the story of how the Rabbit dines the Bear (the “imitation of the host” theme, as it is called, which has endless variants throughout the continent) : “The Bear invited the Rabbit to dine with him. They had beans in the pot, but there was no grease for them, so the Bear cut a slit in his side and let the oil run out until they had enough to cook the dinner. The Rabbit looked surprised, and thought to himself, ‘That’s a
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handy way. I think I’ll try that.’ When he started home he in- vited the Bear to come and take dinner with him. When the Bear came the Rabbit said, ‘I have beans for dinner, too. Now I’ll get grease for them.’ So he took a knife and drove it into his side, but instead of oil, a stream of blood gushed out and he fell over nearly dead. The Bear picked him up and had hard work to tie up the wound and stop the bleeding. Then he scolded him, ‘You little fool, I’m large and strong and lined all over with fat; the knife don’t hurt me; but you’re small and lean, and you can’t do such things.’”
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A story which has many versions is that of the journey of a group of men — sometimes four, sometimes seven — to the abode of the Great Hare. He receives them courteously, entertains them after their long journey, and asks each his wish. One asks for skill in war, another for success in hunting, another for fame, another for love, and the Master of Life assures each of the granting of his request. But there is one man yet to be heard from, and his plea is for long life; whereupon he is transformed into a tree or, better, a stone: “You shall have your wish; here you shall always remain for future generations to look upon,” says the Hare. An odd sequel to this story is that the returning warriors And their journey very short, or again that what has seemed only a brief period turns out to have been a stay of years — shifts of time which indicate that their travel has led them into the spirit-world.
In another tale, this time from the Huron country, the fate- ful journey to the Village of Souls is undertaken by a man who has lost his beloved sister. Her spirit appears to him from time to time as he travels, but he is unable to touch her. At last, after crossing an almost impassable river, he comes to the abode of one who directs him to the dancing-house of the spir- its. There he is told to seize his sister’s soul, imprison it in a pumpkin, and, thus secured, to take it back to the land of the living, where he will be able to reanimate it, provided that, during the ceremony, no one raises an eye to observe. This he does, and he feels the life returning to his sister’s body, but at the last moment a curious person ventures to look, and the returning life flees away.®* Here is the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice.
In both Algonquian and Iroquoian myth the path to the Village of Souls is guarded by dread watchers, ready to cast into the abyss beneath those whose wickedness has given them
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into the power of these guardians — for this path they find in the Milky Way, whose Indian name is the Pathway of Souls.®
VIII. HIAWATHA^
Tales recounting the deeds of Manabozho, collected and published by Schoolcraft, as the “myth of Hiawatha,” were the primary materials from which Longfellow drew for his Song of Hiawatha. The fall of Nokomis from the sky; Hiawa- tha’s journey to his father, the West Wind; the gift of maize, in the legend of Mondamin;®® the conflict with the great Stur- geon, by which Hiawatha was swallowed; the rape and res- toration of Chibiabos; the pursuit of the storm-sprite, Pau- Puk-Keewis; and the conflict of the upper and underworld powers, are all elements in the cosmogonic myths of the Al- gonquian tribes.
Quite another personage is the actual Hiawatha of Iroquoian tradition, certain of whose deeds and traits are incorporated in the poet’s tale. Hiawatha was an Onondaga chieftain whose active years fell in the latter half of the sixteenth century. At that time the Iroquoian tribes of central New York were at constant war with one another and with their Algonquian neighbours, and Hiawatha conceived the great idea of a union which should ensure a universal peace. It was no ordinary confederacy that he planned, but an intertribal government whose affairs should be directed and whose disputes should be settled by a federal council containing representatives from each nation. This grandiose dream of a vast and peaceful Indian nation was never realized; but it was due to Hiawatha that the Iroquoian confederacy was formed, by means of which these tribes became the overlords of the forest region from the Connecticut to the Mississippi and from the St. Lawrence to the Susquehanna.
This great result was not, however, easily attained. The Iroquois preserve legends of Hiawatha’s trials; how he was
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opposed among his own people by the magician and war-chief Atotarho; how his only daughter was slain at a council of the tribe by a great white bird, summoned, it is said, by the vengeful magician, which dashed downward from the skies and struck the maiden to earth; how Hiawatha then sadly departed from the people whom he had sought to benefit, and came to the villages of the Oneida in a white canoe, which moved with- out human aid. It was here that he made the acquaintance of the chief Dekanawida, who lent a willing ear to the apostle of peace, and who was to become the great lawgiver of the league. With the aid of this chieftain, Hiawatha’s plan was carried to the Mohawk and Cayuga tribes, and once again to the Onondaga, where, it is told, Hiawatha and Dekanawida finally won the consent of Atotarho to the confederation. Morgan says, of Atotarho, that tradition “ represents his head as covered with tangled serpents, and his look, when angry, as so terrible that whoever looked upon him fell dead. It relates that when the League was formed, the snakes were combed out of his hair by a Mohawk sachem, who was hence named Hayowentha, ‘the man who combs,’” — which is doubtless a parable for the final conversion of the great war- chief by the mighty orator.®® After the union had been per- fected, tradition tells how Hiawatha departed for the land of the sunset, sailing across the great lake in his magic canoe. The Iroquois raised him in memory to the status of a demigod.
In these tales of the man who created a nation from a medley of tribes, we pass from the nature-myth to the plane of civil- ization in which the culture hero appears. Hiawatha is an historical personage invested with semi-divinity because of his great achievements for his fellow-men. Such an apotheosis is inevitable wherever, in the human race, the dream of peace out of men’s divisions creates their more splendid unities.
PLATE XI
Iroquois drawing of Atotarho (i), receiving two Mohawk chieftains, perhaps Dekanawida (2) and Hiawatha (3). After Schoolcraft, Indian TribeSy part i, Plate LXX.
CHAPTER IV THE GULF REGION I. TRIBES AND LANDS
T he states bordering the northern shores of the Gulf of Mexico — the “Cotton Belt” — form a thoroughly characteristic physiographic region. Low-lying and deeply alluvial, abundantly watered both by rains and streams, and blessed with a warm, equable climate, this district is the natural support of a teeming life. At the time of its discovery it was inhabited by completely individuated peoples. While there were some intrusions of fragmentary representatives from the great stocks of other regional centres — Iroquoian and Siouan tribes from the north, and Arawak from the Bahamas — the Gulf-State lands were mainly in the possession of lin- guistic stocks not found elsewhere, and, therefore, to be re- garded as aboriginals of the soil.
Of these stocks by far the largest and most important was the Muskhogean, occupying the greater part of what is now Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi, as well as a large portion of Tennessee, and including among its chief tribes the Choc- taw, Chickasaw, Creek (or Muskhogee), Alabama, Apalachee, and Seminole Indians. Probably the interesting Natchez of northern Louisiana were an offshoot of the same stock. Two other stocks or families of great territorial extent were the Timuquanan tribes, occupying the major portion of the Flori- dan peninsula, and the Caddoan tribes of Louisiana, Texas, Arkansas, and Oklahoma. Of the beliefs of few aboriginal peoples of North America is less known than of the Timu- quanan Indians of Florida, so early and so entirely were they
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destroyed; while the southern Caddo, by habit and thought, are most properly to be regarded as a regional division of the Great Plains tribes. Minor stocks are the Uchean of South Carolina, early assimilated with the Muskhogean, and the highly localized groups of the Louisiana and Texas littoral, concerning whom our knowledge is slight. In the whole Gulf region, it is the institutions and thought of the Muskhogeans — with the culturally afElIated Cherokee — that are of domi- nant importance and interest.
Historically, the Muskhogean tribes, in company with the Cherokee of the Appalachian Mountain region, who were a southern branch of the Iroquoian stock, form a group hardly less important than the Confederacy of the north. The “Five Civilized Tribes” of the Indian Territory, so recognized by the United States Government, comprise the Cherokee, Chick- asaw, Choctaw, Creek, and Seminole tribes, the major por- tion of whom removed from their eastern lands between the years 1832 and 1835 and established themselves in the Terri- tory under treaty. In a series of patents to the several nations of this group, given by the United States (1838 to the Chero- kee, 1842 to the Choctaw, from whom the Chickasaw derived their title, and 1852 to the Creek, who. In turn, conveyed rights to the Seminole), these tribes received inalienable titles to the lands into which they immigrated; and they ad- vanced so rapidly in the direction of self-government and stable organization, building towns, and encouraging and developing industry, that they came to be known as “the five civilized tribes,” in contrast to their less progressive brethren of other stocks. The separate government of these tribes, modelled upon that of the United States, but having only a treaty relation with it, continued until, as the result of the labours of a commission appointed by the United States Gov- ernment, tribal rule was abolished. Accordingly, in 1906 and 1907, the Indians became citizens of the United States, and their territories part of the state of Oklahoma.
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IL SUN-WORSHIP
It is not extraordinary that the Gulf-State region should show throughout a predominance of solar worship. Every- where in America the sun was one of the chief deities, and, in general, his relative importance in an Indian pantheon is a measure of civilization. In the forest and plains regions he is likely to be subordinated to a still loftier sky-god, whose min- ister he is; but as we go southward we find the sun assuming the royal prerogative of the celestial universe, and advancing to a place of supremacy among the world-powers.. Possibly, this is in part due to the greater intensity of the southern sun, but a more likely reason is the relative advance in agricul- ture made by the southerly tribes. Hunting peoples are only vaguely dependent upon the yearly course of the sun for their food-supply, and hence they are only slightly observant of it. Agricultural peoples are directly and insistently followers of the sun’s movements; the solar calendar is the key to their life; and consequently it is among them that the pre-eminence of solar worship early appears. Proficiency in agriculture is a mark of the Muskhogean and other southern Indians, and it is to be expected that among them the sun will have become an important world-power.
It is interesting to find that the Cherokee, an Iroquoian tribe, assimilated their beliefs to the southern type. There is little that is metaphysical in their pantheon. Above a horde of animal-powers and fantastic sprites appear the great spirits of the elements. Water, Fire, and the Sun, the chief of all. The sun is called Unelanuhi, “the Apportioner,” in obvious reference to its position as ruler of the year. Curiously enough, the Cherokee sun is not a masculine, but, like the Eskimo sun, a feminine being. Indeed, the Cherokee tell the selfsame story which the Eskimo recount concerning the illicit relations of the sun-girl and her moon-brother: how the unknown lover visited the sun-girl every month, how she rubbed his face with ashes
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that she might recognize him, and how, when discovered, “he was so much ashamed to have her know it that he kept as far away as he could at the other end of the sky; ever since he tries to keep a long way behind the sun, and when he does some- times have to come near her in the west he makes himself as thin as a ribbon so that he can hardly be seen.” The Chero- kee myth of the raising of the sun by the animal elders, hand- breadth by handbreadth, until it was just under the sky-arch, seven handbreadths high, is evidently akin to the similar legend of the Navaho of the South-West; while the story of the two boys who journeyed to the Sunrise, and the Cherokee version of the myth of Prometheus — in which, after various other animals have failed in their efforts to snatch fire from the sacred sycamore in which Thunder had concealed it, the Water-Spider succeeds — are both doublets of tales common in the far West. Thus legends from all parts of the continent are gathered in the one locality.
Like the Cherokee, the Yuchi Indians, who were closely associated with the Creek politically, regarded the sun as a female. She was the ancestress of the human race, or, accord- ing to another story, the Yuchi sprang from the blood trickling from the head of a wizard who was decapitated when he at- tempted to kill the sun at its rising — a tale in which the head would seem to be merely a doublet of the sun itself. Among the Muskhogean tribes generally the sun-cult seems to have been closely associated with fire-making festivals and fire-tem- ples, in forms strikingly like those of the Incas of Peru. Per- haps the earliest account is that preserved, with respect to the Natchez, by Lafitau, in his Mesurs des sauvages ameri- quains, i. 167-68:
“In Louisiana the Natchez have a temple wherein without cessation watch is kept of the perpetual fire, of which great care is taken that it be never extinguished. Three pointed sticks suffice to maintain it, which number is never either in- creased or diminished — which seems to indicate some mys-
PLATE XII
Florida Indians offering a stag to the Sun. The drawing is from Picart {Ceremonies and religious CuS'- toms of the various Nations of the known IV or Id ^ Lon- don, 1733-39, iii, Plate LXXIV [lower]), and represents a seventeenth century European conception of an American Indian rite. The pole is a symbol in the sun-worship of many Plains and Southern Indians.
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tery. As they burn, they are advanced into the fire, until It becomes necessary to substitute others. It is in this temple that the bodies of their chiefs and their families are deposited. The chief goes every day at certain hours to the entrance of the temple, where, bending low and extending his arms in the form of a cross, he mutters confusedly without pronouncing any distinct word; this is the token of duty which he renders to the Sun as the author of his being. His subjects observe the same ceremony with respect to him and with respect to all the princes of his blood, whenever they speak to them, honouring In them, by this external sign of respect, the Sun from which they believe them to be descended. ... It is singular that, while the huts of the Natchez are round, their temple is long — quite the opposite of those of Vesta. On the roof at its two extremities are to be seen two images of eagles, a bird consecrated to the Sun among the Orientals as it was to Jupiter in all the Occident.
“The Oumas and some peoples of Virginia and of Florida also have temples and almost the same religious observances. Those of Virginia have even an Idol which they name Oki or Kiousa, which keeps watch of the dead. I have heard say, moreover, that the Oumas, since the arrival of the French who profaned their temple, have allowed It to fall into ruin and have not taken the trouble to restore it.”
III. THE NEW MAIZE®*
The most famous and interesting ceremony of the Mus- khogean tribes is that which has come to be known in English as “the Busk” (a corruption of the Creek puskita, meaning “fast”). This was a celebration at the time of the first ma- turing of the maize, in July or August, according to locality, though it had the deeper significance of a New Year’s feast, and hence of the rejuvenation of all life.
In the Creek towns, the Busk was held in the “great house,”
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which consisted of four rectangular lodges, each divided into three compartments, and all open-faced toward a central square, or plaza, which they served to bound. The lodges were fitted with banks of seats, and each compartment was assigned to its own class of men. The place of honour (in some towns at least) was the western lodge, open to the morning sun, where was the seat of the head chief. In the centre of the square was kept burning a fire, made from four logs oriented to the four cardinal points. The structure is highly suggestive of a kind of temple of the year, the central fire being the symbol of the sun and of the four-square universe, and the twelve compartments of the lodges perhaps indicative of the year’s lunations. Al- though the Busk was not a festival of the summer solstice, it came, none the less, at the season of the hottest sun, and so marked a natural change in the year.
The Busk occupies four days in the lesser towns, eight in the greater; and the ceremony seems to have four significant parts, the eight-day form being only a lengthening of the performance. On the first day, all the fires of the village having been pre- viously extinguished, a new fire is kindled by friction, and fed by the four logs oriented to the cardinal points. Into this fire is cast a first-fruits’ offering, consisting of four ears of the newly ripened maize and four branches of the cassine shrub. Dances and purificatory ceremonies occupy the day. On the second day the women prepare new maize for the coming feast, while the warriors purge themselves with “war physic,” and bathe in running water. The third day is apparently a time of vigil for the older men, while the younger men hunt in preparation for the coming feast. During these preliminary days the sexes are tabu to one another, and all fast. The festival ends with a feast and merry-making, accompanied by certain curious ceremonies, such as the brewing of medicine from a great vari- ety of plants, offerings of tobacco to the cardinal points, and a significant rite, described as follows:
“At the miko’s cabin a cane having two white feathers on its
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end is stuck out. At the moment when the sun sets, a man of the fish gens takes it down, and walks, followed by all spec- tators, toward the river. Having gone half way, he utters the death-whoop, and repeats it four times before he reaches the water’s edge. After the crowd has thickly congregated at the bank, each person places a grain of ‘old man’s tobacco’ on the head and others in each ear. Then, at a signal repeated four times, they throw some of it into the river, and every man, at a like signal, plunges into the water to pick up four stones from the bottom. With these they cross themselves on their breasts four times, each time throwing one of the stones back into the river and uttering the death-whoop. Then they wash themselves, take up the cane with the feathers, return to the great house, where they stick it up, then walk through the town visiting.”
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The story is recorded by Father De Smet: “A great manitou came on earth, and chose a wife from among the children of men. He had four sons at a birth; the first-born was called Nanaboojoo, the friend of the human race, the mediator be- tween man and the Great Spirit; the second was named Chipiapoos, the man of the dead, who presides over the coun- try of the souls; the third, Wabasso, as soon as he saw the light, fled toward the north where he was changed into a white rabbit, and under that name is considered there as a great manitou; the fourth was Chakekenapok, the man of flint, or fire-stone. In coming into the world he caused the death of his mother.” The tale goes on to tell the deeds of Nanaboojoo. (l) To avenge his mother he pursues Chakekenapok and slays him: “all fragments broken from the body of this man of stone then grew up into large rocks; his entrails were changed into vines of every species, and took deep root in all the for- ests; the flintstones scattered around the earth indicate where the different combats took place.”®® (2) Chipiapoos, the beloved brother of Nanaboojoo, venturing one day upon the ice, was dragged to the bottom by malignant manitos, where- upon Nanaboojoo hurled multitudes of these beings into the deepest abyss. For six years he mourned Chipiapoos, but at the end of that time four of the oldest and wisest of the mani- tos, by their medicine, healed him of his grief. “The mani- tous brought back the lost Chipiapoos, but it was forbidden him to enter the lodge; he received, through a chink, a burning coal, and was ordered to go and preside over the region of souls, and there, for the happiness of his uncles and aunts, that is, for all men and women, who should repair thither, kindle with this coal a fire which should never be extinguished.” Nanaboojoo then initiated all his family into the mysteries of the medicine which the manitos had brought. (3) After- ward Nanaboojoo created the animals, put the earth, roots, and herbs in charge of his grandmother, and placed at the four cardinal points the spirits that control the seasons and the
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heavenly bodies, while in the clouds he set the Thunderbirds, his intermediaries.^^
III. THE DELUGE«
The second of these episodes of the Potawatomi legend, in its more universal form, is the tale identified by the Jesuit Fathers as a reminiscence of the Biblical Deluge. In his Relation of 1633, Le Jeune gives the Montagnais version:
‘'They say that there is one named Messou, who restored the world when It was lost in the waters. . . . This Messou, going hunting with lynxes, instead of dogs, was warned that it would be dangerous for his lynxes (which he called his brothers) in a certain lake near the place where he was. One day as he was hunting an elk, his lynxes gave it chase even into the lake; and when they reached the middle of it, they were sub- merged in an instant. When he arrived there and sought his brothers everywhere, a bird told him that it had seen them at the bottom of the lake, and that certain animals or monsters held them there; but immediately the lake overflowed, and increased so prodigiously that it inundated and drowned the whole earth. The Messou, very much astonished, gave up all thought of his lynxes, to meditate on creating the world anew. He sent a raven to find a small piece of earth with which to build up another world. The raven was unable to find any, everything being covered with water. He made an otter dive down, but the depth of the water prevented it from going to the bottom. At last a muskrat descended, and brought back some earth. With this bit of earth, he restored every- thing to its condition. He remade the trunks of the trees, and shot arrows against them, which were changed into branches. It would be a long story to recount how he re- established everything; how he took vengeance on the mon- sters that had taken his hunters, transforming himself into a thousand kinds of animals to circumvent them. In short,
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the great Restorer, having married a little muskrat, had chil- dren who repeopled the world.”
The Menominee divide the story. They tell how Moqwaio, the Wolf, brother of Manabush, was pulled beneath the ice of a lake by the malignant Anamaqkiu and drowned; how Manabush mourned four days, and on the fifth day met the shade of his brother, whom he then sent to the place of the setting sun to have care of the dead, and to build there a fire to guide them thither. The account of the deluge, how- ever, comes in connexion with the conflict of the Thunderers, under the direction of Manabush who is bent on avenging his brother, and the Anamaqkiu, led by two Bear chiefs. Mana- bush, by guile, succeeded in slaying the Bears, whereupon the Anamaqkiu pursued him with a great flood. He ascended a mountain, and then to the top of a gigantic pine; and as the waters increased he caused this tree to grow to twice , its height. Four times the pine doubled in altitude, but still the flood rose to the armpits of Manabush, when the Great Spirit made the deluge to cease. Manabush causes the Otter, the Beaver, the Mink, and the Muskrat, in turn, to dive in search of a grain of earth with which he can restore the world. The first three rise to the top, belly uppermost, dead; but the Muskrat succeeds, and the earth is created anew.
A third version of the deluge-myth tells how the Great Hare, with the other animals, was on a raft in the midst of the waters. Nothing could be seen save waterfowl. The Beaver dived, seeking a grain of soil; for the Great Hare assured the ani- mals that with even one grain he could create land. Neverthe- less, almost dead, the Beaver returned unsuccessful. Then the Muskrat tried, and he was gone nearly a whole day. When he reappeared, apparently dead, his four feet were tight-clenched; but in one of them was a single grain of sand, and from this the earth was made, in the form of a mountain surrounded by water, the height ever increasing, even to this day, as the Great Hare courses around it.
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It is obvious that in this chaotic flood we have an Indian equivalent of “the waters below the firmament” in the midst of which, according to the Hebrew genesis, the dry land appeared. And the Indians, like the Semites, conceived the world to be a mountain, rising from the waste of cosmic waters, and arched by the celestial dome. “They believe,” says the author of the Relation of 1637, “that the earth is entirely flat, and that its ends are cut off perpendicularly; that souls go away to the end which is at the setting Sun and that they build their cabins upon the edge of the great precipice which the earth forms, at the base of which there is nothing but water.”
IV. THE SLAYING OF THE DRAGON
The deeds of the Great Hare include many contests with the giants, cannibals, and witches who people Algonquian folk-tales. In these he displays adept powers as a trickster and master of wile, as well as a stout warrior. The conflict with Flint turns, as in the Iroquois tradition, upon a tricky dis- covery of what substance is deadly to the Fire-Stone Man: Flint asks the Hare what can hurt him; he replies, the cat’s- tail, or featherdown, or something of the sort, and, in turn, puts the question to Flint, who truthfully answers, “the horn of the stag”; and it is with stag’s horn that the Hare fractures and flakes his body — a mythic reminiscence, we may suppose, of the great primitive industry of flint-flaking by aid of a horn implement.
The great feat of the Hare as a slayer, however, was his destruction of the monstrous Fish or Snake which oppressed and devoured men and animals. This creature like the Teu- tonic Grendel was a water monster, and ruler of the Powers of the Deep.® Sometimes, as in the Iroquoian myth, he is a horned serpent; commonly, among the Algonquians, he is a great fish — the sturgeon which swallows Hiawatha. The
PLATE X
Onondaga wampum belt believed to commemorate the formation of a league (possibly the Iroquois Con- federacy) or an early treaty with the Thirteen Colonies (there are thirteen figures of men). After JRBEj p. 252.
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Menominee tell how the people were greatly distressed by Mashenomak, the aquatic monster who devoured fishermen. Manabush allows himself to be swallowed by the gigantic creature, inside of which he finds his brothers, the Bear, the Deer, the Raven, the Pine-Squirrel, and many others. They all hold a war-dance in the monster’s maw, and when Mana- bush circles past the heart he thrusts his knife into it, causing Mashenomak to have a convulsion; finally, he lies motionless, and Manabush cuts his way through to the day. In another version, Misikinebik, the monster who has destroyed the brother of Manabush, is slain by the hero in the same fashion. The Micmac, who live beside the sea, make the great fish to be a whale, who is a servant rather than a foe of Glooscap, and upon whose back he is carried when he goes in search of his stolen brother and grandmother. The Clams (surely tame substitutes for water demons!) sing to the Whale to drown Glooscap; but she fails to understand them, and is beached through his trickery. “Alas, my grandchild!” she lamented, “you have been my death. I can never get out of this.” “Never you mind, Noogumee,” said Glooscap, “I’ll set you right.” And with a push he sends her far out to sea. It is evident that the legend has passed through a long descent!
In his war against the underwater manitos, the assistants of the Great Hare are the Thunderbirds. In the Iroquoian version it is the Thunderboy who is swallowed by the horned water-snake, from whose maw he is rescued by Thunder and his warriors — as in the Hiawatha story it is the gulls who re- lease the prisoner from the sturgeon’s belly in which he has been engulfed as a consequence of his rash ambition to con- quer the ruler of the depths. The myth has many variants however, and while it may sometimes represent the storm goading to fury the man-devouring waters, in a more uni- versal mode it would seem to be but an American version of the world-old conception of the conquest of the watery Chaos by the creative genius of Light.
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V. THE THEFT OF FIRE«
The conquest of fire by man deservedly ranks among the most impressive of all race-memories, for perhaps no one nat- ural agency has done so much to exalt the potency of the human race as has that which gives us heat and light and power. Mythic imagination everywhere ascribes a divine origin to fire; the heaven, or some other remote region over which guardian powers preside, is the source of this great agency, from which — as in the Greek tale of Prometheus — it is “stolen in the pith” and borne among men to alleviate their estate.
In Algonquian myth the Great Hare, here as elsewhere, is “the benefactor of mankind.” A Menominee version begins quite naively; “Manabush, when he was still a youth, once said to his grandmother Nokomis, ‘Grandmother, it is cold here and we have no fire; let me go to get some.’” Nokomis endeavours to dissuade him, but the young hero, in his canoe, starts eastward across the waters to an island where dwells the old man who has fire. “This old man had two daughters, who, when they emerged from the sacred wigwam, saw a little Rabbit, wet and cold, and carefully taking it up they carried it into the sacred wigwam, where they set it down near the fire to warm.” When the watchers are occupied, the Rabbit seizes a burning brand and scurries to his canoe, pursued by the old man and his daughters. “The velocity of the canoe caused such a current of air that the brand began to burn fiercely”; and thus fire is brought to Nokomis. “The Thun- derers received the fire from Nokomis, and have had the care of it ever since.”
It is not difficult to see in the old man across the Eastern waters a Sun-God, nor in the sacred wigwam with its maiden watchers a temple of fire with its Vestals. “Fire,” says De Smet, “is, in all the Indian tribes that I have known, an em- blem of happiness or good fortune.” It is the emblem of life,
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too. Said a Chippewa prophet: “The fire must never be suf- fered to go out in your lodge. Summer and winter, day and night, in storm or when it is calm, you must remember that the life in your body and the fire in your lodge are the same and of the same date. If you suffer your fire to be extinguished, at that moment your life will be at its end.” Even in the other world, fire is the source of life; there Chibiabos keeps the sacred fire that lights the dead thither; and, says De Smet, “ to see a fire rising mysteriously, in their dreams or otherwise, is the symbol of the passage of a soul into the other world.” He narrates, in this connexion, the fine Chippewa legend of a chief, arrow-stricken in the moment of victory, whose body was left, in all its war-panoply, facing the direction of the enemy’s retreat. On the long homeward return of the war- party, the chief’s spirit accompanies the warriors and tries to assure them that he is not dead, but present with them; even when the home village is reached and he hears his deeds lauded, he is unable to make his presence known; he cannot console his mourning father; his mother will not dress his wounds; and when he shouts in the ear of his wife, “I am thirsty! I am hungry!” she hears only a vague rumbling. Then he remembers having heard how the soul sometimes for- sakes its body, and he retraces the long journey to the field of battle. As he nears it, a fire stands directly in his path. He changes his course, but the fire moves as he does; he goes to the right, to the left, but the spirit-fire still bars his way. At last, in desperate resolution, he cries out: “I also, I am a spirit; I am seeking to return to my body; I will accomplish my de- sign. Thou wilt purify me, but thou shalt not hinder the realization of my project. I have always conquered my ene- mies, notwithstanding the greatest obstacles. This day I will triumph over thee, Spirit of Fire!” With an intense effort he darts through the mysterious flame, and his body, to which the soul is once more united, awakens from its long trance on the field of battle.*®
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VI. SUN-MYTHS
The Old Man and the Maids from whom Manabush steals the fire belong to the Wabanunaqsiwok, the Dawn-People, who dress in red; and, should a man or a woman dream of the Dawn-People, he or she must forthwith prepare a ball game. This, it is said, was instituted by Manabush in celebration of his victory over the malignant manitos; he made Kineun, the Golden Eagle and Chief of the Thunderers, leader of one side, and Owasse, the Bear and Chief of the Underground People, leader of the other; “ but the Thunderers always win the game, even though the sky be darkened by cloud and rain.^®
It is easy to recognize in the ball, which bears the colours of the East and the West, red and yellow, a symbol of the Sun; and in this myth (as in the Iroquois legend of the rape of the Sun) “ to see a story of the ceaseless conflict of Day and Night, with Day the eternal conqueror. Sun-symbolism, also, seems to underlie the tale of Ball-Carrier, i® the boy who was lured away by an old witch who possessed a magic ball that returned of itself to her wigwam when a child pursued it, and who was sent by her in search of the gold (Sunlight) and the magic bridge (Rainbow) in the lodge of a giant beyond the waters. Ball-Carrier, who is a kind of Indian Jack the Giant-Killer, steals the gold and the bridge, and after many amazing adventures and transformations returns to his home.
A similar, perhaps identical, character is the Tchakabech of Le Jeune’s Relation of 1637.^ Tchakabech is a Dwarf, whose parents have been devoured by a Bear (the Underworld Chief) and a Great Hare, the Genius of Light. He decided to ascend to the Sky and climbed upward on a tree, which grew as he breathed upon it, until he reached the heavens, where he found the loveliest country in the world. He returned to the lower world, building lodges at intervals in the branches of the tree, and induced his sister to mount with him to the Sky; but the little child of the sister broke off the end of the tree,
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just low enough so that no one could follow them to their des- tination. Tchakabech snared the Sun in a net; during its cap- tivity there was no day below on earth; but by the aid of a mouse who sawed the strands with his sharp teeth, he was at last able to release the Sun and restore the day. In the Menom- inee version recorded by Hoffman, the snare is made by a noose of the sister’s hair, and the Sun is set free by the un- aided efforts of the Mouse.
In these shifting stories we see the image of changing Na- ture — Day and Night, Sunlight and Darkness, the Heavens above and the Earth beneath, coupled with a vague appre- hension of the Life that Is in all things, and a dim effort to grasp the origins of the world.
VII. THE VILLAGE OF SOULS
The Great Hare, the Algonquians say, departed, after his labours, to the far West, where he dwells in the Village of Souls with his Grandmother and his Brother. Perrot tells of an Indian who had wandered far from his own country, en- countering a man so tall that he could not descry his head. The trembling hunter hid himself, but the giant said: “My son, why art thou afraid? I am the Great Hare, he who has caused thee and many others to be born from the dead bodies of various animals. Now I will give thee a companion.” Ac- cordingly, he bestowed a wife on the man, and then continued, “Thou, man, shalt hunt, and make canoes, and do all things that a man must do; and thou, woman, shalt do the cooking for thy husband, make his shoes, dress the skins of animals, sew, and perform all the tasks that are proper for a woman.” Le Jeune relates another tale: how “a certain savage had re- ceived from Messou the gift of immortality in a little package, with a strict injunction not to open it; while he kept it closed he was immortal, but his wife, being curious and incredulous, wished to see what was inside this present; and having opened
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it, it all flew away, and since then the savages have been subject to death.” Thus, in the New World as in the Old, woman’s curiosity is mankind’s bane.^®
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tenance is mainly obtained by the chase: for them, the open and closed, the green and the white, are the important divi- sions of the year. The Iroquois say that Winter is an old man of the woods, who raps the trees with his war-club: in very cold weather one can hear the sharp sound of his blows; while Spring is a lithe young warrior, with the sun in his countenance. The Montagnais were not sure whether the two Seasons were manlike, but they told Pere Le Jeune that they were very sure that Nipin and Pipoun were living beings: they could even hear them talking and rustling, especially at their coming. “For their dwelling-place they share the world between them, the one keeping upon the one side, the other upon the other; and when the period of their stay at one end of the world has expired, each goes over to the locality of the other, reciprocally succeeding each other. Here we have, in part, the fable of Castor and Pollux,” comments the good Father. “When Nipinoukhe returns, he brings back with him the heat, the birds, the verdure, and restores life and beauty to the world; but Pipounoukhe lays waste everything, being accompanied by the cold winds, ice, snows, and other phenom- ena of Winter. They call this succession of one to the other Achitescatoueth; meaning that they pass reciprocally to each other’s places.” Perhaps as charming a myth of the seasons as could be found is the Cherokee tale of “ the Bride from the South.” The North falls in love with the daughter of the South, and in response to his ardent wooings is allowed to carry her away to his Northland, where the people all live in ice houses. But the next day, when the sun rises, the houses begin to melt, and the people tell the North that he must send the daughter of the South to her native land, for her whole nature is warm and unfit for the North.
But it is especially in the world of animals that the spirits of the Kinds are important.^® “They say,” says Le Jeune, speaking of these same Montagnais (whose beliefs, in this respect, are typical), “that all animals, of every species, have
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an elder brother, who is, as it were, the source and origin of all individuals, and this elder brother is wonderfully great and powerful. The elder of the Beaver, they tell me, is perhaps as large as our cabin, although his Junior (I mean the ordinary Beaver) is not quite as large as our sheep. ... If anyone, when asleep, sees the elder or progenitor of some animals, he will have a fortunate chase; if he sees the elder of the Beavers, he will take Beavers; if he sees the elder of the Elks, he will take Elks, possessing the juniors through the favor of their senior whom he has seen in the dream. I asked them where these elder brothers were. ‘We are not sure,’ they answered me, ‘but we think the elders of the birds are in the sky, and that the elders of the other animals are in the water.’ ” In another connexion the Father tells the following story, which he had from a Montagnais: “A man, having traveled a long distance, at last reached the Cabin or house of God, as he named him who gave him something to eat. . . . All kinds of animals surround him [the god], he touches them, handles them as he wishes, and they do not fly from him; but he does them no harm, for, as he does not eat, he does not kill them. However, he asked this new guest what he would like to eat, and having learned that he would relish a beaver, he caught one without any trouble, and had him eat it; then asked him when he in- tended going away. ‘In two nights,’ was the answer. ‘Good,’ said he, ‘you will remain two nights with me.’ These two nights were two years ; for what we call a year is only a day or a night in the reckoning of him who procures us food. And one is so contented with him that two winters, or two years, seem only like two nights. When he returned to his own coun- try he was greatly astonished at the delay he had experienced.” The god of the cabin is, no doubt, Messou (Manabozho), the Algonquian demiurge, for he is “elder brother to all beasts” and the ruler of animal life. Similarly, the Iroquoian demiurge louskeha is the bringer and namer of the primal animals: “They believe that animals were not at liberty from
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the beginning of the world, but that they were shut up in a great cavern where louskeha guarded them. Perhaps there may be in that some allusion to the fact that God brought all the animals to Adam,” adds Pere Brebeuf; and in the Seneca version of the Iroquoian genesis, the youth who brings the animals from the cavern of the Winds does, in fact, perform the office of Adam, giving them their several names.
CHAPTER III
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L IROQUOIAN COSMOGONY‘5
T he Onondaga version of the genesis-myth of the Iro- quois, as recorded by Hewitt, begins in this fashion: “He who was my grandfather was wont to relate that, verily, he had heard the legend as it was customarily told by five generations of grandsires, and this is what he himself was in the habit of telling. He customarily said ; Man-beings dwell in the sky, on the farther side of the visible sky. The lodges they severally possess are customarily long [the Iroquoian “long house,” or lodge]. In the end of the lodges there are spread out strips of rough bark whereon lie the several mats. There it is that, verily, all pass the night. Early in the morning the warriors are in the habit of going to hunt and, as is their custom, they return every evening.”
This heaven above the visible heavens, which has existed from eternity, is the prototype of the world in which we dwell; and in it is set the first act of the cosmic drama. Sorrow and death were unknown there; it was a land of tranquil abun- dance. It came to pass that a girl-child was bom of a celestial maid, her father having sickened and died — the first death in the universe — shortly before she was bom. He had been placed, as he had directed, on a burial scaffold by the Ancient- Bodied One, grandmother to the child; and thither the girl- child was accustomed to go and converse with the dead parent. When she was grown, he directed her to take a certain journey through the heaven realm of Chief He-Holds-the-Earth, whom
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she was to marry, and beside whose lodge grew the great heaven tree.^^ The maiden crosses a river on a maple-log, avoids various tempters, and arrives at the lodge, where the chief subjects her to the ordeals of stirring scalding mush which spatters upon her naked body and of having her burns licked by rasp-tongued dogs. Having successfully endured these pains, he sends her, after three nights, to her own people, with the gift of maize and venison. She returns to her chief, and he, observing that she is pregnant, becomes ill with an unjustified jealousy of the Fire-Dragon. She gives birth to a daughter, Gusts-of-Wind; whereupon the chief receives visits from the Elders of the Kinds, which dwell in heaven, among them being the Deer, the Bear, the Beaver; Wind, Daylight, Night, Star; the Squash, the Maize, the Bean; the Turtle, the Otter, the Yellowhammer; Fire, Water, Medicine, — patterns of the whole furniture of creation. Aurora Borealis divines what is troubling his mind, and suggests the uprooting of the heaven tree. This is done, and an abyss is disclosed, looking down into a chaos of Wind and Thick Night — “the aspect was green and nothing else in color,” says the Seneca version. Through this opening the Chief of Heaven casts his spouse and the child, who returns again into the body of her mother, first providing her with maize and venison and a fag- got of wood, while the Fire-Dragon wraps around her a great ray of light.
Here ends the Upper World act of the drama. The name of the woman-being who is cast down from heaven is, as we know from the Jesuit Relations, Ataentsic or Ataensic,'^ who is to become the great Earth Mother. The Chief of Heaven is her spouse, — so that these two great actors in the world drama are Earth and Sky respectively; while their first-born is the Breath-of-Life.
The second act of the drama is set in the World Below. The Onondaga myth continues:
“So now, v6rily, her body continued to fall. Her body was
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falling some time before it emerged. Now she was surprised, seemingly, that there was light below, of a blue color. She looked and there seemed to be a lake at the spot toward which she was falling. There was nowhere any earth. There she saw many ducks on the lake where they, being waterfowl of all their kinds, floated severally about. Without interruption the body of the woman-being continued to fall.
“Now at that time the waterfowl called the Loon shouted, saying: ‘Do ye look, a woman-being is coming in the depths of the water, her body is floating up hither.’ They said: ‘Verily, it is even so.’
“Now in a short time the waterfowl called Bittern said: ‘ It is true that ye believe that her body is floating up from the depths of the water. Do ye, however, look upward.’ All looked up, and all said: ‘Verily, it is true.’
“One of the persons said: ‘It seems, then, that there must be land in the depths of the water.’ At that time the Loon said:. ‘Moreover, let us first seek to find some one who will be able to bear the earth on his back by means of the forehead pack strap.’”
All the animals volunteer. Otter and Turtle attempt the feat and fail; the Muskrat succeeds, placing the soil brought up from below on the back of the Turtle. “Now at this time the carapace began to grow and the earth with which they had covered it became the Solid Land.” Upon this land Ataentsic alights, her fall being broken by the wings of the fowl which fly upward to meet her.^°
On the growing Earth Gusts-of-Wind is reborn, and comes to maturity. She receives the visits of a nocturnal stranger, who is none other than the ruler of the winds, and gives birth to twins ^ — Sapling and Flint, the Yoskeha and Tawiscara of the Relations^ — who show their enmity by a pre-natal quarrel, and cause their mother’s death in being born. From the body of her daughter Ataentsic fashions the sun and the moon, though she does not raise them to the heavens. Sapling
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she casts out, for Flint falsely persuades her that it is Sapling who is responsible for their mother’s death.
The third act of the drama details the creative acts of Sap- ling and Flint, and their enmities. Sapling (better known as Yoskeha, though his most ancient title seems to be Teha- ronhiawagon, He-Holds-the-Sky) is the demiurge and earth- shaper, and the spirit of life and summer. Flint, or Tawiscara, is an imitator and trickster, maker of malevolent beings, and spirit of wintry forces, but the favourite of Ataentsic.®®
The act opens with the visit of Sapling to his father, the WindrRuler, who gives him presents of bow and arrows and of maize, symbolizing mastery over animal and vegetable food. The preparation of the maize is his first feat, Ataentsic ren- dering his work imperfect by casting ashes upon it: “The way in which thou hast done this is not good,” says Sapling, “for I desire that the man-beings shall be exceedingly happy, who are about to dwell here on this earth.” Next he brings forth the souls of the animal kinds, and moulds the traits of the dif- ferent animals.^^ Flint, however, imprisons them in a cavern, and, although Sapling succeeds in releasing most of them, some remain behind to become transformed into the noxious crea- tures of the underworld. Afterward, in a trial of strength. Sapling overcomes the humpback Hadui, who is the cause of disease and decrepitude, but from whom Sapling wins the secret of medicine and of the ceremonial use of tobacco. The giving of their courses to the Sun and the Moon, fashioned from his mother’s head and body by Ataentsic, was his next deed.^® The grandmother and Flint had concealed these bodies and had left the earth in darkness ; Sapling, aided by four ani- mals, typifying the Four Quarters, steals back the Sun, which is passed from animal to animal (as in the Greek torch-race in honour of Selene) when they are pursued by Ataentsic and Flint. The creation of man, which Flint imitates only to pro- duce monsters, and the banishment of Flint to the under- world complete the creative drama.
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“Moreover, it is said that this Sapling, in the manner in which he has life, has this to befall him recurrently, that he becomes old in body, and that when, in fact, his body becomes ancient normally, he then retransforms his body in such wise that he becomes a new man-being again and again recovers his youth, so that one would think that he had just grown to the size which a man-being customarily has when he reaches the youth of man-beings, as manifested by the change of voice at puberty. Moreover, it is so that continuously the orenda immanent in his body — the orenda with which he suffuses his person, the orenda which he projects or exhibits, through which he is possessed of force and potency — is ever full, un- diminished, and all-sufficient; and, in the next place, nothing that is otkon or deadly, nor, in the next place, even the Great Destroyer, otkon in itself and faceless, has any effect on him, he being perfectly immune to its orenda; and, in the next place, there is nothing that can bar his way or veil his faculties.”
In the Relation of 1636 Brebeuf says of the Hurons: “If they see their fields verdant in the spring, if they reap good and abundant harvests, and if their cabins are crammed with ears of corn, they owe it to louskeha. I do not know what God has in store for us this year; but . . . louskeha, it is reported has been seen quite dejected, and thin as a skeleton, with a poor ear of corn in his hand.”
II. ALGONQUIAN COSMOGONY^®
As compared with the Iroquoian cosmogony, that of the Algonquian tribes is nebulous and confused: their gods are less anthropomorphic, more prone to animal form; the order of events is not so clearly defined. There is hardly a person- age or event in the Iroquoian story that does not appear in Algonquian myth, and indeed the Algonquians would seem to have been the originators, or at least the earlier possessors, of these stories; yet the same power for organization which
PLATE IX
Iroquois drawing of Stone Giants. After School- craft, Indian Tribes^ part i, Plate LXXIIL The Stone (JiantsS are related to such cosniogonical beings as Flint (Tawiscara) and Chakekenapok (sec pp. 36, 41). They are generally malevolent in character. See Note 38 (pp. 291-92),
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is reflected in the Iroquoian Confederacy appears in the Iro- quois’s more masterful assimilation and depiction of the cosmic story which he seems to have borrowed from his Algonquian neighbours.
The central personage of Algonquian myth is Manabozho,^^ the Great Hare (also known by many other names and variants, as Nanibozho, Manabush, Michabo, Messou, Glooscap), who is the incarnation of vital energy: creator or restorer of the earth, the author of life, giver of animal food, lord of bird and beast. Brinton, by a dubious etymology, would make the original meaning of the name to be “the Great White One,” identifying Manabozho with the creative light of day; but if we remember that the Algonquians are, by their own tradi- tion, sons of the frigid North,^^ where the hare is one of the most prolific and staple of all food animals, and if we bear in mind the universal tendency of men whose sustenance is precarious to identify the source of life with their principal source of food, it is no longer plausible to question the identi- fication, which the Indians themselves make, of their great demiurge with the Elder of the Hares, who is also the Elder Brother of Man and of all life.'^*
With Manabozho is intimately associated his grandmother, Nokomis, the Earth, and his younger brother, Chibiabos, who himself is customarily in animal form (e. g., the Micmac know the pair as Glooscap and the Marten; to the Montag- nais they were Messou and the Lynx; to the Menominee, Manabush and the Wolf).'*^ This younger brother is sometimes represented as a twin; and it is not difficult to see in Noko- mis, Manabozho, and Chibiabos the Algonquian prototypes of the Huron Ataentsic, louskeha, and Tawiscara.
Various tales are told as to the origin of the Great Hare. The Micmac declare that Glooscap was one of twins, who quarrelled before being born; and that the second twin killed the mother in his birth, in revenge for which Glooscap slew him. The Menominee say: “The daughter of Nokomis, the
X— s
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Earth, is the mother of Manabush, who is also the Fire. The Flint grew up out of Nokomis, and was alone. Then the Flint made a bowl and dipped it into the earth; slowly the bowlful of earth became blood, and it began to change its form. So the blood was changed into Wabus, the Rabbit. The Rabbit grew into human form, and in time became a man, and thus was Manabush formed.” According to another version, the daughter of Nokomis gave birth to twins, one of whom died, as did the mother. Nokomis placed a wooden bowl (and we must remember that this is a symbol of the heavens) over the remaining child for its protection; upon removing the bowl, she beheld a white rabbit with quivering ears: “0 my dear little Rabbit,” she cried, “my Manabush!”
Other tribes tell how the Great Hare came to earth as a gift from the Great Spirit. The Chippewa recognize, high over all, Kitshi Manito, the Great Spirit, and next in rank Dzhe Manito, the Good Spirit, whose servant is Manabozho. The abode of all these is the Upper World. “When Minabozho, the servant of Dzhe Manido, looked down upon the earth he beheld human beings, the Anishinabeg, the ancestors of the Ojibwa. They occupied the four quarters of the earth — the northeast, the southeast, the southwest, and the north- west. He saw how helpless they were, and desiring to give them the means of warding off the diseases with which they were constantly afflicted, and to provide them with animals and plants to serve as food, Minabozho remained thoughtfully hovering over the center of the earth, endeavor- ing to devise some means of communicating with them.” Be- neath Minabozho was a lake of waters, wherein he beheld an Otter, which appeared at each of the cardinal points in suc- cession and then approached the centre, where Minabozho de- scended (upon an island) to meet it and where he instructed it in the mysteries of the Midewiwin, the sacred Medicine Society.
According to the Potawatomi, also, the Great Hare appears as the founder of a sacred mystery and the giver of medicine.
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PLATE VI
Chippewa side pouch ot black dressed buckskin ornamented with red, blue, and yellow quill-work. The two large birds represented are Thunderbirds. Specimen in the Peabody Museum, Cambridge, Massa- chusetts. Sec Note 32 (pp. 287-88), and compare Plates III, XVI, and Figure i.
i i*'"
li'-\
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aelow — the powers that send upward the fructifying springs ind break forth as spirits of life in Earth’s verdure. Further, Doth the realms above and the realms below are habitations for the souls of departed men; for to the Indian death is only a :hange of life.
The Chippewa believe that there are four “layers,” or storeys, of the world above, and four of the world below. Fhis is probably only a reflection in the overworld and the aether world of the fourfold structure of the cosmos, since four is everywhere the Indian’s sacred number. The root of the idea is to be found In the conception of the four cardinal points or of the quarters of the world,®^ from which came the ministering genii when the Earth was made, and in which these spirits dwell, upholding the corners of the heavens. Potogojecs, a Potawatomi chief, told Father De Smet how Nanaboojoo (Manibozho) “placed four beneficial spirits at the four cardinal points of the earth, for the purpose of con- tributing to the happiness of the human race. That of the north procures for us ice and snow, in order to aid us in dis- covering and following the wild animals. That of the south gives us that which occasions the growth of our pumpkins, melons, maize and tobacco. The spirit placed at the west gives us rain, and that of the east gives us light, and com- mands the sun to make his daily walks around the globe.” Frequently the Indians identify the Spirits of the Quarters with the four winds. Ga-oh is the Iroquoian Wind Giant, at the entrance to whose abode are a Bear and a Panther and a Moose and a Fawn: “When the north wind blows strong, the Iroquois say, ‘The Bear is prowling in the sky’; if the west wind is violent, ‘The Panther is whining.’ When the east wind blows chill with its rain, ‘The Moose is spreading his breath’; and when the south wind wafts soft breezes, ‘The Fawn is returning to its Doe.’” Four is the magic number In all In- dian lore; fundamentally it represents the square of the direc- tions, by which the creator measured out his work.
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VI. THE POWERS ABOVE
Even greater than the Wind Giant is the Thunderer, whom the Iroquois deemed to be the guardian of the Heavens, armed with a mighty bow and flaming arrows, hater and de- stroyer of all things noxious, and especially to be revered as having slain the great Serpent of the waters, which was de- vouring mankind. Hino is the Thunderer’s name, and his bride is the Rainbow; he has many assistants, the lesser Thun- derers, and among them the boy Gunnodoyah, who was once a mortal. Hino caught this youth up into his domain, armed him with a celestial bow, and sent him to encounter the great Serpent; but the Serpent devoured Gunnodoyah, who com- municated his plight to Hino in a dream, whereupon the Thunderer and his warriors slew the Serpent and bore Gunno- doyah, still living, back to the Skies. Commonly the Thun- derer is a friend to man; but men must not encroach upon his domain. The Cherokee tell a tale of “the Man who married the Thunder’s sister”: lured by the maiden to the Thunder’s cave, he Is there surrounded by shape-shifting horrors, and when he declines to mount a serpent-steed saddled with a living turtle. Thunder grows angry, lightning flashes from his eye, and a terrific crash stretches the young brave senseless; when he revives and makes his way home, though it seems to him that he has been gone but a day, he discovers that his people have long given him up for dead; and, indeed, after this he survives only seven days.®®
One of HIno’s assistants is Oshadagea, the great Dew Eagle, whose lodge is in the western sky and who carries a lake of dew in the hollow of his back. When the malevolent Fire Spirits are destroying Earth’s verdure, Oshadagea flies abroad, and from his spreading wings falls the healing moisture. The Dew Eagle of the Iroquois is probably only the ghost of a Thunder- bird spirit, which has been replaced, among them, by Hino the Heavenly Archer. The Thunderbird is an invisible spirit; the
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lightning is the flashing of his eye; the thunder is the noise of his wings. He is surrounded by assistants, the lesser Thunder- ers, especially birds of the hawk-kind and of the eagle-kind; Keneu, the Golden Eagle, is his chief representative. If it were not for the Thunderers, the Indians say, the earth would become parched and the grass would wither and die. Pere Le Jeune tells how, when a new altar-piece was installed in the Montagnais mission, the Indians, “ seeing the Holy Spirit pictured as a dove surrounded by rays of light, asked if the bird was not the thunder; for they believe that the thunder is a bird; and when they see beautiful plumes, they ask if they are not the feathers of the thunder.”
The domain above the clouds is the heaven of the Sun and the Moon and the Stars. The Sun is a man-being, the Moon a woman-being; sometimes they are brother and sister, some- times man and wife.^® The Montagnais told Pere Le Jeune that the Moon appeared to be dark at times because she held her son in her arms: “‘If the Moon has a son, she is married, or has been?’ ‘Oh, yes, the Sun is her husband, who walks all day, and she all night; and if he be eclipsed or darkened, it is because he also sometimes takes the son which he has had by the Moon into his arms.’ ‘Yes, but neither the Sun nor the Moon has any arms.’ ‘Thou hast no sense; they always hold their drawn bows before them, and that is why their arms do not appear.’” Another Algonquian tribe, the Menominee, tell how the Sun, armed with bow and arrows, departed for a hunt; his sister, the Moon, alarmed by his long absence, went in search of him, and travelled twenty days before she found him. Ever since then the Moon has made twenty-day journeys through the sky. The Iroquois say that the Sun, Adekagagwaa, rests in the southern skies during the winter, leaving his “sleep spirit” to keep watch in his stead. On the eve of his departure, he addresses the Earth, promising his return: “Earth, Great Mother, holding your children close to your breast, hear my power! ... I am Adekagagwaa!
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I reign, and I rule all your lives! My field is broad where swift clouds race, and chase, and climb, and curl, and fall in rains to your rivers and streams. My shield is vast and cov- ers your land with its yellow shine, or burns it brown with my hurrying flame. My eyes are wide, and search everywhere. My arrows are quick when I dip them in dews that nourish and breathe. My army is strong, when I sleep it watches my fields. When I come again my warriors will battle throughout the skies; Ga-oh will lock his fierce winds; Heno will soften his voice; Gohone [Winter] will fly, and tempests will war no more!”
The Indians know the poetry of the stars. It is odd to find the Iroquois telling the story of the celestial bear, precisely as it is told by the Eskimo of northern Greenland: how a group of hunters, with their faithful dog, led onward by the excitement of the chase, pursued the great beast high into the heavens, and there became fixed as the polar constellation (Ursa Major). In the story of the hunter and the Sky Elk the sentiment of love mingles with the passion of the chase. Sosondowah (“Great Night”), the hunter, pursued the Sky Elk, which had wandered down to Earth, far up into the heaven which is above the heaven of the Sun. There Dawn made him her captive, and set him as watchman before the door of her lodge. Looking down, he beheld and loved a mortal maiden; in the spring he descended to her under the form of a bluebird; in the summer he wooed her under the semblance of a blackbird; in the autumn, under the guise of a giant nighthawk, he bore her to the skies. But Dawn, angered at his delay, bound him before her door, and transforming the maiden into a star set her above his forehead, where he must long for her throughout all time without attaining her. The name of the star-maiden, which is the Morning Star, is Gendenwitha, “It Brings the Day.” The Pleiades are called the Dancing Stars. They were a group of brothers who were awakened in the night by singing voices, to which they began
PLATE VII
Secret society mask of the Seneca. The Cireat Wind Mask/’ a medicine or doctor mask, used in the ceremonies of the False Face Company. This society is said to have originated with the Stone Giants, who are represented in one of the masks used. Repro- duced by courtesy of Arthur C. Parker, Archaeologist of the New York State Museum. Sec Note 65 (pp. 309-10), and compare Frontispiece and Plates IV, XXV, XXXL
THE FOREST TRIBES
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to dance. As they danced, the voices receded, and they, fol- lowing, were led, little by little, into the sky, where the pitying Moon transformed them into a group of fixed stars, and bade them dance for ten days each year over the Red Man’s council- house; that being the season of his New Year. One of the danc- ing brothers, however, hearing the lamentations of his mother, looked backward; and immediately he fell with such force that he was buried in the earth. For a year the mother mourned over his grave, when there appeared from it a tiny sprout, which grew into a heaven-aspiring tree; and so was born the Pine, tallest of trees, the guide of the forest, the watcher of the skies.
VII. THE POWERS BELOW
As there are Powers above so are there Powers below. Earth herself is the eldest and most potent of these.®^ Nokomis, “Grandmother,” is her Algonquian name, but the Iroquois address her as Eithinoha, “Our Mother”; for, they say, “the earth is living matter, and the tender plantlet of the bean and the sprouting germ of the corn nestling therein receive through their delicate rootlets the life substance from the Earth. . . . Earth, indeed, feeds itself to them; since what is supplied to them is living matter, life in them is produced and conserved, and as food the ripened corn and bean and their kinds, thus produced, create and develop the life of man and of all living things.”
Earth’s daughter, in Iroquois legend, is Onatah, the Corn Spirit.®® Once Onatah, who had gone in search of refreshing dews, was seized by the Spirit of Evil and imprisoned in his darkness under the Earth until the Sun found her and guided her back to the lost fields; never since has Onatah ventured abroad to look for the dews. The Iroquois story is thus a parallel of the Greek myth of Demeter and Persephone. The Chippewa, on the other hand, make of the Corn Spirit a heaven-sent youth, Mondamin, who is conquered and buried
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by a mortal hero: from his grave springs the gift of maize. Other food plants, such as the bean and the pumpkin, as well as wild plants and the various species of trees, have their several spirits, or Manitos; indeed, the world is alive with countless mysteries, of every strength and size, and the for- est is all thronged with armies of Pukwudjies, the Indian’s fairy folk.®® “During a shower of rain thousands of them are sheltered in a flower. The Ojibwa, as he reclines beneath the shade of his forest trees, imagines these gods to be about him. He detects their tiny voices in the insect’s hum. With half-closed eyes he beholds them sporting by thousands on a sun-ray.”
The Iroquois recognize three tribes of Jogaoh, or Dwarf People: the Gahonga, of the rocks and rivers, whom the In- dians call “Stone Throwers” because of their great strength and their fondness for playing with stones as with balls; the Gandayah, who have a care for the fruitfulness not only of the land — for they fashion “dewcup charms” which attract the grains and fruits and cause them to sprout, — but also of the water, where they release captive fish from the trap when the fishermen too rapaciously pursue; and the Ohdowas, or underground people. The underworld where the Ohdowas live is a dim and sunless realm containing forests and plains, like the earth of man, peopled with many animals — all of which are ever desirous to ascend to the sunny realm above. It is the task of the Ohdowas to keep these underworld creatures in their proper place, especially since many of them are venom- ous and noxious beasts; and though the Ohdowas are small, they are sturdy and brave, and for the most part keep the mon- strous beings imprisoned; rarely do the latter break through to devastate and defile the world above. As there are under- earth people, so are there underwater people® who, like the Fire-People of the Eskimo, are divided into two tribes, one helpful, one hurtful to man. These underwater beings are human in form, and have houses, like those of men, beneath
THE FOREST TRIBES
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the waters; but they dress in snake’s skins and wear horns. Sometimes their beautiful daughters lure mortal men down into the depths, to don the snake-skin costume and to be lost to their kindred forever.
Of monstrous beings, inhabiting partly the earth’s surface, partly the underworld, the Iroquois recognize in particular the race of Great Heads and the race of Stone Giants. The Great Heads are gifted with penetrating eyes and provided with abundant hair which serves them as wings; they ride on the tempest, and in their destructive and malevolent powers seem to be personifications of the storm, perhaps of the tornado. In one tale, which may be the detritus of an ancient and crude cosmogony, the Great Head obviously plays the role of a demiurge; and a curious story tells of the destruction of one of the tribe which pursued a young woman into her lodge and seeing her parching chestnuts concluded that coals of fire were good to eat; partaking of the coals, it died. These bizarre creatures are well calculated to spice a tale with terrors.
The Iroquoian Stone Giants,®® as well as their congeners among the Algonquians (e. g. the Chenoo of the Abnaki and Micmac), belong to a wide-spread group of mythic beings of which the Eskimo Tornit are examples. They are powerful magicians, huge in stature, unacquainted with the bow, and employing stones for weapons. In awesome combats they fight one another, uprooting the tallest trees for weapons and rend- ing the earth in their fury. Occasionally, they are tamed by men and, as they are mighty hunters, they become useful friends. Commonly they are depicted as cannibals ; and it may well be that this far-remembered mythic people is a reminis- cence, coloured by time, of backward tribes, unacquainted with the bow, and long since destroyed by the Indians of his- toric times.® Of course, if there be such an historic element in these myths, it is coloured and overlaid by wholly mythic con- ceptions of stone-armoured Titans or demiurges (see Ch. Ill, i, ii).
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VIII. THE ELDERS OF THE KINDS «
The Onondaga story of the beginnings of things closes with these words: “Moreover, it is verily thus with all things that are contained in the earth here present, that they sev- erally retransform or exchange their bodies. It is thus with all things that sprout and grow, and, in the next place, with all things that produce themselves and grow, and, in the next place, all the man-beings. All these are affected in the same manner, that they severally transform their bodies, and, in the next place, that they retransform their bodies, severally, without cessation” (Hewitt, 2 i ARBE, pp. 219-20).
Savages, and perhaps all people who live near to Nature, are first and inevitably Heracliteans : for them, as for the Greek philosopher, all things flow, the sensible world is a world of perpetual mutation; bodies, animate and inanimate, are but temporary manifestations — outward shadows of the multi- tude of shape-shifting Powers which govern the spectacle from behind the scene. Yet even the savage, conscious as he is of the impermanency of sensible things, detects certain constant forms, persistently reappearing, though in various individual embodiments. These forms are the natural kinds — the kin- dreds or species into which Nature is divided; they are the Ideas of things, as a greater Greek than Heraclitus would say; and the Indians all develop into Platonists, for they hold that each natural kind has its archetype, or Elder (as they prefer), dwelling in an invisible world and sustaining the temporary lives of all its earthly copies by the strength of its primal being.
The changing seasons themselves — which, for all peoples beyond the tropics, are the great facts governing the whole strategy of life — become fixed in a kind of constancy, and are eventually personified into such beings as we still fanci- fully form for Spring and Summer and Winter and Autumn.®® To be sure, the seasons are not so many for peoples whose sus-
PLATE VIII
Iroquois drawing of a Great Head — a type of bodiless, man-eating monster (see Note 37, pp. 290-- 91). The picture, reproduced from Schoolcraft, Indian Trihesj part i, Plate LXXII, is an illustration of the story of the outwitting of the (Jrcat Hea<l by an In- dian woman, a story common to many of the Eastern tribes (see p. 29),
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As the territories of the forest tribes were similar — heavily wooded, whether on mountain or plain, copiously watered, abounding in game and natural fruits — so were their modes of life and thought cast to the same pattern. Every man was a hunter; but, except in the Canadian north, agriculture was prac- tised by the women, with maize for the principal crop,*^ and the villages were accordingly permanent. Industries were of
PLATE IV
Ceremonial mask of the Iroquois Indians, New York. Carved wood painted red. This mask repre- sents one of the great anthropic beings defeated in primal times by the Master of Infc ; its face, pre- viously beautiful, was contorted in the struggle* Specimen in the United States National Museum.
THE FOREST TRIBES
IS
the Stone Age, though not without art, especiall7 where the ceremonial of life was concerned. The tribes were organized for war as for peace, and indeed, if hunting was the vocation, war was the avocation of every Indian man: warlike prowess was his crowning glory, and stoical fortitude under the most terrible of tortures his supreme virtue; the cruelty of the North American Indian — and few peoples have been more consciously cruel — can be properly understood only as the re- flection of his intense esteem for personal courage, to the proof of which his whole life was subjected. For the rest, a love of ritual song and dance, of oratory and the counsel of elders, a fine courtesy, a subtle code of honour, an impeccable pride, were all traits which the Forest Tribes had developed to the full, and which gave to the Indian that aloofness of mien and austerity of character which were the white man’s first and most vivid impression of him. In the possession of these traits, as in their mode of life and the ideas to which It gave birth, the forest Indians were as one people; the Algonquians were perhaps the more poetical, the more given to song and proph- ecy, the Iroquoians the more politic and the better tacticians; but their diff'erences were slight in contrast to an essential unity of character which was to form, during the first two centuries of the white men’s contact with the new-found race, the European’s indelible impression of the Red Man.
II. PRIEST AND PAGAN
Men’s beliefs are their most precious possessions. The gold and the furs and the tobacco of the New World were bright allurements to the western adventure; but it was the desire to keep their faith unmolested that planted the first permanent English colony on American shores, and Spanish conquistadores and French voyageurs were not more zealous for wealth and war than were the Jesuit Fathers, who followed in their foot- steps and outstayed their departure, for the Christianizing of
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the Red Man’s pagan soul. It is to these missionary priests that we owe most of our knowledge of the Indian’s native be- liefs — at least, for the earlier period. They entered the wilder- ness to convert the savage, and accordingly it became their immediate interest to discover what religious ideas this child of nature already possessed. In their letters on the language, institutions, and ideas of the Indians, written for the enlighten- ment of those intending to enter the mission field, we have the first reliable accounts of Indian myth and religion.
To be sure, the Fathers did not immediately understand the aborigines. In one of the earliest of the Relations Pere Lalemant wrote, of the Montagnais: “They have no form of divine worship nor any kind of prayers”; but such expressions mean simply that the missionaries found among the Indians nothing similar to their own religious practices. In the Rela- tion of 1647-48 Pere Raguenau said, writing of the Huron: “To speak truly, all the nations of these countries have re- ceived from their ancestors no knowledge of a God; and, before we set foot here, all that was related about the creation of the world consisted of nothing but myths. Nevertheless, though they were barbarians, there remained in their hearts a secret idea of the Divinity and of a first Principle, the author of all things, whom they invoked without knowing him. In the for- ests and during the chase, on the waters, and when in danger of shipwreck, they name him Aireskouy Soutanditenr,^'^ and call him to their aid. In war, and in the midst of their battles, they give him the name of Ondoutaete and believe that he alone awards the victory.®® Very frequently they address themselves to the Sky, paying it homage; and they call upon the Sun to be witness of their courage, of their misery, or of their inno- cence. But, above all, in treaties of peace and alliance with foreign Nations they invoke, as witnesses of their sincerity, the Sun and the Sky, which see into the depths of their hearts, and will wreak vengeance on the treachery of those who betray their trust and do not keep their word. So true is what Ter-
THE FOREST TRIBES 17
tullian said of the most infidel Nations, that nature in the midst of perils makes them speak with a Christian voice, — Exclamant vocem naturaliter Christianam, — and have recourse to a God whom they invoke almost without knowing him, — Ignoto Deo.” ®
Exclamant vocem naturaliter Christianam! Two centuries later another Jesuit, Father De Smet, uses the same expression in describing the religious feeling of the Kansa tribe: “When we showed them an Ecce Homo and a statue of our Lady of the Seven Dolours, and the interpreter explained to them that that head crowned with thorns, and that countenance defiled with insults, were the true and real image of a God who had died for love of us, and that the heart they saw pierced with seven swords was the heart of his mother, we beheld an affecting illus- tration of the beautiful thought of Tertullian, that the soul of man is naturally Christian!”
It is not strange, therefore, that when these same Fathers found in America myths of a creation and a deluge, of a fall from heaven and of a sinful choice bringing death into the world, they conceived that in the new-found Americans they had discovered the lost tribes of Israel.
III. THE MANITOS*
“The definition of being is simply power,” says a speaker in Plato’s Sophist; and this is a statement to which every American Indian would accede. Each being in nature, the Indians believe, has an indwelling power by means of which this being maintains its particular character and in its own way affects other beings. Such powers may be little or great, weak or mighty; and of course it behooves a man to know which ones are great and mighty. Outward appearances are no sure sign of the strength of an indwelling potency; often a small animal or a lethargic stone may be the seat of a mighty power; but usually some peculiarity will indicate to the thoughtful
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observer the object of exceptional might, or it may be revealed in a dream or vision. To become the possessor of such an ob- ject is to have one’s own powers proportionally increased; it is good “medicine” and will make one strong.
Every American language has its name for these indwelling powers of things. The Eskimo word is Inua, or “owner”; the Iroquois employ the word Orenda, and for maleficent powers, or “bad magic,” Otgon; the Huron word is Oki;^® the Siouan, Wakanda. But the term by which the idea has become most generally known to white men, doubtless because it was the word used by the Indians first encountered by the colo- nists, is the Algonquian Manitou, Manito, or Manido, as it is variously spelled. The customary translations are “power,” “mystery,” “magic,” and, commoner yet, “spirit” and “medi- cine” — and the full meaning of the word would include all of these; for the powers of things include every gradation from the common and negligible to the mysterious and magical: when they pertain to the higher forces of nature they are in- telligent spirits, able to hear and answer supplications; and wherever they may be appropriated to man’s need they are medicine, spiritual and physical.
The Indian does not make, as we do, a sharp division be- tween physical and spiritual powers; rather, he is concerned with the distinction between the weak and the strong: the sub-human he may neglect or conquer, the superhuman he must supplicate and appease. It is commonly to these latter, the mighty Manitos, that the word “spirit” is applied. Nor must we suppose that the Manitos always retain the same shape. Nature is constantly changing, constantly trans- forming herself in every part; she is full of energy, full of life; Manitos are everywhere effecting these transformations, pre- senting themselves now in this shape, now in that. Conse- quently, the Indian does not judge by the superficial gift of vision; he studies the effects of things, and in objects of hum- blest appearance he often finds evidences of the highest pow-
PLATE V
Chippewa pictographic record of Midcwiwin songs and rites. After Schoolcraft, Indian Trilm^ part i, Plate LI. Two records arc given ; they arc read from right to left, and upward. Following are interpre-, rations of the figures, abridged from Schoolcraft.
Upper record: ,i. Medicine lodge with winged figure representing the Great Spirit come to instruct the Indians. 2. Candidate for admission with pouch attached to his arm; wind gushes from the pouch. 3. Pause, indicating preparation of feast. 4, Arm holding a dish, representing hand of the master of ceremonies. 5. Sweat-lodge. 6. Arm of the priest who conducts the candidate. 7. Symbol for gifts, the admission fee of candidate. 8. Sacred tree, with medicine root. 9. Stuffed crane medicine-bag. lo. Arrow penetrating the circle of the sky. n. A small high-flying hawk. 12. llie sky, the Great Spirit above it, a manito’s arm upraised beneath in supplication. 13. Pause. 14. Sacred or magic tree. 15. Drumstick. 16. Half of thes sky with a man walking on it, symbol of midday. 17. The Great Spirit filling all space with his beams and halo. 18. Drum. 19. Tambourine with feather orna- ments. 20. Crow. 21. An initiate or priest hold- ing in one hand a drumstick, in the other the clouds of the celestial hemisphere.
Lower record: i. A Wabeno’s, or doctor^s, hand. 2. Sacred tree or plant. 3. A Wabeno dog. 4. Sick man vomiting blood. 5. Pipe, here represent- ing ‘^bad medicine/’ 6. A worm that eats decaying wood. 7. A Wabeno spirit, addressed for aid. 8. A hunter with Wabeno powers. 9. The Great Spirit, filling the sky with his presence. 10. Sky with clouds. II. Fabulous monster chasing the clouds. 12, Horned wolf. 13. The war eagle* 14. Bow and arrow, magically potent. 15. A Mide initiate, or doctor, holding the sky* 16. The sun. 17. Bow and arrow shooting power, 18. Man 'with drum,' in ecstasy. Cf. Plate XX.
THE FOREST TRIBES
19
ers. Stones do not seem to us likely objects of veneration, yet many strong Manitos dwell in them — perhaps it is the spark of fire in the impassive flint that appeals to the Red Man’s imagination; perhaps it is an instinctive veneration for the ancient material out of which were hewn the tools that have lifted man above the brute; perhaps it is a sense of the age-long permanence and invulnerable reality of earth’s rocky foundations®’’: —
Ho! Aged One, e?ka,
At a time when there were gathered together seven persons,*
You sat in the seventh place, it is said.
And of the Seven you alone possessed knowledge of all things.
Aged One, e^ka.
When in their longing for protection and guidance.
The people sought in their minds for a way.
They beheld you seated with assured permanency and endurance. In the center where converged the paths,
There, exposed to the violence of the four winds, you sat.
Possessed with power to receive supplications.
Aged One, efka.
It is thus that the Omaha began his invocation to the healing stones of his sweat lodge — a veritable omphalos, or centre of the world, symbolizing the invisible, pervasive, and enduring life of all things.
IV. THE GREAT SPIRIT*
The Algonquians of the north recognize as the chief of their Manitos, Gitche (or Kitshi) Manito, the Great Spirit, whom they also call the Master of Life.®* It should not be inferred that a manlike personality is ascribed to the Great Spirit. He is invisible and immaterial; the author of life, but himself uncreated; he is the source of good to man, and is invoked with reverence: but he is not a definite personality about whom
* The spirits of the seven directions, above, below, here, and the four cardinal points. The passage is translated bf Alice C. Fletcher, 27 ARBE, p. 586. The word “e?ka’' may be roughly rendered “ I desire,” ‘‘ I crave,” “I implore,” “I seek,” etc., but has no exact equivalent in English,
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myths are told; he is aloof from the world of sense; and he is perhaps best named, as some translators prefer, the Great Mystery of all things.
Yet the Great Spirit is not without proper names. Pcre Le Jeune wrote thus in 1633, concerning the Montagnais: “They say that there is a certain one whom they call Atahocan, who made all things. Talking one day of God, in a cabin, they asked me what this God was. I told them that it was he who could do everything, and who had made the Sky and Earth. They began to say to one another, ‘Atahocan, Atahocan, it is Atahocan.’” Winslow, writing in 1622, mentions a similar spirit, Kiehtan, recognized by the Massachusetts Indians; and the early writers on the Virginia Indians tell of their belief “that there is one chiefe God that hath beene from all eterni- tie” who made the world and set the sun and moon and stars to be his ministers. The Iroquoian tribes have no precise equivalent for the Algonquian Kitshi Manito, but they be- lieved in a similar spirit, known by the name of Areskoui or Agreskoui, to whom they offered the first-fruits of the chase and of victorious war. The terrible letter in which Pere Isaac Jogues recounts his stay among the Iroquois, as a prisoner, tells of the sacrifice of a woman captive to this deity: “And as often as they applied the fire to that unhappy one with torches and burning brands, an old man cried in a loud voice: ‘Aireskoi, we sacrifice to thee this victim that thou mayst satisfy thyself with her flesh, and give us victory over our enemies.’”
The usual rite to the Great Spirit, however, is not of this horrible kind. From coast to coast the sacred Calumet is the Indian’s altar, and its smoke is the proper offering to Heaven.*® “The Sceptres of our Kings are not so much re- spected,” wrote Marquette, “for the Savages have such a Deference for this Pipe, that one may call it the God of Peace and War, and the Arbiter of Life and Death.” “It was really a touching spectacle to see the calumet, the Indian emblem
THE FOREST TRIBES
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of peace, raised heavenward by the hand of a savage, present- ing it to the Master of Life imploring his pity on all his chil- dren on earth and begging him to confirm the good resolutions which they had made.” This is a comment of Father De Smet, who spent many years among many different tribes, and it is he who preserves for us the Delaware story of the gift of the Calumet to man: The peoples of the North had resolved upon a war of extermination against the Delaware, when, in the midst of their council, a dazzling white bird appeared among them and poised with outspread wings above the head of the only daughter of the head chief. The girl heard a voice speaking within her, which said: “Call all the warriors together; make known to them that the heart of the Great Spirit is sad, is covered with a dark and heavy cloud, because they seek to drink the blood of his first-born children, the Lenni-Lennapi, the eldest of all the tribes on earth. To appease the anger of the Master of Life, and to bring back happiness to his heart, all the warriors must wash their hands in the blood of a young fawn; then, loaded with presents, and the Hobowakan [calumet] in their hands, they must go all together and present themselves to their elder brothers; they must distribute their gifts, and smoke together the great calu- met of peace and brotherhood, which is to make them one forever.”
V. THE FRAME OF THE WORLD
Herodotus said of the Persians: “It is their wont to per- form sacrifices to Zeus, going up to the most lofty of the moun- tains; and the whole circle of the heavens they call Zeus; and they sacrifice to the Sun and the Moon and the Earth, to Fire and to Water and to the Winds; these are the only gods to whom they have sacrificed ever from the first.” The ritual of the calumet indicates identically the same concep- tion of the world-powers among the American Indians. “On all great occasions,” says De Smet, “in their religious and
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political ceremonies, and at their great feasts, the calumet pre- sides; the savages send its first fruits, or its first puffs, to the Great Waconda, or Master of Life, to the Sun, which gives them light, and to the Earth and Water by which they are nourished; then they direct a puff to each point of the com- pass, begging of Heaven all the elements and favorable winds.” And again: “They offer the Calumet to the Great Spirit, to the Four Winds, to the Sun, Fire, Earth and Water.”
The ritual of the calumet defines for the Indian the frame of the world and the distribution of its indwelling powers. Above, in the remote and shining sky, is the Great Spirit, whose power is the breath of life that permeates all nature and whose manifestation is the light which reveals creation. As the spirit of light he shows himself in the sun, “ the eye of the Great Spirit”; as the breath of life he penetrates all the world in the form of the moving Winds. Below is Mother Earth, giving forth the Water of Life, and nourishing in her bosom all organic beings, the Plant Forms and the Animal Forms. The birds are the intermediaries between the habitation of men and the Powers Above; serpents and the creatures of the waters are intermediaries communicating with the Powers Below.
Such, in broad definition, was the Indian’s conception of the world-powers. But he was not unwilling to elaborate this sim- ple scheme. The world, as he conceived it, is a storeyed world: above the flat earth is the realm of winds and clouds, haunted by spirits and traversed by the great Thunderbird; above this, the Sun and the Moon and the Stars have their course; while high over all is the circle of the upper sky, the abode of the Great Spirit. Commonly, the visible firmament is regarded as the roof of man’s world, but it is also the floor of an arche- typal heavenly world, containing the patterns of all things that exist in the world below: it is from this heaven above the heavens that the beings descend who create the visible uni- verse. And as there are worlds above, so are there worlds beneath us; the earth is a floor for us, but a roof for those
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The religious and mythical ideas of the Eskimo wear the hues of their life. They are savages, easily cheered when food is plenty, and when disheartened oppressed rather by a blind helplessness than by any sense of ignorance or any depth of thought. Their social organization is loose; their law is strength; their differences are settled by blood feuds; a kind of unconscious indecency characterizes the relations of the sexes; but they have the crude virtues of a simply gregarious people — ready hospitality, willingness to share, a lively if fit- ful affectionateness, a sense of fun. They are given to singing and dancing and tale-telling; to magic and trance and spirit- journeys. Their adventures in real life are grim enough, but these are outmatched by their flights of fancy. As their life demands, they are rapacious and ingrained huntsmen; and perhaps the strongest trait of their tales is the succession of
THE FAR NORTH
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images reflecting the intimate habits of a people whose every member is a butcher — blubber and entrails and warm blood, bones and the foulness of parasites and decay: these replace the tenderer images suggested to the minds of peoples who dwell in flowered and verdured lands.
HI. THE WORLD-POWERS
For the Eskimo, as for all savage people, the world is up- held by invisible powers. Everything in nature has its Inua,® its “owner” or “indweller”; stones and animals have their Inue, the air has an Inua, there is even an Inua of the strength or the appetite; the dead man is the Inua of his grave, the soul is the Inua of the lifeless body. Inue are separable from the objects of which they are the “owners”; normally they are invisible, but at times they appear in the form of a light or a fire — an ill-seen thing, foretokening death.
The “owners” of objects may become the helpers or guard- ians of men and then they are known as Tornait.^ Especially potent are the Inue of stones and bears; if a bear “owner” becomes the Tornak of a man, the man may be eaten by the bear and vomited up again; he then becomes an Angakok, or shaman,® with the bear for his helper. Men or women with many or powerful Tornait are of the class of Angakut, endowed with magical and healing power and with eyes that see hidden things.
The Greenlanders had a vague belief in a being, Tornarsuk, the Great Tornak, or ruler of the Tornait, through whom the Angakut obtained their control over their helpers; but a like belief seems not to have been prevalent on the continent.® In the spiritual economy of the Eskimo, the chief place is held by a woman-being, the Old Woman of the Sea, — Nerri- vik, the “Food Dish,” the north Greenlanders call her, — while Sedna is a mainland name for her.'^ Once she was a mortal woman; a petrel wooed her with entrancing song and carried
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her to his home beyond the sea. Too late she found that he had deceived her. When her relatives tried to rescue her, the bird raised such a storm that they cast her into the sea to save themselves; she attempted to cling to the boat, but they cut off her hand, and she sank to the bottom, her severed fin- gers being transformed into whales and seals of the several kinds. In her house in the depths of the sea Nerrivik dwells, trimming her lamp, guarded by a terrible dog, and ruling over the animal life of the deep. Sometimes men catch no seals, and then the Angakut go down to her and force or persuade her to release the food animals; that is why she is called the “Food Dish.” It is not difficult to perceive in this Woman of the Sea a kind of Mother of Wild Life — a hunter folk’s god- dess, but cruel and capricious as is the sea itself.
In the house of Sedna is a shadowy being, Anguta, her father. Some say that it was he who rescued her and then cast her overboard to save himself, and he is significantly surnamed “the Man with Something to Cut.” Like his daughter, Anguta has a maimed hand, and it is with this that he seizes the dead and drags them down to the house of Sedna — for her sover- eignty is over the souls of the dead as well as over the food of the living; she is Mistress of Life and of Death. According to the old Greenlandic tradition, when the Angakut go down to the Woman of the Sea they pass first through the region of the dead, then across an abyss where an icy wheel is forever revolving, next by a boiling cauldron with seals in it, and lastly, when the great dog at the door is evaded, within the very en- trance there is a second abyss bridged only by a knifelike way. Such was the Eskimo’s descensus Averno.^
IV. THE WORLD’S REGIONS
As the Eskimo’s Inland is peopled with monstrous tribes, so is his Sea-Front populous with strange beings.® There are the Inue of the sea — a kind of mermen; there are the mirage-
THE FAR NORTH
7
like Kayak-men who raise storms and foul weather; there are the phantom women’s boats, the Umiarissat, whose crews, some say, are seals transformed into rowers. Strangest of all are the Fire-People, the Ingnersuit, dwelling in the cliffs, or, as it were, in the crevasse between land and sea. They are of two classes, the Pug-Nosed People and the Noseless People. The former are friendly to men, assisting the kayaker even when invisible to him; the Noseless Ones are men’s enemies, and they drag the hapless kayaker to wretched captivity down beneath the black waters. An Angakok was once seal-hunting, far at sea; all at once he found himself surrounded by strange kayaks — the Fire-People coming to seize him. But a commo- tion arose among them, and he saw that they were pursued by a kayak whose prow was like a great mouth, opening and shutting, and slaying all that were in its path; and suddenly all of the Fire-People were gone from the surface of the sea. Such was the power of the shaman’s helping spirit.
In the Eskimo’s conception there are regions above and re- gions below man’s visible abode, and the dead are to be found in each.^“ Accounts differ as to the desirability of the several abodes. The mainland people — or some of them — regard the lower world as a place of cold and storm and darkness and hunger, and those who have been unhappy or wicked in this life are bound thither; the region above is a land of plenty and song, and those who have been good and happy, and also those who perish by accident or violence, and women who die in child-birth, pass to this upper land. But there are others who deem the lower world the happier, and the upper the realm of cold and hunger; yet others maintain that the soul is full of joy in either realm.
The Angakut make soul-journeys to both the upper and the lower worlds.^^ The lower world is described as having a sky like our own, only the sky is darker and the sun paler; it is always winter there, but game is plentiful. Another tale tells of four cavernous underworlds, one beneath the other; the
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first three are low-roofed and uncomfortable, only the fourth and lowest is roomy and pleasant. The upper world is beyond the visible sky, which is a huge dome revolving about a moun- tain-top; it is a land with its own hills and valleys, duplicating Earth. Its “owners” are the Inue of the celestial bodies, who once were men, but who have been translated to the heavens and are now the celestial lights. The road to the upper world is not free from perils: on the way to the moon there is a person who tempts wayfarers to laughter, and if successful in making them laugh takes out their entrails.® Perhaps this is a kind of process of disembodying; for repeatedly in Es- kimo myth occur spirit-beings which when seen face to face appear to be human beings, but when seen from behind are like skeletons.^®
V. THE BEGINNINGS
The Sun and the Moon were sister and brother — mortals once. In a house where there was no light they lay together, and when the sister discovered who had been her companion, in her shame she tore off her breasts and threw them to her brother, saying, “Since my body pleaseth thee, taste these, too.” Then she fled away, her brother pursuing, and each bearing the torches by means of which they had discovered one another. As they ran they rose up into the heavens; the sister’s torch burned strong and bright, and she became the Sun; the brother’s torch died to a mere ember, and he be- came the Moon.“ When the Sun rises in the sky and summer is approaching, she is coming “to give warmth to orphans,” say the Eskimo; for in the Far North, where many times in the winter starvation is near, the lot of the orphan is grimly uncertain.
The Greenlanders are alert to the stars, especially those that foretell the return of the summer sun; when Orion is seen toward dawn, summer is coming and hearts are joyous.
PLATE III
I
Example of gorget, or breast-ornament, of wood, used by the Eskimo of western Alaska in shaman istic dances, often in combination with a mask. On the original (now in the United States National Museum), the central figure of a man standing on a whale and holding fishes is painted in red, all the other figures be- ing in black. The central figure represents a marine god or giant, probably the Food-Giver. See Note 9, (p. 274).
2
Harpoon-rest with sketch of a mythic bird captur- ing a whale. From Cape Prince of Wales, Now in United States National Museum. The bird is prob- ably the Thunderbird, as in the similar motive in the art of the North-West Coast Indians.
THE FAR NORTH
9
The Eskimo tell how men with dogs once pursued a bear far out on the ice; suddenly the bear began to rise into the air, his pursuers followed, and this group became the constellation which we name Orion. A like story is sometimes told of the Great Bear (Ursa Major). Harsher is the tale which tells of the coming of Venus: “He who Stands and Listens” — for the sun’s companion is a man to the Eskimo. An old man, so the story goes, was sealing near the shore; the noise of chil- dren playing in a cleft of rock frightened the seals away; and at last, in his anger, he ordered the cleft to close over them. When their parents returned from hunting, all they could do was to pour a little blood down a fissure which had been left, but the imprisoned children soon starved. They then pursued the old man, but he shot up into the sky and became the lumi- nous planet which is seen low in the west when the light begins to return after the wintry dark.^^
The Eskimo do not greatly trouble themselves with thoughts as to the beginnings of the world as a whole; rather they take it for granted, quite unspeculatively. There is, however, an odd Greenlandic tale of how earth dropped down from the heavens, soil and stones, forming the lands we know. Babies came forth — earth-born — and sprawled about among the dwarf willows; and there they were found by a man and a woman (none knows whence these came), and the woman made clothes for them, and so there were people; and the man stamped upon the earth, whence sprang, each from its tiny mound, the dogs that men need.^® At first there was no death; neither was there any sun. Two old women debated, and one said, “Let us do without light, if so we can be without death”; but the other said, “Nay, let us have both light and death!” — and as she spoke, it was so.“
The Far North has also a widely repeated story of a deluge that destroyed most of the earth’s life, as well as another wide- spread account of the birth of the different races of man- kind — for at first all men were Eskimo — from the union of a
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girl with a dog; the ancestors of the white men she put in the sole of a boot and sent them to find their own country, and when the white men’s ships came again, lo, as seen from above, the body of each ship looked precisely like the sole of a boot!
VI. LIFE AND DEATH
Birth and death, in Eskimo conception, are less a beginning and an end than episodes of life. Bodies are only instruments of souls — the souls which are their “owners”; and what re- spect is shown for the bodies of the dead is based upon a very definite awe of the potencies of their Inue, which have been augmented rather than diminished by the last liberation. Souls may be born and reborn both as man and as beast, and some have been known to run the whole gamut of the ani- mal kingdom before returning to human shape.^® Ordinarily human souls are reborn as men. Monsters, too, are born of human parents : one of the most ghastly of the northern tales is the story of “the Baby who ate its parents”; it tore off its mother’s breasts as she suckled it, it devoured her body and ate its father; and then, covered with its parents’ blood and crying for meat, it crawled horribly toward the folk, who fled in terror.^®
Besides the soul which is the body’s “owner” the Eskimo be- lieve in a name-soul.®® The name of the dead man is not men- tioned by his kinsfolk until a child has come into the world to bear it anew. Then, when the name has thus been rAorn, the dead man’s proper soul is free to leave the corpse and go to the land of the departed. An odd variant of this Greenlandic notion was encountered by Stefansson among the western tribes: these people believe that the soul of the dead relative enters the body of the new-born child, guarding and protect- ing its life and uttering all its words until it reaches the age of discretion; then the child’s own soul is supposed to assume sway, and it is called after a name of its own. If there have
THE FAR NORTH
II
been a number of deaths previous to a birth, the child ma7 have several such guardian spirits.
Sometimes a child had dire need of guardian spirits. Such a one was Qalanganguase; his parents and his sister were dead; he had no kindred to care for him and he was paralysed in the lower part of his body. When his fellow-villagers went hunting, he was left alone; and then, in his solitude, the spirits came and whiled away the hours. Once, however, the spirit of his sister was slow in going (for Qalanganguase had been looking after the little child she had left when she died), and the people, on their return, saw the shadow of her flitting feet. When Qalanganguase told what had happened, the villagers challenged him to the terrible song-duel in which the Angakut try one another’s strength; and they bound him to the sup- ports of the house and left him swinging to and fro. But the spirit of his mother came to him, and his father’s spirit, say- ing, “Journey with us”; and so he departed with them, nor did his fellow-villagers ever find him again.^®
Qalanganguase was an orphaned child and a cripple; his rights to life — in the Polar North — were little enough. Mitsima was an old man. He was out seal-catching in mid- winter; a storm came up, and he was lost to his companions. When the storm passed, his children saw him crawling like a dog over the ice, for his hands and feet were frozen — his children saw him, but they were afraid to go out to him, for he was near unto death. “He is an old man,” they said, and so they let him die; for the aged, too, have little right to life in the Polar North.
Perhaps it is necessity rather than cruelty in a region where life is hard. Perhaps it is that death seems less final, more episodic, to men whose lives are always in peril. Perhaps it is the ancient custom of the world, which only civilized men have forgotten. “We observe our old customs,” said a wise elder to Knud Rasmussen — and he was speaking of the ob- servation of the rites for the dead — “in order to hold the
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world up, for the powers must not be offended. We observe our customs, in order to hold each other up. We are afraid of the great Evil. Men are so helpless in the face of illness. The people here do penance, because the dead are strong in their vital sap, and boundless in their might.”
CHAPTER II
THE FOREST TRIBES
1. THE FOREST REGION
W HEN British and French and Dutch colonized North America in the seventeenth century, the region which they entered was a continuous forest extending northward to the tree line of Labrador and Hudson’s Bay west, southward to the foot-hills of the mountains and the shores of the Gulf, and westward to about the longitude of the Mississippi River. This vast region was inhabited by numerous tribes of a race new to white men. The Norse, during their brief stay in Vin- land, on the northern borders of the forest lands, had heard, through the Skraelings, of men who wore fringed garments, carried long spears, and whooped loudly; but they had not seen those people, whom it had remained for Columbus first to encounter. These men — “Indians” Columbus had called them — were, in respect to polity, organized into small tribal groups; but these groups, usually following relationship in speech and natural proximity, were, in turn, loosely bound to- gether in “confederacies” or “nations.” Even beyond these limits affinity of speech delimited certain major groups, or linguistic stocks, normally representing consanguineous races; and, indeed, the whole forest region, from the realm of the Eskimo in the north to the alluvial and coastal lands bordering on the Gulf, was dominated by two great linguistic stocks, the Algonquian and the Iroquoian, whose tribes were the first aborigines encountered by the white colonists.
The Algonquians, when the whites appeared, were by far the more numerous and wide-spread of the two peoples.
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Their tribes included, along the Atlantic coast, the Micmac of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, the Abnaki, Pcnnacook, Massachuset, Nauset, Narraganset, Pequot, etc., of New England, the Mahican and Montauk of New York, the Dela- ware of New Jersey, and the Nanticoke and Powhatan of Vir- ginia and North Carolina. North of the St. Lawrence were the Montagnais and Algonquin tribes, while westward were the Chippewa and Cree, mainly between the Great Lakes and Hudson’s Bay. The Potawatomi, Menominee, Sauk and Fox, Miami, Illinois, and Shawnee occupied territory extending from the western lakes southward to Tennessee and westward to the Mississippi. On the Great Plains the Arapaho and Chey- enne and in the Rocky Mountains the Siksika, or Blackfeet, were remote representatives of this vast family of tribes. In contrast, the Iroquoian peoples were compact and little di- vided. The two centres of their power were the region about Lakes Erie and Ontario and the upper St. Lawrence, south- ward through central New York and Pennsylvania, and the mountainous region of the Carolina and Virginia colonies. Of the northern tribes the Five Nations,^® or Iroquois Con- federacy, of New York, and the Canadian Huron, with whom they were perpetually at war, were the most important; of the southern, the Tuscarora and Cherokee. In all the wide territory occupied by these two great stocks the only consid- erable intrusion was that of the Catawba, an offshoot of the famed Siouan stock of the Plains, which had established itself between the Iroquoian Cherokee and the Algonquian Powhatan.
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INTRODUCTION
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version known to the Arctic Highlanders, where the poign- ant choice is put, “Will ye have eternal darkness and eternal life, or light and death?” — art and morality and philosophy are all intermingled.
To perfect our criterion we must add to the analysis of mo- tive the study of the sources of mythic conceptions. In a broad way, these are the suggestions of environing nature, the analogies of human nature both psychical and physi- ological, imagination, and borrowings. Probably the first of these is the most important, though the “nature-myth” is far from being the simple and inevitable thing an elder genera- tion of students would make of it. Men’s ideas necessarily re- flect the world that they know, and even where the mythic incidents are the same the timbre of the tale will vary, say from the Yukon to the Mississippi, in the eastern forest, or on the western desert. There are physiographical boundaries within the continent which form a natural chart of the divi- sions in the complexion of aboriginal thought; and while there are numberless overlappings, outcroppings, and intrusions, none the less striking are the general conformities of the char- acter of the several regions with the character of the mythic lore developed in them. The forests of the East, the Great Plains, the arid South-West, secluded California, the North- Western archipelago, each has its own traits of thought as it has its own traits of nature, and it is inevitable that we sup- pose the former to be in some degree a reflection of the latter. Beyond all this there are certain constancies of nature, the succession of darkness and light, the circle of the seasons, the motions of sun, moon, and stars, of rivers and winds, that affect men everywhere and everywhere colour their fancies; and it is not the least interesting feature of the study of a wide- spread mythic theme or incident to see the variety of natural phenomena for which it may, first and last, serve to account, since the myth-maker does not find his story in nature, but writes it there with her colouring.
XX INTRODUCTION
The second great source of myth material is found in the analogies of human nature. Primarily these arc psychical: the desires and purposes of men are assumed, quite uncon- sciously, to animate and to inspire the whole drama of nature’s growth and change, and thus the universe becomes peopled with personalities, ranging in definition from the senselessly vora- cious appetites incarnated as monsters, to the self-possessed purpose and, not infrequently, the “sweet reasonableness” of man-beings and gods. Besides the psychical, however, there are the physical analogies of humankind. The most elementary are the physiological, which lead to a symbolism now gruesome, now poetic. The heart, the hair, and the breath are the most significant to the Indian, and their inner meaning could scarcely be better indicated than in the words of a Pawnee priest from whom Alice Fletcher obtained her report of the Hako. One act of this ceremony is the placing of a bit of white down in the hair of a consecrated child, and in explaining this rite the priest said: “The down is taken from under the wings of the white eagle. The down grew close to the heart of the eagle and moved as the eagle breathed. It represents the breath and life of the white eagle, the father of the child.” Further, since the eagle is intermediary between man and Father Heaven, “the white, downy feather, which is ever moving as if it were breathing, represents Tirawa-atius, who dwells beyond the blue sky, which is above the soft, white clouds”; and it is placed in the child’s hair “on the spot where a baby’s skull is open, and you can see it breathe.” This is the poetic side of the symbolism; the gruesome is represented by scalping, by the tearing out of the heart, and sometimes by the devouring of it for the sake of obtaining the strength of the slain. Another phase of physiological symbolism has to do with the barbarian’s never-paling curiosity about matters of sex; there is little trace of phallic worship in North America, but the Indian’s myths abound in incidents which are as un- consciously as they are unblushingly indecent. A strange and
INTRODUCTION
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recurrent feature of Indian myth is the personification of members of the body, especially the genital and excretory organs, usually in connexion with divination. The final step in the use of the human body as a symbol is anthropomor- phism — that complete anthropomorphism wherein mythic powers are given bodies, not part human and part animal, but wholly human; it marks the first clear sense of the dig- nity of man, and of the superiority of his wisdom to that of the brutes. Not many Indian groups have gone far in this direction, but among the more advanced it is a step clearly undertaken.
Imagination plays a part in the development of myth which is best realized by the aesthetic effect created by a body of tales or by a set of pictorial symbols. The total impression of Indian mythic emblems is undoubtedly one of grotesquerie, but it is difficult to point to any pagan religious art except the Greek that has outgrown the grotesque; and the Indian has a quality of its own. There is a wide difference, however, in the several regions, and indeed as between tribes of the same region. The art of the North-West and of the South-West are both highly developed, but even in such analogous objects as masks they represent distinct types of genius. The Navaho and the Apache are neighbours and relatives, but they are poles apart in their aesthetic expression. Some tribes, as the Pawnee, show great originality; others, as the northern Atha- pascans and most of the Salish, are colourless borrowers.
Borrowing is, indeed, the most difficult of problems to solve. In the abstract, it is easy to suppose that, with the main simi- larities of environment in North America and the general even- ness of a civilization everywhere neolithic, the like conditions of a like human nature would give rise to like ideas and fancies. It is equally easy to suppose that in a territory permeable nearly everywhere, among tribes in constant intercourse, bor- rowing must be extensive. Both factors are significant, though in general the obvious borrowing is likely to seem the more
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INTRODUCTION
impressive. Nevertheless, universal borrowing is a difficult hypothesis, for innumerable instances show an identity of Old- World and New-World ideas, where communication within thinkable time is incredible. Even in the New World there are wide separations for identical notions that seem to imply dis- tinct origins. Thus the Arctic Highlanders, who have only recently learned that there are other peoples in the world, pos- sess ideas identical with those of the Indians of the far South. When such an idea is simply that there is a cavernous under- world which is an abode of spirits, there Is no need to assume communication, for the notion is world-wide; but when the two regions agree in asserting that there are four underworld cav- erns — an idea which is in no sense a natural Inference — then the suspicion of communication becomes inevitable. Again, constellation-myths which see in Corona Borealis a circle of chieftains. In the Pleiades a group of dancei's, in Ursa Major a quadruped pursued by three hunters, might have many independent origins; but when we encounter so curious a story as that of the incestuous relations of the Sun and the Moon told by Eskimo in the north and Cherokee in the south, com- munication is again suggested; and this suggestion becomes almost certainty when we find, further, that a special incident of this myth — the daubing of the secret lover with paint or ashes by which he Is later identified — appears in another tale found in nearly every part of the continent, the story of the girl who bore children to a dog.
In the story just mentioned the children of the girl and the dog sometimes become stars, sometimes the ancestors of a tribe or clan of men; and this is a fair illustration of the manner in which incidents having all the character of fiction are made to serve as explanatory myths by their various users. The funda- mental material of myth is rather a collection of incidents fitted into the scheme of things suggested by perception and habit than the stark invention of nature; and while the inci- dents must have an invention somewhere, the greater portion
INTRODUCTION
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of them seem to be given by art and adopted by nature, — borrowing and adaptation being, for the savage as for the civil- ized man, more facile than new thinking.
In every considerable collection of Indian stories there are many adaptations of common ideas and incidents. In different regions this basic material comes to characteristic forms of expression. Finally, in the continent as a whole, viewed as one great region, there is a generally definable scheme, within which the mythic conceptions of the North American fall into place. It is in this sense, and with reference to this scheme, that we may speak of a North American Indian mythological system.
On the side of cosmology, the scheme has already been indicated. There is a world above, the home of the Sky Father and of the celestial powers; there is a world below, the embodiment of the Earth Mother and the abode of the dead; there is the central plane of the earth, and there are the genii of its Quarters. But cosmology serves only to define the theatre; it does not give the action. Cosmogony is the essen- tial drama. In the Indian scheme the beginning is seldom absolute. A few tribes recognize a creator who makes or a procreator who generates the world and its inhabitants; but the usual conception is either of a pre-existent sky-world, peopled with the images of the beings of an earth-world yet to come into being, or else of a kind of cosmic womb from which the First People were to have their origin. In the former type of legend, the action begins with the descent of a heaven-born Titaness; in the latter, the first act portrays the ascent of the ancestral beings from the place of generation. Uniformly, the next act of the world drama details the deeds of a hero or of twin heroes who are the shapers and lawgivers of the habitable earth. They conquer the primitive monsters and set in order the furniture of creation; quite generally, one of them is slain, and passes to the underworld to become its Plutonian lord. The theft of fire, the origin of death, the liberation of the ani- mals, the giving of the arts, the institution of rites are all
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INTRODUCTION
themes that recur, once and again, and in forms that show surprisingly small variation. Universal, too, is the cataclysmic destruction of the earth by flood, or fire and flood, leaving a few survivors to repopulate the restored land. Usually this event marks the close of a First, or Antediluvian Age, in which the people were either animal in form or only abortively hu- man. After the flood the animals are transformed once for all into the beings they now are, while the new race of men is created. It is not a little curious to find in many tribes tales of a confusion of tongues and dispersion of nations bringing to a close the cosmogonic period and leading into that of legendary history.
Such, in broad outline, is the chart of the Indian’s cosmic perspective. It is with a view to its fuller illustration that the myths studied in the ensuing chapters have been chosen from the great body of American Indian lore.
NORTH AMERICAN MYTHOLOGY
NORTH AMERICAN MYTHOLOGY
CHAPTER I
THE FAR NORTH
I. NORSEMAN AND SKRAELING
I N the year of our Lord 982 Eric the Red, outlawed from Iceland, discovered Greenland, which shortly afterward was colonized by Icelanders. Eric’s son, Leif the Lucky, the first Christian of the New World, voyaging from Norway to Greenland, came upon a region to the south of Greenland where “self-sown corn” and wild vines grew, and which, accordingly, he named Vinland. This was in the year 1000, the year in which all Mediaeval Europe was looking for the Second Advent and for earth’s destruction, but which brought instead the first discovery of a New World.
As yet no people had been encountered by the Scandina- vians in the new-found lands. But the news of Vinland stirred the heart of Thorfinn Karlsefni and of his wife Gudrid, and with a company of men and two ships they set out for the region which Leif had found. First they came to a land which they called Helluland, “the land of flat stones,” which seemed to them a place of little worth. Next they visited a wooded land full of wild beasts, and this they named Markland. Finally they came to Vinland, and there they dwelt for three winters, Gudrid giving birth to Snorri, the first white child born on the Western Continent. It was in Vinland that the Norsemen first encountered the Skraelings: “They saw a number of skin canoes, and staves were brandished from their boats with a noise like flails, and they were revolved in the same direction in which the sun moves.” Thorfinn’s band
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was small, the Skraelings were a multitude; so the colony re- turned to Greenland in the year 1006.
Apparently no further attempt was made to settle the main- land, though from time to time voyages were made thither for cargoes of timber. But the Greenland colony continued, un- molested and flourishing. About the middle of the thirteenth century peoples from the north, short and swart, began to appear; encounters became unfriendly, and in 1341 the north- ernmost Scandinavian settlement was destroyed. Meanwhile, ships were coming from Norway less and less frequently, and the colony ceased to prosper, ceased to be heard from. At the time when Columbus discovered the Antilles there was a Bishop of Greenland, holding title from the Pope, but there is no evidence that he ever saw his diocese, and when, in 1585, John Davis sailed into the strait now bearing his name all trace of the Norsemen’s colony was lost.
But the people of the Far North had not forgotten, and when the white men again came among them they still pre- served legends of former Kablunait.’' The story of the first meeting of the two peoples still survived, and of their mutual curiosity and fear, and of how an Eskimo and a white man became fast friends, each unable to outdo the other in feats of skill and strength, until at last the Eskimo won in a contest at archery, and the white man was cast down a precipice by his fellow-countrymen. There is the story of Eskimo men lying in wait and stealing the women of the Kablunalt as they came to draw water. There are stories of blood feuds between the two peoples, and of the destruction of whole villages. At Ikat the Kablunait were taken by surprise; four fathers with their children fled out upon the Ice and all were drowned; sometimes they are visible at the bottom of the sea, and then, say the Eskimo, one of our people will die.
Such are the memories of the lost colony which the Green- landers have preserved. But far and wide among the Eskimo tribes there is the tradition of their former association with
PLATE II
Encounter of Eskimo and Kablunait, from a Grcen- landic drawing. After H. Rink, Taks am/ T?yif/itioas of the Eskimo,
V
THE FAR NORTH
3
the Tornit, the Inlanders, from whom they were parted hy feud and war. The Tornit were taller and stronger and swifter than the Eskimo, and most of them were blear-eyed ; their dress and weapons were different, and they were not so skil- ful in boating and sealing or with the bow. Finally, an Es- kimo youth quarrelled with one of the Tornit and slew him, boring a hole in his forehead with a drill of crystal. After that all the Tornit fled away for fear of the Eskimo and since then the Coast-People and the Inland-Dwellers have been enemies.
In the stories of the Tornit may be some vague recollections of the ancient Norsemen; more plausibly they represent the Indian neighbours of the Eskimoan tribes on the mainland, for to the Greenlanders the Indians had long become a fabulous and magical race. Sometimes, they say, the Tornit steal women who are lost in the fog, but withal are not very dangerous; they keep out of sight of men and are terribly afraid of dogs. Besides the Tornit there are in the Eskimo’s uncanny Inland elves and cannibal giants, one-eyed people, shape-shifters, dog-men, and monsters, such as the Amarok, or giant wolf, or the horrid caterpillar that a woman nursed until it grew so huge that it devoured her baby — for it is a region where history and imagination mingle in nebulous marvel.^
II. THE ESKIMO’S WORLD
There is probably no people on the globe more isolated in their character and their life than are the Eskimo. Their nat- ural home is to the greater part of mankind one of the least inviting regions of the earth, and they have held it for centuries with little rivalry from other races. It is the coastal region of the Arctic Ocean from Alaska to Labrador and from Labra- dor to the north of Greenland: inlandward it is bounded by frozen plains, where even the continuous day of Arctic sum- mer frees only a few inches of soil; seaward it borders upon icy waters, solid during the long months of the Arctic night.
NORTH AMERICAN MYTHOLOGY
4
The caribou and more essentially the seal are the two animals upon which the whole economy of Eskimo life depends, both for food and for bodily covering; the caribou is hunted in summer, the seal is the main reliance for winter. But the provision of a hunting people is never certain; the seasonal supply of game is fluctuating; and the Eskimo is no stranger to starvation. His is not a green world, but a world of whites and greys, shot with the occasional splendours of the North. Night is more open to him than the day; he is acquainted with the stars and death is his familiar.
“Our country has wide borders; there is no man born has travelled round it; and it bears secrets in its bosom of which no white man dreams. Up here we live two different lives; in the Summer, under the torch of the Warm Sun; in the Winter, under the lash of the North Wind. But it is the dark and the cold that make us think most. And when the long Dark- ness spreads itself over the country, many hidden things are revealed, and men’s thoughts travel along devious paths ” (quoted from “Blind Ambrosius,” a West Greenlander, by Rasmussen, The People of the Polar North, p. 219).
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INTRODUCTION
XIX
version known to the Arctic Highlanders, where the poign- ant choice is put, “Will ye have eternal darkness and eternal life, or light and death?” — art and morality and philosophy are all intermingled.
To perfect our criterion we must add to the analysis of mo- tive the study of the sources of mythic conceptions. In a broad way, these are the suggestions of environing nature, the analogies of human nature both psychical and physi- ological, imagination, and borrowings. Probably the first of these is the most important, though the “nature-myth” is far from being the simple and inevitable thing an elder genera- tion of students would make of it. Men’s ideas necessarily re- flect the world that they know, and even where the mythic incidents are the same the timbre of the tale will vary, say from the Yukon to the Mississippi, in the eastern forest, or on the western desert. There are physiographical boundaries within the continent which form a natural chart of the divi- sions in the complexion of aboriginal thought; and while there are numberless overlappings, outcroppings, and intrusions, none the less striking are the general conformities of the char- acter of the several regions with the character of the mythic lore developed in them. The forests of the East, the Great Plains, the arid South-West, secluded California, the North- Western archipelago, each has its own traits of thought as it has its own traits of nature, and it is inevitable that we sup- pose the former to be in some degree a reflection of the latter. Beyond all this there are certain constancies of nature, the succession of darkness and light, the circle of the seasons, the motions of sun, moon, and stars, of rivers and winds, that affect men everywhere and everywhere colour their fancies; and it is not the least interesting feature of the study of a wide- spread mythic theme or incident to see the variety of natural phenomena for which it may, first and last, serve to account, since the myth-maker does not find his story in nature, but writes it there with her colouring.
XX INTRODUCTION
The second great source of myth material is found in the analogies of human nature. Primarily these arc psychical: the desires and purposes of men are assumed, quite uncon- sciously, to animate and to inspire the whole drama of nature’s growth and change, and thus the universe becomes peopled with personalities, ranging in definition from the senselessly vora- cious appetites incarnated as monsters, to the self-possessed purpose and, not infrequently, the “sweet reasonableness” of man-beings and gods. Besides the psychical, however, there are the physical analogies of humankind. The most elementary are the physiological, which lead to a symbolism now gruesome, now poetic. The heart, the hair, and the breath are the most significant to the Indian, and their inner meaning could scarcely be better indicated than in the words of a Pawnee priest from whom Alice Fletcher obtained her report of the Hako. One act of this ceremony is the placing of a bit of white down in the hair of a consecrated child, and in explaining this rite the priest said: “The down is taken from under the wings of the white eagle. The down grew close to the heart of the eagle and moved as the eagle breathed. It represents the breath and life of the white eagle, the father of the child.” Further, since the eagle is intermediary between man and Father Heaven, “the white, downy feather, which is ever moving as if it were breathing, represents Tirawa-atius, who dwells beyond the blue sky, which is above the soft, white clouds”; and it is placed in the child’s hair “on the spot where a baby’s skull is open, and you can see it breathe.” This is the poetic side of the symbolism; the gruesome is represented by scalping, by the tearing out of the heart, and sometimes by the devouring of it for the sake of obtaining the strength of the slain. Another phase of physiological symbolism has to do with the barbarian’s never-paling curiosity about matters of sex; there is little trace of phallic worship in North America, but the Indian’s myths abound in incidents which are as un- consciously as they are unblushingly indecent. A strange and
INTRODUCTION
XXI
recurrent feature of Indian myth is the personification of members of the body, especially the genital and excretory organs, usually in connexion with divination. The final step in the use of the human body as a symbol is anthropomor- phism — that complete anthropomorphism wherein mythic powers are given bodies, not part human and part animal, but wholly human; it marks the first clear sense of the dig- nity of man, and of the superiority of his wisdom to that of the brutes. Not many Indian groups have gone far in this direction, but among the more advanced it is a step clearly undertaken.
Imagination plays a part in the development of myth which is best realized by the aesthetic effect created by a body of tales or by a set of pictorial symbols. The total impression of Indian mythic emblems is undoubtedly one of grotesquerie, but it is difficult to point to any pagan religious art except the Greek that has outgrown the grotesque; and the Indian has a quality of its own. There is a wide difference, however, in the several regions, and indeed as between tribes of the same region. The art of the North-West and of the South-West are both highly developed, but even in such analogous objects as masks they represent distinct types of genius. The Navaho and the Apache are neighbours and relatives, but they are poles apart in their aesthetic expression. Some tribes, as the Pawnee, show great originality; others, as the northern Atha- pascans and most of the Salish, are colourless borrowers.
Borrowing is, indeed, the most difficult of problems to solve. In the abstract, it is easy to suppose that, with the main simi- larities of environment in North America and the general even- ness of a civilization everywhere neolithic, the like conditions of a like human nature would give rise to like ideas and fancies. It is equally easy to suppose that in a territory permeable nearly everywhere, among tribes in constant intercourse, bor- rowing must be extensive. Both factors are significant, though in general the obvious borrowing is likely to seem the more
XXll
INTRODUCTION
impressive. Nevertheless, universal borrowing is a difficult hypothesis, for innumerable instances show an identity of Old- World and New-World ideas, where communication within thinkable time is incredible. Even in the New World there are wide separations for identical notions that seem to imply dis- tinct origins. Thus the Arctic Highlanders, who have only recently learned that there are other peoples in the world, pos- sess ideas identical with those of the Indians of the far South. When such an idea is simply that there is a cavernous under- world which is an abode of spirits, there Is no need to assume communication, for the notion is world-wide; but when the two regions agree in asserting that there are four underworld cav- erns — an idea which is in no sense a natural Inference — then the suspicion of communication becomes inevitable. Again, constellation-myths which see in Corona Borealis a circle of chieftains. In the Pleiades a group of dancei's, in Ursa Major a quadruped pursued by three hunters, might have many independent origins; but when we encounter so curious a story as that of the incestuous relations of the Sun and the Moon told by Eskimo in the north and Cherokee in the south, com- munication is again suggested; and this suggestion becomes almost certainty when we find, further, that a special incident of this myth — the daubing of the secret lover with paint or ashes by which he Is later identified — appears in another tale found in nearly every part of the continent, the story of the girl who bore children to a dog.
In the story just mentioned the children of the girl and the dog sometimes become stars, sometimes the ancestors of a tribe or clan of men; and this is a fair illustration of the manner in which incidents having all the character of fiction are made to serve as explanatory myths by their various users. The funda- mental material of myth is rather a collection of incidents fitted into the scheme of things suggested by perception and habit than the stark invention of nature; and while the inci- dents must have an invention somewhere, the greater portion
INTRODUCTION
XXlll
of them seem to be given by art and adopted by nature, — borrowing and adaptation being, for the savage as for the civil- ized man, more facile than new thinking.
In every considerable collection of Indian stories there are many adaptations of common ideas and incidents. In different regions this basic material comes to characteristic forms of expression. Finally, in the continent as a whole, viewed as one great region, there is a generally definable scheme, within which the mythic conceptions of the North American fall into place. It is in this sense, and with reference to this scheme, that we may speak of a North American Indian mythological system.
On the side of cosmology, the scheme has already been indicated. There is a world above, the home of the Sky Father and of the celestial powers; there is a world below, the embodiment of the Earth Mother and the abode of the dead; there is the central plane of the earth, and there are the genii of its Quarters. But cosmology serves only to define the theatre; it does not give the action. Cosmogony is the essen- tial drama. In the Indian scheme the beginning is seldom absolute. A few tribes recognize a creator who makes or a procreator who generates the world and its inhabitants; but the usual conception is either of a pre-existent sky-world, peopled with the images of the beings of an earth-world yet to come into being, or else of a kind of cosmic womb from which the First People were to have their origin. In the former type of legend, the action begins with the descent of a heaven-born Titaness; in the latter, the first act portrays the ascent of the ancestral beings from the place of generation. Uniformly, the next act of the world drama details the deeds of a hero or of twin heroes who are the shapers and lawgivers of the habitable earth. They conquer the primitive monsters and set in order the furniture of creation; quite generally, one of them is slain, and passes to the underworld to become its Plutonian lord. The theft of fire, the origin of death, the liberation of the ani- mals, the giving of the arts, the institution of rites are all
XXIV
INTRODUCTION
themes that recur, once and again, and in forms that show surprisingly small variation. Universal, too, is the cataclysmic destruction of the earth by flood, or fire and flood, leaving a few survivors to repopulate the restored land. Usually this event marks the close of a First, or Antediluvian Age, in which the people were either animal in form or only abortively hu- man. After the flood the animals are transformed once for all into the beings they now are, while the new race of men is created. It is not a little curious to find in many tribes tales of a confusion of tongues and dispersion of nations bringing to a close the cosmogonic period and leading into that of legendary history.
Such, in broad outline, is the chart of the Indian’s cosmic perspective. It is with a view to its fuller illustration that the myths studied in the ensuing chapters have been chosen from the great body of American Indian lore.
NORTH AMERICAN MYTHOLOGY
NORTH AMERICAN MYTHOLOGY
CHAPTER I
THE FAR NORTH
I. NORSEMAN AND SKRAELING
I N the year of our Lord 982 Eric the Red, outlawed from Iceland, discovered Greenland, which shortly afterward was colonized by Icelanders. Eric’s son, Leif the Lucky, the first Christian of the New World, voyaging from Norway to Greenland, came upon a region to the south of Greenland where “self-sown corn” and wild vines grew, and which, accordingly, he named Vinland. This was in the year 1000, the year in which all Mediaeval Europe was looking for the Second Advent and for earth’s destruction, but which brought instead the first discovery of a New World.
As yet no people had been encountered by the Scandina- vians in the new-found lands. But the news of Vinland stirred the heart of Thorfinn Karlsefni and of his wife Gudrid, and with a company of men and two ships they set out for the region which Leif had found. First they came to a land which they called Helluland, “the land of flat stones,” which seemed to them a place of little worth. Next they visited a wooded land full of wild beasts, and this they named Markland. Finally they came to Vinland, and there they dwelt for three winters, Gudrid giving birth to Snorri, the first white child born on the Western Continent. It was in Vinland that the Norsemen first encountered the Skraelings: “They saw a number of skin canoes, and staves were brandished from their boats with a noise like flails, and they were revolved in the same direction in which the sun moves.” Thorfinn’s band
2
NORTH AMERICAN MYTHOLOGY
was small, the Skraelings were a multitude; so the colony re- turned to Greenland in the year 1006.
Apparently no further attempt was made to settle the main- land, though from time to time voyages were made thither for cargoes of timber. But the Greenland colony continued, un- molested and flourishing. About the middle of the thirteenth century peoples from the north, short and swart, began to appear; encounters became unfriendly, and in 1341 the north- ernmost Scandinavian settlement was destroyed. Meanwhile, ships were coming from Norway less and less frequently, and the colony ceased to prosper, ceased to be heard from. At the time when Columbus discovered the Antilles there was a Bishop of Greenland, holding title from the Pope, but there is no evidence that he ever saw his diocese, and when, in 1585, John Davis sailed into the strait now bearing his name all trace of the Norsemen’s colony was lost.
But the people of the Far North had not forgotten, and when the white men again came among them they still pre- served legends of former Kablunait.’' The story of the first meeting of the two peoples still survived, and of their mutual curiosity and fear, and of how an Eskimo and a white man became fast friends, each unable to outdo the other in feats of skill and strength, until at last the Eskimo won in a contest at archery, and the white man was cast down a precipice by his fellow-countrymen. There is the story of Eskimo men lying in wait and stealing the women of the Kablunalt as they came to draw water. There are stories of blood feuds between the two peoples, and of the destruction of whole villages. At Ikat the Kablunait were taken by surprise; four fathers with their children fled out upon the Ice and all were drowned; sometimes they are visible at the bottom of the sea, and then, say the Eskimo, one of our people will die.
Such are the memories of the lost colony which the Green- landers have preserved. But far and wide among the Eskimo tribes there is the tradition of their former association with
PLATE II
Encounter of Eskimo and Kablunait, from a Grcen- landic drawing. After H. Rink, Taks am/ T?yif/itioas of the Eskimo,
V
THE FAR NORTH
3
the Tornit, the Inlanders, from whom they were parted hy feud and war. The Tornit were taller and stronger and swifter than the Eskimo, and most of them were blear-eyed ; their dress and weapons were different, and they were not so skil- ful in boating and sealing or with the bow. Finally, an Es- kimo youth quarrelled with one of the Tornit and slew him, boring a hole in his forehead with a drill of crystal. After that all the Tornit fled away for fear of the Eskimo and since then the Coast-People and the Inland-Dwellers have been enemies.
In the stories of the Tornit may be some vague recollections of the ancient Norsemen; more plausibly they represent the Indian neighbours of the Eskimoan tribes on the mainland, for to the Greenlanders the Indians had long become a fabulous and magical race. Sometimes, they say, the Tornit steal women who are lost in the fog, but withal are not very dangerous; they keep out of sight of men and are terribly afraid of dogs. Besides the Tornit there are in the Eskimo’s uncanny Inland elves and cannibal giants, one-eyed people, shape-shifters, dog-men, and monsters, such as the Amarok, or giant wolf, or the horrid caterpillar that a woman nursed until it grew so huge that it devoured her baby — for it is a region where history and imagination mingle in nebulous marvel.^
II. THE ESKIMO’S WORLD
There is probably no people on the globe more isolated in their character and their life than are the Eskimo. Their nat- ural home is to the greater part of mankind one of the least inviting regions of the earth, and they have held it for centuries with little rivalry from other races. It is the coastal region of the Arctic Ocean from Alaska to Labrador and from Labra- dor to the north of Greenland: inlandward it is bounded by frozen plains, where even the continuous day of Arctic sum- mer frees only a few inches of soil; seaward it borders upon icy waters, solid during the long months of the Arctic night.
NORTH AMERICAN MYTHOLOGY
4
The caribou and more essentially the seal are the two animals upon which the whole economy of Eskimo life depends, both for food and for bodily covering; the caribou is hunted in summer, the seal is the main reliance for winter. But the provision of a hunting people is never certain; the seasonal supply of game is fluctuating; and the Eskimo is no stranger to starvation. His is not a green world, but a world of whites and greys, shot with the occasional splendours of the North. Night is more open to him than the day; he is acquainted with the stars and death is his familiar.
“Our country has wide borders; there is no man born has travelled round it; and it bears secrets in its bosom of which no white man dreams. Up here we live two different lives; in the Summer, under the torch of the Warm Sun; in the Winter, under the lash of the North Wind. But it is the dark and the cold that make us think most. And when the long Dark- ness spreads itself over the country, many hidden things are revealed, and men’s thoughts travel along devious paths ” (quoted from “Blind Ambrosius,” a West Greenlander, by Rasmussen, The People of the Polar North, p. 219).
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253
« on: August 03, 2019, 07:10:24 PM »
3. Spencer and Gillen, 1904, p. 492.
4. Spencer and Gillen, 1899, p. 388; Strehlow, 1907, p. 2.
5. Spencer and Gillen, 1899, chh. x, xi, passim; id. 1904, ch. xiii, passim; Strehlow, 1907, p. 3, and passim; id. 1908, p. 2, and passim; Howitt and Siebert, p. 102.
6. Spencer and Gillen, 1904, p. 408.
7. Smyth, i. 424, note.
8. Spencer and Gillen, 1899, p. 388. For another version see Strehlow, 1907, p. 3.
9. (Loritja) Strehlow, 1908, p. 4; (Dieyeri) Gason, 1874, p. 13; Howitt and Siebert, p. 102; A. W. Howitt, p. 779; (Kaitish) Spencer and Gillen, 1904, p. 399; (Unmatjera) ib. p. 403.
10. New South Wales (Yuin), A. W. Howitt, p. 484;' (Wathi* wathi) Cameron, p. 368.
11. West, iL 89.
12. South Australia (Adelaide and Encounter Bay), Wyatt, p. 166; (Narrinyeri) Taplin, 1879a, p. 55; Victoria, Ridley, p. 137; (Yarra) Smyth, i. 425; New South -Wales (Marura), Taplin, 1879b, P...27.; (Kamilaroi) Ridley, p. 135;' Greenway, p. 242; (Wailwu'n) -ib. p..249-;. Northern Territory (Larakia), Foelsche, p. 15.
13. Smyth, i 424. .
14. Proserpine River, W. E. Roth, p. 16.
15. Encounter Bay, H. A. E. Meyer, 1879, p. 201.; cf. Queensland (Princess Charlotte Bay), W. E. Roth, p. 15.
342
OGEANIC MYTHOLOGY
16. Thomas, p. 65 (quoted in Smyth, i. 427).
17. (Kaitish) Spencer and Gillen, 1904, p. 499.
18* Smyth, i. 428. Ci Micronesia, p. 252.
19. Parker, 1898, p. 28.
: 20. Beveridge, 1883, p. 60; Stanbridge, 1861, p. 301; cl Melane- sia, Woodlark Island, Montrouzier, p. 371.
21. Spencer and Gillen, 1899, p. 561; id. 1904, p. 624; Strehlow, X907, p. 16.
22. (Loritja) Strehlow, 1908, p, 8.
23. H. A. E. Meyer, 1879, P* ^too.
24. Pennefether River, W. E. Roth, p. 8*
25. Smyth, i. 430.
26. Spencer and Gillen, 1899, p. 564; Strehlow, 1907, p. 17. The moon seems to be regarded here as an object, not as a person; but cf. Spencer and Gillen, 1904, p. 625.
27. Cf. also Northern Territory (Mara), Spencer and Gillen, 1904, p. 627.
28. Princess Charlotte Bay, W. E. Roth, p. 7.
29. (Wongibon) Matthews, 1904, p. 359.
30. Cf. Polynesia, supra, Chapter III, Note 91, and Indonesia, supra, Chapter III, Note 32.
31. Cf. Victoria, Stone, p, 463.
32. Spencer and Gillen, 1899, p. 564; cf. (Loritja) Strehlow, 1908, p. 8; New South Wales (Kurnu), Matthews, 1904, p. 358.
33. Spencer and Gillen, 1904, p. 626.
34. For other moon-myths see Northern Territory (Kaitish), Spencer and Gillen, 1904, p. 625; Central Australia (Dieyeri), M. E. B. Howitt, p. 406; South Australia (Narrinyeri), H. A. E* Meyer, 1879, p. 200; Victoria, Smyth, i. 431; Queensland (Boulia), W. E. Roth, p. 7.
35. See jT-zipfiS:, pp. in.
36. Dawson, p. 106.
37. Cf. New South Wales (Kamilarol), Matthews, 1904, p. 354.
38. Victoria (Lake Tyers and Kurnai), Smyth, i. 429, 478; for other tales of the origin of the sea see Victoria, Smyth, i. 429, note; Queensland (Pennefether River) W. E. Roth, p* ll.
39. See infra, pp. 281, 284, , .
40. Cf. Queensland (Princess Charlotte Bay), W. E. Roth, p. 12.
41. Victoria (?), Dunlop, p. 23; cf, Melanesia, New Guinea (Ber- linhafen), Schleiermacher, p. 6;. Indonesia, supra, pp. 180 ff.
42. Brown, p. 509.
.43. (Wongibon) Matthews, 1904, p* 351.
' 44. Cf. (Euahlayi) Parker,; 1896, p. 24; Cameron, p. 368; South Australia (Encounter Ba5^), H. A. E. Meyer, 1879, p. 203; Vic-
NOTES 343
toria (?), Dunlop, p. 25; Dawson, p. 54; Smyth, i, 458; Queens- land (Pennefether River), W. E. Roth, p. II.
45. Smyth, i. 459; cf. (Kamilaroi) Ridley, p. 137.
46. Spencer and Gillen, 1899, p. 446; cf* South Australia (Narrin- yeri), Eylmann, p. 92,
47. Matthew, p. 186.
48. See supra, p. 113,
49. See supra, p. 47.
50. Lake Condah, Smyth, i. 462.
51. Cape Grafton, W. E. Roth, p. ii; cf. Victoria, Stanbridge, 1861, p. 303.
52. (Euahlayi) Parker, 1896, p. 24.
53. (Kulkadoan) Urquhart, p. 87.
54. Gf. Northern Territory, Spencer and Gillen, 1904, p, 619.
55. Milligan, p. 274.
56. Cf* Central Australia (Arunta), Spencer and Gillen, 1899, P- 445 -
57. See supra, p. 278*
58. Parker, 1896, p. 8; for another version see South Australia (Narrinyeri), Taplin, 1879b, p. 51-
59. (Arunta) Strehlow, 1907, p. 32; (Loritja) id. 1908, p. 4.
60. But cf. Polynesia, supra, p. 29, and Indonesia, pp. 159,
166.
Chapter II
1. Parker, 1896, p. i; cf. Queensland (Pennefether River) W. E. Roth, p. 13 ; and supra, p. 146.
2. Smyth, i. 449.
3* Princess Charlotte Bay, W. E. Roth, p. 12.
4. (Narrinyeri), Taplin, x879a, p. 62; Victoria, Matthews, 1907, p. 44* ,
5* Parker, 1897, pp. 70 ff.
6. Parker, 1898, p. i.
7. (Narrinyeri) Taplin, 1879a, p. 56; H. A. E. Meyer, 1879, p. 201*
8. See supra, p. 274.
9. (Euahlayi) Parker, 1898, p. ii.
10. Wyatt, 1879, P* ^'66*
' II. See supra, p. 139.
12. Dunlop, p. '33* No locality. is given, but Victoria seems to be indicated.
13. (Euahlayi) Parker, 1898, p. 43.'
14. (Euahlayi) Parker, i8g6, p. ii.
IS- ilatthews, 1904, p..37S. Ci Philippines (Tinguian), Cole,. 191,5, p. 1 18; (Tagalog) Gardner,' pp. 270, 272; India, D'Penha, p. '142. : ::
344
OCEANIC MYTHOLOGY
16. ;Gf. Smyth, L 427; Hawaii, Westervelt, 1910, p. 115; Man- gaia, Gill, 1876, p. 5; Samoa, Stuebel, p. 66.
17. Smyth, i. 447; cf. New South Wales (Euahlayi), Parker, 1896,
P‘ 47-
18* (Arunta) Strehlow, 1907, p. i8.
19. Anonymous, 1907b, p. 29.
20. Victoria (?), Dunlop, p, 29.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
BIBLIOGRAPHY
I. ABBREVIATIONS
Am. Antiq
Arch. f. Anth. * . . Austr. Assoc. Adv. ScL
BTLF ......
FCM
InL Arch. Eth
JAFL
JAI
JPS
JRSNSW ........
JSBMAS'
MNZG
PJS' ......... .
Proc. N. Z. InsL ......
TNI
TTIF
Ti^PRSf ........
Ti^PMSSA . : . .
FerL Bat Gm. W. .
American Antiquarian.
Archiv fiir Anthropologic.
Australian Association for the Ad- vancement of Science (Reports).
Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde van Nederlandsch- Indie.
Anthropological Series, Field Co- lumbian Museum.
Internationale Archiv fiir Ethno- graphic.
Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Journal of the (Royal) Anthropolo- gical Institute of Great Britain and Ireland.
Journal of the Polynesian Society.
Journal of the Royal Society of New South Wales.
Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society.
Mededeelingen van wege het Neder- landsche Zendeling-Genootschaap,
Philippine Journal of Science.
Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute.
Tijdschrift voor Nederlandsch Indie.
Tijdschrift voor indische Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde. ,
Transactions and Proceedings of the Royal Society of Victoria.
Transactions and Proceedings of the Royal Society of South Australia.
Verhandelmgen van der Bataviaasch Genootschaap van Kunst en Wet- enschapen.'
348 OCEANIC MYTHOLOGY ,
Ferh. BerL Ges. Verhandlungen der Berliner Gesell-
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Verh. Ges. Erdk. BerL . . . Verhandlungen der Gesellschaft fiir
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254
« on: August 03, 2019, 07:07:33 PM »
Borneo, Westenek, 1899, p. 199; (Milanau) Low, i. 347; (Bajau) Evans, p. 474; Celebes (Toradja), Adriani, 1902a, p. 392; (Tontem- boan) Jnynboll, p. 317; Sangir Islands, Adriani, 1893, p. 359; Hal- mabera (Galela), van Dijken, p. 206; Cham, Landes, 1900, pp. 235 ff.; Cambodia, Aymonier, pp. 30 ff,; Annam, Landes, 1886b, p. I16.
6. Westenek, 1899, p. 195. For other versions see Crossland, 1, 343; (Bajau) Evans, p. 471; Java, Brandes, 1894a, p. 37; Sunda, Kern, 1900, p. 374; Sumatra (Lampong), van Ophuijsen, p. 129; Malay, Brandes, 1894b, p. 62; Celebes (Minahassa), Louwerier, 1876, p. 58; (Toradja) Adriani, 1898, p. 365; Sangir Islands, Adriani, 1893, p, 393; Halmalbera (Galela), van Dijken, p. 210.
7. See supray p. 134.
8. Admiralty Islands, Parkinson, p. 713; New Guinea (Kuni),
Egidi, 1913, p. 997.
9. Java, Brandes, 1894a, pp. 40, 133. For other versions see Borneo (Milanau), Low, i. 347; (Dusun) Evans, p. 477; Philippines (Visayan), Maxfield and Millington, 1907, p. 313; Cham, Landes, 1900, pp. 235 ff.; Cambodia, Aymonier, pp. 30 ff.
10. Java, Brandes, 1894a, p. 39. For other versions see ib. pp. 47, 134, 140; Sunda, Kem, 1900, p. 359; Sumatra (Achin), Hurgronje,
ii. 163; (Lampong) van Ophuijsen, p. 126; Borneo, Westenek, 1899, p. 201; (Bajau) Evans, p. 475; Celebes (Minahassa), Louwerier, 1876, p, 66; (Toradja) Adriani, 1902a, p. 390; Halmahera (Galela), van Dijken, p. 199; Japan, Serrurier, in Adriani, 1898, p. 344, note.
11. Java, Brandes, 1894a, p. 39; Winsedt, p. 63; Sunda, Kern, 1900, p. 359; Sumatra (Achin), Hurgronje, ii. 63; (Lampong) van Ophuij- sen, p. 127; (Batak) van der Tuuk, p. 215; Pleyte, 1894, p. 267; Borneo, Westenek, 1899, p. 200; (Bajau) Evans, p. 475; Celebes (Min- ahassa), Louwerier, 1876, p. 65; (Toradja) Adriani, 1898, p. 359; id. 1903, p. 391; Sangir Islands, id. 1893, pp. 406, 409; Halmahera (Galela), van Dijken, p. 199; Cambodia, Landes, 1900, pp. 235 ff,; id,, iSSbb, p, 1 17; Malay Peninsula (Perak), Laidlaw, p, 81; India, Frere, p. 21 !• In some of the versions the captive either makes the crocodile laugh or open his mouth to give the conqueror’s cry, and so escapes.
12. Java, Brandes, 1894a, p. 48; Sumatra (Lampong), van Ophuij- sen, p. 127; Borneo, Westenek, 1899, p. 20O'; Celebes (Minahassa), Louwerier, 1876, p. 65; Sangir Islands, Adriani, 1893, p. 406; Hal- mahera (Galela), van Dijken, p. 2004 Cambodia, Aymonier, pp. 30 ff.; India, F rere, p. 2 1 1 . In some of these versions the crocodile, instead of floating in the stream, hides in the trickster’s house. When the latter comes, he says, *Hf it is my^ house, it will answer when I call,” and the crocodile, answering, betrays himself. .
13. Java, Brandes, 1894a, p, 45; Winsedt, p. 68; Sumatra (Lam-
334
GCEANie, MYTHOLOGY
pong), van Ophuijsen, p. 135; Halmahera (Loda), van Baarda, p. 489; India, Hitopadeiaj l. iv. 9; Jdtakay No. 16.
14. Java, Brandes, 1894a, pp. 37, 132; for other versions see id. 1903, p. 84; Winsedt, p. 68; Snnda, Kern, 1900, p. 366; Sumatra (Lampong), van Ophuijsen, p. 126; (Batak) Pleyte, 1894, p. 209; Borneo, Low, i. 347; Celebes (Minahassa), Schwarz, p. 312; (Toradja) Adriani, 1903, pp. 123, 125; Halmahera (Loda), van Baarda, p. 492; Philippines, Maxfield and Millington, 1906, p. 108; Cambodia, Ay™ monier, pp* 30 ff.; Annam, Landes, 18866, p. 116. The details vary slightly, but the idea is the same in all.
15. Celebes (Toradja), Adriani, 1910, p. 311 ; Java, Brandes, 1894a, pp. 43, 135; Malay, id. 1894b, p. 54.
16. See previous note and Java, Brandes, 1903, p. 81; for other versions see Sunda, Kern, 1908, p. 62; Malay Peninsula (Kedah), Skeat, 190I5 p. 28; India, Keith-Falconer, p. 27.
: 17. Java, Brandes, 1894a, p. 43; Malay Peninsula (Kelantan), Skeat, 1901, p, 45; India, ^ukasaptati. No. 44.
1 8. Sumatra (Lampong), van Ophuijsen, p. 133; (Achin) Hurg- ronje, ii. 161; Java, Brandes, 1903, p. 83; Sunda, Kern, 1900, p. 370; Borneo, Westenek, 1899, p. 209; (Bajau) Evans, p. 475; Celebes (Toradja), Adriani, 1898, p. 362; id. 1910, p. 209; Halmahera (Galela), van Dijken, p. 222; Philippines (Visayan), Maxfield and Millington, 1907, p. 315; (Tinguian) Cole, 1915, p. 198; Malay Pen- insula (Pahang), Skeat, 1901, p. 331; Cambodia, Aymonier, pp. 30 ff.
19. Celebes (Toradja), Adriani, 1902a, p. 389; (Minahassa) Riedel, 1869c, p. 31 1 ; P. N, Wilken, p. 382; (Parigi) Adriani, 1898, p. 344; Sangir Islands, Adriani, 1893, pp. 366, 382; Halmahera (Galela), van Dijken, p. 198; Borneo (Dusun), Evans, p. 429.
20. Celebes (Toradja), Adriani, 1898, pp. 344, 346; id.igoza, p. 390; Sangir Islands, Adriani, 1893, pp. 351, 356, 366, 373, 383; tialmahera (Tobelo), van Dijken, p. 240; Borneo (Dusun), Evans, p. 430; Malay Peninsula (Kelantan), Skeat, 1901, p. 6.
21. Landes, 1886b, p. 114.
22. Keith-Falconer, p. 164.
23. Nauru, Hambruch, p. 450.
24. New Guinea (Astrolabe Bay and Finschhafen), Hagen, p. 284; (Goodenough Bay) Seligmann, p.;4io; Banks Islands, Codringtoii, p. 36 (cf. Fiji, Fison, p. 22).
25. Funafuti, David, p. 100. . . '
26. Celebes (Minahassa),. Louwerier, 1876, p. 55; Riedel, 1869b, p. 313; Sangir Islands, Adriani, 1893, p. 414; Halxiiahera (Galela), van Dijken, p. 205; Java, Kern, 1892, p. 17; Philippines (Bagobo), Benedict, p. 58; (Visayan) Maxfield and Millington, 1907, p. 316; (Tagalog) Rizal, p. 245; .(Tinguian) Cole, 1915, p. 195.
NOTES
33S
.27. Rizal, p. 245.
28. Banks Islands, Codrington, p. 360.
29. Celebes (Toradj a), Adriani, 1898, p. 357; id. 1910, p. 196; (Miiiahassa) Riedel, 1869b, p. 311; P. N. Wilken, p. 383; Louwerier, 1876, p. 58; (Parigi) Adriani, 1898, p. 358; Sangir Islands, id. 1893, pp. 406, 420; Rotti, Jonker, 1905, p. 411.
30. Meier, 1909, pp. 49, 187. Cf. Solomon Islands, Fox and Drew, p. 204.''
31. Halmahera (Galela), van Dijken, p. 207; Celebes (Toradj a), Adriani, "1902a, p. 407; (Minahassa) Riedel, 1869b, p* 313 ; Philippines (Bagobo), Benedict, p. 59; (Visayan) Maxfield and Millington, 1907, p. 317; (Tinguian) Cole, 1915, p. 195; Borneo, Hose and Macdougall, ii, 148. .
32. Halmahera (Galela), van Dijken, p. 208; Riedel, 1869b, p. 313 ; Celebes (Toradja), Adriani, 1902a, p. 407; (Minahassa) P. N. Wilken, p. 382; Sangir Islands, Louwerier, 1876, p. 55; Philippines (Bagobo), Benedict, p. 60; (Visayan) Maxfield and Millington, 1907, p. 317; (Tinguian) Cole, 191S5 p* I 9 S; cf. New Zealand, Grey, p. 125.
33. Halmahera (Galela), van Dijken, p. 208; Celebes (Minahassa), Riedel, 1869b, p. 314; Philippines (Bagobo), Benedict, p. 60; (Vis- ayan) Maxfield and Millington, 1907, p. 318; cf. New Guinea (Nu- foor), van Hasselt, p. 543; New Caledonia, Lambert, p. 317.
34. Celebes (Toradja), Adriani, 1910, p. 309; cf. Melanesia, p. 125.
35. Celebes (Toradja), Adriani, 1910, p. 321.
36. Java, Brandes, 1894a, p. 45; Winsedt,p. 62; Celebes (Mina- hassa), Louwerier, 1872, p. 36; Malay Peninsula (Kedah), Skeat, 1901, p. 20. ?
37. Celebes (Tontemboan), Juynboll, p. 316; Malay Peninsula (Perak), Laidlaw, p. 87.
38. Halmahera (Loda), van Baarda, p. 478; Celebes (Minahassa), Schwarz, p. 313; P. N. Wilken, p. 380; (Toradja) Adriani, 1903, p, 124; Sumbawa, Jonker, 1903, p. 280; Savoe, ib. p. 288; Borneo (Dusun), Evans, p. 428; Philippines (Visayan), Maxfield and Milling- ton, 1906, p. 109; cf. New Hebrides, Suas, 1912, p. jB.
39. Halmahera (Loda), van Baarda, p. 491; cL New Guinea (Nu- foor), van Hasselt, p. 559; (Kai) Keysser, p. 192.
40. Celebes (Toradja), Adriani, 1902a, p. 426; id. 1910, p. 280; Borneo, Westenek, p. 205; Java, Brandes, '1894a, p. 40; Sumatra (Battak), van der Tuuk, p. 85; Pleyte, 1894, pp. 256, 310; (AcMn) Hurgronje, ii. 162; Malay, Adriani, 1902a, p. 429; Malay Peninsula (Kelaiitan), Skeat, 1901, pp. 9, 12.,.
41. Celebes (Toradja), Adriani,' 1898, p. 356; id. 1902a, p, 432; (Minahassa) Riedel, 3:869b, p. ' 311; Sangir Islands, Adriani, 1893,
OCEANIC MYTHOLOGY
336
p. 424; Halmahera (Loda), van Baarda, p. 470; Mentawei Islandsj Morris, p. 95. Cf. Japan, Serrnrier,. in Adrian!, 1898, p, 3,57, note.
Chapter III
1. Adriani, 1898, p, 368.
2. Adriani, 1910, p. 297.
3. (Loda) van Baarda, p, 465.
4. Bezemer, pp, 46 if .
5. Cf. Melanesia, supra^ p, no.
6. Sumatra (Battak), Pleyte, 1894, pp. 117, 222; (AcMn) Hnr- gronje, ii. 125; Mentawei Islands, Morris, p. 56; Borneo (Kayan), Nieuwenhnis, i. 67; Celebes (Minabassa), Hickson, p. 264; (To^ radja) Adriani, 1898, p. 367; id. 1910, p, 297; (Tontemboan) Schwarz and Adriani, pp. 91 ff,; (Tonmboeloe) P. N. Wilken, p. 326; Sangir Islands, Adriani, 1894, p. 98; Temate, Riedel, in TNI HL v, part 2, 439 ff. (1871); Philippines (Visayan), Maxfield and Millington, 1907, P* 95 ; (Igorot) Seidenadel, p, 548; (Tinguian) Cole, 1915, p. 108.
7. New Guinea (Nufoor), van Hasselt, p. 534; New Hebrides, Codrington, pp. 172, 397; Suas, 1912, p, 54; Macdonald, 1892, p. 731,
8. See supra^ p. 64.
9. Celebes (Toradja), Adriani, 1910, pp. 226 ff.
10. This special form of charm is wide-spread, often in the form, “If I am the son of a diwaia (Sanskrit devafd, ‘divinity’)/^ etc., etc. See for other examples Celebes (Toradja), Adriani, 1910, pp. 254, 300; Halmahera (Galela), van Dijken, pp* 395, 431; (Loda) van Baarda, pp. 410, 451, 472; (Tobelo) Hueting, pp. 244, 246, 248, 259, 278; Sangir Islands, Adriani, 1894, p. 135; Pliilippmes (Subanun), Christie, p. 97.
11. For other versions see Halmahera (Galela), van Dijken, p. 271 ; (Loda) van Baarda, pp. 398, 407, 453, 461; Sangir Islands, Adriani, 1894, p. 13s; New Guinea (Nufoor), van Hasselt, p. 54S; Aiiiiaiii, Landes, 1886b, p. 302.
12. Flalmahera (Galela), van Dijken, p. 398.
13. (Toradja) Adriani, 1898, p. 365.
14. See supra^ p. 188.
15. See supra^ p. 156,
,.,.,1,6. For other versions see Celebes (Minahassa), P. N. Wilken, p. 323; (Bugi) Matthes, p. 441 ; Sumatra (Battak), Pleyte, 1894, pp. 143, 158, 297; Soemba, Wielenga, p. 176; Kei Islands, Pleyte, ^^ 93 ? P* 563; Riedel, 1886, p. 217.
17. Chamberlain, pp. 1 19 ff.
18. F. Boas, Indianischs Sagen von der Nord^Pacifischen Kusie
NOTES 337
Amerikas^ Berlin, 1895, pp. 94, 99, 149, 190, 238, 254, 289, 352; cf. Pelew Islands, Knbary, quoted by Boas, p. 352.
19. Halmahera (Loda), van Baarda, p. 444.
•20. For other versions (usually without this ending) see van Baarda, p. 458; (Tobelo) Hueting, p. 274; Sangir Islands, Adrian!, 1894, p* 160; Borneo (Dusun), Evans, p. 456; (Sea Dyak) Perham, in H. L. Roth, 1896, i. 301; Nias, Sundermann, 1886, p. 317; New Guinea (Nufoor), van Hasselt, p. 556.
21. Evans, p. 466.
22. This incident is known in other tales also: Celebes (Minahassa), P. N. Wilken, p. 329; Hickson, p. 266; Borneo (Milanau), Low, i. 334; (Sea Dyak) Gomes, p. 294.
23. For other versions see (Iban) Hose and Macdougall, ii. 146; Sangir Islands, Adrian!, 1894, p, 77; Philippines (Visayan), Maxfield and Millington, 1907, p. 98; (Tinguian) Cole, 191 5, pp. loi, 200; New Guinea (Nufoor), van Hasselt, p. 541; Cham, Landes, 1900, pp. 235 ff.; Cambodia, Leclere, p. 83; Annam, Landes, 1886b, p. 22.
24. (Dusun) Evans, p. 457.
25. (Tinguian) Cole, 1915, p. 33.
26. The appearance of fire or a bright light marking the presence of a beautiful woman is an idea generally current in Malay and In- donesian tales.
27. For other versions see Halmahera (Tobelo), Hueting, p. 257; (Galela) van Dijken, pp. 391, 394; Soemba, Wielenga, p. 167; Biliton, Riedel, 1868, p. 270; Sumatra (Battak), Pleyte, 1894, p. 94; Cham, Landes, 1900, pp. 235 ff.; Malay Peninsula, Skeat and Blagden, ii. 343.
28. New Britain, von Pfeil, p. 151; Kleintitschen, p. 332; Meier, 1909, p. 35; New Guinea (Kai), Keysser, p. 168; (Goodenough Bay) Ker, p. 131.
29. Halmahera (Loda), van Baarda, p. 433.
30. The appearance of this distmctly Indian element is, of course, evidence that the tale is not wholly of native origin- The garudu seems often to take the place of the cannibal ogre who figures in less sophisticated stories from the tribes which were not so subject to extra- Indonesian influences.
31. Cf. Sangir Islands, Adrian!, 1893, pp. 367, 384; Tahiti, Leverd, 1912, p. 2; Federated Malay States (Perak), Laidlaw, 1906a, p. 66,
32. For other examples of this incident see Halmahera (Galela), van Dijken, p. 264; (Loda) van Baarda, p. 455; (Tobelo) Hueting, p. 120; Celebes (ToradJ a), Adrian!, 1898, p. 373; Sangir Islands, Adrian!, 1894, p. 55; Philippines (Bagobo), Benedict, p. 46; for Ivlelanesian examples see New Guinea (Nufoor), van Hasselt, p. 526; (Jabim) Zahn, p. 337; New Ireland, Peekel, p. 29. A variant type is that where the impersonator-, is an inanimate object; Philippines
OCEANIC MYTHOLOGY
338
(Bagobo), Benedict, p. 43; Ftinafuti, David, p. 102; New Guinea (Gape King William), Stok, p. 274; (Goodenough Bay) Ker, p. 232.
33* This incident of a hidden person, revealed by reflection in the water, is wide-spread, not only in Indonesia, but farther east in Me- lanesia. For other examples see Halmahera (Tobelo)^ Hueting, p. 236; Celebes (Toradja), Adriani, 1902a, p. 461 ; Rotti, Jonker, 1905, p. 422; Philippines (Tinguian), Cole, 1915, p. 189; New Guinea (Nufoor), van Hasselt, p. 571; (Kai) Keysser, p. 164; New Britain, Meier, 1909, p. 85; Parkinson, p. 688; von Pfeil, p. 149; Torres Straits, Haddon, 1904, p. 89; Gray, p. 657.
34. This incident of the deceitful reflection, for which a person . dives in vain, is also wide-spread. For other examples see Halmahera (Tobelo), Hueting, p. 237; (Loda) van Baarda, p. 410; Rotti, Jonker, 1905, p. 422; Philippines (Bagobo), Benedict, p. 41; (Tinguian) Cole, 1915, p. 189; New Guinea (Nufoor), van Hasselt, p. 371; (Cape King William) Stolz, p. 264; Torres Straits, Haddon, 1904, p. 34; New Hebrides, Suas, 1911, p. 908.
33. For other instances of the “Ariadne’^ theme see Halmahera (Loda), van Baarda, pp. 425, 468; New Guinea (Cape King William), Stolz, p. 275; (Kai) Keysser, p. 169.
36. For other versions of this incident see Sangir Islands, Adriani, 1893, p. 368; id. 1894, p. 43; Halmahera’ (Tobelo), Hueting, p. 272; (Loda) van Baarda, p. 439.
37. Sangir Islands, Adriani, 1894, pp. 32 ff.
38. (Loda) van Baarda, p. 438.
39. For other comparable versions see (Tobelo) Hueting, pp. 75, 272; Sangir Islands, Adriani, 1894, pp. 43, fo; Annam, Landes, 1886b, pp. 52 ff.; Cham, Id. 1900, pp. 235 ff.; New Guinea (Nufoor), van Hasselt, p. 526,
40. van Dijken, p. 430.
41. (Tinguian) Cole, 1915, p. 94.
42. The incident of the husband being sent to a distant place to get food or other objects of a special sort for his wife, who is about to give birth to a child, is not uncommon. See for other examples (Subanun) Christie, p, 96; Sumatra (Dairi Battak), see supray Part III, Chapter I, Note 26; New Zealand, White, i. 68; Hawaii, For- nander, ii. 16.
43. For other examples of a child born to a woman abandoned in a tree or pit, cf. New Guinea ;(Tami), Bamler, p. 537; (Goodenough Bay) Ker, p. 22; Funafuti, David, p. 107; and supray p. 12H.
44. In Tinguian tales this is the usual method in which a child is born. For other examples see. Cole, 1913, pp. 38, 81, 87, 93, 151, etc. Birth from a blister or boil, or from an unusual part of the body, is a common incident, in Oceanic tales. For other instances
NOTES
339
see Micronesia, Naum, Hambruch, pp. 387, 451; Caroline Islands, von Kotzebue, iii. 198; Melanesia, New Guinea (Wagawaga), Selig- mann, p. 378; Fiji, Williams and Calvert, p. 171; Polynesia, Cook Group, Gill, 1876, p. 10; Society Group, Moerenhout, i. 426; Annam, Landes, 1886b, p. 174; India, D’Penha, p. 142.
45. This incident strongly resembles that of Maui’s return to his
brothers; see p. 42.
46. Cf. for other examples of the life-token Halmahera (Loda), van Baarda, p. 484; Soemba, Wielenga, p. 61; New Guinea (Goodenough Bay), Ker, p. 61 ; Torres Straits, Haddon, 1904, p. 34; New Hebrides, Codrington, p. 401.
47. See Cole, 1915, p. 18, note i.
48. (Loda) van Baarda, p. 394.
49. For other examples of this incident see van Baarda, p, 459; Philippines (Tinguian), Cole, 1915, p. 75; Annam, Landes, 1886b, p. 184.
50. Cf. (Tobelo) Hueting, p. 293.
51. Celebes (Minahassa), P. N. Wilken, p. 304. For other versions see (Toradja) Adrian!, 1898, p. 367; (Bugi) Matthes, p. 471; Halma- hera (Tobelo), Hueting, pp. 249, 284; (Loda) van Baarda, p. 449; Sangir Islands, Adriani, 1894, P* Philippines (Tagalog), Gardner, pp. 266, 270.
52. For other versions of this incident see Celebes (Toradja), Adri- an!, 1898, p. 370; Halmahera (Tobelo), Hueting, p. 251; (Loda) van Baarda, p. 416; Bali, van Eerde, pp. 43, 47; Lombok, lb. p. 36; Soemba, Wielenga, p. 255; Philippines (Bagobo), Benedict, p. 53; Annam, Landes, 1886b, pp. 150, 174.
PART IV Chapter I
1. Kubary, passim. ,
2. Walleser, p. 609; Cantova, p. 224.
3. Girschner, 1.912, p. 187.
4. Newell, 1895a, p. 231.
5. See supra, p. 19.
6. Erdland, p. 308.
7. Walleser, p. 609.
8. St John, i. 213; Chalmers, in H. L. Roth, 1S96, i. 307*
9. See supra, p. 159.
10. Hambruch, p, 381. ^ ^
11. Cf. supra, p. 37.
340
OCEANIC MYTHOLOGY
12. Hambruch, p. 385.
13. Cf. Samoa (see supra^ p. 20) and Borneo (see supra, p. 165).
14. a. supra, p. $1.
15. Erdland, p. 310; cl supra, p. 17.
16. Cantova, p. 223.
17* Girschner, 1912, p. 187, ik Girschner, 1912, p. 188.
19* Von Kotzebue, iii. 198.
20. Erdland, p. 309.
21. Hambruch, pp. 387, 451.
22. Cf. also for other examples Part III, Chapter III, Note 44.
23. See p. 157.
24. Parkinson, ii. 104.
25. Erdland, p. 311.
26. Kubary, p. 45.
27. Parkinson, ii. 106.
2K Hambruch, p. 382.
29. Kubary, p. 47.
30. Girschner, 1912, p. 191.
31. Walleser, p. 611.
32. Cantova, p. 224.
33. Kubary, p. 44.
34. Parkinson, ii. 104.
35. Kubary, p. 47.
36. Girschner, 1912, p. 185.
37. Cf. supra, p. 47.
38. Hambruch, p. 442.
39. a. supra, p.
40. Cf. Polynesia, supra, pp. 47 fF.
41. Hambruch, p, 388.
42. Cf. Samoa, Stair, 1896, p. 57; Pritchard, p. 116; Turner, 1861, p. 254; Stuebel, p. 65; Marquesas, Radiguet, p. 230.
43. See supra, pp. 47 ff.
44. Walleser, p. 620.
45. Borneo (Iban), Dunn, p. 17.
46. Cf. Borneo (Sea Dyak), Perham, in H. L. Roth, 1896, i. 301; (Dusun) Evans, p. 470.
47. Kubary, p. 46. ?
Chapter II
1, Girschner, 1912, pp. 188 ff.. See also, for another version, von Kotzebue, iii. 198. '
2 . supra, pp. 122 ff.
NOTES
341
3. See supra^ p. 65.
4. Cf* Melanesia, Nauru, Hambruch, p. 391; New Guinea, DempwolfF, p. 74; Hagen, p. 282; Solomon Islands, Fox and Drew, p. 204; Funafuti, David, p. 107.
PART V Australia
I. Schmidt, 1912, 1913, passim.
Chapter I
1. See, for example, (Loritja) Strehlow, 1908, p. 2; New South Wales (Yuin), A. W. Howitt, p. 495.
2. New South Wales (Kamilaroi), Greenway, p. 242; Ridley, P* 135; (Wailwun) Greenway, p. 249; (Ilawarra) Ridley, p* 137; South Australia (Marura), Taplin, 1879b, p. 27; (Narrinyeri) id. 1879a, p. ss; Wyatt, p. 166; Northern Territory (Larakia), Foelsche, p. 15.
255
« on: August 03, 2019, 07:06:26 PM »
17. Cf. Polynesia: Samoa, Abercromby, 1891, p. 460; Stuebel, pp. 75, 145, 151; Chatham Island, Shand, 1894, p. 128; Indonesia: Philippines (Tinguian), Cole, 1915, pp. 15, 63, 68, 71, 83, 125, etc.; Micronesia: Marshall Group, Erdland, p. 311.
18. Gazelle Peninsula, Meier, 1909, p. 25; cf. also ib. p. 205.
19. Cf. Indonesia, Philippines (Tinguian), Cole, 191S5 PP- 62, 68, etc.; and Micronesia, in/ra, p. 251.
20. Cf. New Guinea (Kuni), Egidi, 1913, p. 1002.
21. New Guinea (Jabim), Zahn, p. 373; (Tami) Bamler, p. 540.
22. Malanta, Codrington, p. 21.
23. Cf. Indonesia, infra^ p. 168.
24. Parkinson, p. 685; Kleintitschen, p. 332; Meier, 1909, p. 35; O. Meyer, p. 713.
25. Cf. Indonesia, infra^ pp. 218 ff.
26. Holmes, p. 126.
27. Codrington, p. 26.
2 %. Bley, p. 198.
29. Codrington, p. 156.
30. (Simbang) Hagen, p. 289.
31. Bley, p. 198.
32. Cf. Bley, p. 200; also Gazelle Peninsula, Meier, 1909, p. 109; (Sulka) Rascher, p. 230; New Guinea (Goodenough Bay), Ker, p. 26; (Taupota) ? Seligmann, p. 403; New Hebrides, Codrington, pp. 370, 372; Macdonald, 1898, p. 760; Samoa, Turner, 1884, p. 6; Malay Peninsula, Skeat and Blagden, ii. 339.
33. Meier, 1907, p. 650.
34. (Moresby) Romilly, 1889, p. 136.
35. (Bogadjim) Hagen, p. 288.
36. Montrouzier, p. 369 (reprinted in Haddon, 1894, p. 318).
37. Cf. Australia, tnfray p. 275.' ?
38. Seligmann, p. 378.
39. Cf. Fiji, Williams and Calvert, p. 171; Polynesia, Cook Group, Gill, 1876, p. 10; Society Group, ;Moerenhout, i. 426; and Indonesia, infray p. 234. ?
3H
OCEANIC MYTHOLOGY
40. Gf. Fiji, Fisoiij pp. 34, 50; Samoa, Fraser, 1891, p. 243.
41. Ci Solomon Islands (Ysabel), Codrington, p. 366; Celebes (Minahassa), Hickson, pp. 311, 317; P. N. Wilken, p. 328.
42. Cf. New Britain (Snlka), Rascher, p. 235; New Guinea (Kuni), Egidi, 1913, p. 990.
43. Codrington, p. 156.
44. Lawes, p. 371; cf. Chalmers, p. 118; Gill, 1911, pp. 120, 126; Ker, p. 99; Torres Straits, Haddon, 1904, p. 17; Admiralty Islands, Meier, 1907, p. 659.
45. Cf. Philippines (Igorot), Beyer, p, 96; Seidenadel, p. 486.
46. Seligmann, p. 379.
47. Cf. New Guinea (Daudai), Beardmore and Haddon, p. 462; Torres Straits, Haddon, 1904, p, 17; and widely in Polynesia, see supra^ 47 ff.
48. Cf. Polynesia, supra^ p. 47.
49. Meier, 1907, p. 654; cf. ib. pp. 653, 656.
50. Cf. New Britain (Gazelle Peninsula), Meier, 1909, p. 37; New Guinea (Goodenough Bay), Ker, p. 149.
51. (Sulka) Rascher, p. 234; cf. New Guinea (Kai), Keysser, p. 202.
52. Suas, 1911, p. 907.
53. Cf. Codrington, pp. 169, 286; Macdonald, 1892, p, 731; Lamb, p. 216.
54. Codrington, p. 265 (ci ib. pp. 283, 286); Suas, 1912, p. 44; Macdonald, 1898, p. 764; Solomon Islands, Codrington, pp. 260, 365; New Guinea (Kai), Keysser, pp. 162, 236; New Britain (Gazelle Peninsula), Meier, 1909, p. 37; Kleintitschen, p. 334; Admiralty Islands, Meier, 1908, p. 193.
55. Codrington, p. 265.
56. Bley, p. 198; cf. Gazelle Peninsula, Meier, 1909, p. 107; Ad- miralty Islands, Meier, 1908, p. 194.
57. Meier, 1908, p, 194; cf. New Britain (Gazelle Peninsula), Kleintitschen, p. 334; New Guinea (Moresby), Romilly, 1889, p. 154.
58. (Goodenough Bay) Ker, p. 30.
59. Ker, p. 52.
60. Cf. Fiji, Fison, p. 29.
61. See infra^ pp. 180 ff.
62. Gill, 1912, pp. 61 ff.
Chapter II
1. Cf. for Micronesia, Pelew Islands, Kuba.ry, P..47.'
2. Meier, 1909, p. 27. . .
3. Ci New Guinea (Kai), Keysser, p. 187; Philippines (Tagalog), Gardner, p. 104; Celebes (Minahassa), Graafland, i. 165; Sumbawa,
NOTES 32s
Jonker, 1903, p. 251; Malay Peninsula (Perak), Anonymous, 1907a,
P- 73- . ,
4. Cf. New Guinea (Goodenough Bay), Ker, p, 136.
5. Meier, 1909, p. 59.
6. Meier, 1909, pp. 13-81; von Pfeil, p. 150 ff,; Kleintitsclien, p. 33 1; (Sulka) Rascher, p. 233.
7. (Bilibili) Dempwolff, pp. 69-81.
8. Cf. Ker, pp. 136 ff.
9. -Yet cf. New Guinea (Wagawaga), Seligmann, p. 379.
10. Codrington, p. 156.
1 1. Cf. New Zealand, White, ii. 64, no, 117, etc.; Tonga, Mariner, is. no.
12. Set supray p. 104.,
13. Codrington, p. 158.
14. This incident of the tree made whole is very widely distributed through the whole of Oceania. For other examples in Melanesia see Santa Cruz, O’Ferral, p. 227; New Caledonia, Lambert, p. 329; New Guinea (Kuni), Egidi, 1913, p. 999; (Taupota) Seligmann, p. 403; (Huon Gulf and Bilibili) Dempwolff, p. 76; (Tarnl) Bamler, p. S 3 i> (Jabim) Zahn, p. 390; for Polynesian examples see supra^ p. 60 and Part I, Chapter III, Note 38; for Indonesia see Borneo, Gomes, p. 311; Philippines (Igorot), Seidenadel, p. 539; for Micronesia see Erdland, p. 245.
15. Codrington, p. 159.
16. Codrington, pp. 160 ff.
17. Aurora, Codrington, p. 168.
18. Whitsuntide, Codrington, p. 169.
19. Codrington, p. 171.
20. Cf. Ambrym, Suas, 1911, p. 906.
21- Codrington, p. 170.
22. Suas, 1912, pp. 34 ff.
23. For other examples of the inexhaustible vessel of food see Aurora, Codrington, p. 168; New Britain, Bley, p. 215; Tonga, Fison, p. 81; Borneo (Dusun), Evans, p. 462; (Sea Dyak) Perham, 1886, p. 278; Philippines (Tinguian), Cole, 1915, pp. 34, 119; (Igo- rot) Jenks, p. 201; Rotti, Jonker, 1906, p. 410; Pelew Islands, Ku- bary, p. 45. ^
24. Cf. Micronesia, infra^ p. 260. In New Britain (Gazelle Penin- sula) we also find the belief that the evil or foolish brother is killed by the good; cf. Kleintitschen, p. 336.
25. Ci the similarity between Panggu or Panku, the creator deity among the Tami and Kai people of New Guinea (see Keysser, pp. 1 55, 192), and Panku, the cosmic creator, deity of the Chinese. It is pos- sible (?) that this is the result of Chinese contact in recent times.
326
OCEANIC MYTHOLOGY
Chapter III
I. Rascher, pp. 230 ff.
A2. Cf. NewGumea (Kai), Keysser, p. 179; (Goodenough Bay) Ker, p. 123; Seligmann, p. 414; (Moresby) Romilly, 1889, p. 121; (Euni) Egidij 1913, p. 992; Santa Cruz, OTerral, p, 232; New Hebrides (Aurora), Codrington, p. 403; Polynesia, Funafuti, David, p. 107; New Zealand, Shand, 1896, p. 197; Chatham Islands, ib» p. 195; Manihiki, Te Whitu, p. 97; cf. also Indonesia, Philippines (Subanun), Christie, p. 102.
3. Aurora, Codrington, p. 398.
4. Cf. Banks' Islands, Codrington, p. 395, note; New Ireland, Peekel, pp. 4S, SI.
5. For other instances of the life-token see Torres Straits, liad- don, 1904, p. 34; New Guinea (Goodenough Bay), Ker, p. 61; In- donesia, Halmahera (Loda), van Baarda, p. 484; Soemba, Wielenga, p. 61; Philippines (Tinguian), Cole, 1915, p. 96.
6. Cf. for the incident of killing the cannibal or monster with hot stones New Guinea (hloresby), Romilly, 1889, p. 125; (Tami) Bamler, p. 535; (Nufoor) van Hasselt, p. 526; Indonesia, Celebes (Toradja), Adriani, 1902a, p. 461; Philippines (Tinguian), Cole, 1915, p. 199; Polynesia, see supra^ p. 69.
7. Zahn, p. 337.
8. Zahn, p. 340.
9. Cf. Indonesia, infra, p. x88; also Admiralty Islands, Parkin- son, p. 713; New Guinea (Kuni), Egidi, 1913, p. 997.
10. StQ supra, p, 130.
11. New Guinea (Goodenough Bay), Ker, p. 21.
12. Cf. . New' Guinea (Tami), Bamler, p. 537; Philippines (Tiii- guian), Cole, 191$, p. 96; Marshall Group, Erdland, p. 279; New Zealand, Wohlers, p. 10.
, ?; 1,3, See supra, p... 64.
14. See infra, pp. 206 ff.
15. Codrington, p, 172; Suas, 1912, p. 54; cf. Efate, Macdonald, 1892, p. 731; id. 1898, p. 765; Aurora, Codrington, he. cii.; 'Banks Islands, lb. p. 397; New Guinea (Bilibili), Dempwolff, p. 82.
16. Cf. the tales of sky-peoplewho come down to fish, Santa Cruz, OTerral, p. 231; Rotumah, Romilly, 1893, p. 143.
17. Cf. New Guinea (Nufoor), van. .Hasselt, p. 535; Philippines (Viscayan), Maxfield and Millington, 1907, p. 96; Sumatra (Batak), Pleyte, 1894, P- (Achin) Hurgronje, ii. 126; Aiinam, l^andcs, 1886, p. 123. It is possible that there is something more than a co- incidence in the resemblance of the name by which the swan-maidens
...... ;NOTES . , ; . 327
are known in Lepers Island, to their Sanskrit prototypes,
th.tvidhyadhaTas,
18. Snas, 1912, p. 54.
19. Cf. Efate, Macdonald, 1898, p. 764; Aurora, Codrington, p. 398; Whitsuntide, ib. p. 169; Torres Islands, ib. p. 375; New Guinea (Tami), Bamler, p. 532; (Jabim) Zahn, p. 390. The dis- tribution of this incident of the arrow-chain in the North Pacific area, particularly upon the American coast, is a feature of considerable interest. See F. Boas, Indianische Sagen von der Nord’-Pacifischen Kuste Amerikas, Berlin, 1895, pp. 17, 3 L 64, 117, 157, 173, 215, 234, 246, 278; also Mythology of all Races^ Boston, 1916, x. 255.
20. Gazelle Peninsula, Meier, 1909, p. 85.
21. Cf. New Hebrides (Tanna), Gray, p. 657; Torres Straits, Had- don, 1904, p, 89; New Guinea (Kai), Keysser, p. 164; (Nufoor) van Hasselt, p, 571; Indonesia, see m/m, p, 226.
22. Cf. Parkinson, p. 688; Fiji, Tonga, and Samoa, Mariner, ii. 1 16; Manihiki, Gill, 1915, p. 151; Celebes (Todjo), Adriani, 1902b, p. 210.
23. (Bukaua) Lehner, p. 480.
24. For other examples of the belief that dawn or daylight drives away ghosts and spirits or makes them assume another form see m/m, p. 144 and also New Guinea (Kai), Keysser, pp. 163, 199, etc.; (Goodenough Bay) Ker, p. 76; New Hebrides, Codrington, p. 409; Netv Zealand, Grey, p. 66.
25. Cf. (Tami) Bamler, p. 526; (Jabim) Zahn, p. 369; (Good- enough Bay) Ker, p. 59; Torres Straits, Haddon, 1904, p. 24.
26. Keysser, p. 197.
27. Cf. Keysser, p. 233.
28. (Ureparapara), Codrington, p. 360; cf. also Indonesia, m/m,
p. 194.^ ^ ?
29. Codrington, p. 364,
30. Goodenough Bay, Ker, p. 3.
31. Gazelle Peninsula, Meier, 1909, p, 285.
32. Cf. Australia, m/m, p. 288.
PART III Chapter I
1. Beyer, p. 99, note 34, znd. passim^
2. Schmidt, 1906, passim* ” . ?
3. See Note 47, m/m.
4. G. A. Wilken, 18S4, p. 232; .Kruijt, 1906, p. 467*
OCEANIC MYTHOLOGY
328
5. Riedel, 1886, p. 2i7; Pleyte, 1893, p. 563.
6. The first portion of this myth, i.e. the incident of the lost fish-hook and its recovery, is in one form or other widely spread in Indonesia, outside the Kei Islands occurring also in Halmahera, Soemba, Celebes, and Sumatra. It is likewise known from Japan (Chamberlain, pp. 119 ff.) and the North-West coast of America (see F. Boas, Indianische Sagen mn der Nord^Pacifischen Kuste Jmerikas^ Berlin, 1895, pp. 94, 99, 149, 190, 238, 254, 289, and ci S» T. Rand, Legends of the Micmacs^ New York, 1894, p. 87).
7. Schwarz and Adriani, iL 397 ff.
8. Schwarz and Adriani, ii. 389; cf. ib. p. 377, and Graafland, L 21 1 ; Kruijt, 1906, p. 47; Juynboll, p. 327.
9. Cf. Loeang-Sermata, Riedel, x886, p. 312; Formosa, Davidson,
pp.SySff.
10. Probably the sky-world.
11. Reiter, p. 236.
12. Bastian, 1894, p. lo; cf. also Union Group, Hutchin, p. 173.
13. Banks Islands, Codrington, p, 156.
14. Furness, p. 6.
15. Cf. Samoa, von Biilow, 1899,
16. Nieuwenhuis, i. 129.
17. Cf. Nauru, Hambruch, p. 381.
18. For still another version see Nieuwenhuis, ii. 113.
19. Schwaner, i. 177.
20. A serpent with a precious stone in or on its head frequently appears in Indonesian tales: Celebes (Central), Adriani and Kruijt, p. 158; Sangir Islands, Adriani, 1894, p. 33. It is common also among the Malays of the Peninsula (Malacca, Skeat, 1900, p. 303) and is widely current in India (Crooke, ii. 143). From its distribu- tion it seems clear that the idea was introduced into Indonesia from Indian sources.
21. Cf. Schwaner, i. 177.
22. Hupe, p. 138.
23. Schwaner, loc. ctL,
24. Warneck, p. 28; cf. Kodding, p. 405; Pleyte, 1894, p. ,52; id. 189s, p. 103. ^
25. Other versions say the three sons were born from three eggs laid by a giant butterfiy and that they received their wives from Mula Dyadi, who sent them down from above,
26. Van der Tuiik, p. 48; Pleyte, 1894, p. 56.
27. Westenberg, p. 214; de Haan, p. 14; ? Pleyte, 1894, p. 82. ?
28. See supra, p. 18.
29. Mindanao (Bllaan), Cole, 1913, p. 136.
30. See supra, p, iB,
NOTES
329
31. See p. i8.
32. Carolmes, Walleser, p. 610.
33. Kramer, p. 514; Fraser, 1891, p. 264.
34. Reiter, p. 444; cf. also Society Group, Bovis, p. 45; Philip- piaes, Fraser, 1897, p. 26.
35. Sundermann, 1884, p. 449.
36. See p. 29.
37. Von Biilow, 1899, p. 61.
38. See supra^ p. 21.
39. Cf. the myth of the origin of man, as given from the Society Group, supra, pp. 26 ff.
40. Van Eerde, p. 39.
41. Donleben and Christie, p. 175; cf. also Horner, p. 368.
42. Mindanao (Mandaya), Cole, 1913, p. 173; cf. also (Tagalog) Gardner, p. 112.
43. Riedel, 1869a, p. 265.
44. Agerbeek, p. 153. ^
45. Igorot, Beyer, p. 94; Seidenadel, p. 487; Jenks, p. 201; Ifugao, Beyer, pp. loi, 113.
46. White, i. 130; Smith, 1913, p. 144; Shortiand, p. 22; Wohlers,
47. E. Lunet de Lajonquiere, Ethnographie du Tonkin septentrional, Paris, 1906, pp. 234, 262; S. R. Clarke, Among the Tribes in South- West China, London, 1911, pp. 43 ff.; P. Vial, Les Lolos; Histoire, mwurs, langue et ecriture, Shanghai, 1898 (quoted in Tooting Pao, IL viii. 666 ff, [1907]); C. Gilhodes, ^‘Mythologie et religion des Kachins,’^ in Anthropos, iii. 683 ff. (1908).
48. This incident also occurs in the Loeang-Sermata Group; see Riedel, 1886, p. 31 1.
49. Kramer, p. 516; Sierich, 1902, p. 167.
50. Fison, p. 33.
51. Dunn, p* 16.
52. Horsbiirgh, p. 20; McDougall, p. 27.
53. Apparently traceable to Muhammadan and Indian influenees; see G, A. Wilkeii, 1884, p. 247; and, for an opposite opinion, Schmidt, 1910, p. 7, note 6.
54. Riedel, 1886, pp. 312,367.
55. See jMpm, p. 156.
56. Riedel, 1886, passim,
57. See supra, p. 159. ? ?
58. Chatelin, p. i io; Sundermann, 1884, p. 449; Modigliani, p. 614.
59. Riedel, 1886, p, 90,
60. Riedel, 1886, p. 217.,. ?
61 « Riedel, 1886, p. 275., ?
330
OCEANIC MYTHOLOGY
62. See p. 157.
63* Nieuweiihuisen and Rosenberg, p. 108.
.,64. Chatelin, , p, no; ? Sundermann, 1884, p. 349; Lagemann,
pp. 341 ff.
65. See previous note.
66. Beyer, p. loi.
67. Riedel, 1886, pp. 190, 218, 247, 275, 289.
6^ Riedel, 1886, p. 148,
69. Riedel, 1886, p. 32.
70. Riedel, 1886, p. 3,
71. Riedel, 1886, p. 431*
72. Taylor, p. 197.
73. Hickson, p. 246.
.74,; Marsden, p. 302.
75. Furness, p. 7; Nieuwenhuis, ii. 113.
76. Schwaner, i. 178.
77. Sundermann, 1884, p. 449.
78. Riedel, 1886 (Amboina), p. 32; Ceram, ib. p. 89; Gorrom, ib* p. 148; Aru Islands, ib. p. 247; Leti, ib, p. 367.
79. Riedel, 1886, p. 190.
80. Riedel, 1886, p. 218.
81. Cf. New Guinea (Elema), Holmes, p. 126,
82. Pleyte, 1895, p. 103.
83. Mindanao (Mandaya), Cole, 1913, p* 173.
84. Schwaner, i. 177 ff.
85. Pleyte, 1894, p. 52.
86. See p. 157.
87. Taylor, p. 122; Davidson, pp. 578, 580.
88- Beyer, p. 112.
89. Perez, p. 319; Beyer, pp. 94, 96; Jenks, p. 20i; Seidenadel^
p. 485.
90. Cole, 1913, p. 173.
91. Beyer, p. loi.
92. See supra^ p, 164.
93. Gardner, p. 112.
94. Agerbeek, p. 156.
95. (Bantik) Riedel, iSdga, p. 266,
96. Kruijt, 1906, p. 471; (Loda) van Baarda, p. 444.
97. Hickson, p. 246,
98. Benedict, p, 15.
99. Pleyte, 1B94, p. 61.
100. Schwaner, i. 179,
101. Kruijt, 1906, p. 469,
102. Kruijt, 1894, p. 339.
NOTES
331
103. Furnessj p. ii.
104. Diinnj p. 16.
105. Horsburgh, p. 20; cf. also McDoxigall, p. 27,
106. Evans5p. 423.
107. Cole, 1913, p. 137.
lok For vivification by whipping cf. Soemba, Wielenga, pp. 45, 65, 168.
109. Cole, 1913, p. 164. no. Seldenadel, p. 487, iii> Chatelin, p. no.
112. Excrement, Borneo, Sundermann, 1912, p. 172; skin-scnrf, Philippines, Cole, 1913, p. 135.
1 13. Nieuwenhuis, i. 131.
114. Furness, p. 7.
115. Schwaner, i. 180.
1 16. Cf. the Dusun, in British North Borneo, who declare that animals as well as plants were made from the body of the grandchild of the two great gods (see Evans, p. 478).
117. Beyer, p. 109. nk Cole, 1913, p. 172.
119. Nieuwenhuis, i. 130.
120. Minahassa, Graafiand, i. 232.
1 21. Cf. the Rarotongan myth in Polynesia (Fraser, 1891, p. 76).
122. Sundermann, 1884, p. 452; Chatelin, p. 114.
123. Cf. Mangaia (Cook Group), where they are the eyes of Vatea (see Gill, 1876, p. 3).
124. Beyer, p. 105.
125. Cf. the sky-cannibals in Maori mythology, supra^ p. 62.
126. Beyer, p. 105.
127. Beyer, p. 89, 105.
128. Benedict, p. 16. It is interesting to find the very same tale in the New Hebrides (see Macdonald, 1892, p. 731).
129. McDougall, p. 27; Fornander, i. 6 ^.
130. Evans, p. 433.
131. Hupe, p. 136; Sundermann, 1912, p. 172.
132. ' Chatelin, p, 114.
133. Riedel, 1886, p. 311.
134. Beyer, p. 100.
135.. Beyer, p. 112.
136. Jenks, p. 201; Seidenadel, p. 485 Beyer, p. 95; PereZj.p.jig*
137. Cole, 1915, p. 189.
138. Cole, 1913, p. 164.
139. Cole, 1913, p. 173.
140. Dunn, p. 17; cf. also Hose and Macdougal, ii. 144.
33 ^
OCEANIC' 'MYTHOLOGY
141. Evans, p. 469.
142. A similar tale occurs also among the Sea Dyaks (see Perham, in H. L. Roth, 1896, i. 301).
143. Chatelm, p. 115,
144. See supray pp, 51 ff.
145. Evans, p. 478.
146. Immortality by casting the skin, as in the case of the snake, is a wide-spread conception, and is especially common in Melanesia (see Part II, Chapter I, Note 54). That immortality was offered to man, but that he failed to hear and come and get the gift, is an idea also found in Melanesia (see New Britain, Bley, p. 198),
147. Chatelin, p. 114.
148. See supra, pp. 170 ff.
149. Beyer, p. 96; Seidenadel, p. 485.
150. Torres Straits, Haddon, 1904, p. 17; New Guinea (Moresby), Lawes, p. 371; (Kiwai) Chalmers, p. 118.
151. Beyer, p* 102.
152. See supra, pp. 47 ff.
153. Kruijt, 1894, p. 341.
154. Furness, p. 8.
155. Furness, p. 12.
156. Cf. Nauru, Hambruch, p. 442.
Chapter II
1. Brandes, 1894a, p. 35; Bezemer, p. 87.
2. For other versions in which the tortoise so tricks the ape see Sunda, Kern, 1900, p. 367; Kangean Islands, van Ronkel, p. 71; Cham, Landes, 1900, pp. 235 ff.; Annam, id. 1886b, p. 115; Cam- bodia, Aymonier, pp. 30 ff.
3. Brandes, 1894a, p. 35* For other versions see Sunda, Kern, 1900, p. 367; Sumatra (Achin), Hurgronje, ii. 163; (Lampong) van Ophuijsen, pp. 129, 140; Kangean Islands, van Ronkel, p. 72; Borneo, Westenek, 1899, p. 198; (Milanau) Low, i, 347; (Bajau) Evans, p, 474; Celebes (Toradja), Adriani, 1902a, p. 392; Sangir Islands, Adriani, 1893, pp. 359, 367,. 386; Halmahera (Galela), van Dijken, p. 205; Cham, Landes, 1900, pp. 235 ff.
4. Brandes, 1894a, p. 36; Sangir Islands, Adriani, 1893, pp. 368, 385; Cham, Landes, 1900, pp. 235 ff.; Cambodia, loc. cit.; Annam, id. 1886b, p. 215.
5. This is the Sundanese version, Kern, 1900, p. 366; Brandes, 1894b, p. 382. For other versions see Sumatra (Achin), Hurgronje, ii. 163; (Lampong) van Ophuijsen, .p.iaS; Malay, Brandes, he. cif.;
NOTES
333
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