The Soul of the Indian by Charles Alexander Eastman
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The Soul of the IndianEastman, Charles Alexander, 1858-1939. The Soul of the

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The Soul of the Indian

Eastman, Charles Alexander, 1858-1939

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1995

About the print version

The Soul of the Indian

Charles Alexander Eastman (Ohiyesa)

UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA PRESS

Lincoln

London

Note: The print edition used to check the electronic text was the Houghton

Mifflin Co. edition of 1911 (Boston and New York), not the University of

Nebraska Press reprint used to generate the original electronic version.

Verification made against printed text.

Published: 1911

English non-fiction; prose Native American

Revisions to the electronic version

1995

etext@virginia.edu. Commercial use prohibited; all usage governed by our

Conditions of Use: http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/conditions.html

THE VISION

THE SOUL OF THE INDIAN

An Interpretation

BY

CHARLES ALEXANDER EASTMAN

(OHIYESA)

UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA PRESS

Lincoln

London

Copyright, 1911, by Charles Alexander Eastman

All rights reserved

First Bison Book Printing: 1980 Most recent printing indicated by first digit
below: 7 8 9 10

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

Eastman, Charles Alexander, 1858-1939. The soul of the Indian.

Reprint of the ed. published by Houghton Mifflin, Boston. I. Indians of North

America — Religion and mythology. I. Title.

[E98.R3E15 1980] 299’.7 79-26355 ISBN 0-8032-1802-8 ISBN 0-8032-6701-0 pbk.

Published by arrangement with Eleanor Eastman Mensel and Virginia Eastman

Whitbeck

Manufactured in the United States of America

TO MY WIFE

ELAINE GOODALE EASTMAN

IN GRATEFUL RECOGNITION OF HER

EVER-INSPIRING COMPANIONSHIP

IN THOUGHT AND WORK

AND IN LOVE OF HER MOST

INDIAN-LIKE VIRTUES

I DEDICATE THIS BOOK

I speak for each no-tongued tree

That, spring by spring, doth nobler be,

And dumbly and most wistfully

His mighty prayerful arms outspreads,

And his big blessing downward sheds.

SIDNEY LANIER.

But there’s a dome of nobler span,

A temple given

Thy faith, that bigots dare not ban —

Its space is heaven!

It’s roof star-pictured Nature’s ceiling,

Where, trancing the rapt spirit’s feeling,

And God Himself to man revealing,

Th’ harmonious spheres

Make music, though unheard their pealing

By mortal ears!

THOMAS CAMPBELL.

God! sing ye meadow streams with gladsome voice!

Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds!

Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain storm!

Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds!

Ye signs and wonders of the elements,

Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praise! …

Earth, with her thousand voices, praises GOD!

COLERIDGE.

-ix-

FOREWORD

“WE also have a religion which was given to our forefathers, and has been
handed down to us their children. It teaches us to be thankful, to be united,
and to love one another! We never quarrel about religion.”

Thus spoke the great Seneca orator, Red Jacket, in his superb reply to

Missionary Cram more than a century ago, and I have often heard the same thought
expressed by my countrymen.

I have attempted to paint the religious life of the typical American Indian
as it was before he knew the

-x-

white man. I have long wished to do this, because I cannot find that it has ever
been seriously, adequately, and sincerely done. The religion of the Indian is
the last thing about him that the man of another race will ever understand.

First, the Indian does not speak of these deep matters so long as he believes
in them, and when he has ceased to believe he speaks incaccurately and
slightingly.

Second, even if he can be induced to speak, the racial and religious
prejudice of the other stands in the way of his sympathetic comprehension.

Third, practically all existing

-xi-

studies on this subject have been made during the transition period, when the
original beliefs and philosophy of the native American were already undergoing
rapid disintegration.

There are to be found here and there superficial accounts of strange customs
and ceremonies, of which the symbolism or inner meaning was largely hidden from
the observer; and there has been a great deal of material collected in recent
years which is without value because it is modern and hybrid, inextricably mixed
with Biblical legend and Caucasian philosophy. Some of it has even been
invented for commercial

-xii-

purposes. Give a reservation Indian a present, and he will possibly provide you
with sacred songs, a mythology, and folk-lore to order!

My little book does not pretend to be a scientific treatise. It is as true as

I can make it to my childhood teaching and ancestral ideals, but from the human,
not the ethnological standpoint. I have not cared to pile up more dry bones, but
to clothe them with flesh and blood. So much as has been written by strangers of
our ancient faith and worship treats it chiefly as mat-ter of curiosity. I
should like to emphasize its universal quality, its personal appeal!

-xiii-

The first missionaries, good men imbued with the narrowness of their age,
branded us as pagans and devil-worshipers, and demanded of us that we abjure our
false gods before bowing the knee at their sacred altar. They even told us that
we were eternally lost, unless we adopted a tangible symbol and professed a
particular form of their hydra-headed faith.

We of the twentieth century know better! We know that all religious
aspiration, all sincere worship, can have but one source and one goal. We know
that the God of the lettered and the unlettered, of the Greek and the barbarian,
is after all the same God; and, like

-xiv-

Peter, we perceive that He is no respecter of persons, but that in every nation
he that feareth Him and worketh righteousness is acceptable to Him.

CHARLES A. EASTMAN (OHIYESA)

-1-

CONTENTS

I. THE GREAT MYSTERY 1

II. THE FAMILY ALTAR 25

III. CEREMONIAL AND SYMBOLIC WORSHIP 51

IV. BARBARISM AND THE MORAL CODE 85

V. THE UNWRITTEN SCRIPTURES 117

VI. ON THE BORDER-LAND OF SPIRITS 147

-2-

-3-

Chapter 1

I. THE GREAT MYSTERY

Solitary Worship. The Savage Philosopher. The Dual Mind. Spiritual Gifts
versus Material Progress. The Paradox of “Christian Civilization.”

THE original attitude of the American Indian toward the Eternal, the “Great

Mystery” that surrounds and embraces us, was as simple as it was exalted. To him
it was the supreme conception, bringing with it the fullest measure of joy and
satisfaction possible in this life.

-4-

The worship of the “Great Mystery” was silent, solitary, free from all
self-seeking. It was silent, because all speech is of necessity feeble and
imperfect; therefore the souls of my ancestors ascended to God in wordless
adoration. It was solitary, because they believed that He is nearer to us in
solitude, and there were no priests authorized to come between a man and his

Maker. None might exhort or confess or in any way meddle with the religious
experience of another. Among us all men were created sons of God and stood
erect, as conscious of their divinity. Our faith might not be formulated in
creeds, nor forced upon

-5-

any who were unwilling to receive it; hence there was no preaching, proselyting,
nor persecution, neither were there any scoffers or atheists.

There were no temples or shrines among us save those of nature. Being a
natural man, the Indian was intensely poetical. He would deem it sacrilege to
build a house for Him who may be met face to face in the mysterious, shadowy
aisles of the primeval forest, or on the sunlit bosom of virgin prairies, upon
dizzy spires and pinnacles of naked rock, and yonder in the jeweled vault of the
night sky! He who enrobes Himself in filmy veils of cloud, there on the rim of
the visible world where

-6-

our Great-Grandfather Sun kindles his evening camp-fire, He who rides upon the
rigorous wind of the north, or breathes forth His spirit upon aromatic southern
airs, whose war-canoe is launched upon majestic rivers and inland seas — He
needs no lesser cathedral!

That solitary communion with the Unseen which was the highest expression of
our religious life is partly described in the word bambeday, literally

“mysterious feeling,” which has been variously translated “fasting” and

“dreaming.” It may better be interpreted as “consciousness of the divine.”

The first bambeday, or religious

-7-

retreat, marked an epoch in the life of the youth, which may be compared to that
of confirmation or conversion in Christian experience. Having first prepared
himself by means of the purifying vapor-bath, and cast off as far as possible
all human fleshly influences, the young man sought out the noblest height, the
most commanding summit in all the surrounding region. Knowing that God sets no
value upon material things, he took with him no offerings or sacrifices other
than symbolic objects, such as paints and tobacco. Wishing to appear before Him
in all humility, he wore no clothing save his moccasins and breech-clout. At

-8-

the solemn hour of sunrise or sunset took up his position, overlooking the
glories of earth and facing the “Great Mystery,” and there he remained, naked,
erect, silent, and motionless, exposed to the elements and forces of His arming,
for a night and a day to two days and nights, but rarely longer. Sometimes he
would chant a hymn without words, or offer the ceremonial “filled pipe.” In this
holy trance or ecstasy the Indian mystic found his highest happiness and the
motive power of his existence.

When he returned to the camp, he must remain at a distance until he had again
entered the vapor-bath

-9-

and prepared himself for intercourse with his fellows. Of the vision or sign
vouchsafed to him he did not speak, unless it had included some commission which
must be publicly fulfilled. Sometimes an old man, standing upon the brink of
eternity, might reveal to a chosen few the oracle of his long-past youth.

The native American has been generally despised by his white conquerors for
his poverty and simplicity. They forget, perhaps, that his religion forbade the
accumulation of wealth and the enjoyment of luxury. To him, as to other
single-minded men in every age and race, from Diogenes to the brothers of Saint

-10-

Francis, from the Montanists to the Shakers, the love of possessions has
appeared a snare, and the burdens of a complex society a source of needless
peril and temptation. Furthermore, it was the rule of his life to share the
fruits of his skill and success his less fortunate brothers. Thus he kept his
spirit free from the clog of pride, cupidity, or envy, and carried out, as he
believed, the divine decree — a matter profoundly important to him.

It was not, then, wholly from ignorance or improvidence that he failed to
establish permanent towns and to develop a material civilization. To the
untutored sage, the

-11-

concentration of population was the prolific mother of all evils, moral no less
than physical. He argued that food is good, while surfeit kills; that love is
good, but lust destroys; and not less dreaded than the pestilence following upon
crowded and unsanitary dwellings was the loss of spiritual power inseparable
from too close contact with one’s fellow-men. All who have lived much out of
doors know that there is a magnetic and nervous force that accumulates in
solitude and that is quickly dissipated life in a crowd; and even his enemies
have recognized the fact that for a certain innate power and self-poise, wholly
independent of cir

-12-

cumstances, the American Indian is unsurpassed among men.

The red man divided mind into two parts, — the spiritual mind and the
physical mind. The first is pure spirit, concerned only with the essence of
things, and it was this he sought to strengthen by spiritual prayer, during
which the body is subdued by fasting and hardship. In this type of prayer there
was no beseeching favor or help. All matters of personal or selfish concern, as
success in hunting or warfare, relief from sickness, or the sparing of a beloved
life, were definitely relegated to the plane of the lower or material mind, and
all ceremonies,

-13-

charms, or incantations designed to secure a benefit or to avert a danger, were
recognized as emanating from the physical self

The rites of this physical worship, again, were wholly symbolic, and the

Indian no more worshiped the Sun than the Christian adores the Cross. The Sun
and the Earth, by an obvious parable, holding scarcely more of poetic metaphor
than of scientific truth, were in his view the parents of all organic life. From
the Sun, as the universal father, proceeds the quickening principle in nature,
and in the patient and fruitful womb of our mother, the Earth, are hidden
embryos of plants and

-14-

men. Therefore our reverence and love for them was really an imaginative
extension of our love for our immediate parents, and with this sentiment of
filial piety was joined a willingness to appeal to them, as to a father, for
such good gifts as we may desire. This is the material or physical prayer.

The elements and majestic forces in nature, Lightning, Wind, Water, Fire, and

Frost, were regarded with awe as spiritual powers, but always secondary and
intermediate in character. We believed that the spirit pervades all creation and
that every creature possesses a soul in some degree, though not necessarily a
soul

-15-

conscious of itself. The tree, the waterfall, the grizzly bear, each is an
embodied Force, and as such an object of reverence.

The Indian loved to come into sympathy and spiritual communion with his
brothers of the animal kingdom, whose inarticulate souls had for him something
of the sinless purity that we attribute to the innocent and irresponsible child.

He had faith in their instincts, as in a mysterious wisdom given from above; and
while he humbly accepted the supposedly voluntary sacrifice of their bodies to
preserve his own, he paid homage to their spirits in prescribed prayers and
offerings.

-16-

In every religion there is an element of the supernatural, varying with the
influence of pure reason over its devotees. The Indian was a logical and clear
thinker upon matters within the scope of his understanding, but he had not yet
charted the vast field of nature or expressed her wonders in terms of science.

With his limited knowledge of cause and effect, he saw miracles on every hand,

— the miracle of life in seed and egg, the miracle of death in lightning flash
and in the swelling deep! Nothing of the marvelous could astonish him; as that a
beast should speak, or the sun stand still. The virgin birth would appear

-17-

scarcely more miraculous than is the birth of every child that comes into the
world, or the miracle of the loaves and fishes excite more wonder than the
harvest that springs from a single ear of corn.

Who may condemn his superstition? Surely not the devout Catholic even

Protestant missionary, who teaches Bible miracles as literal fact! The logical
man must either deny all miracles or none, and our American Indian myths and
hero stories are perhaps, in themselves, quite as credible as those of the

Hebrews of old. If we are of the modern type of mind, that sees in natural law a
majesty and grandeur far

-18-

more impressive than any solitary infraction of it could possibly be, let us not
forget that, after all, science has not explained everything. We have still to
face the ultimate miracle, — the origin and principle of life! Here is the
supreme mystery that is the essence of worship, without which there can be no
religion, and in the presence of this mystery our attitude cannot be very unlike
that of the natural philosopher, who beholds with awe the Divine in all
creation.

It is simple truth that the Indian did not, so long as his native philosophy
held sway over his mind, either envy or desire to imitate the splendid
achievements of the white

-19-

man. In his own thought he rose superior to them! He scorned them, even as a
lofty spirit absorbed in its stern task rejects the soft beds, the luxurious
food, the pleasure-worshiping dalliance of a rich neighbor was clear to him that
virtue and happiness are independent of these things, if not incompatible with
them.

There was undoubtedly much in primitive Christianity to appeal to this man,
and Jesus’ hard sayings to the rich and about the rich would have been entirely
comprehensible to him. Yet the religion that is preached in our churches and
practiced by our congregations, with its

-20-

element of display and self-aggrandizement, its active proselytism, and its open
contempt of all religions but its own, was for a long time extremely repellent.

To his simple mind, the professionalism of the pulpit, the paid exhorter, the
moneyed church, was an unspiritual and unedifying, and it was not until his
spirit was broken and his moral and physical constitution undermined by trade,
conquest, and strong drink, that Christian missionaries obtained any real hold
upon him. Strange as it may seem, it is true that the proud pagan in his secret
soul despised the good men who came to convert and to enlighten him!

-21-

Nor were its publicity and its Phariseeism the only elements in the alien
religion that offended the red man. To him, it appeared shocking and almost
incredible that there were among this people who claimed superiority many
irreligious, who did not even pretend to profess the national. Not only did they
not profess it, but they stooped so low as to insult their God with profane and
sacrilegious speech! In our own tongue His name was not spoken aloud, even with
utmost reverence, much less lightly or irreverently.

More than this, even in those white men who professed religion we found much
inconsistency of con

-22-

duct. They spoke much of spiritual things, while seeking only the material. They
bought and sold everything, labor, personal independence, the love of woman, and
even the ministrations of their holy faith! The lust for money, power, and
conquest so characteristic of the Anglo-Saxon race did not escape moral
condemnation at the hands of his untutored judge, nor did he fail to contrast
this conspicuous trait of the dominant race with the spirit of the meek and
lowly Jesus.

He might in time come to recognize that the drunkards and licentious among
white men, with whom he too frequently came in contact,

-23-

were condemned by the white man’s religion as well, and must not be held to
discredit it. But it was not so easy to overlook or to excuse national bad
faith. When distinguished emissaries from the Father at Washington, some of them
ministers of the gospel and even bishops, came to the Indian nations, and
pledged to them in solemn treaty the national honor, with prayer and mention of
their God; and when such treaties, so made, were promptly and shamelessly
broken, is it strange that the action should arouse not only anger, but
contempt? The historians of the white race admit that the Indian was never the
first to repudiate his oath.

-24-

It is my personal belief, after thirty-five years’ experience of it, that
there is no such thing as “Christian Civilization.” I believe that Christianity
and modern civilization are opposed and irreconcilable, and that the spirit of

Christianity and of our ancient religion is essentially the same.

-27-

Chapter 2

II. THE FAMILY ALTAR

Pre-natal Influence. Early Religious Teaching. The Function of the Aged.

Woman, Marriage and the Family. Loyalty, Hospitality, Friendship.

THE American Indian was an individualist in religion as in war. He had
neither a national army nor an organized church. There was no priest to assume
responsibility for another’s soul. That is, we believed, the supreme duty of the
parent, who only was permitted to claim in some degree the priestly office and
function, since it is his creative and protecting

-28-

power which alone approaches the solemn function of Deity.

The Indian was a religious man from his mother’s womb. From the moment of her
recognition of the fact of conception to the end of the second year of life,
which was the ordinary duration of lactation, it was supposed by us that the
mother’s spiritual influence counted for most. Her attitude and secret
meditations must be such as to instill into the receptive soul of the unborn
child the love of the “Great Mystery” and a sense of brotherhood with all
creation. Silence and isolation are the rule of life for the expectant mother.

She wanders prayerful in the stillness

-29-

of great woods, or on the bosom of the untrodden prairie, and to her poetic mind
the immanent birth of her child prefigures the advent of a master-man — a hero,
or the mother of heroes — a thought conceived in the virgin breast of primeval
nature, and dreamed out in a hush that is only broken by the sighing of the pine
tree or the thrilling orchestra of a distant waterfall.

And when the day of days in her life dawns — the day in which there is to be
a new life, the miracle of whose making has been intrusted to her, she seeks no
human aid. She has been trained and prepared in body and mind for this her
holiest

-30-

duty, ever since she can remember. The ordeal is best met alone, where no
curious or pitying eyes embarrass her; where all nature says to her spirit:

“‘Tis love! ‘tis love! the fulfilling of life!” When a sacred voice comes to her
out of the silence, and a pair of eyes open upon her in the wilderness, she
knows with joy that she has borne well her part in the great song of creation!

Presently she returns to the camp, carrying the mysterious, the holy, the
dearest bundle! She feels the endearing warmth of it and hears its soft
breathing. It is still a part of herself, since both are nourished by the same
mouthful, and no look of a

-31-

lover could be sweeter than its deep, trusting gaze.

She continues her spiritual teaching, at first silently — a mere pointing of
the index finger to nature; then in whispered songs, bird-like, at morning and
evening. To her and to the child the birds are real people, who live very close
to the “Great Mystery”; the murmuring trees breathe His presence; the falling
waters chant His praise.

If the child should chance to be fretful, the mother raises her hand. “Hush!

hush!” she cautions it tenderly, “the spirits may be disturbed!” She bids it be
still and listen to the silver voice of the

-32-

aspen, or the clashing cymbals of the birch; and at night she points to the
heavenly, blazed trail, through nature’s galaxy of splendor to nature’s God.

Silence, love, reverence, — this is the trinity of first lessons; and to these
she later adds generosity, courage, and chastity.

In the old days, our mothers were single-eyed to the trust imposed upon them;
and as a noted chief of our people was wont to say: “Men may slay one another,
but they can never overcome the woman, for in the quietude of her lap lies the
child! You may destroy him once and again, but he issues as often from that same
gentle lap — a gift of the

-33-

Great Good to the race, in which man is only an accomplice!”

This wild mother has not only the experience of her mother and grandmother,
and the accepted rules of her people for a guide, but she humbly seeks to learn
a lesson from ants, bees, spiders, beavers, and badgers. She studies the family
life of the birds, so exquisite in its emotional intensity and its patient
devotion, until she seems to feel the universal mother-heart beating in her own
breast. In due time the child takes of his own accord the attitude of prayer,
and speaks reverently of the Powers. He thinks that he is a blood brother to all
living creatures, and

-34-

the storm wind is to him a messenger of the “Great Mystery.”

At the age of about eight years, if he is a boy, she turns him over to his
father for more Spartan training. If a girl, she is from this time much under
the guardianship of her grandmother, who is considered the most dignified
protector for the maiden. Indeed, the distinctive work of both grandparents is
that of acquainting the youth with the national traditions and beliefs. It is
reserved for them to repeat the time-hallowed tales with dignity and authority,
so as to lead him into his inheritance in the stored-up wisdom and experience
the race. The old are dedicated

-35-

to the service of the young, as their teachers and advisers, and the young in
turn regard them with love and reverence.

Our old age was in some respects the happiest period of life. Advancing years
brought with them much freedom, not only from the burden of laborious and
dangerous tasks, but from those restrictions of custom and etiquette which were
religiously observed by all others. No one who is at all acquainted with the

Indian in his home can deny that we are a polite people. As a rule, the warrior
who inspired the greatest terror in the hearts of his enemies was a man of the
most exemplary gentleness, and

-36-

almost feminine refinement, among his family and friends. A soft, low voice was
considered an excellent thing in man, as well as in woman! Indeed, the enforced
intimacy of tent life would soon become intolerable, were it not for these
instinctive reserves and delicacies, this unfailing respect for the established
place and possessions of every other member of the family circle, this habitual
quiet, order, and decorum.

Our people, though capable of strong and durable feeling, were not
demonstrative in their affection at any time, least of all in the presence of
guests or strangers. Only to the aged, who have journeyed far, and

-37-

are in a manner exempt from ordinary rules, are permitted some playful
familiarities with children and grandchildren, some plain speaking, even to
harshness and objurgation, from which the others must rigidly refrain. In short,
the old men and women are privileged to say what they please and how they
please, without contradiction, while the hardships and bodily infirmities that
of necessity fall to their lot are softened so far as may be by universal
consideration and attention.

There was no religious ceremony connected with marriage among us, while on
the other hand the relation between man and woman was

-38-

regarded as in itself mysterious and holy. It appears that where marriage is
solemnized by the church and blessed by the priest, it may at the same time be
surrounded with customs and ideas of a frivolous, superficial, and even prurient
character. We believed that two who love should be united in secret, before the
public acknowledgment of their union, and should taste their apotheosis with
nature. The betrothal might or might not be discussed and approved by the
parents, but in either case it was customary for the young pair to disappear
into the wilderness, there to pass some days or weeks in perfect seclusion

-39-

and dual solitude, afterward returning to the village as man and wife. An
exchange of presents and entertainments betweens the two families usually
followed, but the nuptial blessing was given by the High Priest of God, the most
reverend and holy Nature.

The family was not only the social unit, but also the unit of government clan
is nothing more than a larger family, with its patriarchal chief as the natural
head, and the union of several clans by inter-marriage and voluntary connection
constitutes the tribe. The very name of our tribe, Dakota, means Allied People.

The remoter degrees of kinship

-40-

were fully recognized, and that not as a matter of form only: first cousins were
known as brothers and sisters; the name of “cousin” constituted binding claim,
and our rigid morality forbade marriage between cousins in any known degree, or
in other words within the clan.

The household proper consisted of a man with one or more wives and their
children, all of whom dwelt amicably together, often under one roof, although
some men of rank and position provided a separate lodge for each wife. There
were, indeed, few plural marriages except among the older and leading men, and
plural wives were usually, though

-41-

not necessarily, sisters. A marriage might honorably be dissolved for cause, but
there was very little infidelity or immorality, either open or secret.

It has been said that the position of woman is the test of civilization, and
that of our women was secure. In them was vested our standard of morals and the
purity of our blood. The wife did not take the name of her husband nor enter his
clan, and the children belonged to the clan of the mother. All of the family
property was held by her, descent was traced in the maternal line, and the honor
of the house was in her hands. Modesty was her chief adornment;

-42-

hence the younger women were usually silent and retiring: but a woman who had
attained to ripeness of years and wisdom, or who had displayed notable courage
in some emergency, was sometimes invited to a seat in the council.

Thus she ruled undisputed within her own domain, and was to us a tower of
moral and spiritual strength, until the coming of the border white man, the
soldier and trader, who with strong drink overthrew the honor of the man, and
through his power over a worthless husband purchased the virtue of his wife or
his daughter. When she fell, the whole race fell with her.

-43-

Before this calamity came upon us, you could not find anywhere a happier home
than that created by the Indian woman. There was nothing of the artificial about
her person, and very little disingenuousness in her character. Her early and
consistent training, the definiteness of her vocation, and, above all, her
profoundly religious attitude gave her a strength and poise that could not be
overcome by any ordinary misfortune.

Indian names were either characteristic nicknames given in a playful spirit,
deed names, birth names, or such as have a religious and symbolic meaning . It
has been said that when a child is born, some accident

-44-

or unusual appearance determines his name. This is sometimes the case, but is
not the rule. A man of forcible character, with a fine war record, usually bears
the name of the buffalo or bear, lightning or some dread natural force. Another
of more peaceful nature may be called Swift Bird or Blue Sky. A woman’s name
usually suggested something about the home, often with the adjective “pretty” or

“good,” and a feminine termination. Names of any dignity or importance must be
conferred by the old men, and especially so if they have any spiritual
significance; as Sacred Cloud, Mysterious Night, Spirit Woman, and the like.

Such a

-45-

name was sometimes borne by three generations, but each individual must prove
that he is worthy of it.

In the life of the Indian there was only one inevitable duty, — the duty of
prayer — the daily recognition of the Unseen and Eternal. His daily devotions
were more necessary to him than daily food. He wakes at daybreak, puts on his
moccasins and steps down to the water’s edge. Here he throws handfuls of clear,
cold water into his face, or plunges in bodily. After the bath, he stands erect
before the advancing dawn, facing the sun as it dances upon the horizon, and
offers his unspoken orison. His mate may precede or

-46-

follow him in his devotions, but never accompanies him. Each soul must meet the
morning sun, the new, sweet earth, and the Great Silence alone!

Whenever, in the course of the daily hunt, the red hunter comes upon a scene
that is strikingly beautiful and sublime — a black thunder-cloud with the
rainbow’s glowing arch above the mountain; a white waterfall in the heart of a
green gorge; a vast prairie tinged with the blood-red of sunset — he pauses for
an instant in the attitude of worship. He sees no need for setting apart one day
in seven as a holy day, since to him all days are God’s.

-47-

Every act of his life is, in a very real sense, a religious act. He
recognizes the spirit in all creation, and believes that he draws from it
spiritual power. His respect for the immortal part of the animal, his brother,
often leads him so far as to lay out the body of his game in state and decorate
the head with symbolic paint or feathers. Then he stands before it in the prayer
attitude, holding up the filled pipe, in token that he has freed with honor the
spirit of his brother, whose body his need compelled him to take to sustain his
own life.

When food is taken, the woman murmurs a “grace” as she lowers

-48-

the kettle; an act so softly and unobtrusively performed that one who does not
know the custom usually fails to catch the whisper: “Spirit, partake!” As her
husband receives the bowl or plate, he likewise murmurs his invocation to the
spirit. When he becomes an old man, he loves to make a notable effort to prove
his gratitude. He cuts off the choicest morsel of the meat and casts it into the
fire — the purest and most ethereal element.

The hospitality of the wigwam is only limited by the institution of war. Yet,
if an enemy should honor us with a call, his trust will not be misplaced, and he
will go away convinced

-49-

that he has met with a royal host! Our honor is the guarantee for his safety, so
long as he is within the camp.

Friendship is held to be the severest test of character. It is easy, we
think, to be loyal to family and clan, whose blood is in our own veins. Love
between man and woman is founded on the mating instinct and is not free from
desire and self-seeking. But to have a friend, and to be true under any and all
trials, is the mark of a man!

The highest type of friendship is the relation of “brother-friend” or

“life-and-death friend.” This bond is between man and man, is usually

-50-

formed in early youth, and can only be broken by death. It is the essence of
comradeship and fraternal love, without thought of pleasure or gain, but rather
for moral support and inspiration. Each is vowed to die for the other, if need
be, and nothing denied the brother-friend, but neither is anything required that
is not in accord with the highest conceptions of the Indian mind.

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Chapter 3

III. CEREMONIAL AND SYMBOLIC WORSHIP

Modern Perversions of Early Religious Rites. The Sun Dance. The Great

Medicine Lodge. Totems and Charms. The Vapor-Bath and the Ceremonial of the

Pipe.

THE public religious rites of the Plains Indians are few, and in large part
of modern origin, belonging properly to the so-called “transition period.” That
period must be held to begin with the first insidious effect upon their manners
and customs of contact with the dominant race, and many of the tribes were so in

-54-

influenced long before they ceased to lead the nomadic life.

The fur-traders, the “Black Robe” priests, the military, and finally the

Protestant missionaries, were the men who began the disintegration of the Indian
nations and the overthrow of their religion, seventy-five to a hundred years
before they were forced to enter upon reservation life. We have no authentic
study of them until well along in the transition period, when whiskey and trade
had already debauched their native ideals.

During the era of reconstruction they modified their customs and beliefs
continually, creating a singular admixture of Christian with pagan

-55-

superstitions, and an addition to the old folk-lore of disguised Bible stories
under an Indian aspect. Even their music shows the influence of the Catholic
chants. Most of the material collected by modern observers is necessarily of
this promiscuous character.

It is noteworthy that the first effect of contact with the whites was an
increase of cruelty and barbarity, an intensifying of the dark shadows in the
picture! In this manner the “Sun Dance” of the Plains Indians, the most
important of their public ceremonials, was abused and perverted until it became
a horrible exhibition of barbarism, and was

-56-

eventually prohibited by the Government.

In the old days, when a Sioux warrior found himself in the very jaws of
destruction, he might offer a prayer to his father, the Sun, to prolong his
life. If rescued from imminent danger, he must acknowledge the divine favor by
making a Sun Dance, according to the vow embraced in his prayer, in which he
declared that he did not fear torture or death, but asked life only for the sake
of those who loved him. Thus the physical ordeal was the fulfillment of a vow,
and a sort of atonement for what might otherwise appear to be reprehensible
weakness in the face of

-57-

death. It was in the nature of confession and thank-offering to the “Great

Mystery,” through the physical parent, the Sun, and did not embrace a prayer for
future favors.

The ceremonies usually took place from six months to a year after the making
of the vow, in order to admit of suitable preparation; always in midsummer and
before a large and imposing gathering. They naturally included the making of a
feast, and the giving away of much savage wealth in honor of the occasion,
although these were no essential part of the religious rite.

When the day came to procure the pole, it was brought in by a

-58-

party of warriors, headed by some man of distinction. The tree selected was six
to eight inches in diameter at the base, and twenty to twenty-five feet high. It
was chosen and felled with some solemnity, including the ceremony of the “filled
pipe,” and was carried in the fashion of a litter, symbolizing the body of the
man who made the dance. A solitary teepee was pitched on a level spot at some
distance from the village the pole raised near at hand with the same ceremony,
in the centre a circular enclosure of fresh-cut.

Meanwhile, one of the most noted of our old men had carved out of rawhide,

-59-

or later of wood, two figures, usually those of a man and a buffalo. Sometimes
the figure of a bird, supposed to represent the Thunder, was substituted for the
buffalo. It was customary to paint the man red and the animal black, and each
was suspended from one end of the cross-bar which was securely tied some two
feet from the top of the pole. I have never been able to determine that this
cross had any significance; it was probably nothing more than a dramatic
coincidence that surmounted the SunDance pole with the symbol of Christianity.

The paint indicated that the man who was about to give thanks publicly

-60-

had been potentially dead, but was allowed to live by the mysterious favor and
interference of the Giver of Life. The buffalo hung opposite the image of his
own body in death, because it was the support of his physical self, and a
leading figure in legendary lore. Following the same line of thought, when he
emerged from the solitary lodge of preparation, and approached the pole to
dance, nude save for his breech-clout and moccasins, his hair loosened daubed
with clay, he must drag after him a buffalo skull, representing the grave from
which he had escaped.

The dancer was cut or scarified

-61-

on the chest, sufficient to draw blood and cause pain, the natural
accompaniments of his figurative death. He took his position opposite the
singers, facing the pole, and dragging the skull by leather thongs which were
merely fastened about his shoulders. During a later period, incisions were made
in the breast or back, sometimes both, through which wooden skewers were drawn,
and secured by lariats to the pole or to the skulls. Thus he danced without
intermission for a day and a night, or even longer, ever gazing at the sun in
the daytime, and blowing from time to time a sacred whistle made from the bone
of a goose’s wing.

-62-

In recent times, this rite was exaggerated and distorted into a mere ghastly
display of physical strength and endurance under torture, almost on a level with
the Caucasian institution of the bull-fight, or the yet more modern prize-ring.

Moreover, instead of an atonement or thank-offering, it became the accompaniment
of a prayer for success in war, or in a raid upon the horses of the enemy. The
number of dancers was increased, and they were made to hang suspended from the
pole by their own flesh, which they must break loose before being released. I
well remember the comments in our own home upon the passing of

-63-

this simple but impressive ceremony, and its loss of all meaning and propriety
under the demoralizing additions which were some of the fruits of early contact
with the white man.

Perhaps the most remarkable organization ever known among American Indians,
that of the “Grand Medicine Lodge,” was apparently an indirect result of the
labors of the early Jesuit missionaries. In it Caucasian ideas are easily
recognizable, and it seems reasonable to suppose that its founders desired to
establish an order that would successfully resist the encroachments of the

“Black Robes.” However that may be, it is

-64-

an unquestionable fact that the only religious leaders of any note who have
arisen among the native tribes since the advent of the white man, the “Shawnee

Prophet” in 1762, and the half-breed prophet of the “Ghost Dance” in 1890, both
founded their claims or prophecies upon the Gospel story. Thus in each case an

Indian religious revival or craze, though more or less threatening to the
invader, was of distinctively alien origin.

The Medicine Lodge originated among the Algonquin tribe, and extended
gradually throughout its branches, finally affecting the Sioux of the

Mississippi Valley, and forming

-65-

a strong bulwark against the work of the pioneer missionaries, who secured,
indeed, scarcely any converts until after the outbreak of 1862, when subjection,
starvation, and imprisonment turned our broken-hearted people to accept

Christianity seemed to offer them the only gleam of kindness or hope.

The order was a secret one, and in some respects not unlike the Free Masons,
being a union or affiliation of a number of lodges, each with its distinctive
songs and medicines. Leadership was in order of seniority in degrees, which
could only be obtained by merit, and women were admitted to membership

-66-

upon equal terms, with the possibility of attaining to the highest honors. No
person might become a member unless his moral standing was excellent, all
candidates remained on probation for one or two years, and murderers and
adulterers were expelled. The commandments promulgated by this order were
essentially the same as the Mosaic Ten, so that it exerted a distinct moral
influence, in addition to its ostensible object, which was instruction in the
secrets of legitimate medicine.

In this society the uses of all curative and herbs known to us were taught
exhaustively and practiced

-67-

mainly by the old, the younger members being in training to fill the places of
those who passed away. My grandmother was a well-known and successful
practitioner, and both my mother and father were members, but did not practice.

A medicine or “mystery feast” was not a public affair, as members only were
eligible, and upon these occasions all the “medicine bags” and totems of the
various lodges were displayed and their peculiar “medicine songs” were sung. The
food was only partaken of by invited guests, and not by the hosts, or lodge
making the feast. The “Grand Medicine Dance”

-68-

was given on the occasion of initiating those candidates who had finished their
probation, a sufficient number of whom were designated to take the places of
those who had died since the last meeting. Invitations were sent out in the form
of small bundles of tobacco. Two very large teepees were pitched facing one
another, a hundred feet apart, half open, and connected by a roofless hall or
colonnade of fresh-cut boughs. One of these lodges was for the society giving
the dance and the novices, the other was occupied by the “soldiers,” whose duty
it was to distribute the refreshments, and to keep order among the spectators.

They

-69-

were selected from among the best and bravest warriors of the tribe.

The preparations being complete, and the members of each lodge garbed and
painted according to their rituals, they entered the hall separately, in single
file, led by their oldest man or “Great Chief.” Standing before the “Soldiers’

Lodge,” facing the setting sun, their chief addressed the “Great Mystery”

directly in a few words, after which all extending the right arm horizontally
from the shoulder with open palm, sang a short invocation in unison, ending with
a deep: “E-ho-ho-ho!” This performance, which was really impressive, was
repeated in front of

-70-

the headquarters lodge, facing the rising sun, after which each lodge took its
assigned place, and the songs and dances followed in regular order.

The closing ceremony, which was intensely dramatic in its character, was the
initiation of the novices, who had received their final preparation on the night
before. They were now led out in front of the headquarters lodge and placed in a
kneeling position upon a carpet of rich robes and furs, the men upon the right
hand, stripped and painted black, with a round spot of red just over the heart,
while the women, dressed in their best, were arranged upon the left. Both sexes
wore the

-71-

hair loose, as if in mourning or expectation of death. An equal number of grand
medicine-men, each of whom was especially appointed to one of the novices, faced
them at a distance of half the length of the hall, or perhaps fifty feet.

After silent prayer, each medicine-man in turn addressed himself to his
charge, exhorting him to observe all the rules of the order under the eye of the

Mysterious One, and instructing him in his duty toward his fellow-man and toward
the Ruler of Life. All then assumed an attitude of superb power and dignity,
crouching slightly as if about to spring forward in a foot-race, and grasping

-72-

their medicine bags firmly in both hands. Swinging their arms forward at the
same moment, they uttered their guttural “Yo-ho-ho-ho!” in perfect unison and
with startling effect. In the midst of a breathless silence, they took a step
forward, then another and another, ending a rod or so from the row of kneeling
victims, with a mighty swing of the sacred bags that would seem to project all
their mystic power into the bodies of the initiates. Instantly they all fell
forward, apparently lifeless.

With this thrilling climax, the drums were vigorously pounded and the dance
began again with energy. After a few turns had been taken

-73-

about the prostrate bodies of the new members, covering them with fine robes and
other garments which were later to be distributed as gifts, they were permitted
to come to life and to join in the final dance. The whole performance was
clearly symbolic of death and resurrection.

While I cannot suppose that this elaborate ritual, with its use of public and
audible prayer, of public exhortation or sermon, and other Caucasian features,
was practiced before comparatively modern times, there is no doubt that it was
conscientiously believed in by its members, and for a time regarded with
reverence by the people. But at a later period it became

-74-

still further demoralized and fell under suspicion of witchcraft.

There is no doubt that the Indian held medicine close to spiritual things,
but in this also he has been much misunderstood; in fact everything that he held
sacred is indiscriminately called “medicine,” in the sense of mystery or magic.

As a doctor he was originally very adroit and often successful. He employed only
healing bark, roots, and leaves with whose properties he was familiar, using
them in the form of a distillation or tea and always singly. The stomach or
internal bath was a valuable discovery of his, and the vapor or Turkish bath was
in general

-75-

use. He could set a broken bone with fair success, but never practiced surgery
in any form. In addition to all this, the medicine-man possessed much personal
magnetism and authority, and in his treatment often sought to reestablish the
equilibrium of the patient through mental or spiritual influences — a sort of
primitive psychotherapy.

The Sioux word for the healing art is “wah-pee-yah,” which literally means
readjusting or making anew. “Pay-jee-hoo-tah,” literally root, means medicine,
and “wakan” signifies spirit or mystery. Thus the three ideas, while sometimes
associated, were carefully distinguished.

-76-

It is important to remember that in the old days the “medicine-man” received
no payment for his services, which were of the nature of an honorable functionn
or office. When the idea of payment and barter was introduced among us, and
valuable presents or fees began to be demanded for treating the sick, the
ensuing greed and rivalry led to many demoralizing practices, and in time to the
rise of the modern “conjurer,” who is generally a fraud and trickster of the
grossest kind. It is fortunate that his day is practically over.

Ever seeking to establish spiritual comradeship with the animal creation,

-77-

the Indian adopted this or that animal as his “totem,” the emblematic device of
his society, family, or clan. It is probable that the creature chosen was the
traditional ancestress, as we are told that the First Man had many wives among
the animal people. The sacred beast, bird, or reptile, represented by its
stuffed skin, or by a rude painting, was treated with reverence and carried into
battle to insure the guardianship of the spirits. The symbolic attribute of
beaver, bear, or tortoise, such as wisdom, cunning, courage, and the like, was
supposed to be mysteriously conferred upon the wearer of the badge. The totem or
charm used

-78-

in medicine was ordinarily that of the medicine lodge to which the practitioner
belonged, though there were some great men who boasted a special revelation.

There are two ceremonial usages which, so far as I have been able to
ascertain, were universal among American Indians, and apparently fundamental.

These have already been referred to as the “eneepee,” or vapor-bath, and the

“chan-du-hupah-za-pee,” or ceremonial of the pipe. In our Siouan legends and
traditions these two are preeminent, as handed down from the most ancient time
and persisting to the last.

-79-

In our Creation myth or story of the First Man, the vapor-bath was the magic
used by The-one-who-was-First-Created, to give life to the dead bones of his
younger brother, who had been slain by the monsters of the deep. Upon the shore
of the Great Water he dug two round holes, over one of which he built a low
enclosure of fragrant cedar boughs, and here he gathered together the bones of
his brother. In the other pit he made a fire and heated four round stones, which
he rolled one by one into the lodge of boughs. Having closed every aperture save
one, he sang a mystic chant while he thrust in his arm and

-80-

sprinkled water upon the stones with a bunch of sage. Immediately steam arose,
and as the legend says, “there was an appearance of life.” A second time he
sprinkled water, and the dry bones rattled together. The third time he seemed to
hear soft singing from within the lodge; and the fourth time a voice exclaimed:

“Brother, let me out!” (It should be noted that the number four is the magic or
sacred number of the Indian.)

This story gives the traditional origin of the “eneepee,” which has ever
since been deemed essential to the Indian’s effort to purify and recreate his
spirit. It is used both by

-81-

the doctor and by his patient. Every man must enter the cleansing bath and take
the cold plunge which follows, when preparing for any spiritual crisis, for
possible death, or imminent danger.

Not only the “eneepee” itself, but everything used in connection with the
mysterious event, the aromatic cedar and sage, the water, and especially the
water-worn boulders, are regarded as sacred, or at the least adapted to a
spiritual use. For the rock we have a special reverent name — “Tunkan,” a
contraction of the Sioux word for Grandfather.

The natural boulder enters into many of our solemn ceremonials,

-82-

such as the “Rain Dance,” and the “Feast of Virgins.” The lone hunter and
warrior reverently holds up his filled pipe to “Tunkan,” in solitary
commemoration of a miracle which to him is as authentic and holy as the raising
of Lazarus to the devout Christian.

There is a legend that the First Man fell sick, and was taught by his Elder

Brother the ceremonial use of the pipe, in a prayer to the spirits for ease and
relief. This simple ceremony is the commonest daily expression of thanks or

“grace,” as well as an oath of loyalty and good faith when the warrior goes
forth upon some perilous enterprise, and it

-83-

enters even into his “hambeday,” or solitary prayer, ascending as a rising vapor
or incense to the Father of Spirits.

In all the war ceremonies and in medicine a special pipe is used, but at home
or on the hunt the warrior employs his own. The pulverized weed is mixed with
aromatic bark of the red willow, and pressed lightly into the bowl of the long
stone pipe. The worshiper lights it gravely and takes a whiff or two; then,
standing erect, he holds it silently toward the Sun, our father, and toward the
earth, our mother. There are modern variations, as holding the pipe to the Four

Winds, the Fire, Water, Rock,

-86-

and other elements or objects of reverence.

There are many religious festivals which are local and special in character,
embodying a prayer for success in hunting or warfare, or for rain and bountiful
harvests, but these two are the sacraments of our religion. For baptism we
substitute the “eneepee,” the purification by vapor, and in our holy communion
we partake of the soothing incense of tobacco in the stead of bread and wine.

-87-

Chapter 4

IV. BARBARISM AND THE MORAL CODE

Silence the CornerStone of Character. Basic Ideas of Morality. “Give All or

Nothing!” Rules of Honorable Warfare. An Indian Conception of Courage.

LONG before I ever heard of Christ, or saw a white man, I had learned from an
untutored woman the essence of morality. With the help of dear Nature herself,
she taught me things simple but of mighty import. I knew God. I perceived what
goodness is. I saw and loved what is really beautiful. Civilization has not
taught me anything better!

-88-

As a child, I understood how to give; I have forgotten that grace since I
became civilized. I lived the natural life, whereas I now live the artificial.

Any pretty pebble was valuable to me then; every growing tree an object of
reverence. Now I worship with the white man before a painted landscape whose
value is estimated in dollars! Thus the Indian is reconstructed, as the natural
rocks are ground to powder, and made into artificial blocks which may be built
into the walls of modern society.

The first American mingled with his pride a singular humility. Spiritual
arrogance was foreign to his nature and teaching. He never claimed

-89-

that the power of articulate speech was proof of superiority over the dumb
creation; on the other hand, it is to him a perilous gift. He believes
profoundly in silence — the sign of a perfect equilibrium. Silence is the
absolute poise or balance of body, mind, and spirit. The man who preserves his
selfhood ever calm and unshaken by the storms of existence — not a leaf, as it
were, astir on the tree; not a ripple upon the surface of shining pool — his,
in the mind of the unlettered sage, is the ideal attitude and conduct of life.

If you ask him: “What is silence?” he will answer: “It is the Great Mystery!”

“The holy silence is His

-90-

voice!” If you ask: “What are the fruits of silence?” he will say: “They are
self-control, true courage or endurance, patience, dignity, and reverence.

Silence is the cornerstone of character.”

“Guard your tongue in youth,” said the old chief, Wabashaw, “and in age you
may mature a thought that will be of service to your people!”

The moment that man conceived of a perfect body, supple, symmetrical,
graceful, and enduring — in that moment he had laid the foundation of a moral
life! No man can hope to maintain such a temple of the spirit beyond the period
of adolescence, unless he is able to curb his

-91-

indulgence in the pleasures of the senses. Upon this truth the Indian built a
rigid system of physical training, a social and moral code that was the law of
his life.

There was aroused in him as a child a high ideal of manly strength and
beauty, the attainment of which must depend upon strict temperance in eating and
in the sexual relation, together with severe and persistent exercise. He desired
to be a worthy link in the generations, and that he might not destroy by his
weakness that vigor and purity of blood which had been achieved at the cost of
much self-denial by a long line of ancestors.

-92-

He was required to fast from time to time for short periods, and to work off
his superfluous energy by means of hard running, swimming, and the vapor-bath.

The bodily fatigue thus induced, especially when coupled with a reduced diet, is
a reliable cure for undue sexual desires.

Personal modesty was early cultivated as a safeguard, together with a strong
self-respect and pride of family and race. This was accomplished in part by
keeping the child ever before the public eye, from his birth onward. His
entrance into the world, especially in the case of the first-born, was often
publicly announced

-93-

by the herald, accompanied by a distribution of presents to the old and needy.

The same thing occurred when he took his first step, when his ears were pierced,
and when he shot his first game, so that his childish exploits and progress were
known to the whole clan as to a larger family, and he grew into manhood with the
saving sense of a reputation to sustain.

The youth was encouraged to enlist early in the public service, and to
develop a wholesome ambition for the honors of a leader and feastmaker, which
can never be his unless he is truthful and generous, as well as brave, and ever
mindful

-94-

of his personal chastity and honor. There were many ceremonial customs which had
a distinct moral influence; the woman was rigidly secluded at certain periods,
and the young husband was forbidden to approach his own wife when preparing for
war or for any religious event. The public or tribal position of the Indian is
entirely dependent his private virtue, and he is never permitted to forget that
he does not live to himself alone, but to his tribe and his clan. Thus habits of
perfect self-control were early established, and there were no unnatural
conditions or complex temptations to beset him until he was

-95-

met and overthrown by a stronger race.

To keep the young men and young women strictly to their honor, there were
observed among us, within my own recollection, certain annual ceremonies of a
semi-religious nature. One of the most impressive of these was the sacred “Feast
of Virgins,” which, when given for the first time, was equivalent to the public
announcement of a young girl’s arrival at a marriageable age. The herald, making
the rounds of the teepee village, would publish the feast something after this
fashion:

“Pretty Weasel-woman, the daughter Brave Bear, will kindle her

-96-

first maidens’ fire to-morrow! All ye who have never yielded to the pleading
man, who have not destroyed your innocency, you alone are invited to proclaim
anew before the Sun and the Earth, before your companions and in the sight of
the Great Mystery, the chastity and purity of your maidenhood. Come ye, all who
have not known man!”

The whole village was at once aroused to the interest of the coming event,
which was considered next to the Sun Dance and the Grand Medicine Dance in
public importance. It always took place in midsummer, when a number of different
clans were gathered together for the

-97-

summer festivities, and was held in the centre of the great circular encampment.

Here two circles were described, one within the other, about a rudely
heart-shaped rock which was touched with red paint, and upon either side of the
rock there were thrust into the ground a knife and two arrows. The inner circle
was for the maidens, and the outer one for their grandmothers or chaperones, who
were supposed to have passed the climacteric. Upon the outskirts of the feast
there was a great public gathering, in which order was kept by certain warriors
of highest reputation. Any man among the spectators might

-98-

approach and challenge any young woman whom he knew to be unworthy; if the
accuser failed to prove his charge, the warriors were accustomed to punish him
severely.

Each girl in turn approached the sacred rock and laid her hand upon it with
all solemnity. This was her religious declaration of her virginity, her vow to
remain pure until her marriage. If she should ever violate the maidens’ oath,
then welcome that keen knife and those sharp arrows!

Our maidens were ambitious to attend a number of these feasts before
marriage, and it sometimes happened that a girl was compelled to give one, on
account of gossip about

-99-

her conduct. Then it was in the nature of a challenge to the scandal-mongers to
prove their words! A similar feast was sometimes made by the young men, for whom
the rules were even more strict, since no young man might attend this feast who
had so much as spoken of love to a maiden. It was considered a high honor among
us to have won some distinction in war and the chase, and above all to have been
invited to a seat in the council, before one had spoken to any girl save his own
sister.

It was our belief that the love of possessions is a weakness to be overcome.

Its appeal is to the material

-100-

part, and if allowed its way it will in time disturb the spiritual balance of
the man. Therefore the child must early learn the beauty of generosity. He is
taught to give what he prizes most, and that he may taste the happiness of
giving, he is made at an early age the family almoner. If a child is inclined to
be grasping, or to cling to any of his little possessions, legends are related
to him, telling of the contempt and disgrace falling upon the ungenerous and
mean man.

Public giving is a part of every important ceremony. It properly belongs to
the celebration of birth, marriage, and death, and is observed

-101-

whenever it is desired to do special honor to any person or event. Upon such
occasions it is common to give to the point of utter impoverishment. The Indian
in his simplicity literally gives away all that he has, to relatives, to guests
of another tribe or clan, but above all to the poor and the aged, from whom he
can hope for no return. Finally, the gift to the “Great Mystery,” the religious
offering, may be of little value in itself, but to the giver’s own thought it
should carry the meaning and reward of true sacrifice.

Orphans and the aged are invariably cared for, not only by their next of kin,
but by the whole clan.

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It is the loving parent’s pride to have his daughters visit the unfortunate and
the helpless, carry them food, comb their hair, and mend their garments. The
name “Wenonah,” bestowed upon the eldest daughter, distinctly implies all this,
and a girl who failed in her charitable duties was held to be unworthy of the
name.

The man who is a skillful hunter, and whose wife is alive to her
opportunities makes many feasts, to which he is careful to invite the older men
of his clan, recognizing that they have outlived their period of greatest
activity, and now love nothing so well as to eat in good

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company, and to live over the past. The old men, for their part, do their best
to requite his liberality with a little speech, in which they are apt to relate
the brave and generous deeds of their host’s ancestors, finally congratulating
him upon being a worthy successor of an honorable line. Thus his reputation is
won as a hunter and a feastmaker, and almost as famous in his way as the great
warrior is he who has a recognized name and standing as a “man of peace.”

The true Indian sets no price upon either his property or his labor. His
generosity is only limited by his strength and ability. He regards it

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as an honor to be selected for a difficult or dangerous service, and would think
it shame to ask for any reward, saying rather: “Let him whom I serve express his
thanks according to his own bringing up and his sense of honor!”

Nevertheless, he recognizes rights in property. To steal from one of his own
tribe would be indeed disgrace if discovered, the name of “Wamanon,” or Thief,
is fixed upon him forever as an unalterable. The only exception to the rule is
in the case of food, which is always free to the hungry if there is none by to
offer it. Other protection than the moral law there

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could not be in an Indian community, where there were neither locks nor doors,
and everything was open and easy of access to all comers.

The property of the enemy is spoil of war, and it is always allowable to
confiscate it if possible. However, in the old days there was not much plunder.

Before the coming of the white man, there was in fact little temptation or
opportunity to despoil the enemy; but in modern times the practice of “stealing
horses” from hostile tribes has become common, and is thought far from
dishonorable.

Warfare we regarded as an institution the “Great Mystery” — an

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organized tournament or trial of courage and skill, with elaborate rules and

“counts” for the coveted honor of the eagle feather. It was held to develop the
quality of manliness and its motive was chivalric or patriotic, but never the
desire for territorial aggrandizement or the overthrow of a brother nation. It
was common, in early times, for a battle or skirmish to last all day, with great
display of daring and horsemanship with scarcely more killed and wounded than
may be carried from the field during a university game of football.

The slayer of a man in battle was expected to mourn for thirty days,

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blackening his face and loosening his hair according to the custom. He of course
considered it no sin to take the life of an enemy, and this ceremonial mourning
was a sign of reverence for the departed spirit. The killing in war of
non-combatants, such as women and children, is partly explained by the fact that
in savage life the woman without husband or protector is in pitiable case, and
it was supposed that the spirit of the warrior would be better content if no
widow and orphans were left to suffer want, as well as to weep.

A scalp might originally be taken by the leader of the war party only,

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and at that period no other mutilation was practiced. It was a small lock not
more than three inches square, which was carried only during the thirty days’

celebration of a victory, and afterward given religious burial. Wanton cruelties
and the more barbarous customs of war were greatly intensified with the coming
of the white man, who brought with him fiery liquor and deadly weapons, aroused
the Indian’s worst passions, provoking in him revenge and cupidity, and even
offered bounties for the scalps of innocent men, women, and children.

Murder within the tribe was a grave offense, to be atoned for as the

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council might decree, and it often happened that the slayer was called upon to
pay the penalty with his own life. He made no attempt to escape or to evade
justice. That the crime was committed in the depths of the forest or at dead of
night, witnessed by no human eye, made no difference to his mind. He was
thoroughly convinced that all is known to the “Great Mystery,” and hence did not
hesitate to give himself up, to stand his trial by the old and wise men of the
victim’s clan. His own family and clan might by no means attempt to excuse or to
defend him, but his judges took all the known circumstances into

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consideration, and if it appeared that he slew in self-defense, or that the
provocation was severe, he might be set free after a thirty days’ period of
mourning in solitude. Otherwise the murdered man’s next of kin were authorized
to take his life; and if they refrained from doing so, as often happened, he
remained an outcast from the clan. A willful murder was a rare occurrence before
the days of whiskey and drunken rows, for we were not a violent or a quarrelsome
people.

It is well remembered that Crow Dog, who killed the Sioux chief, Spotted

Tail, in 1881, calmly surrendered himself and was tried and

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convicted by the courts in South Dakota. After his conviction, he was permitted
remarkable liberty in prison, such as perhaps no white man has ever enjoyed when
under sentence of death.

The cause of his act was a solemn commission received from his people, nearly
thirty years earlier, at the time that Spotted Tail usurped the chieftainship by
the aid of the military, whom he had aided. Crow Dog was under a vow to slay the
chief, in case he ever betrayed or disgraced the name of the Brule Sioux. There
is no doubt that he had committed crimes both public and private, having been
guilty of

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misuse of office as well as of gross offenses against morality; therefore his
death was not a matter of personal vengeance but of just retribution

A few days before Crow Dog was to be executed, he asked permission to visit
his home and say farewell to his wife and twin boys, then nine or ten years old.

Strange to say, the request was granted, and the condemned man sent home under
escort of the deputy sheriff, who remained at the Indian agency, merely telling
his prisoner to report there on the following day. When he did not appear the
time set, the sheriff dispatched Indian police after him.

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They did not find him, and his wife simply said that Crow Dog had desired to
ride alone to the prison, and would reach there on the day appointed. All doubt
was removed next day by a telegram from Rapid City, two hundred miles distant,
saying Crow Dog has just reported here.”

The incident drew public attention to the Indian murderer, with the
unexpected result that the case was reopened, and Crow Dog acquitted. He still
lives, a well-preserved man of about seventy-five years, and is much respected
among his own people.

It is said that, in the very early

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days, lying was a capital offense among us. Believing that the deliberate liar
is capable of committing any crime behind the screen of cowardly untruth and
double-dealing, the destroyer of mutual confidence was summarily put to death,
that the evil might go no further.

Even the worst enemies of the Indian, those who accuse him of treachery,
blood-thirstiness, cruelty, and lust, have not denied his courage but in their
minds it is a courage is ignorant, brutal, and fantastic. His own conception of
bravery makes of it a high moral virtue, for to him it consists not so much in
aggressive self-assertion as

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in absolute self-control. The truly brave man, we contend, yields neither to
fear nor anger, desire nor agony; he is at all times master of himself; his
courage rises to the heights of chivalry, patriotism, and real heroism.

“Let neither cold, hunger, nor pain, nor the fear of them, neither the
bristling teeth of danger nor the very jaws of death itself, prevent you from
doing a good deed,” said an old chief to a scout who was about to seek the
buffalo in midwinter for the relief of a starving people. This was his childlike
conception of courage.

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Chapter 5

V. THE UNWRITTEN SCRIPTURES

A Living Book. The Sioux Story of Creation. The First Battle. Another Version
of the Flood. Our Animal Ancestry.

A MISSIONARY once undertook to instruct a group of Indians in the truths of
his holy religion. He told them of the creation of the earth in six days, and of
the fall of our first parents by eating an apple.

The courteous savages listened attentively, and after thanking him, one
related in his turn a very ancient tradition concerning the origin of the maize.

But the missionary

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plainly showed his disgust and disbelief, indignantly saying: — “What I
delivered to you were sacred truths, but this that you tell me is mere fable and
falsehood!”

“My brother,” gravely replied the offended Indian, “it seems that you have
not been well grounded in the rules of civility. You saw that we, who practice
these rules, believed your stories; why, then, do you refuse to credit ours?”

Every religion has its Holy Book, and ours was a mingling of history, poetry,
and prophecy, of precept and folk-lore, even such as the modern reader finds
within the covers of his Bible. This Bible of ours was

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our whole literature, a living Book, sowed as precious seed by our wisest sages,
and springing anew in the wondering eyes and upon the innocent lips of little
children. Upon its hoary wisdom of proverb and fable, its mystic and legendary
lore thus sacredly preserved and transmitted from father to son, was based in
large part our customs and philosophy.

Naturally magnanimous and open-minded, the red man prefers to believe that
the Spirit of God is not breathed into man alone, but that the whole created
universe is a sharer in the immortal perfection of its Maker. His imaginative
and poetic mind, like that of the Greek, assigns to

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every mountain, tree, and spring its spirit, nymph, or divinity either
beneficent or mischievous. The heroes and demigods of Indian tradition reflect
the characteristic trend of his thought, and his attribution of personality and
will to the elements, the sun and stars, and all animate or inanimate nature.

In the Sioux story of creation, the great Mysterious One is not brought
directly upon the scene or conceived in anthropomorphic fashion, but remains
sublimely in the background. The Sun and the Earth, representing the male and
female principles, are the main elements in his creation, the other planets
being subsidiary.

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The enkindling warmth of the Sun entered into the bosom of our mother, the

Earth, and forthwith she conceived and brought forth life, both vegetable and
animal.

Finally there appeared mysteriously Ish-na-e-cha-ge, the “First-Born,” a
being in the likeness of man, yet more than man, who roamed solitary among the
animal people and understood their ways and their language. They beheld him with
wonder and awe, for they could do nothing without his knowledge. He had pitched
his tent in the centre of the land, and there was no spot impossible for him to
penetrate.

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At last, like Adam, the “First-Born” of the Sioux became weary of living
alone, and formed for himself a companion — not a mate, but a brother — not
out of a rib from his side, but from a splinter which he drew from his great
toe! This was the Little Boy Man, who was not created full-grown, but as an
innocent child, trusting and helpless. His Elder Brother was his teacher
throughout every stage of human progress from infancy to manhood, and it is to
the rules which he laid down, and his counsels to the Little Boy Man, that we
trace many of our most deep-rooted beliefs and most sacred customs.

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Foremost among the animal people was Unk-to-mee, the Spider, the original
trouble-maker, who noted keenly the growth of the boy in wit and ingenuity, and
presently advised the animals to make an end of him; “for,” said he, “if you do
not, some day he will be the master of us all!” But they all loved the Little

Boy Man because he was so friendly and so playful. Only the monsters of the deep
sea listened, and presently took his life, hiding his body in the bottom of the
sea. Nevertheless, by the magic power of the First-Born, the body was recovered
and was given life again in the sacred vapor-bath, as described in a former
chapter.

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Once more our first ancestor roamed happily among the animal people, who were
in those days a powerful nation. He learned their ways and their language — for
they had a common tongue in those days; learned to sing like the birds, to swim
like the fishes, and to climb sure-footed over rocks like the mountain sheep.

Notwithstanding that he was their good comrade and did them no harm, Unk-to-mee
once more sowed dissension among the animals, and messages were sent into all
quarters of the earth, sea, and air, that all the tribes might unite to declare
war upon the solitary man who was destined to become their master.

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After a time the young man discovered the plot, and came home very sorrowful.

He loved his animal friends, and was grieved that they should combine against
him. Besides, he was naked and unarmed. But his Elder Brother armed him with a
bow and flint-headed arrows, a stone war-club and a spear. He likewise tossed a
pebble four times into the air, and each time it became a cliff or wall of rock
about the teepee.

“Now,” said he, “it is time to fight and to assert your supremacy, for it is
they who have brought the trouble upon you, and not you upon them!”

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Night and day the Little Boy Man remained upon the watch for his enemies from
the top of the wall, and at last he beheld the prairies black with buffalo
herds, and the elk gathering upon the edges of the forest. Bears and wolves were
closing in from all directions, and now from the sky the Thunder gave his
fearful war-whoop, answered by the wolf’s long howl.

The badgers and other burrowers began at once to undermine his rocky
fortress, while the climbers undertook to scale its perpendicular walls.

Then for the first time on earth the bow was strung, and hundreds

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of flint-headed arrows found their mark in the bodies of the animals, while each
time that the Boy Man swung his stone war-club, his enemies fell in countless
numbers.

Finally the insects, the little people of the air, attacked him in a body,
filling his eyes and ears, and tormenting him with their poisoned spears, so
that he was in despair. He called for help upon his Elder Brother, who ordered
him to strike the rocks with his stone war-club. As soon as he had done so,
sparks of fire flew upon the dry grass of the prairie and it burst into flame. A
mighty smoke ascended, which drove away the teasing swarms of

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the insect people, while the flames terrified and scattered the others.

This was the first dividing of the trail between man and the animal people,
and when the animals had sued for peace, the treaty provided that they must ever
after furnish man with flesh for his food and skins for clothing, though not
without effort and danger on his part. The little insects refused to make any
concession, and have ever since been the tormentors of man; however, the birds
of the air declared that they would punish them for their obstinacy, and this
they continue to do unto this day.

Our people have always claimed

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that the stone arrows which are found so generally throughout the country are
the ones that the first man used in his battle with the animals. It is not
recorded in our traditions, much less is it within the memory of our old men,
that we have ever made or used similar arrowheads. Some have tried to make use
of them for shooting fish under water, but with little success, and they are
absolutely useless with the Indian bow which was in use when America was
discovered. It is possible that they were made by some pre-historic race who
used much longer and stronger bows, and who were workers in stone, which our

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people were not. Their stone implements were merely natural boulders or flint
chips, fitted with handles of rawhide or wood, except the pipes, which were
carved from a species of stone which is soft when first quarried, and therefore
easily worked with the most primitive tools. Practically all the flint
arrowheads that we see in museums and elsewhere were picked up or ploughed up,
while some have been dishonestly sold by trafficking Indians and others,
embedded in trees and bones.

We had neither devil nor hell in our religion until the white man brought
them to us, yet Unk-to-mee, the Spider, was doubtless akin

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to that old Serpent who tempted mother Eve. He is always characterized as
tricky, treacherous, and at the same time affable and charming, being not
without the gifts of wit, prophecy, and eloquence. He is an adroit magician,
able to assume almost any form at will, and impervious to any amount of ridicule
and insult. Here we have, it appears, the elements of the story in Genesis; the
primal Eden, the tempter in animal form, and the bringing of sorrow and death
upon earth through the elemental sins of envy and jealousy.

The warning conveyed in the story of Unk-to-mee was ever used

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with success by Indian parents, and especially grandparents, in the instruction
of their children. Ish-na-e-cha-ge, on the other hand, was a demigod and
mysterious teacher, whose function it was to initiate the first man into his
tasks and pleasures here on earth.

After the battle with the animals, there followed a battle with the elements,
which in some measure parallels the Old Testament story of the flood. In this
case, the purpose seems to have been to destroy the wicked animal people, who
were too many and too strong for the lone man.

The legend tells us that when fall came, the First-Born advised his

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younger brother to make for himself a warm tent of buffalo skins, and to store
up much food. No sooner had he done this than it began to snow, and the snow
fell steadily during many moons. The Little Boy Man made for himself snow-shoes,
and was thus enabled to hunt easily, while the animals fled from him with
difficulty. Finally wolves, foxes, and ravens came to his door to beg for food,
and he helped them, but many of the fiercer wild animals died of cold and
starvation.

One day, when the hungry ones appeared, the snow was higher than the tops of
the teepee poles, but the Little Boy Man’s fire kept a hole

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open and clear. Down this hole they peered, and lo! the man had rubbed ashes on
his face by the advice of his Elder Brother, and they both lay silent and
motionless on either side of the fire.

Then the fox barked and the raven cawed his signal to the wandering tribes,
and they all rejoiced and said: “Now they are both dying or dead, and we shall
have no more trouble!” But the sun appeared, and a warm wind melted the
snow-banks, so that the land was full of water. The young man and his Teacher
made a birch-bark canoe, which floated upon the surface of the flood, while of
the

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animals there were saved only a few, who had found a foothold upon the highest
peaks.

The youth had now passed triumphantly through the various ordeals of his
manhood. One day his Elder Brother spoke to him and said: “You have now
conquered the animal people, and withstood the force of the elements. You have
subdued the earth to your will, and still you are alone! It is time to go forth
and find a woman whom you can love, and by whose help you may reproduce your
kind.”

“But how am I to do this?” replied the first man, who was only an
inexperienced boy. “I am here

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alone, as you say, and I know not where to find a woman or a mate!”

“Go forth and seek her,” replied the Great Teacher; and forthwith the youth
set out on his wanderings in search of a wife. He had no idea how to make love,
so that the first courtship was done by the pretty and coquettish maidens of the

Bird, Beaver, and Bear tribes. There are some touching and whimsical love
stories which the rich imagination of the Indian has woven into this old legend.

It is said, for example, that at his first camp he had built for himself a
lodge of green boughs in the midst of the forest, and that there his

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reverie was interrupted by a voice from the wilderness — a voice that was
irresistibly and profoundly sweet. In some mysterious way, the soul of the young
man was touched as it had never been before, for this call of exquisite
tenderness and allurement was the voice of the eternal woman!

Presently a charming little girl stood timidly at the door of his pine-bough
wigwam. She was modestly dressed in gray, with a touch of jet about her pretty
face, and she carried a basket of wild cherries which she shyly offered to the
young man. So the rover was subdued, and love turned loose upon the world to
upbuild and to destroy! When at last

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she left him, he peeped through the door after her, but saw only a robin, with
head turned archly to one side, fluttering away among the trees.

His next camp was beside a clear, running stream, where a plump and
industrious maid was busily at work chopping wood. He fell promptly in love with
her also, and for some time they lived together in her cosy house by the
waterside. After their boy was born, the wanderer wished very much to go back to
his Elder Brother and to show him his wife and child. But the beaver-woman
refused to go, so at last he went alone for a short visit. When he returned,
there was only a trickle

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of water beside the broken dam, the beautiful home was left desolate, and wife
and child were gone forever!

The deserted husband sat alone upon the bank, sleepless and faint with grief,
until he was consoled by a comely young woman in glossy black, who took
compassion upon his distress and soothed him with food and loving attentions.

This was the bear-woman, from whom again he was afterward separated by some
mishap. The story goes that he had children by each of his many wives, some of
whom resembled their father, and these became the ancestors of the human race,
while

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those who bore the characteristics of their mother returned to her clan. It is
also said that such as were abnormal or monstrous in form were forbidden to
reproduce their kind, and all love and mating between man and the animal
creation was from that time forth strictly prohibited. There are some curious
traditions of young men and maidens who transgressed this law unknowingly, being
seduced and deceived by a magnificent buck deer, perhaps, or a graceful doe, and
whose fall was punished with death.

The animal totems so general among the tribes were said to have descended to
them from their great-grandmother’s

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clan, and the legend was often quoted in support of our close friendship with
the animal people. I have sometimes wondered why the scientific doctrine of
man’s descent has not in the same way apparently increased the white man’s
respect for these our humbler kin.

Of the many later heroes or Hiawathas who appear in this voluminous unwritten
book of ours, each introduced an epoch in the long story of man and his
environment. There is, for example, the Avenger of the Innocent, who sprang from
a clot of blood; the ragged little boy who won fame and a wife by

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shooting the Red Eagle of fateful omen; and the Star Boy, who was the off-spring
of a mortal maiden and a Star.

It was this last who fought for man against his strongest enemies, such as

Wazeeyah, the Cold or North-Wind. There was a desperate battle between these
two, in which first one had the advantage and then the other, until both were
exhausted and declared a truce. While he rested, Star Boy continued to fan
himself with his great fan of eagle feathers, and the snow melted so fast that

North-Wind was forced to arrange a treaty of peace, by which he was only to
control one half

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the year. So it was that the orderly march of the seasons was established, and
every year Star Boy with his fan of eagle feathers sets in motion the warm winds
that usher in the spring.

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Chapter 6

VI. ON THE BORDER-LAND OF SPIRITS

Death and Funeral Customs. The Sacred Lock of Hair. Reincarnation and the

Converse of Spirits. Occult and Psychic Powers. The Gift of Prophecy.

THE attitude of the Indian toward death, the test and background of life, is
entirely consistent with his character and philosophy. Death has no terrors for
him; he meets it with simplicity and perfect calm, seeking only an honorable end
as his last gift to his family and descendants. Therefore, he courts death in
battle; on the other hand, he would

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regard it as disgraceful to be killed in a private quarrel. If one be dying at
home, it is customary to carry his bed out of doors as the end approaches, that
his spirit may pass under the open sky.

Next to this, the matter that concerns him most is the parting with his dear
ones, especially if he have any little children who must be left behind to
suffer want. His family affections are strong, and he grieves intensely for the
lost, even though he has unbounded faith in a spiritual companionship.

The outward signs of mourning for the dead are far more spontaneous and
convincing than is the correct

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and well-ordered black of civilization men and women among us loosen their hair
and cut it according to the degree of relationship or of devotion. Consistent
with the idea of sacrificing all personal beauty and adornment, they trim off
likewise from the dress its fringes and ornaments, perhaps cut it short, or cut
the robe or blanket in two. The men blacken their faces, and widows or bereaved
parents sometimes gash their arms and legs till they are covered with blood.

Giving themselves up wholly to their grief, they are no longer concerned about
any earthly possession, and often give away all that they

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have to the first comers, even to their beds and their home. Finally, the
wailing for the dead is continued night and day to the point of utter
voicelessness; a musical, weird, and heart-piercing sound, which has been
compared to the, “keening” of the Celtic mourner.

The old-time burial of the Plains Indians was upon a scaffold of poles, or a
platform among the boughs of a tree — their only means of placing the body out
of reach of wild beasts, as they had no implements with which to dig a suitable
grave. It was prepared by dressing in the finest clothes, together with some
personal possessions and ornaments, wrapped

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in several robes, and finally in a secure covering of rawhide. As a special
mark of respect, the body of a young woman or a warrior was sometimes laid out
in state in a new teepee, with the usual household articles and even with a dish
of food left beside it, not that they supposed the spirit could use the
implements or eat the food but merely as a last tribute. Then the whole people
would break camp and depart to a distance, leaving the dead alone in an
honorable solitude.

There was no prescribed ceremony of burial, though the body was carried out
with more or less solemnity by selected young men,

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and sometimes noted warriors were the pall-bearers of a man of distinction. It
was usual to choose a prominent with a commanding outlook for the last
resting-place of our dead. If a man were slain in battle, it was an old custom
to place his body against a tree or rock in a sitting position, always facing
the enemy, to indicate his undaunted defiance and bravery, even in death.

I recall a touching custom among us, which was designed to keep the memory of
the departed near and warm in the bereaved household. A lock of hair of the
beloved dead was wrapped in pretty clothing, such as it was supposed that he or
she

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would like to wear if living. This “spirit bundle,” as it was called, was
suspended from a tripod, and occupied a certain place in the lodge which was the
place of honor. At every meal time, a dish of food was placed under it, and some
person of the same sex and age as the one who was gone must afterward be invited
in to partake of the food. At the end of a year from the time of death, the
relatives made a public feast and gave away the clothing and other gifts, while
the lock of hair was interred with appropriate ceremonies.

Certainly the Indian never doubted the immortal nature of the spirit or soul
of man, but neither did he care

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to speculate upon its probable state or condition in a future life. The idea of
a “happy hunting-ground” is modern and probably borrowed, or invented by the
white man. The primitive Indian was content to believe that the spirit which the

“Great Mystery” breathed into man returns to Him who gave it, and that after it
is freed from the body, it is everywhere and pervades all nature, yet often
lingers near the grave or “spirit bundle” for the consolation of friends, and is
able to hear prayers. So much of reverence was due the disembodied spirit, that
it was not customary with us even to name the dead aloud.

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It is well known that the American Indian had somehow developed occult power,
and although in the latter days there have been many impostors, and, allowing
for the vanity and weakness of human nature, it is fair to assume that there
must have been some even in the old days, yet there are well-attested instances
of remarkable prophecies and other mystic practice.

A Sioux prophet predicted the coming of the white man fully fifty years
before the event, and even described accurately his garments and weapons. Before
the steamboat was invented, another prophet of our race described the “Fire

Boat” that

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would swim upon their mighty river, the Mississippi, and the date of this
prophecy is attested by the term used, which is long since obsolete. No doubt,
many predictions have been colored to suit the new age, and unquestionably false
prophets, fakirs, and conjurers have become the pest of the tribes during the
transition period. Nevertheless, even during this period there was here and
there a man of the old type who was implicitly believed in to the last.

Notable among these was Ta-chank-pee Ho-tank-a, or His War Club Speaks Loud,
who foretold a year in advance the details of a great war-party against the

Ojibways.

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There were to be seven battles, all successful except the last, in which the

Sioux were to be taken at a disadvantage and suffer crushing defeat. This was
carried out to the letter. Our people surprised and slew many of the Ojibways in
their villages, but in turn were followed and cunningly led into an ambush
whence but few came out alive. This was only one of his remarkable prophecies.

Another famous “medicine-man” was born on the Rum River about one hundred and
fifty years ago, and lived to be over a century old. He was born during a
desperate battle with the Ojibways, at a moment

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when, as it seemed, the band of Sioux engaged were to be annihilated. Therefore
the child’s grandmother exclaimed: “Since we are all to perish, let him die a
warrior’s death in the field!” and she placed his cradle under fire, near the
spot where his uncle and grandfathers were fighting, for he had no father. But
when an old man discovered the new-born child, he commanded the women to take
care of him, “for,” said he, “we know not how precious the strength of even one
warrior may some day become to his nation!”

This child lived to become great among us, as was intimated to the

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superstitious by the circumstances of his birth. At the age of about
seventy-five years, he saved his band from utter destruction at the hands of
their ancestral enemies, by suddenly giving warning received in a dream of the
approach of a large war-party. The men immediately sent out scouts, and felled
trees for a stockade, barely in time to meet and repel the predicted attack.

Five years later, he repeated the service, and again saved his people from awful
slaughter. There was no confusion of figures or omens, as with lesser
medicine-men, but in every incident that is told of him his interpretation of
the sign, whatever

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it was, proved singularly correct.

The father of Little Crow, the chief who led the “Minnesota massacre” of

1862, was another prophet of some note. One of his characteristic prophecies was
made only a few years before he died, when he had declared that, although
already an old man, he would go once more upon the war-path. At the final
war-feast, he declared that three of the enemy would be slain, but he showed
great distress and reluctance in foretelling that he would lose two of his own
men. Three of the Ojibways were indeed slain as he had said, but in the battle
the

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old war prophet lost both of his two sons.

There are many trustworthy men, and men of Christian faith, to vouch for
these and similar events occurring foretold. I cannot pretend to explain them,
but I know that our people possessed remarkable powers of concentration and
abstraction. I sometimes fancy that such nearness to nature as I have described
keeps the spirit sensitive to impressions not commonly felt, and in touch with
the unseen powers. Some of us seemed to have a peculiar intuition for the
locality of a grave, which they explained by saying they had received a
communication

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from the spirit of the departed. My own grandmother was one of these, and as far
back as I can remember, when camping in a strange country, my brother and I
would search for and find human bones at the spot she had indicated to us as an
ancient burial-place or the spot where a lone warrior had fallen. Of course, the
outward signs of burial had been long since obliterated.

The Scotch would certainly have declared that she had the “second sight,” for
she had other remarkable premonitions or intuitions within my own recollection.

I have heard her speak of a peculiar sensation

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in the breast, by which, as she said, she was advised of anything of importance
concerning her absent children. Other native women have claimed a similar
monitor, but I never heard of one who could interpret with such accuracy. We
were once camping on Lake Manitoba we received news that my uncle and his family
had been murdered several weeks before, at a fort some two hundred miles
distant. While all our clan were wailing mourning their loss, my grandmother
calmly bade them cease, saying that her son was approaching that they would see
him shortly. Although we had no

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other reason to doubt the ill tidings, it is a fact that my uncle came into camp
two days after his reported death.

At another time, when I was fourteen years old, we had just left Fort Ellis
on the Assiniboine River, and my youngest uncle had selected a fine spot for our
night camp. It was already after sundown, but my grandmother became
unaccountably nervous, and positively refused to pitch her tent. So we
reluctantly went on down the river, and camped after dark at a secluded place.

The next day we learned that a family who were following close behind had
stopped at the place first selected

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by my uncle, but were surprised in the night by a roving war-party, and
massacred to a man. This incident made a great impression upon our people.

Many of the Indians believed that one may be born more than once, and there
were some who claimed to have full knowledge of a former incarnation. There were
also those who held converse with a “twin spirit,” who had been born into
another tribe or race. There was a well-known Sioux war-prophet who lived in the
middle of the last century, so that he is still remembered by the old men of his
band. After he had reached middle age, he declared that

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he had a spirit brother among the Ojibways, the ancestral enemies of the Sioux.

He even named the band to which his brother belonged, and said that he also was
a war-prophet among his people.

Upon one of their hunts along the border between the two tribes, the Sioux
leader one evening called his warriors together, and solemnly declared to them
that they were about to meet a like band of Ojibway hunters, led by his spirit
twin. Since this was to be their first meeting since they were born as
strangers, he earnestly begged the young men to resist the temptation to join
battle with their tribal foes.

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“You will know him at once,” the prophet said to them, “for he will not only
look like me in face and form, but he will display the same totem, and even sing
my war songs!”

They sent out scouts, who soon returned with news of the approaching party.

Then the leading men started with their peace-pipe for the Ojibway camp, and
when they were near at hand they fired three distinct volleys, a signal of their
desire for a peaceful meeting.

The response came in like manner, and they entered the camp, with the
peace-pipe in the hands of the prophet.

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Lo, the stranger prophet advanced to meet them, and the people were greatly
struck with the resemblance between the two men, who met and embraced one
another with unusual fervor.

It was quickly agreed by both parties that they should camp together for
several days, and one evening the Sioux made a “warriors’ feast” to which they
invited many of the Ojibways. The prophet asked his twin brother to sing one of
his sacred songs, and behold! it was the very song that he himself was wont to
sing. This proved to the warriors beyond doubt or cavil the claims of their
seer.

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Such are the beliefs in which I was reared — the secret ideals which have
nourished in the American Indian a unique character among the peoples of the
earth. Its simplicity, its reverence, its bravery and uprightness must be left
to make their own appeal to the American of to-day, who is the inheritor of our
homes, our names, and our traditions. Since there is nothing left us but
remembrance, at least let that remembrance be just!

Table of Contents

- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6