|
Within a few miles of Fort Snelling lives
Checkered Cloud. Not that she has any settled
habitation; she is far too important a character
for that. Indeed she is not often two days in
the same place. Her wanderings are not, however,
of any great extent, so that she can always be
found when wanted. But her wigwam is about seven
miles from the fort, and she is never much
farther off. Her occupations change with the
day. She has been very busy of late, for
Checkered Cloud is one of the medicine women of
the Dahcotahs; and as the Indians have had a
good deal of sickness among them, you might
follow her from teepee to teepee, as she
proceeds with the sacred rattle2
in her hand, charming away the animal that has
entered the body of the Dahcotah to steal his
strength.
Then, she is the great legend-teller of the
Dahcotahs. If there is a merry-making in the
village, Checkered Cloud must be there, to call
to the minds of the revelers the traditions that
have been handed down
from time immemorial.
Yesterday, wrapped in her blanket, she was
seated on the St. Peters, near a hole which she
had cut in the ice, in order to spear the fish
as they passed through the water; and to-day but
while I am writing of her, she approaches the
house; even now, her shadow falls upon the room
as she passes the window. I need not listen to
her step, for her mocassined feet pass
noiselessly through the hall. The door is slowly
opened, and she is before me!
How tall she is! and with what graceful
dignity she offers her hand. Seventy winters
have passed over her, but the brightness of her
eye is undimmed by time. Her brow speaks of
intellect and the white hair that is parted over
it falls unplaited on her shoulders. She folds
her blanket round her and seats herself; she has
a request to make, I know, but Checkered Cloud
is not a beggar, she never asks aught but what
she feels she has a right to claim.
"Long ago," she says, "the Dahcotah owned
lands that the white man now claims; the trees,
the rivers, were all our own. But the Great
Spirit has been angry with his children; he has
taken their forests and their hunting grounds,
and given them to others.
"When I was young, I feared not wind nor
storm. Days have I wandered with the hunters of
my tribe, that they might bring home many
buffalo for food, and to make our wigwams. Then,
I cared not for cold and fatigue, for I was
young and happy. But now I am old; my children
have gone before me to the 'House of Spirits'
the tender boughs have yielded to the first
rough wind of autumn, while the parent tree has
stood and borne the winter's storm.
"My sons have fallen by the tomahawk of
their enemies; my daughter sleeps under the
foaming waters of the Falls.
"Twenty winters were added to my life on
that day. We had encamped at some distance above
the Falls, and our hunters had killed many deer.
Before we left our village to go on the
hunt, we sacrificed to the Spirit of the woods,
and we prayed to the Great Spirit. We lifted up
our hands and said, 'Father, Great Spirit, help
us to kill deer.' The arrows of our hunters
never missed, and as we made ready for our
return we were happy, for we knew we should not
want for food. My daughter's heart was light,
for Haparm was with her, and she never was sad
but when he was away.
"Just before we arrived at the Falls, she
became sick; her hands were burning hot, she
refused to eat. As the canoe passed over the
Mississippi, she would fill her cup with its
waters, to drink and throw over her brow. The
medicine men were always at her side, but they
said some evil spirit hated her, and prevented
their spells from doing her good.
"When we reached the Falls, she was worse;
the women left their canoes, and prepared to
carry them and the rest of the baggage round the
Falls.
"But what should we do with We-no-nah? the
flush of fever was on her cheek; she did not
know me when I spoke to her; but she kept her
eyes fixed upon her lover.
"'We will leave her in the canoe,' said her
father; 'and with a line we can carry her gently
over the Rapids.' I was afraid, but with her
brothers holding the line she must be safe. So I
left my child in her canoe, and paddled with the
others to the shore.
"As we left her, she turned her eyes
towards us, as if anxious to know what we were
about to do. The men held the line steadily, and
the canoe floated so gently that I began to feel
less anxious but as we approached the rapids, my
heart beat quickly at the sound of the waters.
Carefully did her brothers hold the line, and I
never moved my eyes from the canoe in which she
lay. Now the roaring of the waters grew louder,
and as they hastened to the rocks over which
they would fall they bore with them my child I
saw her raise herself in the canoe, I saw her
long hair as it fell on her bosom I saw no more!
"My sons bore me in their arms to the rest
of the party. The hunters had delayed their
return that they might seek for the body of my
child. Her lover called to her, his voice could
be heard above the sound of the waters. 'Return
to me, Wenonah, I will never love maiden but
you; did you not promise to light the fires in
my wigwam?' He would have thrown himself after
her, had not the young men prevented him. The
body rests not in the cold waters; we found it
and buried it, and her spirit calls to me in the
silence of the night! Her lover said he would
not remain long on the earth; he turned from the
Dahcotah maidens as they smiled upon him. He
died as a warrior should die!
"The Chippeways had watched for us, they
longed to carry the scalp of a Dahcotah home.
They did so but we were avenged.
"Our young men burst in upon them when they
were sleeping; they struck them with their
tomahawks, they tore their scalps reeking with
blood from their heads.
"We heard our warriors at the village as
they returned from their war party; we knew by
their joyful cries that they had avenged their
friends. One by one they entered the village,
bearing twenty scalps of the enemy.
"Only three of the Dahcotahs had fallen.
But who were the three? My sons, and he who was
as dear as a son to me, the lover of my child. I
fled from their cries of triumph I longed to
plunge the knife into my own heart.
"I have lived on. But sorrow and cold and
hunger have bowed my spirit; and my limbs are
not as strong and active as they were in my
youth. Neither can I work with porcupine as I
used to for age and tears have dimmed my sight.
I bring you venison and fish, will you not give
me clothes to protect me from the winter's
cold?"
Ah! Checkered Cloud he was a prophet who
named you. Though the cloud has varied, now
passing away, now returning blacker than before
though the cheering light of the sun has for a
moment dispelled the gloom 'twas but for a
moment! for it was sure to break in terrors over
your head. Your name is your history, your life
has been a checkered cloud! But the storm of the
day has yielded to the influence of the setting
sun. The thunder has ceased to roll, the wind
has died away, and the golden streaks that bound
the horizon promise a brighter morning. So with
Checkered Cloud, the storm and strife of the
earth have ceased; the "battle of life" is
fought, and she has conquered. For she hopes to
meet the beloved of earth in the heaven of the
Dahcotahs.
And who will say that our heaven will not
be hers? The God of the Dahcotahs is ours,
though they, less happy than we, have not been
taught to know him. Christians! are you without
blame? Have you thought of the privations, the
wants of those who once owned your country, and
would own it still but for the strong hand? Have
you remembered that their souls are dear in His
sight, who suffered for them, as well as for
you? Have you given bright gold that their
children might be educated and redeemed from
their slavery of soul? Checkered Cloud will die
as she has lived, a believer in the religion of
the Dahcotahs. The traditions of her tribe are
written on her heart. She worships a spirit in
every forest tree, or every running stream. The
features of the favored Israelite are hers; she
is perchance a daughter of their lost tribe.
When she was young, she would have listened to
the missionary as he told her of Gethsemane and
Calvary. But age yields not like youth to new
impressions; the one looks to the future, the
other clings to the past. See! she has put by
her pipe and is going, but she is coming oft
again to talk to me of her people, that I may
tell to my friends the bravery of the Dahcotah
warrior, and the beauty of the maiden! the
legends of their rivers and sacred isles the
traditions of their rocks and hills!
If I cannot, in recounting the wild stories of
this prophetess of the forest, give her own
striking words, I shall at least be faithful to
the spirit of her recitals. I shall let Indian
life speak for itself; these true pictures of
its course will tell its whole simple story
better than any labored exposition of mine. Here
we may see, not the red man of the novel or the
drama, but the red man as he appears to himself,
and to those who live with him. His better
characteristics will be found quite as numerous
as ought to be expected under the circumstances;
his faults and his sufferings should appeal to
the hearts of those who hold the means of his
salvation. No intelligent citizen of these
United States can without blame forget the
aborigines of his country. Their wrongs cry to
heaven; their souls will be required of us. To
view them as brutes is an insult to Him who made
them and us. May this little work do something
towards exciting an interest in a single tribe
out of the many whose only hope is in the mercy
of the white man!
1: A medicine woman is a
female doctor or juggler. No man or woman can
assume this office without previous initiation
by authority. The medicine dance is a sacred
rite, in honor of the souls of the dead; the
mysteries of this dance are kept inviolable; its
secrets have never been divulged by its members.
The medicine men and women attend in cases of
sickness. The Sioux have the greatest faith in
them. When the patient recovers, it redounds to
the honor of the doctor; if he die, they say
"The time had come that he should die," or that
the "medicine of the person who cast a spell
upon the sick person was stronger than the
doctor's." They can always find a satisfactory
solution of the failure of the charm.
2: Sacred rattle. This is
generally a gourd, but is sometimes made of
bark. Small beads are put into it. The Sioux
suppose that this rattle, in the hands of one of
their medicine men or women, possesses a certain
virtue to charm away sickness or evil spirits.
They shake it over a sick person, using a
circular motion. It is never, however, put in
requisition against the worst spirits with which
the Red Man has to contend. |
