Dahcotah - Mary Eastman
Her mother, a fearfully ugly old creature, still mended mocassins and
scolded; bidding fair to keep up both trades for years to come. Then
there were tall brothers, braving hardships and danger, as if a Dahcotah
was only born to be scalped, or to scalp; uncles, cousins, too, there
were, in abundance, so that Sacred Wind did belong to a powerful family.
Now, among the Dahcotahs, a cousin is looked upon as a brother; a girl
would as soon think of marrying her grandfather, as a cousin. I mean an
ordinary girl, but Sacred Wind was not of that stamp; she was destined
to be a heroine. She had many lovers, who wore themselves out playing
the flute, to as little purpose as they braided their hair, and painted
their faces. Sacred Wind did not love one of them.
Her mother, was always trying to induce her to accept some one of her
lovers, urging the advantages of each match; but it would not do. The
girl was eighteen years old, and not yet a wife; though most of the
Dahcotah women are mothers long before that.
Her friends could not imagine why she did not marry. They were wearied
with arguing with her; but not one of them ever suspected the cause of
her seeming coldness of heart.
Her grandmother was particularly officious. She could not do as Sacred
Wind wished her,--attend to her own affairs, for she had none to attend
to; and grandmothers, among the Sioux, are as loving and devoted as they
are among white people; consequently, the old lady beset the unfortunate
girl, day and night, about her obstinacy.
"Why are you not now the mother of warriors," she said, "and besides,
who will kill game for you when you are old? The 'Bear,' has been to the
traders; he has bought many things, which he offers your parents for
you; marry him and then you will make your old grandmother happy."
"I will kill myself," she replied, "if you ask me to marry the Bear.
Have you forgotten the Maiden's rock? I There are more high rocks than
one on the banks of the Mississippi, and my heart is as strong as
Wenona's. If you torment me so, to marry the Bear, I will do as she
did--in the house of spirits I shall have no more trouble."
This threat silenced the grandmother for the time. But a young girl who
had been sitting with them, and listening to the conversation, rose to
go out; and as she passed Sacred Wind, she whispered in her ear, "Tell
her why you will not marry the Bear; tell her that Sacred Wind loves her
cousin; and that last night she promised him she never would marry any
one but him."
Had she been struck to the earth she could not have been paler. She
thought her secret was hid in her own heart. She had tried to cease
thinking of "The Shield;" keeping away from him, dreading to find true
what she only suspected. She did not dare acknowledge even to herself
that she loved a cousin.
But when the Shield gave her his handsomest trinkets; when he followed
her when she left her laughing and noisy companions to sit beside the
still waters--when he told her that she was the most beautiful girl
among the Dahcotahs--when he whispered her that he loved her dearly;
and would marry her in spite of mothers, grandmothers, customs and
religion too--then she found that her cousin was dearer to her than all
the world--that she would gladly die with him--she could never live
without him.
But still, she would not promise to marry him. What would her friends
say? and the spirits of the dead would torment her, for infringing upon
the sacred customs of her tribe. The Shield used many arguments, but all
in vain. She told him she was afraid to marry him, but that she would
never marry any one else. Sooner should the waves cease to beat against
the shores of the spirit lakes, than she forget to think of him.
But this did not satisfy her cousin. He was determined she should be his
wife; he trusted to time and his irresistible person to overcome
her fears.
The Shield's name was given to him by his father's friends. Shields were
formerly used by the Sioux; and the Eyanktons and Sissetons still use
them. They are made of buffalo skin, of a circular form; and are used as
a protection against the arrows of their enemies.
"You need not fear your family, Sacred Wind," said her cousin, "nor the
medicine men, nor the spirits of the dead. We will go to one of the
villages, and when we are married, we will come back. Let them be angry,
I will stand between you and them, even as my father's shield did
between him and the foe that sought his life."
But she was firm, and promised nothing more than that she would not
marry the Bear, or any one else; and they returned to her father's
teepee, little thinking that any one had overheard their conversation.
But the "Swan" had heard every word of it.
She loved the Shield, and she had seen him follow his cousin. After
hearing enough to know that her case was a hopeless one, she made up
her mind to make Sacred Wind pay dearly for the love which she herself
could not obtain.
She did not at once tell the news. She wanted to amuse herself with her
victim before she destroyed her; and she had hardly yet made up her mind
as to the way which she would take to inform the family of Sacred Wind
of the secret she had found out.
But she could not resist the temptation of whispering to Sacred Wind her
knowledge of the true reason why she would not marry the Bear. This was
the first blow, and it struck to the heart; it made a wound which was
long kept open by the watchful eye of jealousy.
The grandmother, however, did not hear the remark; if she had she would
not have sat still smoking--not she! she would have trembled with rage
that a Dahcotah maiden, and her grandchild, should be guilty of the
enormous crime of loving a cousin. An eruption of Vesuvius would have
given but a faint idea of her fury.
Most fortunately for herself, the venerable old medicine woman died a
few days after. Had she lived to know of the fatal passion of her
granddaughter, she would have longed to seize the thunderbolts of
Jupiter (if she had been aware of their existence) to hurl at the
offenders; or like Niobe, have wept herself to stone.
Indeed the cause of her death showed that she could not bear
contradiction.
There was a war party formed to attack the Chippeways, and the "Eagle
that Screams as she Flies," (for that was the name of Sacred Wind's
grandmother) wanted to go along.
She wished to mutilate the bodies after they were scalped. Yes, though
near ninety years old, she would go through all the fatigues of a march
of three hundred miles, and think it nothing, if she could be repaid by
tearing the heart from one Chippeway child.
There were, however, two old squaws who had applied first, and the
Screaming Eagle was rejected.
There were no bounds to her passion. She attempted to hang herself and
was cut down; she made the village resound with her lamentations; she
called upon all the spirits of the lakes, rivers, and prairies, to
torment the war party; nothing would pacify her. Two days after the war
party left, the Eagle that Screams as she Flies expired, in a fit
of rage!
When the war-party returned, the Shield was the observed of all
observers; he had taken two scalps.
Sacred Wind sighed to think he was her cousin. How could she help loving
the warrior who had returned the bravest in the battle?
The Swan saw that she loved in vain. She knew that she loved the Shield
more in absence; why then hope that he would forget Sacred Wind when he
saw her no more?
When she saw him enter the village, her heart beat fast with emotion;
she pressed her hand upon it, but could not still its tumult. "He has
come," she said to herself, "but will his eye seek mine? will he tell
_me_ that the time has been long since he saw me woman he loved?"
She follows his footsteps--she watches his every glance, as he meets his
relations. Alas! for the Swan, the wounded bird feels not so acutely the
arrow that pierces, as she that look of recognition between the cousins!
But the unhappy girl was roused from a sense of her griefs, to a
recollection of her wrongs. With all the impetuosity of a loving heart,
she thought she had a right to the affections of the Shield. As the
water reflected her features, so should his heart give back the devoted
love of hers.
But while she lived, she was determined to bring sorrow upon her rival;
she would not "sing in dying." That very evening did she repeat to the
family of Sacred Wind the conversation she had overheard, adding that
the love of the cousins was the true cause of Sacred Wind's refusing
to marry.
Time would fail me to tell of the consequent sufferings of Sacred Wind.
She was scolded and watched, shamed, and even beaten. The medicine men
threatened her with all their powers; no punishment was severe enough
for the Dahcotah who would thus transgress the laws of their nation.
The Shield was proof against the machinations of his enemies, for he was
a medicine man, and could counteract all the spells that were exerted
against him. Sacred Wind bore everything in patience but the sight of
the Bear. She had been bought and sold, over and over again; and the
fear of her killing herself was the only reason why her friends did not
force her to marry.
One evening she was missing, and the cries of her mother broke upon the
silence of night; canoes were flying across the water; friends were
wandering in the woods, all seeking the body of the girl.
But she was not to be found in the river, or in the woods. Sacred Wind
was not dead, she was only married.
She was safe in the next village, telling the Shield how much she loved
him, and how cordially she hated the Bear; and although she trembled
when she spoke of the medicine men, her husband only laughed at her
fears, telling her, that now that she was his wife, she need
fear nothing.
But where was the Swan? Her friends were assisting, in the search for
Sacred Wind. The father had forgotten his child, the brother his sister.
And the mother, who would have first missed her, had gone long ago, to
the land of spirits.
The Swan had known of the flight of the lovers--she watched them as
their canoe passed away, until it became a speck in the distance, and in
another moment the waters closed over her.
Thus were strangely blended marriage and death. The Swan feared not to
take her own life. Sacred Wind, with a nobler courage, a more devoted
love, broke through the customs of her nation, laid aside the
superstitions of the tribe, and has thus identified her courage with the
name of her native village.
"THE DAHCOTAH BRIDE."
The valley of the Upper Mississippi presents many attractions to the
reflecting mind, apart from the admiration excited by its natural
beauty. It is at once an old country and a new--the home of a people who
are rapidly passing away--and of a nation whose strength is ever
advancing. The white man treads upon the footsteps of the Dahcotah--the
war dance of the warrior gives place to the march of civilization--and
the saw-mill is heard where but a few years ago were sung the deeds of
the Dahcotah braves.
Years ago, the Dahcotah hunted where the Mississippi takes its rise--the
tribe claiming the country as far south as St. Louis. But difficulties
with the neighboring tribes have diminished their numbers and driven
them farther north and west; the white people have needed their lands,
and their course is onward. How will it end? Will this powerful tribe
cease to be a nation on the earth? Will their mysterious origin never be
ascertained? And must their religion and superstitions, their customs
and feasts pass away from memory as if they had never been?
Who can look upon them without interest? hardly the philosopher--surely
not the Christian. The image of God is defaced in the hearts of the
savage. Cain-like does the child of the forest put forth his hand and
stain it with a brother's blood. But are there no deeds of darkness done
in our own favored land?
But the country of the Dahcotah,--let it be new to those who fly at the
beckon of gain--who would speculate in the blood of their
fellow-creatures, who for gold would, aye do, sell their own souls,--it
is an old country to me. What say the boundless prairies? how many
generations have roamed over them? when did the buffalo first yield to
the arrow of the hunter? And look at the worn bases of the rocks that
are washed by the Father of waters. Hear the Dahcotah maiden as she
tells of the lover's leap--and the warrior as he boasts of the victories
of his forefathers over his enemies, long, long before the hated white
man had intruded upon their lands, or taught them the fatal secret of
intoxicating drink.
The Dahcotahs feel their own weakness--they know they cannot contend
with the power of the white man. Yet there are times when the passion
and vehemence of the warriors in the neighborhood of Fort Snelling can
hardly be brought to yield to the necessity of control; and were there a
possibility of success, how soon would the pipe of peace be thrown
aside, and the yell and whoop of war be heard instead! And who would
blame them? Has not the blood of our bravest and best been poured out
like water for a small portion of a country--when the whole could never
make up for the loss sustained by one desolate widow or
fatherless child?
The sky was without a cloud when the sun rose on the Mississippi. The
morning mists passed slowly away as if they loved to linger round the
hills. Pilot Knob rose above them, proud to be the burial place of her
warrior children, while on the opposite side of the Mine Soto [Footnote:
Mine Soto, or Whitish Water, the name that the Sioux give to the St.
Peter's River. The mud or clay in the water has a whitish look.] the
frowning walls of Fort Snelling; told of the power of their enemies. Not
a breath disturbed the repose of nature, till the voice of the song
birds rose in harmony singing the praise of the Creator.
But a few hours have passed away, and how changed the scene. Numbers of
canoes are seen rapidly passing over the waters, and the angry savages
that spring from them as hastily ascending the hill. From the gates of
the fort, hundreds of Indians are seen collecting from every direction,
and all approaching the house of the interpreter. We will follow them.
Few have witnessed so wild a scene. The house of the interpreter
employed by government is near the fort, and all around it were
assembled the excited Indians. In front of the house is a piazza, and on
it lay the body of a young Dahcotah; his black hair plaited, and falling
over his swarthy face. The closed eye and compressed lips proclaimed the
presence of death. Life had but recently yielded to the sway of the
stern conqueror. A few hours ago Beloved Hail had eaten and drank on the
very spot where his body now reposed.
Bending over his head is his wife; tears fall like rain from her eyes;
and as grief has again overcome her efforts at composure, see how she
plunges her knife into her arm: and as the warm blood flows from the
wound calls upon the husband of her youth!
"My son! my son!" bursts from the lips of his aged mother, who weeps at
his feet; while her bleeding limbs bear witness to the wounds which she
had inflicted upon herself in the agony of her soul. Nor are these the
only mourners. A crowd of friends are weeping round his body. But the
mother has turned to the warriors as they press through the crowd; tears
enough have been shed, it is time to think of revenge. "Look at your
friend," she says, "look how heavily lies the strong arm, and see, he is
still, though his wife and aged mother call upon him. Who has done this?
who has killed the brave warrior? bring me the murderer, that I may cut
him on pieces."
It needed not to call upon the warriors who stood around. They were
excited enough. Bad Hail stood near, his eyes bloodshot with rage, his
lip quivering, and every trembling limb telling of the tempest within.
Shah-co-pee, the orator of the Dahcotahs, and "The Nest," their most
famous hunter; the tall form of the aged chief "Man in the cloud" leaned
against the railing, his sober countenance strangely contrasting with
the fiend-like look of his wife; Grey Iron and Little Hill, with brave
after brave, all crying vengeance to the foe, death to the Chippeway!
CHAPTER II.
But yesterday the Dahcotahs and Chippeways, foes from time immemorial,
feasted and danced together, for there was peace between them. They had
promised to bury the hatchet; the Chippeways danced near the fort, and
the Dahcotahs presented them with blankets and pipes, guns and powder,
and all that the savage deems valuable. Afterwards, the Dahcotahs
danced, and the generous Chippeways exceeded them in the number and
value of their gifts. As evening approached, the bands mingled their
amusements--together they contended in the foot-race, or, stretching
themselves upon the grass, played at checkers.
The Chippeways had paid their annual visit of friendship at Fort
Snelling, and, having spent their time happily, they were about to
return to their homes. Their wise men said they rejoiced that nothing
had occurred to disturb the harmony of the two tribes. But their
vicinity to the Fort prevented any outbreak; had there been no such
restraint upon their actions, each would have sought the life of his
deadly foe.
"Hole in the Day" was the chief of the Chippeways. He owed his station
to his own merit; his bravery and firmness had won the respect and
admiration of the tribe when he was but a warrior, and they exalted him
to the honor of being their chief. Deeds of blood marked his course, yet
were his manners gentle and his voice low. There was a dignity and a
courtesy about his every action that would have well befitted
a courtier.
He watched with interest the trials of strength between the young men of
his own tribe and the Dahcotahs. When the latter celebrated one of their
national feasts, when they ate the heart of the dog while it was warm
with life, just torn from the animal, with what contempt did he gaze
upon them!
[Illustration: FALLS OF ST. ANTHONY.]
The amusements of the dog feast, or dance, have closed, and the
Chippeway chief has signified to his warriors that they were to return
home on the following day. He expressed a wish to see several of the
chiefs of the Dahcotahs, and a meeting having been obtained, he thus
addressed them--
"Warriors! it has been the wish of our great father that we should be
friends; blood enough has been shed on both sides. But even if we
preferred to continue at war, we must do as our great father says. The
Indian's glory is passing away; they are as the setting sun; while the
white man is as the sun rising in all his power. We are the falling
leaves; the whites are the powerful horses that trample them under foot.
We are about to return home, and it is well that nothing has happened to
occasion strife between us. But I wish you to know that there are two
young men among us who do not belong to my band. They are pillagers,
belonging to another band, and they may be troublesome. I wish you to
tell your young men of this, that they may be on their guard."
After smoking together, the chiefs separated. "Hole in the Day" having
thus done all that he deemed proper, returned with his warriors to
his teepee.
Early in the morning the Chippeways encamped near St. Anthony's falls;
the women took upon themselves all the fatigue and labor of the journey,
the men carrying only the implements of war and hunting. The Chippeway
chief was the husband of three wives, who were sisters; and, strange to
say, when an Indian fancies more than one wife, he is fortunate if he
can obtain sisters, for they generally live in harmony, while wives who
are not related are constantly quarreling; and the husband does not
often interfere, even if words are changed to blows.
In the mean time, the two pillagers were lurking about; now remaining a
short time with the camp of the Chippeways, now absenting themselves for
a day or two. But while the Chippeways were preparing to leave the
Falls, the pillagers were in the neighborhood of Fort Snelling. They had
accompanied Hole in the Day's band, with the determination of killing an
enemy. The ancient feud still rankled in their hearts; as yet they had
had no opportunity of satisfying their thirst for blood; but on this
morning they were concealed in the bushes, when Red Boy and Beloved
Hail, two Dahcotahs, were passing on horseback. It was but a moment--and
the deed was done. Both the Chippeways fired, and Beloved Hail fell.
Red Boy was wounded, but not badly; he hurried in to tell the sad news,
and the two Chippeways were soon out of the power of their enemies. They
fled, it is supposed, to Missouri.
The friends of the dead warrior immediately sought his body, and brought
it to the house of the interpreter. There his friends came together; and
as they entered one by one, on every side pressing, forward to see the
still, calm, features of the young man; they threw on the body their
blankets, and other presents, according to their custom of honoring
the dead.
Troops are kept at Fort Snelling, not only as a protection to the whites
in the neighborhood, but to prevent, if possible, difficulties between
the different bands of Indians; and as every year brings the Chippeways
to Fort Snelling, either to transact business with the government or on
a visit of pleasure, the Chippeways and Dahcotahs must be frequently
thrown together. The commanding officer of the garrison notifies the two
bands, on such occasions, that no hostilities will be permitted; so
there is rarely an occurrence to disturb their peace.
But now it is impossible to restrain the excited passions of the
Dahcotahs. Capt. B----; who was then in command at Fort Snelling, sent
word to the Chippeway chief of the murder that had been committed, and
requested him to bring all his men in, as the murderer must be given up.
But this did not satisfy the Dahcotahs; they longed to raise the
tomahawk which they held in their hands. They refused to wait, but
insisted upon following the Chippeways and revenging themselves; the
arguments of the agent and other friends of the Dahcotahs were
unavailing; nothing would satisfy them but blood, The eyes, even of the
women, sparkled with delight, at the prospect of the scalps they would
dance round; while the mother of Beloved Hail was heard to call for the
scalp of the murderer of her son!
Seeing the chiefs determined on war, Capt. B---- told them he would
cease to endeavor to change their intentions; "but as soon" said he, "as
you attack the Chippeways, will I send the soldiers to your villages;
and who will protect your wives and children?"
This had the desired effect, and the warriors, seeing the necessity of
waiting for the arrival of the Chippeways, became more calm.
Hole in the Day with his men came immediately to the Fort, where a
conference was held at the gate. There were assembled about three
hundred Dahcotahs and seventy Chippeways, with the officers of the
garrison and the Indian agent.
It was ascertained that the murder had been committed by the two
pillagers, for none of the other Chippeway warriors had been absent
from the camp. Hole in the Day, however, gave up two of his men, as
hostages to be kept at Fort Snelling until the murderers should be
given up.
The Dahcotahs, being obliged for the time to defer the hope of revenge,
returned to their village to bury their dead.
CHAPTER III.
We rarely consider the Indian as a member of a family--we associate him
with the tomahawk and scalping-knife. But the very strangeness of the
customs of the Dahcotahs adds to their interest; and in their mourning
they have all the horror of death without an attendant solemnity.
All the agony and grief that a Christian mother feels when she looks for
the last time at the form which will so soon moulder in the dust, an
Indian mother feels also. The Christian knows that the body will live
again; that the life-giving breath of the Eternal will once more
re-animate the helpless clay; that the eyes which were brilliant and
beautiful in life will again look brightly from the now closed
lids--when the dead shall live--when the beloved child shall
"rise again."
The Dahcotah woman has no such hope. Though she believes that the soul
will live forever in the "city of spirits," yet the infant she has
nursed at her bosom, the child she loved and tended, the young man whose
strength and beauty were her boast, will soon be ashes and dust.
And if she have not the hope of the Christian, neither has she the
spirit. For as she cuts off her hair and tears her clothes, throwing
them under the scaffold, what joy would it bring to her heart could she
hope herself to take the life of the murderer of her son.
Beloved Hail was borne by the Indians to his native village, and the
usual ceremonies attending the dead performed, but with more than usual
excitement, occasioned by the circumstances of the death of
their friend.
The body of a dead Dahcotah is wrapped in cloth or calico, or sometimes
put in a box, if one can be obtained, and placed upon a scaffold raised
a few feet from the ground. All the relations of the deceased then sit
round it for about twenty-four hours; they tear their clothes; run
knives through the fleshy parts of their arms, but there is no sacrifice
which they can make so great as cutting off their hair.