Chapter IV: Front Matter (4)

Religion, in this stage of theism, is sorcery. Incantation, dancing, fasting, bodily torture, and ecstasism are practiced. Every tribe has its potion or vegetable drug, by which the ecstatic state is produced, and their venerable medicine-men see visions and dream dreams. No enterprise is undertaken without consulting the gods, and no evil impends but they seek to propitiate the gods. All daily life, to the minutest particular, is religious. This stage of religion is characterized by fetichism. Every Indian is provided with his charm or fetich, revealed to him in some awful hour of ecstasy produced by fasting, or feasting, or drunkenness, and that fetich he carries with him to bring good luck, in love or in combat, in the hunt or on the journey. He carries a fetich suspended to his neck, he ties a fetich to his bow, he buries a fetich under his tent, he places a fetich under his pillow of wild-cat skins, he prays to his fetich, he praises it, or chides it; if successful, his fetich receives glory; if he fail, his fetich is disgraced. These fetiches may be fragments of bone or shell, the tips of the tails of animals, the claws of birds or beasts, perhaps dried hearts of little warblers, shards of beetles, leaves powdered and held in bags, or crystals from the rocks--anything curious may become a fetich. Fetichism, then, is a religious means, not a philosophic or mythologic state. Such are the supreme gods of the savage, and such the institutions which belong to their theism. But they have many other inferior gods. Mountains, hills, valleys, and great rocks have their own special deities--invisible spirits--and lakes, rivers, and springs are the homes of spirits. But all these have animal forms when in proper _personæ_. Yet some of the medicine-spirits can transform themselves, and work magic as do medicine-men. The heavenly bodies are either created personages or ancient men or animals translated to the sky. And, last, we find that ancestors are worshipped as gods.

Among all the tribes of North America with which we are acquainted tutelarism prevails. Every tribe and every clan has its own protecting god, and every individual has his _my god_. It is a curious fact that every Indian seeks to conceal the knowledge of his _my god_ from all other persons, for he fears that, if his enemy should know of his tutelar deity, he might by extraordinary magic succeed in estranging him, and be able to compass his destruction through his own god.

In this summary characterization of zoötheism, I have necessarily systematized my statements. This, of course, could not be done by the savage himself. He could give you its particulars, but could not group those particulars in any logical way. He does not recognize any system, but talks indiscriminately, now of one, now of another god, and with him the whole theory as a system is vague and shadowy, but its particulars are vividly before his mind, and the certainty with which he entertains his opinions leaves no room to doubt his sincerity.

But there is yet another phase of theism discovered. Sometimes a particular mountain, or hill, or some great rock, some waterfall, some lake, or some spring receives special worship, and is itself believed to be a deity. This seems to be a relic of hecastotheism. Fetichism, also, seems to have come from that lower grade, and all the minor deities, the spirits of mountains and hills and forest, seem to have been derived from that same stage, but with this development, that the things themselves are not worshipped, but their essential spirits.

From zoötheism, as described, to physitheism the way is long. Gradually, in the progress of philosophy, animal gods are dethroned and become inferior gods or are forgotten; and gradually the gods of the firmament--the sun, the moon, the stars--are advanced to supremacy; the clouds, the storms, the winds, day and night, dawn and gloaming, the sky, the earth, the sea, and all the various phases of nature perceived by the barbaric mind, are personified and deified and exalted to a supremacy coordinate with the firmament gods; and all the gods of the lower stage that remain--animals, demons, and all men--belong to inferior tribes. The gods of the sky--the shining ones, those that soar on bright wings, those that are clothed in gorgeous colors, those that came from we know not where, those that vanish to the unknown--are the supreme gods. We always find these gods organized in great tribes, with mighty chieftains who fight in great combats or lead their hosts in battle, and return with much booty. Such is the theism of ancient Mexico, such the theism of the Northland, and such the theism discovered among the ancient Aryans.

From this stage to psychotheism the way is long, for evolution is slow. Gradually men come to differentiate more carefully between good and evil, and the ethic character of their gods becomes the subject of consideration, and the good gods grow in virtue, and the bad gods grow in vice. Their identity with physical objects and phenomena is gradually lost. The different phases or conditions of the same object or phenomenon are severed, and each is personified. The bad gods are banished to underground homes, or live in concealment, from which they issue on their expeditions of evil. Still, all powers exist in these gods, and all things were established by them. With the growth of their moral qualities no physical powers are lost, and the spirits of the physical bodies and phenomena become demons, subordinate to the great gods who preside over nature and human institutions.

We find, also, that these superior gods are organized in societies. I have said the Norse mythology was in a transition state from physitheism to psychotheism. The Asas, or gods, lived in Asgard, a mythic communal village, with its Thing or Council, the very counterpart of the communal village of Iceland. Olympus was a Greek city.

Still further in the study of mythologic philosophy we see that more and more supremacy falls into the hands of the few, until monotheism is established on the plan of the empire. Then all of the inferior deities whose characters are pure become ministering angels, and the inferior deities whose characters are evil become devils, and the differentiation of good and evil is perfected in the gulf between heaven and hell. In all this time from zoötheism to monotheism, ancientism becomes more ancient, and the times and dynasties are multiplied. Spiritism is more clearly defined, and spirits become eternal; mythologic tales are codified, and sacred books are written; divination for the result of amorous intrigue has become the prophecy of immortality, and thaumaturgics is formulated as the omnipresent, the omnipotent, the omniscient--the infinite.

Time has failed me to tell of the evolution of idolatry from fetichism, priestcraft from sorcery, and of their overthrow by the doctrines that were uttered by that voice on the Mount. Religion, that was fetichism and ecstasism and sorcery, is now the yearning for something better, something purer, and the means by which this highest state for humanity may be reached, the ideal worship of the highest monotheism, is “in spirit and in truth.” The steps are long from _Cĭn-aú-äv_, the ancient of wolves, by Zeus, the ancient of skies, to Jehovah, the “Ancient of Days.”

MYTHIC TALES.

In every Indian tribe there is a great body of story lore--tales purporting to be the sayings and doings, the history, of the gods. Every tribe has one or more persons skilled in the relation of these stories--preachers. The long winter evenings are set apart for this purpose. Then the men and women, the boys and girls, gather about the camp-fire to listen to the history of the ancients, to a chapter in the unwritten bible of savagery. Such a scene is of the deepest interest. A camp-fire of blazing pine or sage boughs illumines a group of dusky faces intent with expectation, and the old man begins his story, talking and acting; the elders receiving his words with reverence, while the younger persons are played upon by the actor until they shiver with fear or dance with delight. An Indian is a great actor. The conditions of Indian life train them in natural sign language. Among the two hundred and fifty or three hundred thousand Indians in the United States, there are scores of languages, so that often a language is spoken by only a few hundred or a few score of people; and as a means of communication between tribes speaking different languages, a sign language has grown up, so that an Indian is able to talk all over--with the features of his face, his hands and feet, the muscles of his body; and thus a skillful preacher talks and acts; and, inspired by a theme which treats of the gods, he sways his savage audience at will. And ever as he tells his story he points a moral--the mythology, theology, religion, history, and all human duties are taught. This preaching is one of the most important institutions of savagery. The whole body of myths current in a tribe is the sum total of their lore--their philosophy, their miraculous history, their authority for their governmental institutions, their social institutions, their habits and customs. It is their unwritten bible.

_THE CĬN-AÚ-ÄV BROTHERS DISCUSS MATTERS OF IMPORTANCE TO THE PEOPLE._

Once upon a time the _Cĭn-aú-äv_ brothers met to consult about the destiny of the _U-ĭn-ká-rĕts_. At this meeting the younger said: “Brother, how shall these people obtain their food? Let us devise some good plan for them. I was thinking about it all night, but could not see what would be best, and when the dawn came into the sky I went to a mountain and sat on its summit, and thought a long time; and now I can tell you a good plan by which they can live. Listen to your younger brother. Look at these pine trees; their nuts are sweet; and there is the _us_, very rich; and there is the apple of the cactus, full of juice; on the plain you see the sunflower, bearing many seeds--they will be good for the nation. Let them have all these things for their food, and when they have gathered a store they shall put them in the ground, or hide them in the rocks, and when they return they shall find abundance, and having taken of them as they may need, shall go on, and yet when they return a second time there shall still be plenty; and though they return many times, as long as they live the store shall never fail; and thus they will be supplied with abundance of food without toil.” “Not so,” said the elder brother, “for then will the people, idle and worthless, and having no labor to perform, engage in quarrels, and fighting will ensue, and they will destroy each other, and the people will be lost to the earth; they must work for all they receive.” Then the younger brother answered not, but went away sorrowing.

The next day he met the elder brother and accosted him thus: “Brother, your words were wise; let the _U-ĭn-ká-rĕts_ work for their food. But how shall they be furnished with honey-dew? I have thought all night about this, and when the dawn came into the sky I sat on the summit of the mountain and did think, and now I will tell you how to give them honey-dew: Let it fall like a great snow upon the rocks, and the women shall go early in the morning and gather all they may desire, and they shall be glad.” “No,” replied the elder brother, “it will not be good, my little brother, for them to have much and find it without toil; for they will deem it of no more value than dung, and what we give them for their pleasure will only be wasted. In the night it shall fall in small drops on the reeds, which they shall gather and beat with clubs, and then will it taste very sweet, and having but little they will prize it the more.” And the younger brother went away sorrowing, but returned the next day and said: “My brother, your words are wise; let the women gather the honey-dew with much toil, by beating the reeds with flails. Brother, when a man or a woman, or a boy or a girl, or a little one dies, where shall he go? I have thought all night about this, and when the dawn came into the sky I sat on the top of the mountain and did think. Let me tell you what to do: When a man dies, send him back when the morning returns, and then will all his friends rejoice.” “Not so,” said the elder; “the dead shall return no more.” The little brother answered him not, but, bending his head in sorrow, went away.

One day the younger _Cĭn-aú-äv_ was walking in the forest, and saw his brother’s son at play, and taking an arrow from his quiver slew the boy, and when he returned he did not mention what he had done. The father supposed that his boy was lost, and wandered around in the woods for many days, and at last found the dead child, and mourned his loss for a long time.

One day the younger _Cĭn-aú-äv_ said to the elder, “You made the law that the dead should never return. I am glad that you were the first to suffer.” Then the elder knew that the younger had killed his child, and he was very angry and sought to destroy him, and as his wrath increased the earth rocked, subterraneous groanings were heard, darkness came on, fierce storms raged, lightning flashed, thunder reverberated through the heavens, and the younger brother fled in great terror to his father, _Ta-vwots´_, for protection.

_ORIGIN OF THE ECHO._

_I´-o-wi_ (the turtle dove) was gathering seeds in the valley, and her little babe slept. Wearied with carrying it on her back, she laid it under the _tĭ-hó-pĭ_ (sage bush) in care of its sister, _O-hó-tcu_ (the summer yellow bird). Engaged in her labors, the mother wandered away to a distance, when a _tsó-a-vwĭts_ (a witch) came and said to the little girl, “Is that your brother?” and _O-hó-tcu_ answered, “This is my sister,” for she had heard that witches preferred to steal boys, and did not care for girls. Then the _tsó-a-vwĭts_ was angry and chided her, saying that it was very naughty for girls to lie; and she put on a strange and horrid appearance, so that _O-hó-tcu_ was stupefied with fright; then the _tsó-a-vwĭts_ ran away with the boy, carrying him to her home on a distant mountain. Then she laid him down on the ground, and, taking hold of his right foot, stretched the baby’s leg until it was as long as that of a man, and she did the same to the other leg; then his body was elongated; she stretched his arms, and, behold, the baby was as large as a man. And the _tsó-a-vwĭts_ married him and had a husband, which she had long desired; but, though he had the body of a man, he had the heart of a babe, and knew no better than to marry a witch.

Now, when _I´-o-wi_ returned and found not her babe under the _tĭ-hó-pĭ_, but learned from _O-hó-tcu_ that it had been stolen by a _tsó-a-vwĭts_, she was very angry, and punished her daughter very severely. Then she went in search of the babe for a long time, mourning as she went, and crying and still crying, refusing to be comforted, though all her friends joined her in the search, and promised to revenge her wrongs.

Chief among her friends was her brother, _Kwi´-na_ (the eagle), who traveled far and wide over all the land, until one day he heard a strange noise, and coming near he saw the _tsó-a-vwĭts_ and _U´-ja_ (the sage cock), her husband, but he did not know that this large man was indeed the little boy who had been stolen. Yet he returned and related to _I´-o-wi_ what he had seen, who said: “If that is indeed my boy, he will know my voice.” So the mother came near to where the _tsó-a-vwĭts_ and _U´-ja_ were living, and climbed into a cedar tree, and mourned and cried continually. _Kwi´-na_ placed himself near by on another tree to observe what effect the voice of the mother would have on _U´-ja_, the _tsó-a-vwĭts_’ husband. When he heard the cry of his mother, _U´-ja_ knew the voice, and said to the _tsó-a-vwĭts_, “I hear my mother, I hear my mother, I hear my mother,” but she laughed at him, and persuaded him to hide.

Now, the _tsó-a-vwĭts_ had taught _U´-ja_ to hunt, and a short time before he had killed a mountain sheep, which was lying in camp. The witch emptied the contents of the stomach, and with her husband took refuge within; for she said to herself, “Surely, _I´-o-wi_ will never look in the paunch of a mountain sheep for my husband.” In this retreat they were safe for a long time, so that they who were searching were sorely puzzled at the strange disappearance. At last _Kwi´-na_ said, “They are hid somewhere in the ground, maybe, or under the rocks; after a long time they will be very hungry and will search for food; I will put some in a tree so as to tempt them.” So he killed a rabbit and put it on the top of a tall pine, from which he trimmed the branches and peeled the bark, so that it would be very difficult to climb; and he said, “When these hungry people come out they will try to climb that tree for food, and it will take much time, and while the _tsó-a-vwĭts_ is thus engaged we will carry _U´-ja_ away.” So they watched some days, until the _tsó-a-vwĭts_ was very hungry, and her baby-hearted husband cried for food; and she came out from their hiding place and sought for something to eat. The odor of the meat placed on the tree came to her nostrils, and she saw where it was and tried to climb up, but fell back many times; and while so doing _Kwi´-na_, who had been sitting on a rock near by and had seen from where she came, ran to the paunch which had been their house, and taking the man carried him away and laid him down under the very same _tĭ-hó-pĭ_ from which he had been stolen; and behold! he was the same beautiful little babe that _I´-o-wi_ had lost.

And _Kwi´-na_ went off into the sky and brought back a storm, and caused the wind to blow, and the rain to beat upon the ground, so that his tracks were covered, and the _tsó-a-vwĭts_ could not follow him; but she saw lying upon the ground near by some eagle feathers, and knew well who it was that had deprived her of her husband, and she said to herself, “Well, I know _Kwi´-na_ is the brother of _I´-o-wi_; he is a great warrior and a terrible man; I will go to _To-go´-a_ (the rattlesnake), my grandfather, who will protect me and kill my enemies.”

_To-go´-a_ was enjoying his midday sleep on a rock, and as the _tsó-a-vwĭts_ came near her grandfather awoke and called out to her, “Go back, go back; you are not wanted here; go back!” But she came on begging his protection; and while they were still parleying they heard _Kwi´-na_ coming, and _To-go´-a_ said, “Hide, hide!” But she knew not where to hide, and he opened his mouth and the _tsó-a-vwĭts_ crawled into his stomach. This made _To-go´-a_ very sick and he entreated her to crawl out, but she refused, for she was in great fear. Then he tried to throw her up, but could not, and he was sick nigh unto death. At last, in his terrible retchings, he crawled out of his own skin, and left the _tsó-a-vwĭts_ in it, and she, imprisoned there, rolled about and hid in the rocks. When _Kwi´-na_ came near he shouted, “Where are you, old _tsó-a-vwĭts_? where are you, old _tsó-a-vwĭts_?” She repeated his words in mockery.

Ever since that day witches have lived in snake skins, and hide among the rocks, and take great delight in repeating the words of passers by.

The white man, who has lost the history of these ancient people, calls these mocking cries of witches domiciliated in snake skins “echoes,” but the Indians know the voices of the old hags.

This is the origin of the echo.

_THE SO´-KÛS WAI´-ÛN-ÄTS._

_Tûm-pwĭ-nai´-ro-gwĭ-nûmp_, he who had a stone shirt, killed _Sĭ-kor´_, (the crane,) and stole his wife, and seeing that she had a child, and thinking it would be an incumbrance to them on their travels, he ordered her to kill it. But the mother, loving the babe, hid it under her dress, and carried it away to its grandmother. And Stone Shirt carried his captured bride to his own land.

In a few years the child grew to be a fine lad, under the care of his grandmother, and was her companion wherever she went.

One day they were digging flag roots, on the margin of the river, and putting them in a heap on the bank. When they had been at work a little while, the boy perceived that the roots came up with greater ease than was customary, and he asked the old woman the cause of this, but she did not know; and, as they continued their work, still the reeds came up with less effort, at which their wonder increased, until the grandmother said, “Surely, some strange thing is about to transpire.” Then the boy went to the heap where they had been placing the roots, and found that some one had taken them away, and he ran back, exclaiming, “Grandmother, did you take the roots away?” And she answered, “No, my child; perhaps some ghost has taken them off; let us dig no more; come away.”

But the boy was not satisfied, as he greatly desired to know what all this meant; so he searched about for a time, and at length found a man sitting under a tree, whom he taunted with being a thief, and threw mud and stones at him, until he broke the stranger’s leg, who answered not the boy, nor resented the injuries he received, but remained silent and sorrowful; and, when his leg was broken, he tied it up in sticks, and bathed it in the river, and sat down again under the tree, and beckoned the boy to approach.

When the lad came near, the stranger told him he had something of great importance to reveal. “My son,” said he, “did that old woman ever tell you about your father and mother?” “No,” answered the boy; “I have never heard of them.” “My son, do you see these bones scattered on the ground? Whose bones are these?” “How should I know?” answered the boy. “It may be that some elk or deer has been killed here.” “No,” said the old man. “Perhaps they are the bones of a bear;” but the old man shook his head. So the boy mentioned many other animals, but the stranger still shook his head, and finally said, “These are the bones of your father; Stone Shirt killed him, and left him to rot here on the ground, like a wolf.” And the boy was filled with indignation against the slayer of his father. Then the stranger asked, “Is your mother in yonder lodge?” and the boy replied, “No.” “Does your mother live on the banks of this river?” and the boy answered, “I don’t know my mother; I have never seen her; she is dead.” “My son,” replied the stranger, “Stone Shirt, who killed your father, stole your mother, and took her away to the shore of a distant lake, and there she is his wife to-day.” And the boy wept bitterly, and while the tears filled his eyes so that he could not see, the stranger disappeared.

Then the boy was filled with wonder at what he had seen and heard, and malice grew in his heart against his father’s enemy. He returned to the old woman, and said, “Grandmother, why have you lied to me about my father and mother?” and she answered not, for she knew that a ghost had told all to the boy. And the boy fell upon the ground weeping and sobbing, until he fell into a deep sleep, when strange things were told him.

His slumber continued three days and three nights, and when he awoke he said to his grandmother, “I am going away to enlist all nations in my fight,” and straightway he departed.

(Here the boy’s travels are related with many circumstances concerning the way he was received by the people, all given in a series of conversations, very lengthy; so they will be omitted.)

Finally, he returned in advance of the people whom he had enlisted, bringing with him _Cĭn-au´-äv_, the wolf, and _To-go´-a_, the rattlesnake. When the three had eaten food, the boy said to the old woman: “Grandmother, cut me in two.” But she demurred, saying she did not wish to kill one whom she loved so dearly. “Cut me in two,” demanded the boy, and he gave her a stone ax which he had brought from a distant country, and with a manner of great authority he again commanded her to cut him in two. So she stood before him, and severed him in twain, and fled in terror. And lo! each part took the form of an entire man, and the one beautiful boy appeared as two, and they were so much alike no one could tell them apart.

When the people or natives whom the boy had enlisted came pouring into the camp, _Cĭn-au´-äv_ and _To-go´-a_ were engaged in telling them of the wonderful thing that had happened to the boy, and that now there were two; and they all held it to be an augury of a successful expedition to the land of Stone Shirt. And they started on their journey.

Now the boy had been told in the dream of his three days’ slumber of a magical cup, and he had brought it home with him from his journey among the nations, and the _So´-kûs Wai´-ûn-äts_ carried it between them, filled with water. _Cĭn-au´-äv_ walked on their right and _To-go´-a_ on their left, and the nations followed in the order in which they had been enlisted. There was a vast number of them, so that when they were stretched out in line it was one day’s journey from the front to the rear of the column.

When they had journeyed two days and were far out on the desert all the people thirsted, for they found no water, and they fell down upon the sand groaning, and murmuring that they had been deceived, and they cursed the One-Two.

But the _So´-kûs Wai´-ûn-äts_ had been told in the wonderful dream of the suffering which would be endured and that the water which they carried in the cup was only to be used in dire necessity, and the brothers said to each other: “Now the time has come for us to drink the water.” And when one had quaffed of the magical bowl, he found it still full, and he gave it to the other to drink, and still it was full; and the One-Two gave it to the people, and one after another did they all drink, and still the cup was full to the brim.

But _Cĭn-au´-äv_ was dead, and all the people mourned, for he was a great man. The brothers held the cup over him, and sprinkled him with water, when he arose and said: “Why do you disturb me? I did have a vision of mountain brooks and meadows, of cane where honey-dew was plenty.” They gave him the cup, and he drank also; but when he had finished there was none left. Refreshed and rejoicing they proceeded on their journey.

The next day, being without food, they were hungry, and all were about to perish; and again they murmured at the brothers, and cursed them. But the _So´-kûs Wai´-ûn-äts_ saw in the distance an antelope, standing on an eminence in the plain, in bold relief against the sky; and _Cĭn-au´-äv_ knew it was the wonderful antelope with many eyes, which Stone Shirt kept for his watchman; and he proposed to go and kill it, but _To-go´-a_ demurred, and said: “It were better that I should go, for he will see you and run away.” But the _So´-kûs Wai´-ûn-äts_ told Cĭn´-au´-äv to go; and he started in a direction away to the left of where the antelope was standing, that he might make a long detour about some hills, and come upon him from the other side. _To-go´-a_ went a little way from camp, and called to the brothers: “Do you see me?” and they answered they did not. “Hunt for me;” and while they were hunting for him, the rattlesnake said: “I can see you; you are doing” --so and so, telling them what they were doing; but they could not find him.

Then, the rattlesnake came forth, declaring: “Now you know I can see others, and that I cannot be seen when I so desire. _Cin-au´-äv_ cannot kill that antelope, for he has many eyes, and is the wonderful watchman of Stone Shirt; but I can kill him, for I can go where he is and he cannot see me.” So the brothers were convinced, and permitted him to go; and he went and killed the antelope. When _Cin-au´-äv_ saw it fall, he was very angry, for he was extremely proud of his fame as a hunter, and anxious to have the honor of killing this famous antelope, and he ran up with the intention of killing _To-go´-a_; but when he drew near, and saw the antelope was fat, and would make a rich feast for the people, his anger was appeased. “What matters it,” said he, “who kills the game, when we can all eat it?”

So all the people were fed in abundance, and they proceeded on their journey.

The next day the people again suffered for water, and the magical cup was empty; but the _So´-kûs Wai´-ûn-äts_, having been told in their dream what to do, transformed themselves into doves, and flew away to a lake, on the margin of which was the home of Stone Shirt.

Coming near to the shore, they saw two maidens bathing in the water; and the birds stood and looked, for the maidens were very beautiful. Then they flew into some bushes, near by, to have a nearer view, and were caught in a snare which the girls had placed for intrusive birds. The beautiful maidens came up, and, taking the birds out of the snare, admired them very much, for they had never seen such birds before. They carried them to their father, Stone Shirt, who said: “My daughters, I very much fear these are spies from my enemies, for such birds do not live in our land”; and he was about to throw them into the fire, when the maidens besought him, with tears, that he would not destroy their beautiful birds; but he yielded to their entreaties with much misgiving. Then they took the birds to the shore of the lake, and set them free.

When the birds were at liberty once more, they flew around among the bushes, until they found the magical cup which they had lost, and taking it up, they carried it out into the middle of the lake and settled down upon the water, and the maidens supposed they were drowned.

The birds, when they had filled their cup, rose again, and went back to the people in the desert, where they arrived just at the right time to save them with the cup of water, from which each drank; and yet it was full until the last was satisfied, and then not a drop remained.

The brothers reported that they had seen Stone Shirt and his daughters.

The next day they came near to the home of the enemy, and the brothers, in proper person, went out to reconnoiter. Seeing a woman gleaning seeds, they drew near, and knew it was their mother, whom Stone Shirt had stolen from _Sĭ-kor´_, the crane. They told her they were her sons, but she denied it, and said she had never had but one son; but the boys related to her their history, with the origin of the two from one, and she was convinced. She tried to dissuade them from making war upon Stone Shirt, and told them that no arrow could possibly penetrate his armor, and that he was a great warrior, and had no other delight than in killing his enemies, and that his daughters also were furnished with magical bows and arrows, which they could shoot so fast that the arrows would fill the air like a cloud, and that it was not necessary for them to take aim, for their missiles went where they willed; they _thought_ the arrows to the hearts of their enemies; and thus the maidens could kill the whole of the people before a common arrow could be shot by a common person. But the boys told her what the spirit had said in the long dream, and had promised that Stone Shirt should be killed. They told her to go down to the lake at dawn, so as not to be endangered by the battle.

During the night, the _So´-kûs Wai´-ûn-äts_ transformed themselves into mice, and proceeded to the home of Stone Shirt, and found the magical bows and arrows that belonged to the maidens, and with their sharp teeth they cut the sinew on the backs of the bows, and nibbled the bow-strings, so that they were worthless, while _To-go´-a_ hid himself under a rock near by.

When dawn came into the sky, _Tûm-pwĭ-nai´-ro-gwĭ-nûmp_, the Stone Shirt man, arose and walked out of his tent, exulting in his strength and security, and sat down upon the rock under which _To-go´-a_ was hiding; and he, seeing his opportunity, sunk his fangs into the flesh of the hero. Stone Shirt sprang high into the air, and called to his daughters that they were betrayed, and that the enemy was near; and they seized their magical bows, and their quivers filled with magical arrows, and hurried to his defense. At the same time, all the nations who were surrounding the camp rushed down to battle. But the beautiful maidens, finding their weapons were destroyed, waved back their enemies, as if they would parley; and, standing for a few moments over the body of their slain father, sang the death-song, and danced the death-dance, whirling in giddy circles about the dead hero, and wailing with despair, until they sank down and expired.

The conquerers buried the maidens by the shores of the lake; but _Tûm-pwĭ-nai´-ro-gwĭ-nûmp_ was left to rot, and his bones to bleach on the sands, as he had left _Sĭ-kor´_.

_TA-VWOTS´ HAS A FIGHT WITH THE SUN._

_Ta-vwots´_, the little rabbit, was wont to lie with his back to the sun when he slept. One day he thus slept in camp while his children played around him. After a time they saw that his back was smoking, and they cried out, “What is the matter with your back, father?” Startled from his sleep, he demanded to know the cause of the uproar. “Your back is covered with sores and full of holes,” they replied. Then _Ta-vwots´_ was very angry, for he knew that _Ta´-vĭ_, the sun, had burned him; and he sat down by the fire for a long time in solemn mood, pondering on the injury and insult he had received. At last rising to his feet, he said, “My children I must go and make war upon _Ta´-vĭ_.” And straightway he departed.

Now his camp was in the valley of the Mo-a-pa.[2.1] On his journey he came to a hill, and standing on its summit he saw in a valley to the east a beautiful stretch of verdure, and he greatly marveled at the sight and desired to know what it was. On going down to the valley he found a corn-field, something he had never before seen, and the ears were ready for roasting. When he examined them, he saw that they were covered with beautiful hair, and he was much astonished. Then he opened the husk and found within soft white grains of corn, which he tasted. Then he knew that it was corn and good to eat. Plucking his arms full he carried them away, roasted them on a fire, and ate until he was filled.

Now, when he had done all this, he reflected that he had been stealing, and he was afraid; so he dug a hole in which to hide himself.

_Cĭn-au´-äv_ was the owner of this field, and when he walked through and saw that his corn had been stolen, he was exceedingly wroth, and said, “I will slay this thief _Ta-vwots´_; I will kill him, I will kill him.” And straightway he called his warriors to him and made search for the thief, but could not find him, for he was hid in the ground. After a long time they discovered the hole and tried to shoot _Ta-vwots´_ as he was standing in the entrance, but he blew their arrows back. This made _Cĭn-au´-äv_’s people very angry and they shot many arrows, but _Ta-vwots´_’ breath was a warder against them all. Then, with one accord, they ran to snatch him up with their hands, but, all in confusion, they only caught each others fists, for with agile steps _Ta-vwots´_ dodged into his retreat. Then they began to dig, and said they would drag him out. And they labored with great energy, all the time taunting him with shouts and jeers. But _Ta-vwots´_ had a secret passage from the main chamber of his retreat which opened by a hole above the rock overhanging the entrance where they were at work.

When they had proceeded with this digging until they were quite under ground, _Ta-vwots´_, standing on the rock above, hurled the magical ball which he was accustomed to carry with him, and striking the ground above the diggers, it caved the earth in, and they were all buried. “Aha,” said he, “why do you wish to hinder me on my way to kill the Sun? _A´-nier ti-tĭk´-a-nûmp kwaik-ai´-gar_” (fighting is my eating tool I say; that’s so!), and he proceeded on his way musing. “I have started out to kill; vengeance is my work; every one I meet will be an enemy. It is well; no one shall escape my wrath.”

The next day he saw two men making arrow-heads of hot rocks, and drawing near he observed their work for a time from a position where he could not be seen. Then stepping forth, he said: “Let me help you”; and when the rocks were on the fire again and were hot to redness he said: “Hot rocks will not burn me.” And they laughed at him. “May be you would have us believe that you are a ghost?” “I am not a ghost,” said he, “but I am a better man than you are. Hold me on these hot rocks, and if I do not burn you must let me do the same to you.” To this they readily agreed, and when they had tried to burn him on the rocks, with his magic breath he kept them away at a distance so slight they could not see but that the rocks did really touch him. When they perceived that he was not burned they were greatly amazed and trembled with fear. But having made the promise that he should treat them in like manner, they submitted themselves to the torture, and the hot rocks burned them until with great cries they struggled to get free, but unrelenting _Ta-vwots´_ held them until the rocks had burned through their flesh into their entrails, and so they died. “Aha,” said _Ta-vwots´_, “lie there until you can get up again. I am on my way to kill the Sun. _A´-nier ti-tĭk´-a-nûmp kwaik-ai´-gar._” And sounding the war-whoop he proceeded on his way.

The next day he came to where two women were gathering berries in baskets, and when he sat down they brought him some of the fruit and placed it before him. He saw there were many leaves and thorns among the berries, and he said, “Blow these leaves and thorns into my eyes,” and they did so, hoping to blind him; but with his magic breath he kept them away, so that they did not hurt him.

Then the women averred that he was a ghost. “I am no ghost,” said he, “but a common person; do you not know that leaves and thorns cannot hurt the eye? Let me show you;” and they consented and were made blind. Then _Ta-vwots´_ slew them with his _pa-rûm´-o-kwi_. “Aha,” said he, “you are caught with your own chaff. I am on my way to kill the Sun. This is good practice. I must learn how. _A´-nier ti-tĭk´-a-nûmp kwaik-ai´-gar._” And sounding the war-whoop he proceeded on his way.

The next day he saw some women standing on the Hurricane Cliff, and as he approached he heard them say to each other that they would roll rocks down upon his head and kill him as he passed; and drawing near he pretended to be eating something, and enjoying it with great gusto; so they asked him what it was, and he said it was something very sweet, and they begged that they might be allowed to taste of it also. “I will throw it up to you,” said he; “come to the brink and catch it.” When they had done so, he threw it up so that they could not quite reach it, and he threw it in this way many times, until, in their eagerness to secure it, they all crowded too near the brink, fell, and were killed. “Aha,” said he, “you were killed by your own eagerness. I am on my way to kill the Sun. _A´-nier ti-tĭk´-a-nûmp kaiwk-ai´-gar._” And sounding the war-whoop he passed on.

The following day he saw two women fashioning water-jugs, which are made of willow-ware like baskets and afterwards lined with pitch. When afar off he could hear them converse, for he had a wonderful ear. “Here comes that bad _Ta-vwots´_,” said they; “how shall we destroy him?” When he came near, he said, “What was that you were saying when I came up?” “Oh, we were only saying, ‘here comes our grandson,’”[2.2] said they. “Is that all?” replied _Ta-vwots´_, and looking around, he said, “Let me get into your water-jug”; and they allowed him to do so. “Now braid the neck.” This they did, making the neck very small; then they laughed with great glee, for they supposed he was entrapped. But with his magic breath he burst the jug, and stood up before them; and they exclaimed, “You must be a ghost!” but he answered, “I am no ghost. Do you not know that jugs were made to hold water, but cannot hold men and women?” At this they wondered greatly, and said he was wise. Then he proposed to put them in jugs in the same manner, in order to demonstrate to them the truth of what he had said; and they consented. When he had made the necks of the jugs and filled them with pitch, he said, “Now, jump out,” but they could not. It was now his turn to deride; so he rolled them about and laughed greatly, while their half-stifled screams rent the air. When he had sported with them in this way until he was tired, he killed them with his magical ball. “Aha,” said he, “you are bottled in your own jugs. I am on my way to kill the Sun; in good time I shall learn how. _A´-nier ti-tĭk´-a-nûmp kaiwk-ai´-gar._” And sounding the war-hoop he passed on.

The next day he came upon _Kwi´-ats_, the bear, who was digging a hole in which to hide, for he had heard of the fame of _Ta-vwots´_, and was afraid. When the great slayer came to _Kwi´-ats_ he said, “Don’t fear, my great friend; I am not the man from whom to hide. Could a little fellow like me kill so many people?” And the bear was assured. “Let me help you dig,” said _Ta-vwots´_, “that we may hide together, for I also am fleeing from the great destroyer.” So they made a den deep in the ground, with its entrance concealed by a great rock. Now, _Ta-vwots´_ secretly made a private passage from the den out to the side of the mountain, and when the work was completed the two went out together to the hill-top to watch for the coming of the enemy. Soon _Ta-vwots´_ pretended that he saw him coming, and they ran in great haste to the den. The little one outran the greater, and going into the den, hastened out again through his secret passage.

When _Kwi´-ats_ entered he looked about, and not seeing his little friend he searched for him for some time, and still not finding him, he supposed that he must have passed him on the way, and went out again to see if he had stopped or been killed. By this time _Ta-vwots´_ had perched himself on the rock at the entrance of the den, and when the head of the bear protruded through the hole below he hurled his _pa-rûm´-o-kwi_ and killed him. “Aha,” said _Ta-vwots´_, “I greatly feared this renowned warrior, but now he is dead in his own den. I am going to kill the Sun. _A´-nier ti´-tĭk´-a´-nûmp kwaik-ai´-gar._” And sounding the war-whoop he went on his way.

The next day he met _Ku-mi´-a-pöts_, the tarantula. Now this knowing personage had heard of the fame of _Ta-vwots´_, and determined to outwit him. He was possessed of a club with such properties that, although it was a deadly weapon when used against others, it could not be made to hurt himself, though wielded by a powerful arm.

As _Ta-vwots´_ came near, _Ku-mi´-a-pöts_ complained of having a headache; moaning and groaning, he said there was an _u-nu´-pĭts_, or little evil spirit, in his head, and he asked _Ta-vwots´_ to take the club and beat it out. _Ta-vwots´_ obeyed, and struck with all his power, and wondered that _Ku-mi´-a-pöts_ was not killed; but he urged _Ta-vwots´_ to strike harder. At last _Ta-vwots´_ understood the nature of the club, and guessed the wiles of _Ku-mi´-a-pöts_, and raising the weapon as if to strike again, he dexterously substituted his magic ball and slew him. “Aha,” said he, “that is a blow of your own seeking, _Ku-mi´-a-pöts_. I am on my way to kill the Sun; now I know that I can do it. _A´-nier ti´-tĭk´-a´-nûmp kwaik-ai´-gar._” And sounding the war-whoop he went on his way.

The next day he came to a cliff which is the edge or boundary of the world on the east, where careless persons have fallen into unknown depths below. Now to come to the summit of this cliff it is necessary to climb a mountain, and _Ta-vwots´_ could see three gaps or notches in the mountain, and he went up into the one on the left; and he demanded to know of all the trees which where standing by of what use they were. Each one in turn praised its own qualities, the chief of which in every case was its value as fuel.[2.3] _Ta-vwots´_ shook his head and went into the center gap and had another conversation with the trees, receiving the same answer. Finally he went into the third gap--that on the right. After he had questioned all the trees and bushes, he came at last to a little one called _yu´-i-nump_, which modestly said it had no use, that it was not even fit for fuel. “Good,” said _Ta-vwots´_, and under it he lay down to sleep.

When the dawn came into the sky _Ta-vwots´_ arose and stood on the brink overhanging the abyss from which the Sun was about to rise. The instant it appeared he hurled his _pa-rûm´-o-kwi_, and, striking it full in the face, shattered it into innumerable fragments, and these fragments were scattered over all the world and kindled a great conflagration. _Ta-vwots´_ ran and crept under the _yu´-i-nump_ to obtain protection. At last the fire waxed very hot over all the world, and soon _Ta-vwots_ began to suffer and tried to run away, but as he ran his toes were burned off, and then slowly, inch by inch, his legs, and then his body, so that he walked on his hands, and these were burned, and he walked on the stumps of his arms, and these were burned, until there was nothing left but his head. And now, having no other means of progression, his head rolled along the ground until his eyes, which were much swollen, burst by striking against a rock, and the tears gushed out in a great flood which spread out over all the land and extinguished the conflagration.

The _Uinta Utes_ add something more to this story, namely, that the flood from his eyes bore out new seeds, which were scattered over all the world. The _Ute_ name for seed is the same as for eye.

Those animals which are considered as the descendants of _Ta-vwots´_ are characterized by a brown patch back of the neck and shoulders, which is attributed to the singeing received by him in the great fire.

The following apothegms are derived from this story:

“You are buried in the hole which you dug for yourself.”

“When you go to war every one you meet is an enemy; kill all.”

“You were caught with your own chaff.”

“Don’t get so anxious that you kill yourself.”

“You are bottled in your own jugs.”

“He is dead in his own den.”

“That is a blow of your own seeking.”

[Footnote 2.1: A stream in Southeastern Nevada.]

[Footnote 2.2: This is a very common term of endearment used by
elder to younger persons.]

[Footnote 2.3: Several times I have heard this story, and
invariably the dialogues held by _Ta-vwots´_ with the trees are
long and tedious, though the trees evince some skill in their own
praise.]

* * * * *
* * * *

_Errors and Inconsistencies: Mythology_

but the confusion of confusion
[_unchanged: error for “confusion” alone?_]
that great philosophic question [philosopic]
a pot of pickeled sunbeams [_spelling unchanged_]
The descendants of these people [decendents]
the inner subjective world. [_final . missing_]
And wherever we find nature-worship
[_text has “where-/ever” at line break_]
and the spirits of the physical bodies [spirts]
When the people or natives [_text unchanged: error for “nations”?]
The next day, being without food [The dext day]
and they cried out, “What is the matter [_comma missing_]
but _Ta-vwots´_’ breath was a warder against them all
[_text reads “breath as a warder”: may be whole missing word_]
And sounding the war-hoop he passed on.
[_variant spelling unchanged_]
“that we may hide together, for I also am fleeing from the great
destroyer.”
[_both quotation marks missing_]

* * * * *
* * * *
* * * * *

SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION--BUREAU OF ETHNOLOGY.

J. W. Powell, Director.

WYANDOT GOVERNMENT:

A Short Study of Tribal Society.

By

J. W. POWELL.

CONTENTS.

The family 59
The gens 59
The phratry 60
Government 61
Civil government 61
Methods of choosing councillors 61
Functions of civil government 63
Marriage regulations 63
Name regulations 64
Regulations of personal adornment 64
Regulations of order in encampment 64
Property rights 65
Rights of persons 65
Community rights 65
Rights of religion 65
Crimes 66
Theft 66
Maiming 66
Murder 66
Treason 67
Witchcraft 67
Outlawry 67
Military government 68
Fellowhood 68

* * * * *

WYANDOT GOVERNMENT:

A Short Study of Tribal Society.

* * * * *

In the social organization of the Wyandots four groups are recognized--the family, the gens, the phratry, and the tribe.

THE FAMILY.

The family, as the term is here used, is nearly synonymous with the household. It is composed of the persons who occupy one lodge, or, in their permanent wigwams, one section of a communal dwelling. These permanent dwellings are constructed in an oblong form, of poles interwoven with bark. The fire is placed in line along the center, and is usually built for two families, one occupying the place on each side of the fire.

The head of the family is a woman.

THE GENS.

The gens is an organized body of consanguineal kindred in the female line. “The woman carries the gens,” is the formulated statement by which a Wyandot expresses the idea that descent is in the female line. Each gens has the name of some animal, the ancient of such animal being its tutelar god. Up to the time that the tribe left Ohio, eleven gentes were recognized, as follows:

Deer, Bear, Highland Turtle (striped), Highland Turtle (black), Mud Turtle, Smooth Large Turtle, Hawk, Beaver, Wolf, Sea Snake, and Porcupine.