Part 6

As the sun is visible to all men, and as it has been an object of superstitious regard on the part of almost all pagan nations of past generations, it will not be thought worth while, perhaps, to mention the fact that the Dakota too, worships the sun. It will not, however, be quite out of place to put on record a few facts in relation to this part of Dakota worship, by which they presume to honor this glorious object; facts which evince the sentiments of the deluded worshippers. The following, from the pen of Rev. S. R. Riggs, is to the point.

DAKOTA SUN DANCE.

The Sun is, from many circumstances, a natural object of worship among the unenlightened nations of men. With the Dakotas, the sun is sometimes appealed to as a witness. Sometimes they pray to it, generally with the honorable title of _Hunkayapi_. Sometimes, as a god, it communicates with men in dreams and visions. But the nature of the communication is that the men should dance the _wiwanyagwacipi_, with the promise of success in hunting or war. Generally the object of dancing to the sun is to secure victory over enemies. In this aspect it is a _waihdusna_ or _self-immolation_ to the sun; it is an offering up of one’s strength and manhood to secure the aid of the sun in the day of battle. The Bible says, “the stars in their courses fought.”

There are occasions, also, when a man dances the sun dance as a thank-offering. He is sick and apprehends he will die. He makes a vow that if his life is spared he will dance to the sun. Or, he is on the war path and he prays to the great _hunkayapi_ for success, promising in that event to dance to his honor. These are said to be the occasions and reasons for the _Wiwanyag-wacipi_.

More than a quarter of a century has passed since I witnessed this ceremony, and I was there only a couple of hours about the middle of the day. On the north side a couple of tents, fastened together, were stretched around poles, forming a large semicircle. In the focus of the radii stood three dancers, with their eyes turned towards the sun, which was then in the south. Their faces and the upper part of their bodies were gaily painted, and their heads were adorned with feathers. A blue or red blanket was strapped around their waist, and hung down like a woman’s skirt. Each one had a fife made of the bone of a swan’s wing, on which they kept up a toot-toot-toot-ing, varied by the measures of the dance and the song. Behind them in the shadow of the tent sat the singers and players on instruments—the drums and rattles. A few women sat still farther back, who formed a part of the choir, and joined in the chorus.

The chief dancer on this occasion, if I remember rightly, was _Mahipiya sua_, who afterwards shot himself. The dancers always make incisions in their flesh, in which they insert swan’s down or horse hair. These incisions are commonly made on the shoulders and arms. When the sacrifice is intended to be as complete as possible, an incision is made in the back, through which a cord of horse hair is passed, and a buffalo head is attached to the lower end, so that every time the body moves up and down, a slight motion is given to the buffalo head which lies on the ground behind him. At the close, if his strength remains sufficient, he drags the buffalo head around the place.

Occasionally a man inflicts still more torture on himself than this. He makes an incision in his breast, and passing a cord through it he draws it tight and fastens the other end to a pole which stands immediately in front of him.

The ceremonies of the sun dance commence in the evening. I have been under the impression that the time of the full moon was selected, but I am now informed that it is not essential. The singers and players on instruments practice their songs in the night, and there is some dancing. There is also feasting. Before morning the company generally lie down and sleep awhile.

The real dance commences when the _Hunkayapi_ makes his appearance. Then the dancers begin and continue without _eating_, _drinking_, or _resting_, until nature is quite exhausted. Some join in the dance as particular friends of the dancer. They may occasionally sit down and smoke, but if the maker of the dance falls down or is observed to be quite exhausted, a friend may step forward and make a valuable present to some one. In this case the dancer may rest awhile and begin again. Some give out entirely before the sun goes down, when the dance is concluded. Others are able to continue into the night.

A man who dances to the sun is expected to make a song of his own, which embodies the _god-communication_ to him.

SUN DANCE SONGS.

MAHIPIYA SUA’S SONG.

1. Hena yuha hibu e: Nazi topa hena yuha oecetiwaya nunwe.

TRANSLATION.

“_Having these I come_; Having these four souls may I make my camp fires.”

He was to take _four scalps_ in battle.

2. Anpetu kin wamiconga, Makatakiya u we.

“The day that is determined for me, May it come earthward.”

3. Minagi topa ye do, Hoksidan wakan cicu e do.

4. Wiwanyake toki da he; Nitakoda wanyaka ye.

“Wiwanyaki (a bird) where have you gone; Behold your friend.”

5. Anpetu kin wanniyag hi nanwe.

“May the day come to see thee.”

6. Wacinhe wakanyan Taninyan wahinawape.

With a crown of glory, I come forth.

This is the language of the sun as it rises in glory.

7. Mahipiya sua, kode, Mini yain hwo.

This is sung by the singers when the man is almost dying of thirst. The brave man pays no attention to it.

The following is from the pen of Major General Curtis, dated Fort Sully, June 2, 1866:

“The whole of the three thousand Sioux camped about us gave me early information of their design to have the annual sun dance at this time and place, the season of the year—the trees in full leaf—having now arrived, and they wished me to inform Colonel Recor, the commander of the soldiers, that however boisterous their demonstrations might be, they would all be peaceable and of a pious character.

On yesterday, June 1, the dancing was delayed at intervals to allow tortures to be inflicted. Two or three men stood over the devotee with needle and knife, very quietly performing penance, according to the customs of all these sacerdotal rites, as follows; First, they cut the arms in several places by striking an awl in the skin, raising it and cutting out about half an inch; this is done on both arms, and sometimes on the breast and back. Then wooden setons (sticks about the thickness of a common lead pencil) are inserted through a hole in the skin and flesh. Then cords or ropes are attached to these sticks by one end, and to the pole at the other end, the victim pulling on the ropes till the seton sticks tear out the flesh and skin. I saw one with two setons thus attached to his breast, pulling till it seemed to draw the skin out three inches, and finally requiring nearly his whole might to tear out the seton.

One, painted black, had four ropes attached at once. The pulling out is done in the dance, the pulling carried on in the time of the music by jerk, jerk, jerk, and the eye, head, and front all facing the sun in the form of supplication. One had four setons attached to four dry buffalo head bones. These were all strung and suspended to his flesh by ropes that raised each head some three feet off the ground. He danced hard to tear them out, but they would not break the skin. One came off the stick accidentally, but it was again fastened. Finally, these heavy weights (each at least twenty five pounds weight,) not tearing out by their own weight or motion, the devotee gave a comrade a horse to take hold of the rope and tear out the setons. While these were being thus tortured, their female relations came in and had pieces cut out of their arms to show their appreciation of the valor and devotion of their kinsmen. Still, as soon as the victim could be prepared, the music was renewed, and the dismal dance went on, victims’ bodies now mingled with blood, paint, and setons.

There being several steamboats and many soldiers here, a crowd of spectators rather embarrassed the performers, so they concluded the performance at twelve o’clock, having only danced twenty-four hours instead of forty-eight, as they usually do. All the devotees gave away all their ponies and other valuables to their friends, had their wounds carefully dressed by attendant medical men, and sat down to an abundant feast of dog soup and buffalo meat.

So ended this most barbarous and painful exhibition of savage idolatry. The picture is still deeply impressed on my senses, but I cannot give half the horror of the scene, either by pen or pencil.”

The object of these rites is to obtain the favor of the god to whom they relate.

In these divinities which have been mentioned, and innumerable others like them, as various as the wildest imaginations, maddened by passion, can create, or their circumstances and felt wants demand, the Dakotas find all that they desire of a religious nature. These divinities communicate with mortals through the medium of

THE MEDICINE-MAN.

These men are the representatives of the gods on earth, to men. They _are_ the gods in human form, though in diminished proportions. They are essentially different from other men—wakan.

The original essence of these men and women, for they appear under both sexes, first wakes into existence floating in ether. As the winged seed of the thistle, or of the cottonwood, floats on the air, so they are gently wafted by the “four winds”—“Taku-skan-skan”—through the regions of space, until, in due time, they find themselves in the abode of some one of the families of the superior gods, by whom they are received into intimate fellowship. There the embryotic medicine-man remains till he becomes familiar with the characters, abilities, desires, caprices, and employments of the gods. He becomes essentially assimilated to them, imbibing their spirit, and becoming acquainted with all the chants, feasts, fasts, dances and sacrificial rites which it is deemed necessary to impose on men.

Some of the more favored of these men are privileged to pass through a succession of such inspirations, with various families of the divinities, until they are completely _wakanized_, and prepared for human incarnation.

In particular, they are invested with the irresistable powers of the gods to do good or evil, with their knowledge and cunning, and their everywhere present influence over mind, instinct and passion. They are instructed how to inflict diseases and to heal them, to discover things concealed from common men, to foretell future events, to manufacture implements of war, and infuse into them the missive virtue—the tonwan—of the gods, and to perform all sorts of wonders.

Thus qualified for his mission, this germ of wakan, to become incarnate, is again committed to the direction of the “four winds.” From his elevated position, he selects a place which is to be the scene of his service, and enters the body of an unborn infant. Thus he effects an entrance into the world and into the sympathies of mortals.

When one of them dies, he returns to the abode of his gods, where he receives a new inspiration and a new commission, to serve a new generation of men in some other portion of the world. In this manner he passes through four inspirations and incarnations, and then returns to his primitive nothingness. These characters, however, do not always appear in human form, but enter the bodies of beasts, as the wolf, the bear, and the buffalo.

To establish their claims to inspiration, these characters must, of course, perform things that are wakan, in a manner to satisfy those on whom they purpose to impose their superstitions.

For this purpose, they artfully lay hold of all that is strange and mysterious, and if possible turn it to their own advantage. To do this is the one object and effort of their lives. It is their study day and night, at all times and on all occasions. They think about it when awake, and dream about it when asleep. They make use of all the means in their power, and their zeal never grows cold.

They assume familiarity with whatever astonishes other people, with a degree of self complacency, and an air of impudence and assurance which strikes the observers with amazement. They foretell future events with a degree of accuracy or of ambiguity which is sufficient for their purpose. Those at one village affect to be familiar with what is transpiring at another village leagues distant They predict the result of a war expedition as if they had already been there; and if the prediction is not fulfilled they find no difficulty in setting the failure to the account of the sins of their followers.

They inflict diseases and heal them. They kill and make alive. When occasion requires they seem to calm the tempest, or to raise the storm, and converse with thunder and lightning, as with a familiar friend and equal. In their devotional exercises, at times, they wrangle with the gods, charge them with duplicity, and are defiant. If one of them is killed by the electric fluid, which sometimes happens, it only proves the truth, to the living, of all he had taught them concerning the Wakinyan, and that he had provoked their anger by his sins.

The medicine man is not only familiar with the superior gods who are out of him, but he also has inferior gods dwelling in him, to satisfy whose cravings he frequently, and in the most public manner, tears off with his teeth and eats the raw, quivering, bleeding flesh of newly-slaughtered animals, like a starving beast or bird of prey, devouring parts of dogs or fish entire, not excepting bones and scales.

RAW FISH FEAST.

In the summer of 1852, a feast of this kind was observed at Shakopee. It was made by _Anoginajin_, second chief of the Little Six band and others.

After two days spent in introductory ceremonies, including “vapor bath” and “armor-feast,” a tent was prepared opening towards the east, with a spacious court in front constructed of bushes. Within the court each of those who were to participate, had a bush set in which was prepared a nest. Two pikes, each about one foot long, rouged with vermilion and ornamented with down from the swan, were placed on some branches of trees in the enclosure. The fishes were entire as they had been taken from the water. Near the fishes were placed dishes of birch bark filled with sweetened water. The implements of war, belonging to the participants, were solemnly exhibited in the tent. The dancers, who were naked, except the breech cloth and moccasins, were fantastically smeared with pigments of various colors, and otherwise ornamented with down, white and red. Four ranks of chanters and musicians were in attendance. The dancers claimed to be inspired by the cormorant. They danced to the music of three ranks of the singers, till their chants closed, taking little seasons for rest and smoking. When the fourth rank struck the drum and “_lifted up their voices_,” the inspiration was poured out and the welkin trembled, and the dancers approached the fishes in a rage, like starving beasts, and without using their hands, tore off piece after piece, scales, bones, entrails and all, and swallowed them, drinking at the same time from their bark dishes. Nothing remained at the close except the heads, fins and large bones, which they had deposited in their nests. To end the ceremony, what few articles of clothing had been worn on the occasion, were offered in sacrifice to the gods.

Thus, while the favor of the TAKU WAKAN was secured, the fact that the dancers were inspired, was demonstrated to most of the six hundred wondering spectators. By performances of thousands of wakan things, such as have been hinted at, these men triumphantly substantiate their claims to inspiration, and they are fully believed to be “the great powers of the gods,” and, among their people, hold a position like that of the THUGS of India. The wakan qualities which these persons possess, or assume to possess, qualify them to act in any capacity and in any emergency.

THE MEDICINE MAN A PRIEST.

As a priest, with all the assurance of an eye-witness—of an equal and of intimate and long continued communion, he bears testimony for the divinities. He gives a minute description of their physical appearance, their dwelling place, and their attendants. He reveals their disposition, their powers and their employments, as one who has been with them. He dictates prayers and chants, institutes fasts and feasts, dances and sacrifices. He defines sin and its opposite and their respective consequences. In short, he imposes upon the people a system of demonism and superstition, to suit their depraved tastes and passions, and caprices, and circumstances, and interests as savages, with an air of authority and with a degree of cunning which does seem to be almost superhuman—a system so artfully devised, so well adapted to them, so congenial to them, that it readily weaves itself into, and becomes a part of them, as really as the woof becomes a part of the texture, ensuring their most obsequious submission to its demands. It becomes part of their body, soul and spirit. They breathe and speak, and sing and live it. It is not something that can be assumed and laid off at pleasure.

In the character of a priest, the influence of these demons in human form is so complete and universal, that thirty years ago, scarce an individual could be found among them who was not a servile religionist. Every individual was trained to it from early infancy. Mothers put the consecrated offering into the little unconscious hand of their babes at the breast, and caused them to cast the present to the god. As soon as the little tongue could articulate, it was taught to say, “grandfather befriend me;” or “grandmother befriend me.” On one occasion the writer witnessed a whole band, old and young, male and female, march out to the lake shore in Indian file, and perform their acts of devotion, and offer their prayers at the back of the medicine man, who was at the same time officiating between them and the god—each individual was obliged to the performance—the mothers fixing the little mouths of unconscious infants carefully, reverently, on the stem of the consecrated pipe, which the priest extended to them backward over his shoulder.

Much as the savage loves ease and self-indulgence he will cheerfully subject himself to almost any privation, discomfort and toil, for days, weeks, or even months together, in order to procure the necessary provisions for a sacrifice which the priest assures him the gods demand. If he fails he fully believes that the penalty may be the infliction of any, or all the evils to which an Indian is exposed. A man made a trip on foot from the “Little Rapids,” on the Minnesota river, to Big Stone Lake, and purchased and brought on his back, a pack of dried buffalo meat, weighing, probably, sixty or seventy pounds, a distance of nearly two hundred miles, to be used in the medicine-dance—a sacrifice to the Onktehi and to the souls of the dead. This he did because the priest had assured him that it was the will of the TAKU-WAKAN.

THE WAR PROPHET.

In this capacity the wakan-man is an indispensable necessity. Every Dakota man sixteen years old and upward, is a soldier, and is formally and _wakanly_ enlisted into his service.

From him he receives the implements of war, as the spear and tomahawk, carefully constructed after a model furnished from the armory of the gods, painted after the divine prescription and charged with the missive virtue—the tonwan—of the divinities. From him also he receives those paints which serve as an armature for the body.

To obtain these necessary articles from the MDE TAHUNKA—the War Prophet—the proud applicant is required, for a time, to abuse himself and serve him, while he goes through a series of painful and exhausting performances, which are necessary on his part to enlist the favorable notice of the gods. These performances consist chiefly of “vapor-baths,” fastings, chants, prayers, and nightly watching.

The spear and tomahawk being prepared and duly consecrated and rendered wakan, the person who is to receive them, with a most piteous wail and suppliant aspect, approaches the god-man and reverently presents to him the pipe of prayer. He then lays his trembling hand on the head of his master, and sobs out his desires in substance as follows:

“Pity thou me, poor and helpless—a woman—and confer on me the ability to perform manly deeds.”

The prophet then, with the majestic mien of a god, places in his hand the desired weapons, as he says, “Go thou and test the swing of this tomahawk, and the thrust of this spear; but when in triumph thou shalt return—a man—forget not thy vows to the gods.”

In this manner every man, it is said, is enlisted into the service of the war prophet, and enlisted for life.

The weapons thus received, are preserved by the Dakota warrior, as sacredly as was the “ark of the covenant” by the pious Hebrew of ancient times. They are carefully wrapped in cloth, together with sacred pigments, and in fair weather are every day laid outside of the lodge, and may never be touched by an adult female.

Every warrior feels that his success, both on the battle-field and in the chase, depends entirely upon the strictness, promptness and constancy with which he adheres to the rules which are imposed upon him by the wakan war leader.

The influence of the medicine-man in this capacity, permeates the whole community, and it is hardly possible to over-estimate it. Those who are led by him will be murderers, it is their trade. They are commissioned for this. Those who are bound to these war-prophets, by such rites, _will be led by him unless they renounce their religion_.

The Indian, if he can, will kill a foe, whoever he be, as long as he is a pagan. He is as apt to do it as a duck is to swim. The favor of the gods, and even his very manhood, depends upon it. He is not a man till he has killed a foe. Till their hands have been dipped in blood they are liable to be abused and insulted in the most outrageous manner. Young men, in sight of St. Paul, have been obliged to assume the petticoat and exhibit themselves as women in the public dance, because they had not killed a foe. The _pagan_ Indian, in a sense, is obliged to be a murderer.

THE MEDICINE MAN A DOCTOR.

The power of the Doctor “caps the climax.” In him all the powers of the gods meet, as the colors blend in the rain-bow. The doctor is revered as much, perhaps, as the superior gods themselves. The subordinate gods dwell in them and confer on them the power to _suck out disease_ from the human body. If long without practice, it is said that the gods in them become restless, and subject them to much inconvenience. To pacify them it is represented that they sometimes obtain and drink considerable quantities of human blood.