Indian Tribes of the Upper Missouri 65

Indian Tribes of the Upper Missouri 65

MYTH TELLING

 

As has been several times mentioned in these pages, one of the

principal ways of passing time at night in an Indian camp is the

recital of fables for their amusement. Most old men and women can

recount these stories, but there are some particularly famed for their

talents in this respect, and these are compensated for their trouble

by feasting, smoking, and small presents. At night, when all work is

over, a kettle is put on containing some choice meat, tobacco mixed

with weed prepared, the lodge put in order, the family collected, and

the story-teller invited, who often prolongs his narrations the greater

part of the night. Some of the tales are of a frightful kind, and to

their impression on young minds is no doubt mainly to be attributed

the fear of ghost monsters and other imaginary supernatural powers

exhibited by most Indians when grown.

 

We have taken some pains to call together a few of the most famed and

sensible story-tellers and listened with much patience to a great many

of their allegories, but find nothing in any of them bearing on their

ideas of a future state.[55] The circumstances and actors portrayed

do not reveal the actual notions of the tribe on their religion as it

now exists but are founded on their ancient mythology and handed down

complete in their details through successive generations, and their

real significance, if they ever had any further than amusement, is now

lost or absorbed in their manner of worship as referred to in these

pages.

 

[55] This inference on the part of Denig indicates that he was not

cognizant of the facts, poetically expressed, conveyed by native

Indian myths, and so he reached the false conclusion that all myths

are no more nor less than simple fictions, when, in fact, except in

their verbal dress, they are true. He failed to interpret rightly the

metaphorical diction.

 

Nevertheless, we can discern in them a probability of their being the

real belief of their ancestors in their primitive ignorance, before

their superstitions and religions had assumed a systematic form and

tangible shape. This much may be inferred by the tacit acknowledgment

of their truth apparent in the auditors and the unwillingness evinced

by all to hear them ridiculed or contradicted. We think the truth of

the matter is these tales were believed and formed a portion if not the

greater part of the religion of their ancestors, are reverenced for

their antiquity and originality, together with a lingering uncertainty

as to their having actually transpired in times long passed. This may

be deduced from the evident veneration with which some of them are

regarded, and from the fact that there are no new fables made at the

present day, nor any one who possesses or professes the character of

a myth maker. These stories are not added to or diminished, for if in

the telling the least circumstance be omitted the narrator is reminded

of the error and corrects it. In none of them is the creation of

animals or other objects, animate or inanimate, reasonably attempted,

though such things are alluded to in many absurd forms and grotesque

imaginings according with the general tenor of the tale. These, though

often trifling in their details, present a connected chain of events

and often contain a kind of moral, that is, a double meaning as

observed in the one relating to the formation of the Ursa Major and

Polar Star, before inserted.

 

None of these serve to demonstrate to the young the power and ubiquity

of Wakoñda.[56] This awful principle is too much feared to be lightly

introduced in common conversation or connected with amusing tales,

though inferior demons and minor supernatural powers with a great

variety of figures of the imagination, such as monsters, ghosts,

giants, beasts with reasoning powers, transformation, and works of

necromancy, are represented.

 

[56] This statement is highly questionable, since these Indians show a

deep reverence for Wakoñda, the highest God of their pantheon, as may

be learned from various passages in Denig’s own report.

 

There does not appear to be much useful instruction conveyed by any of

these oral tales, but they are resorted to as a source of amusement.

Stories related by us to them from books, such as the fables of Æsop or

those from the “Arabian Nights,” are listened to with great attention

and sought after as eagerly as their own fiction. Moreover, they can,

when these fables are plainly narrated, not only comprehend the literal

meaning but appreciate the moral when it is pointed, not in its moral

sense but as a necessary conclusion arising from the circumstances

related. The only objection to recording many of these tales is their

interminable length, one frequently occupying two or three hours in

its recital. So remarkably long are they that the auditors are apt to

become sleepy, and the narrator, if not responded to occasionally to

convince him of their attention, breaks off and abruptly takes his

leave. We now subjoin some of these stories that may serve to show

the scope of imagination involved and that others may form their own

opinions regarding their interest and utility.

 

 

FABLES

 

RELATED BY “THE EAR RINGS OF DOG’S TEETH,” AN OLD ASSINIBOIN

 

A long time ago there lived a great chief of a powerful nation, but

he was a fearful and desperate man. He had killed six of his wives at

different times in fits of passion, and at the time of our story had

separated from his people, being jealous of his wife, and placed his

lodge alone on the bank of a small stream. His family consisted of

his wife, a boy say 12 years old, and a girl about 10 years, both his

children by the woman now with him. The man went out hunting, and the

game being far off did not return for several days. In the meantime

the woman continued her domestic duties at home. Being in the timber

in quest of wood, she struck her ax on a hollow tree and a great

many snakes came forth, one of which[57] was large and handsome, had

a fascinating eye and horns upon his head, spoke sweet words to the

woman, and in the end succeeded in seducing her. Her husband returned

and inquired of her “What had become of the paint on her face, which

he put there before starting?” She made some hesitating answer and he

suspected all was not right and determined to watch. In the course of

a few days he gave out that he was again going hunting and might be

absent some time, as he had not yet seen game. He as usual painted

his wife’s face and departed. In place of going to hunt he hid in the

bushes to watch his wife, who made her visits to the snake’s nest,

striking on the tree and calling on the horned snake in terms of

endearment to come forth. The snake came out, and the husband witnessed

the infidelity of his wife.

 

[57] The Fire Dragon or Mateor—Son of the gods.

 

He remained a day or two near the place, and each day observed his

wife to repair to the snake’s den for like purposes. He then returned

home. She was absent, but returned in a short time. “My wife,” said he,

“I have killed a deer some distance off; go and get the meat.” After

having received instructions as to where the meat was to be found, the

woman departed with her dogs to bring it. In the meantime her husband

went into the bushes, struck with his battle ax on the snake’s house,

saying, “My husband, come forth,” imitating the voice of his wife. The

reptile sallied out with all his family and the Indian destroyed them

all with his battle ax. Gathering up the snakes, he carried them home

and cooked them by boiling them to a jelly. His wife returned without

finding any meat (as indeed there was none), and found her husband

sitting down sharpening a huge flint ax. He invited her to sit down,

and observing that she must be hungry after such a long travel, poured

into a bowl the mess of snakes, which he handed to his wife, who,

thinking it was some other kind of meat, ate the whole. After she had

feasted, the man said, “You have eaten your beloved husband, the snake,

and now you shall follow him.” He rose up and cut her head off at one

stroke of his sharp ax. A storm arose, the wind blew, the thunder

rolled, and the man disappeared in a whirlwind of dust and was caught

up in the air. The children, much frightened at all this, ran out of

the lodge over the prairie, never ceasing their speed until they were

at some distance.

 

On stopping to rest themselves they looked back and beheld the Head of

their mother rolling after them, calling on them to stop.[58]

 

[58] The Whirlwind that took up her husband.

 

This frightened them more and they continued their flight. The Head

rolling after them was now very near and the children were very tired.

The boy threw his knife behind him and immediately the prairie was

bristling with knives, through which the Head on endeavoring to pass

was cut in a dreadful manner, and stopped in its course. The children

continued their way. A fox came to where the Head lay, and the Head

said, “My friend, I am in want of a husband, will you marry me?” “You

are too ugly,” replied the fox and disappeared into his hole. The Head

followed the fox, who being afraid of it, when he arrived at the end

of the burrow commenced digging farther in great haste, the Head still

following and calling on the fox to stop. But the animal dug very

fast, and finding he could not escape from the Head in this way came

out to the surface of the earth near where the children were. The Head

also came out and, perceiving them, rolled after them, coaxing them to

stop, but they ran forward until they arrived at the top of a hill.

The little girl said, “My brother, I am tired, throw something else

behind you, the Head is close upon us.” He threw his awl and up rose

innumerable awls on the prairie which, pointing toward the Head, formed

a barrier which it could not pass. The children continued their flight.

A badger appeared alongside of the Head. The Head said to it, “My fine

fellow, I wish to marry you. Will you be my husband?” “Your face is too

ugly and bloody for me,” said the badger, and disappeared in his hole.

 

The Head followed the badger, who like the fox continued digging

underneath the ground, making a road underneath the awls in the

direction the children were going, so that the Head came out again to

where they were seated resting themselves. On seeing it they again

ran forward, the Head after them calling on them to stop, but they

were afraid. Again did the little girl get tired and ask her brother

to save them by throwing something behind him. He threw his tinder or

spunk, and immediately the prairie took fire, spreading out behind

them, burning the Head to a cinder, leaving nothing but the bones.

The children traveled on. A wolf this time came near the Head and, as

with the fox and badger, was desired by the Head to become her husband.

“You are nothing but a frightful ghost,” exclaimed the wolf, and ran

into his hole. The Head followed, the wolf dug, and in the end the Head

again came out near the children. They ran forward and arrived at the

bank of a large river. Two cranes were standing on the bank. The boy

requested the cranes to carry them over. One of the cranes asked the

boy, “How does my breath smell?” “Very sweet,” said he, “as though you

had eaten service berries.” “Good,” replied the crane, “now both of you

get on my back.” They being seated, the bird flew across and landed

them in safety on the opposite shore. In the interim the Head came to

where the other crane was standing and commanded it to bear it over

immediately, as it was in a great hurry to overtake the children. The

bird proposed the same question. “How does my breath smell?” “It smells

of stinking fish,” replied the Head. “Good,” said the crane, “now get

on my back.”

 

The Head having placed itself, the bird flew, and when about the middle of the stream shook the Head off its back in the water, which on falling cried out, “Now, I go to dwell among the fishes!”