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- Herausgeber: Madison & Adams Press
- Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018
It is not the purpose of this volume to deal to any considerable extent with the history of the Indians, but simply to present some of The Legends of the Iroquois. To the reader or student, however, is due a brief statement as to the authority from which the folk-lore contained herein has been drawn, that there may remain no question as to its reliability. Contents: About Indian Legends The Authority The Confederation of the Iroquois Birth of the Arbutus A Legend of the River Legends of the Corn The First Winter The Great Mosquito The Story of Oniata The Mirror in the Water The Buzzard's Covering Origin of the Violet The Turtle Clan The Healing Waters The Sacrifice of Aliquipiso Why the Animals do not Talk The Message Bearers The Wise Sachem's Gift The Flying Head The Ash Tree The Hunter Hiawatha The Peacemaker An Unwelcome Visitor Bits of Folk-Lore The Happy Hunting-Grounds The Sacred Stone of the Oneidas
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The Legends of the Iroquois
Table of Contents
About Indian Legends
The Indians neither built monuments nor wrote books. The only records they made were those picture writings known in after years as wampum, which were mere symbols, recording feats of arms. Consequently, all that is known of them prior to the coming to America of Europeans is traditional or conjectural. Not a page of their history has ever been written by any save their foes, and the history thus written is so distorted and marred by prejudice that much of it is misleading.
In the veins of the red man ran the wild poetry and imagination of the hunt, the chase, the battle, the capture, the dance, the forests, the valleys, the mountains, the streams, lakes and rivers, for a thousand generations; and yet they were without accomplishment in letters or arts. Is it, therefore, strange that they held in great reverence the traditions and legends common in their tribes—revered them as the early Christians revered the first copies of the sacred writings? These legends were told over again and again for unknown years. They were transmitted from one to another, as the unwritten work of Freemasonry has been transmitted by frequent and careful repetition. They were not bandied about like ordinary stories, but, repeated with something of a religious or sacramental spirit, as though the tales imparted an especial virtue to those who learned them from reliable sources; were held as sacred as we hold the transactions of an honored secret society.
The legends common to one clan were known all over the continent wherever Indians of that clan lived, and there is little doubt that many of the legends of the Iroquois can be found in some form among those of the Western Indian tribes of the present time. Yet the traditions of the Iroquois herein contained are known positively to be two hundred years old, and are confidently believed to be the stories told by the red men thousands of years ago.
The Indians never explained anything by the science of natural philosophy. Every effect had to them a mysterious, supernatural cause. They could not comprehend how sound thrown against an obstructing surface would be repeated and form an echo. Instead they found supernatural reasons for the phenomenon, and certainly very pretty ones. Only the absurdity of their ideas may appear to some, for in the light of present intelligence they are absurd, but, none the less, they are beautiful. If our forefathers had taken more interest in the peoples they found on the Western Continent, spending less of their energies in devising plans for cheating the Indians out of their furs and lands—a policy their descendants have closely followed and admirably succeeded in—our libraries might contain volumes of fairy tales that would delight the youth of many generations.
It is not too much to ask the reader to remember that these stories were told in the homes of the red men many centuries ago, long before they learned from the whites the cruel, heartless, treacherous and vindictive characteristics that unfair history has fastened upon them as natural and inherent traits. If this is borne in mind, the perusal and study of these stories will, it is believed, give as much pleasure to the reader as the study of the Indian character, made necessary in order to properly clothe their almost forgotten legends with something like their original embellishment, has given the author.
The Authority
It is not the purpose of this volume to deal to any considerable extent with the history of the Indians, but simply to present some of the legends of the Iroquois. To the reader or student, however, is due a brief statement as to the authority from which the folk-lore contained herein has been drawn, that there may remain no question as to its reliability.
A few years after the close of the war of the Revolution one of the pioneers of Western New York, who was in the service of the Holland Land Company, made the acquaintance and won the friendship of the Seneca chief, the Cornplanter, (Gy-ant-wah-chi, or, as written by some authorities, Gar-yan-wah-ga). The friendship continued as long as the two men lived and was marked by its cordiality. In their intercourse they were thrown together many winters, and the Cornplanter was led to talk freely of his people, their past, their present condition, and their future, and it was during these confidences that the Indian told his white friend many of the Iroquois legends. To the recollections of the Cornplanter was added the knowledge possessed upon the subject by the Nephew (Governor Blacksnake), who resided upon the same reservation and in the immediate vicinity, and that of "other old men and leaders of these Indians." The legends were preserved in outline notes upon the blank pages of some diaries and civil engineer field-books which the white man was accustomed to keep; and these outlines, with full oral explanations came finally into the possession of the present writer. About twenty-five years ago the work of their further verification by means of inquiries made of some of the most intelligent Indians in New York State was commenced. Many of those consulted had only imperfect knowledge of the legends, others knew one or more of the stories, and, by aid of the outlines referred to above, were able to assist in the work of their restoration. Among those who gave most valuable assistance was Simon Blackchief and his mother. The latter spoke only in the Indian tongue, and her version of such of the stories as she had heard in her girlhood was translated by her son. Chief John Mountpleasant, Harrison Halftown, Elias Johnson and John Kinjocity also gave valuable assistance. The late B. Giles Casler, who was the United States Indian Agent for New York State for a term of years, accompanied the author upon a number of visits to several of the reservations. Through these helps, and by a study pursued under the favoring circumstance of former residence in close proximity to the Allegany Reservation, the present writer believes that he has succeeded in bringing these legends to a point approximating their original beauty. In their elaboration care has been taken not to depart from the simplicity and directness of statement characteristic of the Indian, and only such additions that seemed to be warranted have been made. Whenever the primary authority for a legend is other than the Cornplanter, the fact is mentioned in the appended notes.
Although the Cornplanter was a half-breed, he was more thoroughly acquainted with the traditions of his people than any contemporary chief in the nations comprising the Iroquois. He was born in Conewangus, on the Genesee river, probably in the year 1732, and died on Cornplanter Island in the Allegany river, in the State of Pennsylvania, near the New York line, March 7, 1836, at the age of one hundred and four years. He was the son of John Abeel (also written O'Bail), a trader among the Indians. His mother was an Indian Princess of the Turtle Clan.
From his earliest recollection the Cornplanter had a pronounced hatred of the whites, caused, no doubt, by the remembrance of the cruel treatment to which his mother was subjected by his father, who seems to have taken an Indian wife in order that he might gain the friendship of the Indians, and thus secure good bargains in trade. The errors of history have led us to believe that love or respect for a mother were sentiments almost foreign to the Indian race. These feelings always existed among them, however, to a much greater degree than we are willing to concede, though their respect and love for women and children were greater before their simple natures were blunted and distorted by the vicious practices of the invading Europeans.
The Cornplanter spent his early years at the council-fires, and became one of the most celebrated orators in the Confederation of the Six Nations. He traveled from village to village and sought wisdom from the sages of the Iroquois. It was during this portion of his life that he listened to the traditions that had descended from chief to chief over a period of three centuries. When he had acquired a reputation for bravery and woodcraft second to none of his race, he was unanimously chosen Chief of the Senecas, and came at once into prominence as the leader of the war-parties of that nation in alliance with the French against the English. He was present at the defeat of Braddock, and, for a long time, by the most daring and cruel raids on the frontier settlements, spread destruction in the Mohawk Valley and in Western New York. He was at that time an implacable foe to all white people, and the names of Cornplanter, Brant, and Red Jacket were synonymous with capture, torture and massacre. They were the chief councilors and leaders of their people and fought against every overture made by the whites. In 1779, near the mouth of Redbank Creek, in Pennsylvania, the Cornplanter, with a large force of Indians, engaged in battle against a party of whites, led by Captain Samuel Brady. The engagement terminated in favor of the whites, and many of the Indians were killed or wounded. The survivors fled to the river, then swollen with the spring rains, and dashed into its current. Few succeeded in crossing; one by one they were swept down the stream or sank, pierced by the bullets of Brady's men. The Cornplanter reached the opposite shore almost alone. From that moment the high spirit of the daring chieftain began to falter and he sought peace, making, in 1791, a treaty with "The Great Chief of the Thirteen Fires." The medal and other mementos given him by Washington are still preserved by the descendants of the chief. He was put in possession of the island that bears his name, and ever afterwards devoted himself to farming and pursuits of peace. For many years he labored faithfully to eradicate the habits of intemperance into which his people had fallen, and, strange as it may seem, was the first temperance lecturer in the United States. He entertained the highest respect for Washington, and visited him several times in Philadelphia.
It was during the last twenty years of the Cornplanter's life that the legends herein contained were recalled and told. He did not speak of them generally, for he held them sacred, but reserved them for the ears of those in full sympathy with the people of which he was one of the last true representatives. He told them with an intensity of feeling that was pitiful, for it was plain he realized that the greatness of his people had disappeared, leaving neither monuments nor achievements to mark their place in the history of the world.
The Cornplanter died a strong believer in the religion of the red men, and looked forward with an eye of faith towards the Happy Hunting-Grounds, for which countless generations of his people had been taught to hope.
The Confederation of the Iroquois
There was peace in the land of the Senecas. The red men were away upon the chase, or busied themselves in fashioning the arrow-points and in shaping the mighty bows from which the shafts of death were sent forth when food was needed in the wigwam. The Indian women stooped among the blades of growing corn and tilled the soil between the thrifty stalks with sharp-pointed branches from the strong young hickory. The children ran and leaped in the sunshine and their laughter filled the air and mingled with the low, crooning songs of the old men and women who watched them, while dreams of their youth rose like phantoms from the past. Under the fresh verdure of a new-born summer, groups of the young men and maidens were plaiting the soft and flexible willows into baskets, mats and coverings. Abroad on the hills the medicine men roamed, marking the places where the prized and cherished herbs that drove away the bad spirits of suffering and sickness had put forth their vigorous shoots.
There was peace in the land of the Senecas, and for many moons they had waged no war against their brothers. Their villages were growing in strength; their numbers were increasing in greatness. The young men were taught to follow the chase, but their ears had drunk the stones of wars, and their hearts burned to be upon the trail, seeking conquest over the powerful tribes of the Mohawks, Onondagas or Oneidas. When the soft winds came, some of them said to their elders, "We will go into the country of the Mohawks and learn from our brothers there if the Manito gave them corn for the winter, and if the venison was sweet to their tongues."
Five suns they threaded the forests and sported along the pleasant streams. At last they came upon some young men and maidens of the Mohawk nation engaged in preparing the ground for the maize. Forgetting the counsels of their elders, or heedless of what they had said to them, and eager to show their cunning, they surprised and bound the young Mohawks and carried them away as captives toward the land of the Senecas.
When they had passed the homes of the Onondagas, which they did without discovery, they released one of the young men and told him to go back to the Mohawks and say to them that they would find their maidens in the wigwams of the Senecas, their young men slaves in the villages.
The wise men and sachems of the council shook, their heads gravely when the young warriors boasted of their conquest, for they knew that the peace of the Senecas was broken.
A few days had passed, when, one evening as the fires began to cast their red lights against the rough sides of the great trees, five Mohawk warriors appeared at the council village of the Senecas.
"Let the swift runners say to the chiefs of the Senecas that the warriors of the Mohawks have been long upon the trail and must not sleep. By the light of the council-fire they would tell the message that is sweet to the tongues of the Mohawks but which will burn the ears of the Senecas who listen." Thus spoke Orontadeka, the strong chief of the Mohawks, as he strode to the council-place of the Senecas, followed by the four solemn and determined sachems who accompanied him on the mission. They at once took seats upon the ground and in silence awaited the coming of the Senecas.
Soon the fire-keepers of the tribe came to the council-place, and with due ceremony started three fires. When the last was lighted, the Seneca chiefs, sachems and warriors took their stations in silence around the blazing resinous wood. Dark forms hurried from the well-beaten paths which led through the forest to the different villages of the Senecas, and, without a word or sign of recognition, the warriors who had been notified by the swift runners and had come from their distant homes, took their places by the council-fire. At length, when all had assembled, the Seneca chief, Kanyego, arose and said:
"Will the great chiefs of the Mohawks eat?"
"The Mohawks have heavy trouble on their hearts and the food of the Senecas would choke their voices," replied Orontadeka.
"Shall the bowl of the pipe be filled, that the Mohawks may be happy in its visions?" again asked Kanyego.
"The Mohawks would see clearly, and the clouds from the peacemaker might blind their eyes," was the reply.
"The Senecas have food for their brothers, the Mohawks, and the fire-keepers have in readiness the pipe that the Great Spirit gave to our fathers," said Kanyego. "The Senecas also have ears to hear what the Mohawks would say. Let Orontadeka speak."
Rising suddenly from his crouching position on the ground, Orontadeka walked rapidly around the council-fires several times and then addressed the assemblage:
"My Brothers: When the warm suns came and the death-sheets of snow that covered the ground were turned to leaping streams of laughing water, the Mohawks were happy in their homes, where Kanyego has many times smoked the pipe of peace and eaten the food given him by his brothers. The plague had not come from its home in the north during the winter, and the wigwams were fat with their store of corn and beans. The swift runners went away to the shining waters beyond the big mountains, and after many suns they returned to say that the enemies of the Mohawks had gone beyond the great pine trees and would plant and till new fields and follow the chase in strange forests.
"My Brothers: The Mohawks were happy, for their wigwams had need to be made greater, and there is much work for the men to do. The women and children sang because the warriors went not upon the trail, and the old men turned their thoughts to the passing of peaceful days in the villages. Suddenly an alarm came to our ears, and the hopes in our hearts fled in terror. As the red fox steals upon the nest of the partridge and carries her chickens away to his home in the rocks, so came those who should be our friends and took as prisoners three of our young men and their five sisters. When the great light drew within the door of his wigwam, the people in the village looked in vain for the coming of their children. The grief of the lonely parents whose children were lost went out to all our villages. After seven suns a party of our warriors came upon one of the young men wandering alone and without food in the forest. Then to our wondering ears came the story that his brothers were slaves in the land of the Senecas, and that his sisters had become the wives of the Seneca robbers.
"My Brothers: The council-fire was lighted at night, for the Mohawks must talk of war. Gwagonsha stood before his people and told them how he had heard the birds and the wind talking together in the tree-tops, and how they agreed between them that the Senecas had wandered away toward the warm lands, and the wolves now lived in their deserted lodges. Owennogon said that even the fishes knew that the Senecas were afraid to seek their slaves in the Cat Nation beyond the thundering waters, and for that reason they had sent out scouts to steal children. Kanentagoura stood before the council-fire and said that the women of the Senecas were no longer young, but came into the world with many moons upon their heads, while their backs were bent with age, and wrinkles were upon their faces. If the Seneca warriors would have wives they must steal them from the Mohawks, the Onondagas or the Oneidas, for they had no wampum or canoes with which to buy them. Kantaga told his people that their arrows must be made ready and the thongs of their bows must be strengthened. If the Senecas had gone away to the warm lands, and wolves had taken possession of their villages, the wolves must be killed, for they were dangerous animals. If the Senecas had become cowards and were afraid to seek their slaves in the Cat Nation, they should be killed, for the earth had no room upon it for cowards. Or, if the women of the Senecas were such monsters that they could not be taken as wives, and the Senecas had no wampum or canoes with which to buy maidens for their wigwams, then they must surely be killed, for the Great Spirit was displeased with them.
"My Brothers: The warriors of the Mohawks set out at once through the forest-paths for the land of the Senecas, and when they reached the village of the Onondagas they told them the cause of their journey, and the warriors of the Onondagas left their lodges to the care of the old men and women and followed the Mohawks on the trail. They remain beside the long waters while Orontadeka and his friends visit the council-fire of the Senecas. We look around us and we find that some of the stories told of the Senecas are not true. The Senecas still inhabit their own lodges, and have not been driven away by wolves. Upon your streams and lakes are plenty of canoes, and in the wigwams hang many strings of wampum. The women of the Senecas are not old and ugly, for we see maidens here whose eyes are like the fires lighted by the Great Spirit when the sun has gone in his wigwam, and whose forms are straight as the ash trees.
