Part 7
Most Indian tribes consisted of a few great groups of persons, the members of which were related to each other and lived together. Such groups of related persons are called _gentes_; the singular of the word is _gens_. There were three gentes among the Mohawks, three among the Oneidas, and eight in each of the other three tribes. These gentes usually bore the name of some animal; thus the Oneida gentes were the wolf, bear, and turtle. The people belonging to a gens were called by the gens name. Thus an Oneida was either a wolf, bear, or turtle. Every wolf was related to every other wolf in his tribe; every turtle to every other turtle; every bear to every other bear.
Each tribe was ruled by a council which contained members elected from each gens. Each gens had one or more councillors, according to its size and importance. Each member of the council watched with care to see that his gens got all its rights and was not imposed upon by others. Every tribe was independent of every other tribe.
Hayenwatha’s idea was to unite the tribes into a strong confederacy. Separately the tribes were weak, and a foe could do them much harm; united they would be so strong that no one could trouble them. He did not wish to destroy the tribes; he wished each to remain independent in managing its own affairs; but he desired that together they should be one great power which would help all. Three times he called a council of his people, the Onondagas, to lay his plan before them; three times he failed because the dreaded Atotarho, who did not desire peace, opposed his scheme.
When he found he could not move his own people, Hayenwatha went to the Mohawks, where he found help; they agreed that such a union was needed. Next the Oneidas were interested. Two great chiefs, one Mohawk and one Oneida, then went to the Onondagas to urge these to join with them; again the plan failed because Atotarho opposed it. The two chiefs went further westward and had a council with the Cayugas, who were pleased with their plan. With a Cayuga chief to help them, they returned to the Onondagas. Another council was held, and finally the Onondagas were gained over by promising the chieftaincy of the confederacy to Atotarho. There was then no trouble in getting the consent of the Senecas. Two chiefs were appointed by them to talk over the plan with the others. Hayenwatha met the six chiefs at Onondaga Lake, where the whole plan was discussed and the new union was made.
It was at first “The Five Nations.” At that time the Tuscaroras lived in the south. Later on, perhaps more than two hundred years later, they moved northward, and joined the confederacy, making it “The Six Nations.” The Five Nations formed one government under a great council. This council consisted of fifty members—nine Mohawks, nine Oneidas, fourteen Onondagas, ten Cayugas, eight Senecas. The names of the first councillors were kept alive by their successors always assuming them when they entered the council. The government did not interfere with the rights of the different tribes. It was always ready to receive new tribes into itself. Its purpose was said to be to abolish war and bring general peace. It did this by destroying tribes that did not wish to unite with it. At times the Iroquois Confederacy really did receive other tribes, such, for example, as the Tuteloes, Saponies, Tuscaroras, and fragments of the Eries and Hurons. They themselves always called the confederacy by a name meaning the “long house” or the extended or drawn-out house. The confederacy was thus likened “to a dwelling, which was extended by additions made to the end, in the manner in which their bark-built houses were lengthened. When the number of families inhabiting these long dwellings was increased by marriage or adoption, and a new hearth was required, the end wall was removed, an addition of the required size was made to the edifice, and the closing wall was restored.”
The confederacy became a great power, and is often mentioned in history. When the French or English went to war, it was important for either side to get the help of the Iroquois. In the council meetings of the tribes, and in the meetings of the great council of the confederacy, there were often important discussions. We have spoken of the warlike spirit of the Iroquois. A man who was a great warrior had great influence. So, however, had the man who was a great speaker. Oratory was much cultivated, and the man who, at a council, could move and sway his fellows, influencing them to war or peace, was an important person.
There were a number of the Iroquois orators whose names are remembered, but none is more famous than Red Jacket. We will give a passage from one of his speeches as an example of Indian oratory. The speech was made in 1805, at a council held at Buffalo. A missionary, named Cram, had come to preach to them, and invited a number of chiefs and important men to attend, that he might explain his business to them. After he had spoken, the old Seneca orator rose, and in his speech said the following words:
“Brother, listen to what we say. There was a time when our forefathers owned this great island. Their seats extended from the rising to the setting sun. The Great Spirit had made it for the use of Indians. He had created the buffalo, the deer, and other animals, for food. He made the bear and the beaver, and their skins served us for clothing. He had scattered them over the country, and taught us how to take them. He had caused the earth to produce corn for bread. All this he had done for his red children because he loved them. If we had any disputes about hunting grounds, they were generally settled without the shedding of much blood, but an evil day came upon us; your forefathers crossed the great water, and landed on this island. Their numbers were small; they found friends and not enemies; they told us they had fled from their country for fear of wicked men, and came here to enjoy their religion. They asked for a small seat; we took pity on them, granted their request, and they sat down among us; we gave them corn and meal; they gave us poison [whisky] in return. The white people had now found our country; tidings were carried back, and more came amongst us, yet we did not fear them; we took them to be friends; they called us brothers; we believed them, and gave them a larger seat. At length their numbers had greatly increased; they wanted more land; they wanted our country. Our eyes were opened, and our minds became uneasy. Wars took place; Indians were hired to fight against Indians, and many of our people were destroyed. They also brought strong liquors among us; it was strong and powerful, and has slain thousands.
“_Brother_, our seats were once large, and yours were very small; you have now become a great people, and we have scarcely a place left to spread our blankets; you have got our country, but are not satisfied; you want to force your religion upon us.”
HORATIO HALE.—Explorer, linguist, ethnologist. One of the earliest prominent American ethnologists. Among his important works is _The Iroquois Book of Rites_.
XVIII. STORY OF MARY JEMISON.
Years ago, when I was a small boy, some one pointed out to me the “old white woman’s spring,” and told me a part of the story of Mary Jemison.
In the year 1742 or 1743 an Irishman named Thomas Jemison, with his wife and three children, left his own country for America, on a ship called the _William and Mary_. On the voyage a little girl was born into the family, to whom they gave the name of Mary. She had a light, clear skin, blue eyes, and yellow or golden hair. After landing at Philadelphia, the family soon moved to Marsh Creek (Pennsylvania), which was then in the far West and quite in the Indian country. There Thomas Jemison had a farm, built a comfortable house, and by industry prospered. In the new home two younger children were born, both boys.
In 1754 they moved to a new farm, where they lived in a log house. Here they spent the winter. Spring came, and every one was busy in the fields. It was the time of the French and Indian wars against the English. A number of attacks had been made upon settlers. One day Mary was sent to a neighbor’s for a horse; she was to spend the night, returning in the morning. At that time some strangers were living at Mary’s house—a man, his sister-in-law, and her three little children. Mary had secured the horse for which she had been sent, and had ridden home in the early morning. As she reached the house, the man took the horse and rode off to get some grain, taking with him his gun, in case he should see some game. Every one about the house was busy. Mary, years afterward, told the story of what then took place:
“Father was shaving an ax-helve at the side of the house; mother was making preparations for breakfast; my two oldest brothers were at work near the barn; and the little ones, with myself and the woman and her three children, were in the house. Breakfast was not yet ready, when we were alarmed by the discharge of a number of guns that seemed to be near. Mother and the woman before mentioned almost fainted at the report, and every one trembled with fear. On opening the door, the man and horse lay dead near the house, having just been shot by the Indians. I was afterward informed that the Indians discovered him at his own house with his gun, and pursued him to father’s, where they shot him as I have related. They first secured my father, and then rushed into the house and without the least resistance made prisoners of my mother, brothers, and sister, the woman, her three children, and myself.... My two brothers Thomas and John, being at the barn, escaped.”
The party which had seized them was composed of six Shawnee Indians and four Frenchmen. The first day was terrible. They were kept rapidly marching until night; they had no food or water during the whole day. One Indian went behind the party with a whip, with which he lashed the little ones to make them keep up with the party. At night there was no fire and they had no covering. They were afoot again before daylight, but as the sun rose, stopped and ate breakfast. The second night they camped near a dark and dreary swamp, and here they were given supper, but were too tired and sad to care much for food. After supper, an Indian stripped off Mary’s shoes and stockings and began putting moccasins upon her. The same thing was done to the woman’s little boy. Noticing this, Mary’s mother believed the Indians intended to spare the two children. She said to the girl:
“My dear little Mary, I fear the time has arrived when we must be parted forever. Your life, I think, will be spared; but we shall probably be tomahawked here in this lonesome place, by the Indians. Alas! my dear, my heart bleeds at the thought of what awaits you; but if you leave us, remember your name, and the names of your father and mother. Be careful and not forget your English tongue. If you shall have an opportunity to get away from the Indians, don’t try to escape; for if you do, they will find and destroy you. Don’t forget, my little daughter, the prayers that I have learned you; say them often; be a good child, and God will bless you. May God bless you, my child, and make you comfortable and happy.”
Just then an Indian took Mary and the little boy by the hand and led them away. As they parted, the mother called out to the child, who was crying bitterly, “Don’t cry, Mary! Don’t cry, my child! God will bless you! Farewell, farewell!”
The Indian took the children into the woods, where they lay down to sleep. The little boy begged Mary to try to escape, but she remembered her mother’s warning. The next morning the other Indians and the Frenchmen rejoined them, but their white captives were not with them. During the night, in that dark and dismal swamp, Mary’s father and mother, Robert, Matthew, and Betsey, the woman, and two of her children had been killed, scalped, and fearfully mangled. When they camped again, Mary saw with horror the Indians at work upon the scalps of her parents.
A fourth and fifth day the party journeyed on, and then, driven by bad weather, camped for three nights in one place. Finally the party came near Fort Du Quesne, where Pittsburg now stands. They had been joined by other Indians who had a young white man prisoner. When they reached this place, the Indians carefully combed the hair of the three prisoners, and painted their faces and hair with red as Indians do.
The next morning after they reached the fort, the little boy and young man were given to the French. Mary was given to two young Seneca women. By them she was taken to their town some distance down the Ohio River. Here they washed her and dressed her nicely in Indian clothing. They publicly adopted her in place of a brother who had just been killed. These women and their brothers were kind to Mary, treating her as their real sister, and she came to love them dearly. She was with them for three winters and two summers on the Ohio River, when, at their wish, she married a Delaware Indian named Shenanjie. He was a good husband, but died when they had been married but two or three years.
We will tell but one more incident in Mary’s life. Not long after marrying Shenanjie, she moved with her sisters and their brothers to the Genesee Valley in New York. The wars were now over. Mary was a young widow with a little son. The King of England offered a bounty to any one who would find white prisoners among the Indians and bring them in to the forts to be redeemed. A Dutchman named Van Sice, who knew that Mary was a captive, determined to take her to the fort and get his bounty. Mary learned of his plan, but had no wish to leave the Indians. She was afraid of the man. One day, when she was working in the field alone, she saw him coming to seize her. He chased her, but she escaped and hid herself for three days and nights. The Indian council then decided that she could not be taken back against her wish, and her fear of Van Sice ceased.
But she had a more dangerous enemy. An old chief of the tribe determined himself to return her and get the bounty. He told one of Mary’s Indian brothers of his intention to take her to Niagara to be redeemed. A quarrel took place between the two men, and her brother declared that he would kill her with his own hand before he would allow the old man to carry her off against her will. This threat he made known to his own sister. She at once told Mary to flee with her babe and hide in some weeds near the house. She also told Mary that at night their brother would return, informed of the old chief’s plans, and that if the sachem persisted in carrying her off, he would surely kill her. The woman told her, after it was dark to creep up to the house, and if she found nothing near the door, to come in, as all would be safe. Should she, however, find a cake there, she must flee. Poor Mary hid in the weeds with her baby boy; at night, when all was still, she crept up to the house; the little cake was there! Taking it, she fled to the spring now called, for that reason, “the white woman’s spring.” Her sister had suggested the place. That night the old chief came to the house to get Mary, and her brother sought her to kill her, but neither could find her. The old sachem gave up the hunt and set out for Niagara with his other prisoners. After he was gone, and the excitement was past, Mary’s sister told her brother where Mary was hidden. He went there, and at finding her, greeted her kindly and brought her home.
JAMES E. SEAVER has written the story of Mary Jemison as she told it to him in her old age. The name of the book is _The Life of Mary Jemison: the White Woman of the Genesee_.
XIX. THE CREEKS.
The Creeks or Muskoki were one of the strongest tribes of the southern states. To them were related in language a number of important tribes—the Apalachi, Alibamu, Choctaw, Chicasaw, and others. Several of these tribes were united with the Creeks into a so-called confederacy. This union was not to be compared with that of the Iroquois or the Aztecs, but was a loose combination against foes.
The Creeks and their kindred tribes present a number of points of rather peculiar interest. In the olden time there were two kinds of Creek towns—white towns and red towns. The red towns were war towns, governed by warriors. The white or peace towns were governed by civil chiefs. It is said by some of the early writers that the white towns were “cities of refuge” to which those who were being pursued for some crime or unfortunate accident could flee. The red towns could be known as such as soon as a stranger entered the public square, as the posts of the “great house” were painted red.
Warriors were the most honored of men among the Creeks. Until a young man was successful in battle he was treated hardly different from a servant. The Creek boys had a pretty hard time. They were made to swim in the coldest weather; they were scratched with broken glass or fish teeth, from head to foot till the blood ran; these things were intended to toughen them to the endurance of pain. When the boy was fifteen to seventeen years old he was put through a test, after which he was no longer a boy, but a man. At the proper time he gathered an intoxicating plant. He ate the bitter root of it for a whole day, and drank a tea made of its leaves. When night came he ate a little pounded corn. He kept this up for four days. For four months he ate only pounded maize, which could only be cooked for him by a little girl. After that his food might be cooked by any one. For twelve months from the time of his first fast he ate no venison from young bucks, no turkeys nor hens, no peas nor salt; nor was he permitted to pick his ears or scratch his head with his fingers, but used a splinter of wood for the purpose. At the time of new moon he fasted four days, excepting that he ate a little pounded maize at night. When the last month of his twelve months’ test came, he kept four days’ fast, then burned some corncobs and rubbed his body with the ashes. At the end of that month, he took a heavy sweat and then plunged into cold water.
Men who wished to become great warriors selected some old conjurer to give them instruction. Four months were spent with him alone. The person desiring to learn fasted, ate bitter herbs, and suffered many hardships. After he had learned all the old conjurer could teach him, it was believed that he could disarm the enemy even at a distance, and if they were far away, could bring them near, so that he might capture them.
In the center of every large Creek town there was a public square. In this square there were three interesting things,—the great house, the council house, and the playground. The great house consisted of four one-story buildings, each about thirty feet long; they were arranged about a square upon which all faced. The side of these which opened on the central square was entirely open. Each of the four houses was divided into three rooms or compartments by low partitions of clay. At the back of each compartment were three platforms or seats, the lowest two feet high, the second several feet higher, the third as much higher than the second. These were covered with cane matting, as if for carpeting. New mats were put in each year, but the old ones were not removed. Each of these four buildings was a gathering-place for a different class of persons. The one facing east was for the _miko_ and people of high rank; the northern building was for warriors; the southern was for “the beloved men”; and the eastern for the young people. In the great house were kept the weapons, scalps, and other trophies. Upon the supporting posts and timbers were painted horned warriors, horned alligators, horned rattlesnakes, etc. The central court of the great house was dedicated ground, and no woman might set foot in it. In the center of it burned a perpetual fire of four logs.
The council house was at the northeast corner of the great house. It stood upon a circular mound. It consisted of a great conical roof supported on an octagonal frame about twelve feet high. It was from twenty-five to thirty feet in diameter. Its walls were made of posts set upright and daubed with clay. A broad seat ran around the house inside and was covered with cane mats. A little hillock at the center formed a fireplace. The fire kept burning upon this was fed with dry cane or finely split pine wood which was curiously arranged in a spiral line.
The council house was used as a gathering or meeting place, much as the great house, but it was chiefly for bad weather, especially for winter. Here, too, private meetings of importance were held at all times. Here young men prepared for war-parties, spending four days in drinking war-drink, and counseling with the conjurers. This council house was also the place for sweat baths. Stones were heated very hot; water was thrown upon them to give steam. Those desiring the bath danced around this fire and then plunged into cold water.
The playground was in the northwest corner of the public square; it was marked off by low embankments. In the center, on a low, circular mound, stood a four-sided pole, sometimes as much as forty feet high. A mark at the top served as a target for practice with the bow and arrow. The floor of this yard was beaten hard and level. The chief game played here was called Chunkey. It was played with neatly polished stone disks. These were set rolling along on the ground, and the players hurled darts or shafts at them to make the disk fall. (Compare with the wheel game of the Blackfeet.) Ball games and sometimes dances were also held upon this playground.
The great celebration of the Creeks was the annual _busk_. They called it _puskita_, or fast. The ceremony was chiefly held at the great house. The time was determined by the condition of the new corn and of a plant named cassine. The ceremony lasted eight days and included many details. Among them we can mention a few. On the first day a spark of new fire was made by rubbing two pieces of wood together. With this a four days’ fire was kindled; four logs of wood were brought in and arranged so that one end of each met one end of the others at the middle, and the four formed a cross, the arms of which pointed to the cardinal points; these were fired with the spark of new fire. Bits of new fire, at some time during the four days, were set outside where the women could take them to kindle fresh fires on their home hearths.
At noon of the second day, the men took ashes from the new fire and rubbed them over their chin, neck, and body; they then ran and plunged themselves into cold water. On their return, they took the new corn of the year and rubbed it between their hands and over their bodies. They then feasted upon the new corn. On the last, eighth day, of the busk, a medicinal liquid was made from fourteen (or fifteen) different plants, each of which had medicinal power; they were steeped in water in two pots and were vigorously stirred and beaten. The conjurers blew into the liquid through a reed. The men all drank some of this liquid and rubbed it over their joints.
They did other curious things during this day. When night came, all went to the river. “Old man’s tobacco” was thrown into the stream by each person, and then all the men plunged into the river and picked up four stones from the bottom. With these they crossed themselves over the breast four times, each time throwing back one stone into the river.
Mr. Gatschet thinks that much good resulted from the busk. After it all quarrels were forgotten; crimes, except murder, were forgiven; old utensils were broken and new ones procured. Every one seemed to leave the past behind and begin anew.