Dahcotah - Mary Eastman
The men go in mourning by painting themselves black and they do not wash
the paint off until they take the scalp of an enemy, or give a
medicine-dance.
While they sit round the scaffold, one of the nearest relations
commences a doleful crying, when all the others join in, and continue
their wailing for some time. Then for awhile their tears are wiped away.
After smoking for a short time another of the family commences again,
and the others join in. This is continued for a day and night, and then
each one goes to his own wigwam.
The Dahcotahs mourned thus for Beloved Hail. In the evening the cries of
his wife were heard as she called for her husband, while the rocks and
the hills echoed the wail. He will return no more--and who will hunt the
deer for his wife and her young children!
The murderers were never found, and the hostages, after being detained
for eighteen months at Fort Snelling, were released. They bore their
confinement with admirable patience, the more so as they were punished
for the fault of others. When they were released, they were furnished
with guns and clothing. For fear they would be killed by the Dahcotahs,
their release was kept a secret, and the Dahcotahs knew not that the two
Chippeways were released, until they were far on their journey home. But
one of them never saw his native village again. The long confinement had
destroyed his health, and being feeble when he set out, he soon found
himself unequal to the journey. He died a few days before the home was
reached; and the welcome that his companion received was a sad one, for
he brought the intelligence of the death of his comrade.
CHAPTER IV.
But we will do as the Dahcotahs did--turn from the sadness and horror of
an Indian's death, to the gayety and happiness of an Indian marriage.
The Indians are philosophers, after all--they knew that they could not
go after the Chippeways, so they made the best of it and smoked. Beloved
Hail was dead, but they could not bring him to life, and they smoked
again: besides, "Walking Wind" was to be married to "The War Club,"
whereupon they smoked harder than ever.
There are two kinds of marriages among the Dahcotahs, buying a wife and
stealing one. The latter answers to our runaway matches, and in some
respects the former is the ditto of one conducted as it ought to be
among ourselves. So after all, I suppose, Indian marriages are much like
white people's.
But among the Dahcotahs it is an understood thing that, when the young
people run away, they are to be forgiven at any time they choose to
return, if it should be the next day, or six months afterwards. This
saves a world of trouble. It prevents the necessity of the father
looking daggers at the son-in-law, and then loving him violently; the
mother is spared the trial of telling her daughter that she forgives her
though she has broken her heart; and, what is still better, there is not
the slightest occasion whatever for the bride to say she is wretched,
for having done what she certainly would do over again to-morrow, were
it undone.
So that it is easy to understand why the Dahcotahs have the advantage of
us in runaway matches, or as _they_ say in "stealing a wife;" for it is
the same thing, only more honestly stated.
When a young man is unable to purchase the girl he loves best, or if her
parents are unwilling she should marry him, if he have gained the heart
of the maiden he is safe. They appoint a time and place to meet; take
whatever will be necessary for their journey; that is, the man takes his
gun and powder and shot, and the girl her knife and wooden bowl to eat
and drink out of; and these she intends to hide in her blanket.
Sometimes they merely go to the next village to return the next day. But
if they fancy a bridal tour, away they go several hundred miles with
the grass for their pillow, the canopy of heaven for their curtains, and
the bright stars to light and watch over them. When they return home,
the bride goes at once to chopping wood, and the groom to smoking,
without the least form or parade.
Sometimes a young girl dare not run away; for she has a miserly father
or mother who may not like her lover because he had not enough to give
them for her; and she knows they will persecute her and perhaps shoot
her husband. But this does not happen often. Just as, once in a hundred
years in a Christian land, if a girl will run away with a young man, her
parents run after her, and in spite of religion and common sense bring
her back, have her divorced, and then in either case the parties must,
as a matter of course, be very miserable.
But the marriage that we are about to witness, is a "marriage in high
life" among the Dahcotahs, and the bride is regularly bought, as often
occurs with us.
"Walking Wind" is not pretty; even the Dahcotahs, who are far from being
connoisseurs in beauty do not consider her pretty. She is, however, tall
and well made, and her feet and hands (as is always the case with the
Dahcotah women) are small. She has a quantity of jet-black hair, that
she braids with a great deal of care. Her eyes are very black, but
small, and her dark complexion is relieved by more red than is usually
seen in the cheeks of the daughters of her race. Her teeth are very
fine, as everybody knows--for she is always laughing, and her laugh is
perfect music.
Then Walking Wind is, generally speaking, so good tempered. She was
never known to be very angry but once, when Harpstenah told her she was
in love with "The War Club;" she threw the girl down and tore half the
hair out of her head. What made it seem very strange was, that she was
over head and ears in love with "The War Club" at that very time; but
she did not choose anybody should know it.
War Club was a flirt--yes, a male coquette--and he had broken the hearts
of half the girls in the band. Besides being a flirt, he was a fop. He
would plait his hair and put vermilion on his cheeks; and, after seeing
that his leggins were properly arranged, he would put the war eagle
feathers in his head, and folding his blanket round him, would walk
about the village, or attitudinize with all the airs of a Broadway
dandy. War Club was a great warrior too, for on his blanket was marked
the Red Hand, which showed he had killed his worst enemy--for it was his
father's enemy, and he had hung the scalp up at his father's grave.
Besides, he was a great hunter, which most of the Dahcotahs are.
No one, then, could for a moment doubt the pretensions of War Club, or
that all the girls of the village should fall in love with him; and he,
like a downright flirt, was naturally very cold and cruel to the poor
creatures who loved him so much.
Walking Wind, besides possessing many other accomplishments, such as
tanning deer-skin, making mocassins, &c., was a capital shot. On one
occasion, when the young warriors were shooting at a mark, Walking Wind
was pronounced the best shot among them, and the War Club was quite
subdued. He could bear everything else; but when Walking Wind beat him
shooting--why--the point was settled; he must fall in love with her,
and, as a natural consequence, marry her.
Walking Wind was not so easily won. She had been tormented so long
herself, that she was in duty bound to pay back in the same coin. It was
a Duncan Gray affair--only reversed. At last she yielded; her lover
gave her so many trinkets. True, they were brass and tin; but Dahcotah
maidens cannot sigh for pearls and diamonds, for they never even heard
of them; and the philosophy of the thing is just the same, since
everybody is outdone by somebody. Besides, her lover played the flute
all night long near her father's wigwam, and, not to speak of the pity
that she felt for him, Walking Wind was confident she never could sleep
until that flute stopped playing, which she knew would be as soon as
they were married. For all the world knows that no husband, either white
or copper-colored, ever troubles himself to pay any attention of that
sort to his wife, however devotedly romantic he may have been
before marriage.
Sometimes the Dahcotah lover buys his wife without her consent; but the
War Club was more honorable than that: he loved Walking Wind, and he
wanted her to love him.
When all was settled between the young people, War Club told his parents
that he wanted to marry. The old people were glad to hear it, for they
like their ancient and honorable names and houses to be kept up, just as
well as lords and dukes do; so they collected everything they owned for
the purpose of buying Walking Wind. Guns and blankets, powder and shot,
knives and trinkets, were in requisition instead of title-deeds and
settlements. So, when all was ready, War Club put the presents on a
horse, and carried them to the door of Walking Wind's wigwam.
He does not ask for the girl, however, as this would not be Dahcotah
etiquette. He lays the presents on the ground and has a consultation,
or, as the Indians say, a "talk" with the parents, concluding by asking
them to give him Walking Wind for his wife.
And, what is worthy to be noticed here is, that, after having gone to so
much trouble to ask a question, he never for a moment waits for an
answer, but turns round, horse and all, and goes back to his wigwam.
The parents then consult for a day or two, although they from the first
moment have made up their minds as to what they are going to do. In due
time the presents are taken into the wigwam, which signifies to the
lover that he is a happy man. And on the next day Walking Wind is to
be a bride.
CHAPTER V.
Early in the morning, Walking Wind commenced her toilet--and it was no
light task to deck the Indian bride in all her finery.
Her mocassins were worked with porcupine, and fitted closely her small
feet; the leggins were ornamented with ribbons of all colors; her cloth
shawl, shaped like a mantilla, was worked with rows of bright ribbons,
and the sewing did honor to her own skill in needle-work. Her breast
was covered with brooches, and a quantity of beads hung round her neck.
Heavy ear-rings are in her ears--and on her head is a diadem of war
eagle's feathers. She has a bright spot of vermilion on each cheek,
and--behold an Indian bride!
When she is ready, as many presents as were given for her are collected
and put on a horse; and the bride, accompanied by three or four of her
relations, takes the road to the wigwam of the bridegroom.
When they arrive within a hundred yards of the wigwam, Walking Wind's
father calls for the War Club to come out. He does not come, but sends
one of his relations to receive the bride. Do not suppose that Walking
Wind's father takes offence at the bridegroom's not coming when he is
called; for it is as much a part of the ceremony, among the Dahcotahs,
for one of the bride's relations to call for the bridegroom, and for the
groom to refuse to come, as it is for us to have the ring put upon the
third finger of the left hand.
As soon as the warrior deputed by the husband elect to receive the bride
makes his appearance, the Indians raise a shout of applause, and all run
towards him as he approaches them, and while they are running and
shouting they are firing off their guns too.
But the ceremony is not over yet. Walking Wind, in order to complete the
ceremonies, to be a wife, must jump upon the back of her husband's
relative, and be thus carried into the wigwam of which she is to be
the mistress.
What a situation for a bride! Walking Wind seriously thinks of
rebelling; she hesitates--while the man stands ready to start for the
wigwam so soon as the luggage is on. The bride draws back and pouts a
little, when some of her friends undertake to reason with her; and she,
as if to avoid them, springs upon the back of the Dahcotah, who carries
her into the wigwam.
But where on earth is the bridegroom? Seated on the ground in the
teepee, looking as placid and unconcerned as if nothing was going on. Of
course he rises to receive his bride? Not he; but Walking Wind is on her
feet again, and she takes her seat, without any invitation, by the side
of him, who is literally to be her lord and master--and they are man and
wife. As much so, as if there were a priest and a ring, pearls and
bride-cake. For the Dahcotah reveres the ceremony of marriage, and he
thinks with solemn awe of the burial rites of his nation, as we do.
These rites have been preserved from generation to generation, told from
father to son, and they will be handed down until the Dahcotahs are no
more, or until religion and education take the place of superstition and
ignorance--until God, our God, is known and worshipped among a people
who as yet have hardly heard His name.
SHAH-CO-PEE;
THE ORATOR OF THE SIOUX.
Shah-co-pee (or Six) is one of the chiefs of the Dahcotahs; his village
is about twenty-five miles from Fort Snelling. He belongs to the bands
that are called Men-da-wa-can-ton, or People of the Spirit Lakes.
No one who has lived at Fort Snelling can ever forget him, for at what
house has he not called to shake hands and smoke; to say that he is a
great chief, and that he is hungry and must eat before he starts for
home? If the hint is not immediately acted upon, he adds that the sun is
dying fast, and it is time for him to set out.
Shah-co-pee is not so tall or fine looking as Bad Hail, nor has he the
fine Roman features of old Man in the Cloud. His face is decidedly ugly;
but there is an expression of intelligence about his quick black eye and
fine forehead, that makes him friends, notwithstanding his many
troublesome qualities.
At present he is in mourning; his face is painted black. He never combs
his hair, but wears a black silk handkerchief tied across his forehead.
When he speaks he uses a great deal of gesture, suiting the action to
the word. His hands, which are small and well formed, are black with
dirt; he does not descend to the duties of the toilet.
He is the orator of the Dahcotahs. No matter how trifling the occasion,
he talks well; and assumes an air of importance that would become him if
he were discoursing on matters of life and death.
Some years ago, our government wished the Chippeways and Dahcotahs to
conclude a treaty of peace among themselves. Frequently have these two
bands made peace, but rarely kept it any length of time. On this
occasion many promises were made on both sides; promises which would be
broken by some inconsiderate young warrior before long, and then
retaliation must follow.
Shah-co-pee has great influence among the Dahcotahs, and he was to come
to Fort Snelling to be present at the council of peace. Early in the
morning he and about twenty warriors left their village on the banks of
the St. Peters, for the Fort.
When they were very near, so that their actions could be distinguished,
they assembled in their canoes, drawing them close together, that they
might hear the speech which their chief was about to make them.
They raised the stars and stripes, and their own flag, which is a staff
adorned with feathers from the war eagle; and the noon-day sun gave
brilliancy to their gay dresses, and the feathers and ornaments that
they wore.
Shah-co-pee stood straight and firm in his canoe--and not the less
proudly that the walls of the Fort towered above him.
"My boys," he said (for thus he always addressed his men), "the
Dahcotahs are all braves; never has a coward been known among the
People of the Spirit Lakes. Let the women and children fear their
enemies, but we will face our foes, and always conquer.
"We are going to talk with the white men; our great Father wishes us to
be at peace with our enemies. We have long enough shed the blood of the
Chippeways; we have danced round their scalps, and our children have
kicked their heads about in the dust. What more do we want? When we are
in council, listen to the words of the Interpreter as he tells us what
our great Father says, and I will answer him for you; and when we have
eaten and smoked the pipe of peace, we will return to our village."
The chief took his seat with all the importance of a public benefactor.
He intended to have all the talking to himself, to arrange matters
according to his own ideas; but he did it with the utmost condescension,
and his warriors were satisfied.
Besides being an orator, Shah-co-pee is a beggar, and one of a high
order too, for he will neither take offence nor a refusal. Tell him one
day that you will not give him pork and flour, and on the next he
returns, nothing daunted, shaking hands, and asking for pork and flour.
He always gains his point, for you are obliged to give in order to get
rid of him. He will take up his quarters at the Interpreter's, and come
down upon you every day for a week just at meal time--and as he is
always blessed with a ferocious appetite, it is much better to
capitulate, come to terms by giving him what he wants, and let him go.
And after he has once started, ten to one if he does not come back to
say he wants to shoot and bring you some ducks; you must give him powder
and shot to enable him to do so. That will probably be the last of it.
CHAPTER II.
It was a beautiful morning in June when we left Fort Snelling to go on a
pleasure party up the St. Peters, in a steamboat, the first that had
ever ascended that river. There were many drawbacks in the commencement,
as there always are on such occasions. The morning was rather cool,
thought some, and as they hesitated about going, of course their toilets
were delayed to the last moment. And when all were fairly in the boat,
wood was yet to be found. Then something was the matter with one of the
wheels--and the mothers were almost sorry they had consented to come;
while the children, frantic with joy, were in danger of being drowned
every moment, by the energetic movements they made near the sides of the
boat, by way of indicating their satisfaction at the state of things.
In the cabin, extensive preparations were making in case the excursion
brought on a good appetite. Everybody contributed loaf upon loaf of
bread and cake; pies, coffee and sugar; cold meats of every description;
with milk and cream in bottles. Now and then, one of these was broken or
upset, by way of adding to the confusion, which was already intolerable.
Champaigne and old Cogniac were brought by the young gentlemen, only for
fear the ladies should be sea-sick; or, perhaps, in case the gentlemen
should think it positively necessary to drink the ladies' health.
When we thought all was ready, there was still another delay.
Shah-co-pee and two of his warriors were seen coming down the hill, the
chief making an animated appeal to some one on board the boat; and as he
reached the shore he gave us to understand that his business was
concluded, and that he would like to go with us. But it was very evident
that he considered his company a favor.
The bright sun brought warmth, and we sat on the upper deck admiring the
beautiful shores of the St. Peter's. Not a creature was to be seen for
some distance on the banks, and the birds as they flew over our heads
seemed to be the fit and only inhabitants of such a region.
When tired of admiring the scenery, there was enough to employ us. The
table was to be set for dinner; the children had already found out which
basket contained the cake, and they were casting admiring looks
towards it.
When we were all assembled to partake of some refreshments, it was
delightful to find that there were not enough chairs for half the party.
We borrowed each other's knives and forks too, and etiquette, that petty
tyrant of society, retired from the scene.
Shah-co-pee found his way to the cabin, where he manifested strong
symptoms of shaking hands over again; in order to keep him quiet, we
gave him plenty to eat. How he seemed to enjoy a piece of cake that had
accidentally dropped into the oyster-soup! and with equal gravity would
he eat apple-pie and ham together. And then his cry of "wakun"
[Footnote: Mysterious.] when the cork flew from the champaigne bottle
across the table!
How happily the day passed--how few such days occur in the longest
life!
As Shah-co-pee's village appeared in sight, the chief addressed Col.
D----, who was at that time in command of Fort Snelling, asking him why
we had come on such an excursion.
"To escort you home" was the ready reply; "you are a great chief, and
worthy of being honored, and we have chosen this as the best way of
showing our respect and admiration of you."
The Dahcotah chief believed all; he never for a moment thought there was
anything like jesting on the subject of his own high merits; his face
beamed with delight on receiving such a compliment.
The men and women of the village crowded on the shore as the boat
landed, as well they might, for a steamboat was a new sight to them.
The chief sprang from the boat, and swelling with pride and self
admiration he took the most conspicuous station on a rock near the
shore, among his people, and made them a speech.
We could but admire his native eloquence. Here, with all that is wild in
nature surrounding him, did the untaught orator address his people. His
lips gave rapid utterance to thoughts which did honor to his feelings,
when we consider who and what he was.
He told them that the white people were their friends; that they wished
them to give up murder and intemperance, and to live quietly and
happily. They taught them to plant corn, and they were anxious to
instruct their children. "When we are suffering," said he, "during the
cold weather, from sickness or want of food, they give us medicine
and bread."
And finally he told them of the honor that had been paid him. "I went,
as you know, to talk with the big Captain of the Fort, and he, knowing
the bravery of the Dahcotahs, and that I was a great chief, has brought
me home, as you see. Never has a Dahcotah warrior been thus honored!"
Never indeed! But we took care not to undeceive him. It was a harmless
error, and as no efforts on our part could have diminished his self
importance, we listened with apparent, indeed with real admiration of
his eloquent speech. The women brought ducks on board, and in exchange
we gave them bread; and it was evening as we watched the last teepee of
Shah-co-pee's village fade away in the distance.
But sorrow mingles with the remembrance of that bright day. One of those
who contributed most to its pleasures is gone from us--one whom all
esteemed and many loved, and justly, for never beat a kinder or a
nobler heart.
CHAPTER III.
Shah-co-pee has looked rather grave lately. There is trouble in the
wigwam.
The old chief is the husband of three wives, and they and their children
are always fighting. The first wife is old as the hills, wrinkled and
haggard; the chief cares no more for her than he does for the stick of
wood she is chopping. She quarrels with everybody but him, and this
prevents her from being quite forgotten.
The day of the second wife is past too, it is of no use for I her to
plait her hair and put on her ornaments; for the old chief's heart is
wrapped up in his third wife.
The girl did not love him, how could she? and he did not succeed in
talking her into the match; but he induced the parents to sell her to
him, and the young wife went weeping to the teepee of the chief.
Hers was a sad fate. She hated her husband as much as he loved her. No
presents could reconcile her to her situation. The two forsaken wives
never ceased annoying her, and their children assisted them. The young
wife had not the courage to resent their ill treatment, for the loss of
her lover had broken her heart. But that lover did not seem to be in
such despair as she was--he did not quit the village, or drown himself,
or commit any act of desperation. He lounged and smoked as much as ever.
On one occasion when Shah-co-pee was absent from the village the
lovers met.
They had to look well around them, for the two old wives were always on
the look out for something to tell of the young one; but there was no
one near. The wind whistled keenly round the bend of the river as the
Dahcotah told the weeping girl to listen to him.
When had she refused? How had she longed to hear the sound of his voice
when wearied to death with the long boastings of the old chief.
But how did her heart beat when Red Stone told her that he loved her
still--that he had only been waiting an opportunity to induce her to
leave her old husband, and go with him far away.
She hesitated a little, but not long; and when Shah-co-pee returned to
his teepee his young wife was gone--no one had seen her depart--no one
knew where to seek for her. When the old man heard that Red Stone was
gone too, his rage knew no bounds. He beat his two wives almost to
death, and would have given his handsomest pipe-stem to have seen the
faithless one again.
His passion did not last long; it would have killed him if it had. His
wives moaned all through the night, bruised and bleeding, for the fault
of their rival; while the chief had recourse to the pipe, the
never-failing refuge of the Dahcotah.