Part 7

"Friends and brothers, these are the last words you will hear from the lips of Hiawatha. Choose the wisest maiden[18] in your tribes, who shall be your peacemaker, and to your sachems shall come wisdom to arrange for the reference to her of dissensions that may arise among you. I have spoken, and will now follow the call of the Great Spirit."

[18] See legend "The Peacemaker," and note on same.

At that moment sweet strains of music burst upon the ears of the listening multitude like the gentle voice of summer in the branches of the pine trees; they heard it, but knew not whence it came. The wise man stepped forward, and as he was seated in the mystic canoe the music burst upon the air in tones more beautiful than the red men had ever before heard. But the snow-white canoe did not skim the waters of the lake. Slowly it rose as the choral chant pealed forth, and, following the direction taken by the celestial bird, disappeared among the summer clouds as the melody ceased.

THE PEACEMAKER

KIENUKA, the peace-home, was desolate. The fire of pine knots that for many generations had burned upon its fire-place was dead and sodden. No voice of welcome was heard within its doors. Its hangings of skins and robes were torn and loosened by the winds of all seasons. The broad paths leading from the sun-rising, the sun-setting, the guide star and the summer land, which for many hundred moons by night and by day had been pressed by the feet of the red children of the forest when in trouble, in danger, in need of counsel, or in want, were now choked with briars and thistles. The wolf whelped her young in the couch of the Peacemaker. Birds without song and of black plumage built their nests and muttered hoarse croakings to their nestlings in the roof of the peace-home.

Blood had been shed in Kienuka and the Great Spirit had made the peace-home desolate.

When Hiawatha, the wise man, was speaking the last words to his children, he told them to choose from their tribes a maiden possessing wisdom, who should be their peacemaker. So the red men built a home wherein the peacemaker should dwell, and doors were made at each side so that it mattered not whence came the wayfarer he would find a welcome. Then the maidens of the tribes were brought together at the council-place and to them were submitted the questions in dispute among their brothers. The wise men decided that she who would decide the greatest number most justly should be the Peacemaker Queen and dwell within the fortress they had built. Thus the Queen was chosen, and when the Great Spirit called her to the long home she was mourned by the people of all the tribes, and none entered the peace-home until her successor had been selected.

In this manner came to the peace-home Genetaska, the Seneca maiden, whose wisdom and kindness were known to all, and whose beauty was like that of the full summer. She was the most famous of all the Peacemaker Queens, and the red men said that Minnehaha, the daughter of Hiawatha, came often from the sky on the back of the celestial bird and gave her advice and guidance. Whoever went to the doors of the peace-home disputing came from them again, when they had eaten and rested, with no anger in their hearts, for Genetaska soothed them by her gentle voice. To the sick and wounded she ministered with the greatest medicine herbs; to those heated by passion she told tales of the Great Spirit that taught them moderation. Disputes among the tribes were so adjusted that the hunters or warriors who would come to Kienuka with anger and war in their hearts left its doors as brothers.

One day there came to the peace-home two young chiefs--one from the Oneidas and the other from the Onondagas. Each claimed that his arrow had given the death stroke to a mighty buck they had been trailing in the forest. When they had tried their skill with weapons, agreeing that the most skillful should possess the slain animal, neither could gain advantage over the other. Then said the Onondaga: "I will fight thee, Oneida, and he who lives may carry to his village the mighty buck and the scalp-lock of his enemy."

But the Oneida said: "Thou, Onondaga, must remember the words that have been spoken in thine ears by the old men who listened to the teachings of Hiawatha, that when two hunters of the Five Nations dispute in the paths of the forest they shall not fight, but tell their dispute to the Peacemaker. The Oneida will go with thee to Kienuka."

When they had eaten and rested at the peace-home, the hunters were told that each should take half of the buck back to his village. "For," said the Peacemaker, "the animal is large, and with half each hath enough for his wife and little ones."

"The Oneida is alone in his home," said the chief. "I carry the meat to the old men and to the women who have no sons. The Oneida has seen no maiden he would take to his wigwam till he beheld Genetaska, the Peace Queen."

Then said the Onondaga: "The home of the Onondaga is desolate since the plague robbed it of the loved ones. He is a great chief and has power in his tribe, for he was never defeated on the chase or in the contest. But the Peacemaker has made his heart weak, and he can never be strong again unless she will come to his wigwam."

Then said Genetaska: "Go, thou, my brothers, and think no more of the Peace Queen, who is chosen by the tribes and may not be the wife of any. Seek thou other maidens, who will gladly become wives to you."

But when they were gone there was no longer peace in the heart of Genetaska, for the form of the Oneida was before her eyes.

When the autumn came--when its first tints had touched the forests and merely tinged the dark green with a hazy brown--the Oneida chief came at sun-setting to the peace-home and stood boldly before the Peacemaker. He said:

"The Oneida hath built a wigwam in the summer land where the Five Tribes do not care to go. He hath filled it with robes and supplied it with food and it awaits the coming of Genetaska, the Seneca maiden, who loves the Oneida. The tribes will choose another Peace Queen when thou art gone, and thy heart will no longer be heavy with the burdens of all the red children who come to thee with their troubles. Will not Genetaska go?"

The maiden looked boldly into the face of her lover and answered: "Genetaska will go."

Toward the summer land they left Kienuka, and when they came to the river they glided rapidly along in the Oneida's canoe and were lost to their people forever.

* * * * *

But the peace-home was desolate, and to its doors in the darkness came running two men whose anger toward each other had long been fed with jealousy and hatred. When no Peacemaker was found their rage could no longer be controlled, and they fell upon each other with their hunting clubs and fought till they sank from exhaustion and died before each other's eyes.

The peace-home had been desecrated by the shedding of blood. Henceforth it was a place shunned by all men.

AN UNWELCOME VISITOR

WHEN the frosts were unlocked from the hillsides there came into one of the villages of the red men a mild and quiet old man whom none of them had ever seen before. He stood beside the field where the young men played at their games, and when some of the fathers approached to bid him welcome to their village and wigwams they saw that his body was covered with sores, and they made excuses to turn aside that they might not meet him. When none went to him and called him brother, he turned to the village and walked slowly from door to door of the wigwams. The women saw him and as he approached their doors they covered their children's faces that they might not see his features, and wished in their hearts that he would not enter. When the little man read their thoughts, with saddened eyes and heavy steps he would turn away and seek another habitation, where he would again see that he was not welcome and turn his weary footsteps from the door. When he had visited all the wigwams in the village without finding a welcome in any, he went suddenly to the forest and they saw him no more.

The next day he appeared in another village, where the same weary round of the day before brought him no shelter. For many days thereafter he went from village to village, and, though he spoke to no one, he knew that their hearts were not open to him and that they shuddered at his coming.

Finally there remained but two more villages to visit and he feared that he should find none who would bid him enter their homes that they might minister to his wants. At last, however, as he approached a humble cabin his eyes brightened, for he read in the heart of the woman who saw him coming that she had taken pity on his forlorn condition and that her hospitality would overcome the dread his appearance caused. Said the woman:

"Thou art welcome, my brother, for thou art a stranger."

Then said the strange man: "Peace to my sister's house and happiness to her husband."

Then the woman spread a couch of soft furs at one side of the wigwam and bade the stranger lie down; and when she had done so she asked him how she should minister to his wants. Then the strange man said:

"Listen, my sister: Thou of all thy race hast had in thy heart pity and love for a suffering and friendless creature that have led thee to give him shelter in thy house. Know then, my sister, that thy name shall henceforth be great. Many wonders shall be taught thee, and thy sons will be made chiefs and thy daughters princesses. I am Quarara, and bear messages from the Great Spirit."

Then Quarara described to the woman a plant which she went forth into the forest and procured. She returned to the hut and prepared it as he bade her, and when it was administered to him he recovered from his sickness and the sores left him.

Quarara remained at the woman's wigwam many moons and brought upon himself all manner of fevers, plagues and diseases, and for each one he described the medicine root or herb that would perform its cure. These the woman found in the forest and brought to him, and he made it plain how they should be prepared to do the will of the Great Spirit and defeat the evil spirits and witches that plagued his people.

Then said the strange man, Quarara, to her:

"Thou, Oh! sister, knowest now what the Great Spirit would have thee teach his children freely. Thou hast been patient and kind and thy heart is filled with gentleness. The sons that shall be born to thee shall be called Sagawahs, the healers, and thou and thy family shall be remembered throughout all generations."

Quarara then brought upon himself the fatal disease, for which there is no remedy, and returned to his home with the Great Spirit.

_Bits of Folk-Lore_

BITS OF FOLK-LORE

FIRE was believed to be a giant that was fed on pygmies or small spirits existing only in the wind. The process of fanning the embers into flame with one's breath was only attempted at the greatest hazard, as it was "very bad medicine."

Whoever might be engaged in the practice of any mystery should never be disturbed or interfered with except under penalty of the direst misfortunes and the suspicion of all his tribe. They might wonder in their own hearts, but they must never betray the least curiosity to find out what one of their number might be trying to bring about by his experiments, incantations or mysterious performances. The arrows of a curious hunter never hit the mark, and the corn planted and tilled by a curious woman bore only crooked and withered ears.

The sun was commonly known as "the smiling face of the Great Spirit," and when it disappeared at night it was supposed to have entered the door of a great wigwam which was built in the form of a semi-circle. In the morning it reappeared at the other door of the wigwam. Their ideas about astronomy were extremely vague and were constantly changing. The moon was believed to be a sister of the sun, and in time would be able to give as much light as her brother. The stars were bright and glowing brands of fire tied with thongs and held by spirits created for that purpose by the Great Spirit. One star alone, the North Star, was held by the Great Spirit himself because it was always in the same place. It was called the guide. Other stars and planets were named, but the names have not been preserved.

The springs and the streams they formed were first made for the convenience of the Great Spirit. He desired to leave the Happy Hunting-Grounds and make a journey over the earth and so he sent a large white bird to carry water from the original spring near the Great Spirit's wigwam and plant it in the earth at convenient distances. Sections of country that were without springs had not been visited by the Great Spirit.

Language was looked upon as a sacred gift, and was as much a part of the body as the head or limbs. For this reason an Indian never spoke the language of another nation except in the capacity of interpreter. When a council was held between tribes the orators conducted the debate in their own language, and the words were translated, when necessary, as they fell from the lips of the speakers by those who had been trained for that purpose. It was considered the greatest possible affront to their ancestors and to the Great Spirit for the Iroquois to speak any language other than their own. Deaf mutes among them were pointed out as people who were not satisfied with the language of their fathers and in consequence had lost the power to speak or hear.

Difficulties and contentions were spirits of evil that flew about inciting trouble. When disputes and differences were arranged or settled they would arise again unless buried. When terms of a settlement had been agreed upon it was customary to dig a hole in the ground, around which the disputants would gather, and each party to the dispute would talk his grievances into the excavation, absolutely unburdening himself of all he had to say. When the ceremony was concluded, the excavated earth was returned and firmly stamped and pounded down. In this way, it was believed, the quarrel could be forever buried unless one of the parties to the ceremony deliberately removed the earth and again opened the prison of the bad spirits. From this belief grew the custom of "burying the hatchet" when peace was secured, and of digging it up when war was determined upon.

The Aurora Borealis was believed to be the reflection of the light of the camp-fires in the Happy Hunting-Grounds. When its lights were seen it was supposed that the brothers who had passed into the future were rejoicing over the successful termination of some great hunt or participating in a feast. The size of a fire that could cast such wonderful lights was beyond their comprehension, and often the death-song of the warriors and chiefs would refer to their hope of soon standing beside the fire that was greater than the mountains. It was customary for them to stand in the open air and make long speeches to the spirits during the time the Aurora was to be seen. They would chide the spirits for wastefulness in building so large a fire and call upon them not to burn all the forests of the Great Spirit before their friends on the earth were admitted to the charmed circle and permitted to enjoy the pleasures of a camp-fire of such gigantic proportions.

It was wrong to complain of pain of any kind or to show by any act that pain was experienced. Both pain and suffering were caused by bad spirits, and surely one would not give their enemies the pleasure of knowing that their attempts had in any manner caused discomfort. The Great Spirit was trying with all his power to relieve those who suffered pain, and to complain when your friend was doing his best to aid you would make him think that his efforts were not appreciated. Besides this, after the first shock of a wound, none of the animals betray by their cries the presence of pain. The dog will carry a broken leg for days, wistfully but uncomplainingly. The cat, stricken with club or stone, or caught in some trap from which it gnaws its way to freedom, crawls to some secret place and bears its agony in silence. The wolf or bear, caught in the pitfalls and pierced with scores of stinging arrows, indicate by no outward sign that they suffer. The wounded deer speeds to some thick brake and in pitiful submission waits for death. The eagle, struck by the arrow in mid-air, fights to the last against the fatal summons. There is no moan or sound of pain, and the defiant look never fades from its eyes until the lids close over them never to uncover again. The Indians learned many of their lessons from the animals and were taught to be as brave and uncomplaining as their brothers of the forests.

_The Happy Hunting-Grounds_

THE HAPPY HUNTING-GROUNDS

IT is hardly possible to define the creed of the people comprising the Iroquois, for it was so intermingled with curious superstitions of every kind that it cannot be traced to a continuous doctrine like the religions of other peoples. They had no special teachers of religion, and the privilege of adding as many superstitions as the mind could conceive was possessed by each individual member. Thus their religious belief was encumbered with almost every superstition that could be created in the minds of an ignorant and uncivilized people dwelling in wildernesses filled with numerous wild beasts and given over to the undisputed sway of solitude.

In a general way, however, according to the explanations made by Cornplanter of the belief entertained by him, their religion saw God as a great and loving spirit whose extended arms bore up and encircled the universe. They believed this Great Spirit created all the objects, both animate and inanimate, upon the earth; that he smiled upon his people in sunshine and shower, and frowned upon them in fierce storms and whirlwinds. He peopled the air with millions of embodied spirits, some of which were evil, and unless propitiated caused pain, sickness, trouble and death. Others were good spirits and aided the hunter in his chase, the lover in his suit, and brought male offspring to the mother's arms. Finally, he had prepared for them a "Happy Hunting-Ground," where every one should go after death. There beautiful birds would make resonant the hills and valleys with their enchanting song. The Great Spirit had covered that vast and magnificent country with plains, and forests, and limpid streams, in which and over which would sport the red deer, bears, buffaloes, wild horses and all animals and fishes useful for clothing and food. The good Indian could there reside forever with his wives and papooses, climbing the rugged hills without weariness, sporting in the rivers and lakes that never failed to supply an abundance of fish--always returning from the chase laden with the trophies of his skill. But the bad Indian would return from the chase empty-handed; he would lose his way and wander in the labyrinth of beautiful paths that led him beside fields of growing maize which disappeared when he attempted to pluck the glistening ears. Then his more fortunate brothers would take pity upon him and lead him to his home, and his punishment would be the chagrin he would feel when of necessity he was compelled to partake of his brother's bounty.

In the beginning, the red men dwelt with the Great Spirit in this delightful country, but they were so boisterous and full of play that the Great Spirit could get no rest on account of their noise. Besides this, there were no evil spirits or dangers there, and they could not learn to be brave and courageous unless they were situated where they came in contact with opposition and trouble. So the Great Spirit made a large basket in which he placed the red men, carefully covering them so they could not see the trail by which he took them from his home. He brought them to the earth and left them with the promise that when they had acquired bravery and circumspection they should again be carried to his home and there dwell for "so many moons that all the needles on the greatest pine tree would not tell them all."

The Iroquois held sacred no day on which to perform particular religious exercises, but they had several annual festivals which were observed with regularity for ages, and which are, in a measure, celebrated by the so-called pagans among the Senecas, Onondagas and Tuscaroras at the present time. The first of these was the "Maple Dance," and exemplified their way of thanking the Great Spirit for tempering the wind so that the snows would disappear and the sweet waters would flow from the sides of the maple trees that abounded in the wilderness about their homes. Previous to holding this, and all other festivals, the inhabitants of each village would meet at the council-place for what might be termed to-day "a confession of sins"--for such it really was. When all had assembled, one of the oldest sachems would stand before his brethren with a string of white wampum in his hands and tell wherein he had sinned according to Indian ethics. When he had concluded, the wampum would be passed to another, and so on until all had unburdened themselves. The open declaration of their misdeeds did not relieve them of the consequences of the deeds themselves, but in a measure it tempered the punishment. The moral code may be briefly summed up as follows:

It was a sin to neglect the old in any manner, or to refuse to share with them the fruits of the chase or the products of the fields, and it was especially sinful to neglect or disregard aged or infirm parents.

To speak in derision or slightingly of anyone who might be lame, blind, idiotic, insane--crippled in any manner or unfortunate in any degree, or to refuse them aid or shelter.

To refuse to share food or shelter with anyone who might apply for either, or to fail to care for the sick and for orphan children and widows.

To break any treaty or agreement made at the council-fire when the peace-pipe had been smoked, or after the parties making the treaty had partaken of food together.

To violate the chastity of any woman.

To kill animals for any other purpose than for food and covering, and for the protection of growing crops and human life.

To tell a falsehood, even though it might be of the most innocent character.

To show cowardice in meeting any kind of danger or to shrink from exposure, pain, suffering, sickness or death.

To take human life unless the person killed was a member of a tribe with which the Iroquois was at war.

There were no punishments prescribed for breaking any of these or other recognized laws, but the person offending by the commission of the greater sins was, by common consent and custom, shunned, scorned, shamed, neglected, pointed at and ostracised from all connection whatever with his tribe and relatives. This generally resulted in the culprit's suicide, which was looked upon as a very brave act, and was full reparation for the wrongs committed.

Soon after the "Maple Dance" had been held came the "Planting Festival," which was conducted as a thank offering to the Great Spirit for unfolding the buds upon the trees, decking the woods and fields with flowers and warming the earth so that it could receive and nourish the seed.

When the seed had been planted, and upon the appearance of the first shoots of corn, the "Hope Festival" was held. At this time, as the red men circled around the glowing fires, they called upon the Great Spirit to protect the seeds that he had given life and asked him to bring them to maturity. They sprinkled leaves of tobacco upon the fires and repeated slow, monotonous chants or prayers that had been used by them for unknown generations. They asked the Great Spirit to give attention to their words arising to him in the smoke and not to let his ears become closed that he might not hear. They said: