 | Dahcotah, or, Life and legends of the Sioux around Fort Snelling |  |
“THE DAHCOTAH BRIDE.”
The valley of the Upper Mississippi presents many attractions
to the reflecting mind, apart from the admiration
excited by its natural beauty. It is at once an old country
and a new—the home of a people who are rapidly passing
away—and of a nation whose strength is ever advancing.
The white man treads upon the footsteps of the Dahcotah—
the war dance of the warrior gives place to the march of
civilization—and the saw-mill is heard where but a few
years ago were sung the deeds of the Dahcotah braves.
Years ago, the Dahcotah hunted where the Mississippi
takes its rise—the tribe claiming the country as far south
as St. Louis. But difficulties with the neighboring tribes
have diminished their numbers and driven them farther
north and west; the white people have needed their lands,
and their course is onward. How will it end? Will this
powerful tribe cease to be a nation on the earth? Will
their mysterious origin never be ascertained? And must
their religion and superstitions, their customs and feasts
pass away from memory as if they had never been?
Who can look upon them without interest? hardly the
philosopher—surely not the Christian. The image of God
is defaced in the hearts of the savage. Cain-like does the
brother's blood. But are there no deeds of darkness done in
our own favored land?
But the country of the Dahcotah,—let it be new to those
who fly at the beckon of gain—who would speculate in the
blood of their fellow-creatures, who for gold would, aye do,
sell their own souls,—it is an old country to me. What
say the boundless prairies? how many generations have
roamed over them? when did the buffalo first yield to the
arrow of the hunter? And look at the worn bases of the
rocks that are washed by the Father of waters. Hear the
Dahcotah maiden as she tells of the lover's leap—and the
warrior as he boasts of the victories of his forefathers over
his enemies, long, long before the hated white man had intruded
upon their lands, or taught them the fatal secret of
intoxicating drink.
The Dahcotahs feel their own weakness—they know
they cannot contend with the power of the white man.
Yet there are times when the passion and vehemence of
the warriors in the neighborhood of Fort Snelling can hardly
be brought to yield to the necessity of control; and were
there a possibility of success, how soon would the pipe of
peace be thrown aside, and the yell and whoop of war be
heard instead! And who would blame them? Has not the
blood of our bravest and best been poured out like water
for a small portion of a country—when the whole could
never make up for the loss sustained by one desolate widow
or fatherless child?
The sky was without a cloud when the sun rose on the
Mississippi. The morning mists passed slowly away as
if they loved to linger round the hills. Pilot Knob rose
children, while on the opposite side of the Mine Soto[1] the
frowning walls of Fort Snelling, told of the power of their
enemies. Not a breath disturbed the repose of nature, till
the voice of the song birds rose in harmony singing the
praise of the Creator.
But a few hours have passed away, and how changed
the scene. Numbers of canoes are seen rapidly passing over
the waters, and the angry savages that spring from them
as hastily ascending the hill. From the gates of the fort,
hundreds of Indians are seen collecting from every direction,
and all approaching the house of the interpreter. We
will follow them.
Few have witnessed so wild a scene. The house of the
interpreter employed by government is near the fort, and
all around it were assembled the excited Indians. In front
of the house is a piazza, and on it lay the body of a young
Dahcotah; his black hair plaited, and falling over his swarthy
face. The closed eye and compressed lips proclaimed
the presence of death. Life had but recently yielded to the
sway of the stern conqueror. A few hours ago Beloved
Hail had eaten and drank on the very spot where his body
now reposed.
Bending over his head is his wife; tears fall like rain
from her eyes; and as grief has again overcome her efforts
at composure, see how she plunges her knife into her arm:
and as the warm blood flows from the wound calls upon the
husband of her youth!
“My son! my son! bursts from the lips of his aged
bear witness to the wounds which she had inflicted upon
herself in the agony of her soul. Nor are these the only
mourners. A crowd of friends are weeping round his body.
But the mother has turned to the warriors as they press
through the crowd; tears enough have been shed, it is time
to think of revenge. “Look at your friend,” she says,
“look how heavily lies the strong arm, and see, he is still,
though his wife and aged mother call upon him. Who has
done this? who has killed the brave warrior? bring me the
murderer, that I may cut him in pieces.”
It needed not to call upon the warriors who stood around.
They were excited enough. Bad Hail stood near, his eyes
bloodshot with rage, his lip quivering, and every trembling
limb telling of the tempest within. Shah-co-pee, the orator
of the Dahcotahs, and “The Nest,” their most famous
hunter; the tall form of the aged chief “Man in the cloud”
leaned against the railing, his sober countenance strangely
contrasting with the fiend-like look of his wife; Grey Iron
and Little Hill, with brave after brave, all crying vengeance
to the foe, death to the Chippeway!
Mine Soto, or Whitish Water, the name that the Sioux give to the St.
Peter's River. The mud or clay in the water has a whitish look.
2. CHAPTER II.
But yesterday the Dahcotahs and Chippeways, foes from
time immemorial, feasted and danced together, for there
was peace between them. They had promised to bury the
hatchet; the Chippeways danced near the fort, and the
and powder, and all that the savage deems valuable. Afterwards,
the Dahcotahs danced, and the generous Chippeways
exceeded them in the number and value of their gifts. As
evening approached, the bands mingled their amusements—
together they contended in the foot-race, or, stretching
themselves upon the grass, played at checkers.
The Chippeways had paid their annual visit of friendship
at Fort Snelling, and, having spent their time happily,
they were about to return to their homes. Their wise men
said they rejoiced that nothing had occurred to disturb the
harmony of the two tribes. But their vicinity to the Fort
prevented any outbreak; had there been no such restraint
upon their actions, each would have sought the life of his
deadly foe.
“Hole in the Day” was the chief of the Chippeways.
He owed his station to his own merit; his bravery and firmness
had won the respect and admiration of the tribe when
he was but a warrior, and they exalted him to the honor of
being their chief. Deeds of blood marked his course, yet
were his manners gentle and his voice low. There was a
dignity and a courtesy about his every action that would
have well befitted a courtier.
He watched with interest the trials of strength between
the young men of his own tribe and the Dahcotahs. When
the latter celebrated one of their national feasts, when they
ate the heart of the dog while it was warm with life, just torn
from the animal, with what contempt did he gaze upon them!
The amusements of the dog feast, or dance, have closed,
and the Chippeway chief has signified to his warriors that
they were to return home on the following day. He expressed
and a meeting having been obtained, he thus addressed
them—
“Warriors! it has been the wish of our great father
that we should be friends; blood enough has been shed on
both sides. But even if we preferred to continue at war,
we must do as our great father says. The Indian's glory
is passing away; they are as the setting sun; while the
white man is as the sun rising in all his power. We are
the falling leaves; the whites are the powerful horses that
trample them under foot. We are about to return home,
and it is well that nothing has happened to occasion strife
between us. But I wish you to know that there are two
young men among us who do not belong to my band. They
are pillagers, belonging to another band, and they may be
troublesome. I wish you to tell your young men of this,
that they may be on their guard.”
After smoking together, the chiefs separated. “Hole in
the Day” having thus done all that he deemed proper, returned
with his warriors to his teepee.
Early in the morning the Chippeways encamped near
St. Anthony's falls; the women took upon themselves all
the fatigue and labor of the journey, the men carrying only
the implements of war and hunting. The Chippeway
chief was the husband of three wives, who were sisters;
and, strange to say, when an Indian fancies more than one
wife, he is fortunate if he can obtain sisters, for they generally
live in harmony, while wives who are not related are
constantly quarreling; and the husband does not often
interfere, even if words are changed to blows.
In the mean time, the two pillagers were lurking about;
now absenting themselves for a day or two. But while
the Chippeways were preparing to leave the Falls, the pillagers
were in the neighborhood of Fort Snelling. They
had accompanied Hole in the Day's band, with the determination
of killing an enemy. The ancient feud still
rankled in their hearts; as yet they had had no opportunity
of satisfying their thirst for blood; but on this morning they
were concealed in the bushes, when Red Boy and Beloved
Hail, two Dahcotahs, were passing on horseback. It was
but a moment—and the deed was done. Both the Chippeways
fired, and Beloved Hail fell.
Red Boy was wounded, but not badly; he hurried in to
tell the sad news, and the two Chippeways were soon out
of the power of their enemies. They fled, it is supposed,
to Missouri.
The friends of the dead warrior immediately sought his
body, and brought it to the house of the interpreter. There
his friends came together; and as they entered one by one,
on every side pressing forward to see the still, calm, features
of the young man; they threw on the body their blankets,
and other presents, according to their custom of honoring
the dead.
Troops are kept at Fort Snelling, not only as a protection
to the whites in the neighborhood, but to prevent, if possible,
difficulties between the different bands of Indians; and
as every year brings the Chippeways to Fort Snelling,
either to transact business with the government or on a
visit of pleasure, the Chippeways and Dahcotahs must be
frequently thrown together. The commanding officer of
the garrison notifies the two bands, on such occasions, that
to disturb their peace.
But now it is impossible to restrain the excited passions
of the Dahcotahs. Capt. B—, who was then in command
at Fort Snelling, sent word to the Chippeway chief
of the murder that had been committed, and requested him
to bring all his men in, as the murderer must be given up.
But this did not satsfy the Dahcotahs; they longed to
raise the tomahawk which they held in their hands. They
refused to wait, but insisted upon following the Chippeways
and revenging themselves; the arguments of the agent and
other friends of the Dahcotahs were unavailing; nothing
would satisfy them but blood. The eyes, even of the women,
sparkled with delight, at the prospect of the scalps
they would dance round; while the mother of Beloved Hail
was heard to call for the scalp of the murderer of her son!
Seeing the chiefs determined on war, Capt. B—
told them he would cease to endeavor to change their intentions;
“but as soon” said he, “as you attack the Chippeways,
will I send the soldiers to your villages; and who
will protect your wives and children?”
This had the desired effect, and the warriors, seeing the
necessity of waiting for the arrival of the Chippeways, became
more calm.
Hole in the Day with his men came immediately to the
Fort, where a conference was held at the gate. There
were assembled about three hundred Dahcotahs and seventy
Chippeways, with the officers of the garrison and the Indian
agent.
It was ascertained that the murder had been committed
by the two pillagers, for none of the other Chippeway warriors
however, gave up two of his men, as hostages to be kept at
Fort Snelling until the murderers should be given up.
The Dahcotahs, being obliged for the time to defer the
hope of revenge, returned to their village to bury their
dead.
3. CHAPTER III.
We rarely consider the Indian as a member of a family—
we associate him with the tomahawk and scalping-knife.
But the very strangeness of the customs of the Dahcotahs
adds to their interest; and in their mourning they have all
the horror of death without an attendant solemnity.
All the agony and grief that a Christian mother feels
when she looks for the last time at the form which will so
soon moulder in the dust, an Indian mother feels also. The
Christian knows that the body will live again; that the
life-giving breath of the Eternal will once more re-animate
the helpless clay; that the eyes which were brilliant and
beautiful in life will again look brightly from the now
closed lids—when the dead shall live—when the beloved
child shall “rise again.”
The Dahcotah woman has no such hope. Though she believes
that the soul will live forever in the “city of spirits,”
yet the infant she has nursed at her bosom, the child she
loved and tended, the young man whose strength and beauty
were her boast, will soon be ashes and dust.
And if she have not the hope of the Christian, neither
her clothes, throwing them under the scaffold, what joy
would it bring to her heart could she hope herself to take
the life of the murderer of her son.
Beloved Hail was borne by the Indians to his native village,
and the usual ceremonies attending the dead performed,
but with more than usual excitement, occasioned
by the circumstances of the death of their friend.
The body of a dead Dahcotah is wrapped in cloth or
calico, or sometimes put in a box, if one can be obtained,
and placed upon a scaffold raised a few feet from the
ground. All the relations of the deceased then sit round it
for about twenty-four hours; they tear their clothes; run
knives through the fleshy parts of their arms, but there is
no sacrifice which they can make so great as cutting off
their hair.
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.
4. 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
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.
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
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
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.
5. 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
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.
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.
| Dahcotah, or, Life and legends of the Sioux around Fort Snelling | |